#I don't think I struggle as much with intrusive thoughts as friends who DO have OCD for sure. but again there is SOMETHING wrong

[gigantomachylesbian]

Well there’s absolutely something wrong with me but I don’t think it’s adhd or autism and it might be OCD but I don’t even think it’s super bad OCD. But there’s something wrong

[mercy-burning]

A Study in Anchored Souls

Pairing: ghost!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: In which the ghost of Spencer Reid discovers that in order to unveil his unfinished business and finally lay at rest, he must somehow enlist the help of the woman who now inhabits his apartment. Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, mention of weed, ghost shenanigans (?), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), brief handjob, unprotected p in v sex, Spencer is invisible for all of that LMAO Word Count: 11.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: God, I love ghost smut. That was a goddamn blast to write! Like you don't even know how giddy it made me putting these words to the keys. I even put in extra effort and made a little photo banner, which I’ve never done for a one shot before, and I’m kinda obsessed with it ngl 😂 I hope you love this one as much as I do! <3 Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air writing challenge!

———

ACT I: Girls' Night

Spencer Reid always knew he would die.

It was a cold, hard fact of life that at one point, everyone would die. It was unsure when or how, but it happened. There was no escaping it. That thought alone was enough to squander most of his anxieties about death— even after a few near-death experiences and the constant danger his line of work tended to throw at him throughout his lifetime.

Still, the one thing he couldn't stand to think about was the "after". He wanted truly to believe that what happened after death was just nothingness, but after his encounter with Tobias, it stirred up all sorts of questions and unexplainable possibilities that were just too vast for even his brain to try and comprehend.

Then, of course, there was the fact that he was currently standing in his old apartment, watching somebody else live her life, completely invisible to her. He tried talking to her, too, but nothing. It was like he wasn't even there.

But why? It's not like he had unfinished business or anything. The unsub who shot him was shot down immediately afterwards. He watched him die before passing out himself. Why was he "awake" now, nearly 5 months after the fact, and not when his friends were grieving him? Where were his friends, and why has the afterlife chosen to tie Spencer to a place rather than the people that knew and loved him?

Logically it seemed reasonable but really, he just missed his friends. He missed his life.

He hated the afterlife, he decided then. There was no reason he needed to keep doing this when he couldn't even leave the confines of the apartment. He couldn't walk through walls or touch anything or sit down on the woman's gross floral couch. If he wanted to enter another room, the door needed to be opened, otherwise he was stuck right there in the living room, the kitchen, and the open dining space that connected the two. If he was allowed to live his afterlife with his mom, or playing Chess with Gideon, or travelling the world, free to go anywhere and see anything without hardship, it might have been different.

But no. He was stuck watching this woman struggle to move furniture by herself.

He didn't know her. Had never seen her before. She wasn't a student of his or a victim he'd saved or even a fling. She was a complete stranger. A complete stranger who unfortunately had terrible taste in decor and an even more unfortunately beautiful face.

Her name was Y/N. From what he could gather, she didn't have any family, at least not nearby. Her two best friends were the only other people in her circle that he'd seen in the apartment, and when they were all together it was... interesting. There was a lot of loud laughter and wine, and oh God, the sex talk...

It felt intrusive, but he couldn't leave. He could migrate to another room, maybe, but his ears still worked, even a little too well. His eyes, too, seemed to be as sharp as ever, any imperfections to his vision completely mended. He was simply over aware of everything, and yet hollow at the same time, and he hated everything about it.

But what could he do? He couldn't even touch anything or communicate to anyone, so how could he possibly figure out what was keeping him here and how he could get out of it? Did his new roommate hold some sort of knowledge or ability to help him solve this mystery, or was he destined to watch her live out her life in this place that he once called "home"? Was there any connection between them at all?

He didn't know.

Usually he liked puzzles, but this one was rather annoying.

He just wanted to rest.

Y/N had been moved in for just over a month (yes, there was a whole month of just standing there learning everything about a stranger because there was simply nothing else for Spencer to do) when finally, there was a small glimmer of hope.

Heavy on the small.

It was Girls' Night. Friday. It always consisted of too much wine and movies and snacks and discussions about whatever they were reading or watching. Despite the differences in the routine, the camaraderie made Spencer miss his friends. He wondered what they were all up to. Maybe, if this all worked out, he could actually find out.

But for now, he had to focus on the baby steps.

When the girls showed up with a Ouija board, he couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped him.

Y/N, it seemed, felt the same disbelief. "You guys, what the fuck is that?"

"What does it look like?" the first friend, Maya, retorted.

The other, Robin, added, "You were the one that said you felt like you weren't tooootally aloooone in this apartment..."

Her haunting inflection elicited a backhanded thump to the arm, Y/N groaning as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I would want to know what or who it is! Besides, I'm probably just paranoid. It's just being in a new place and the anxieties that come with it, that's all. You guys are insane."

"Only one way to find out!"

Was Spencer really going to entertain this? A goddamn Ouija board? He enjoyed his fair share of spooky things and researching superstitions, but that was out of his realm of belief. On the other hand, one could technically consider him a ghost... He could look down and see himself, but nobody else could see or hear him... Y/N had obviously voiced a concern for feeling a presence to her friends, but how much of that feeling was accurate and how much of it was, in fact, 'new home anxieties'?

As the girls unboxed the board and set up their things, Spencer sighed, mumbling to himself, "Only one way to find out..."

Maya closed the curtains and turned all the lights off, meanwhile Y/N and Robin were collecting and lighting any candle they could find. They cleared off the low coffee table in front of the couch where the girls sat and set everything up there, Spencer taking a seat on the floor opposite the group. It was then that Y/N said something that made him laugh.

"Wait, shouldn't we give the couch to the ghost?"

"What?"

"Well, what if it's an angry ghost? And then we make it sit on the floor, and it decides to exact vengeance on us? Maybe we should... I don't know, be more hospitable?"

"Hmmm, maybe you're right," Robin said, standing up. "Do you hear that, Ghost? We're only being nice to you, so please don't kill us, m'kay?"

Spencer sighed. Little did they know, he couldn't actually sit on the couch. Or a chair. Or anything that wasn't the floor. It was like the ground was the only physical thing he was anchored to. Still, the girls had no way of knowing that, so they shuffled their way to the other end of the table, flipping the Ouija board so it would face the other way. Spencer got up and moved then. He'd have to stand uncomfortably in the small gap between the table and the couch, bending down at the waist to use the board, provided he could even touch it.

He had no idea how this was going to work, if at all.

It was all starting to sound and feel absolutely ridiculous.

The girls each put a finger on the planchette, nervous laughter emanating from them, and Spencer gave one last deep breath before reaching out to touch it himself, anticipating the moment of truth.

His hand hovered over the board, feeling a block just before he would make any contact. He couldn't touch it. His hand wouldn't even go through. He retreated and huffed, wondering if there was something he could do to communicate with them otherwise. He tried to blow out one of the candles, but with no luck. He could feel his breath against his own skin (could you even call it that at this stage?), but the objects in front of him were completely oblivious to his presence.

He was about to give up and call it a night, leaving the girls to have their fun, but then one of them gasped.

"Wait, don't we have to use two fingers? Is that how it works?"

"Shit, I think you're right."

They adjusted their positions and Spencer sighed, but indulged them just in case.

His hand lowered again, middle and pointer fingers approaching the planchette in anticipation. He half-expected there to be resistance again, but this time, a cool rush of wind gusted up in between them as his fingers made contact with the wood.

"Holy shit!" all four of them exclaimed in unison.

"Did you feel that?" Maya squealed excitedly. "Wicked..."

"No, not wicked!" Y/N whined. "We should stop!"

"Really? You know for sure now that there's a ghost living in your apartment, and you're just not going to ask it questions to make sure it's not harmful? Be smart about this, bitch," Robin countered playfully.

Spencer wanted to cut to the chase. He moved his hand, spelling out a word, and the girls collectively gasped before reciting each letter out loud hesitantly, like they couldn't believe what was happening.

"H-A-R-M-L-E-S-S"

"Oh my God! You have a Casper!"

Y/N shook her head furiously. "You guys, stop fucking with me, I mean it. This isn't funny."

"I didn't move it!" said Robin.

"Me either," said Maya. "Besides, you felt that wind right? How could either of us have done that?"

"I don't know, because you're a fucking wizard or something! Cut it out!"

"Hey, if you didn't want to do it that badly, you would have taken your hand off the planchette... Hey, Ghost, have you ever seen Y/N naked?"

"Robin!"

Maya cackled and Y/N went pale. If he wasn't already dead, Spencer would have probably gone pale as well.

The truth was, he had. Seen her naked, that is.

He wasn't proud of it. It happened by total accident. Sort of. He was following her around the apartment all day because he was bored, and he'd ended up locked in her bedroom with her. Either he was truly horrible at reading people (which seemed impossible considering his profession) or she had just gotten a random spurt of excitement, because the moment her door closed, she whipped her shirt off, exposing her bare torso to him, and he couldn't move. He was frozen, completely shocked at the sight before him. She reached down to take off her pants, and he turned around then, quickly becoming aware of the situation.

She rustled behind him and he tried desperately to walk through the door. Any time he got close, the barrier would stop him. He couldn't do anything but stand in the corner and pray to whatever that she was only changing.

She was, in fact, not changing.

Spencer swore in that moment at the table that he could still hear the low hum of her vibrator and every single sound that came from her body and mouth that night, and he was absolutely mortified.

He'd only dared to glance back when he heard the end, her breathing slow and the humming gone. It was silent for a while before he turned around entirely, only to find her asleep, sprawled completely bare over the covers. He wished he could have draped a blanket over her, but his hands were more or less tied.

Thankfully she was only asleep for about a half hour before she forced herself awake to clean up and actually go to bed.

Spencer never followed her around the apartment ever again. Just in case.

"Don't answer that, Ghost," Y/N rushed, "Robin's just fucking around. We promise to ask you serious questions from here on out."

Maya faked a snore. "Come on, Y/N, this is supposed to be fun. The ghost is harmless."

"No, the ghost said it was harmless. Doesn't mean it is."

Spencer thought for a moment as the girls went back and forth, and then he spelled out another word— or an acronym, rather.

"It's moving again!" Robin gasped, spelling out the letters.

"F-B-I"

"Holy shit did you work for the FBI, Ghost?" Maya inquired.

Spencer moved the planchette to the "YES" at the top of the board.

"Maybe... Maybe we should stop calling them Ghost..." Y/N took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. "Ummm... Spirit Who Resides Here..." Robin and Maya snorted. "What is your name?"

Spencer wished he could tell her she didn't need to be formal, but it was amusing watching her do it anyway. He spelled out his name, first and last, and the girls made a collective hum of acceptance. A normal name and not something concerning.

"We should Google him," Robin said matter-of-factly.

Maya hummed in agreement, but Y/N swallowed and asked another question. "Spencer, you're not... Going to hurt me, are you?"

He moved the planchette to "NO," and watched the relief take over her body, relaxing her muscles and her posture for just a brief moment. He could tell she was still wary, but it was a step in the right direction.

"See? Told you he was harmless."

"He still could be lying," Y/N mumbled. Then she sat up straight. "Not that I don't believe you, Spencer. I'm sorry. You just have to understand that I'm a woman living alone, and the thought of a man I can't see haunting my apartment is just... It's extremely terrifying."

He felt bad for her. As annoying as his situation was, he couldn't imagine being in hers. He almost wished he hadn't entertained the Ouija board at all and put her worries to rest, but since it was too late, all he could do was try and reassure her that he wasn't a threat.

His fingers moved again.

"U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D"

And then a pause, before: "S-O-R-R-Y"

Y/N's eyes dropped, and her friends made a collective "Awwwww," before a knock sounded at the door, jolting them all to move away from the Ouija board.

Spencer was knocked backwards, and he expected his newfound sense of touch to disappear once the connection had broken, but to his surprise, he found himself safely seated on the couch. His hands reached over the fabric, testing, and despite his distaste for the floral pattern on it, the cushions were suddenly the greatest thing he'd ever touched. He was grateful for this couch. And for the Ouija board, and for Y/N and her eccentric friends.

Speaking of which, Robin yelled out, "Pizza's here!" and got up with Maya to abandon the board. Pizza apparently seemed more interesting than a ghost, but for two women who Spencer could now tell (no thanks to his upgraded sense of smell) were a little high, that seemed reasonable.

As her friends happily greeted the pizza delivery man, Y/N reached out to touch the planchette again, just for a moment, and gently whispered, "Thank you, Spencer."

He returned it with an earnest, "You're welcome," but he wasn't sure if she'd hear or not. She looked around the area for a few seconds before turning around, and it wasn't clear whether she had.

But she seemed relaxed now, and that was a start.

As the girls sat at the dining table and ate pizza, Spencer tested out his new senses just a few steps away. He found himself thankful to be in a familiar place, even if the decor was different. The walls were the same and the bookshelves still stood, now filled with bright Romance novels and trinkets and photos that laid out Y/N's personality quite perfectly. He smiled, running his fingers along the spines of the books, missing the feeling even if they weren't his own.

He wanted to see if he could read one, just for the sake of feeling a book in his hands again, but he figured he'd wait until Maya and Robin were gone and Y/N was asleep.

Until then, he continued to touch things without making them move, not wanting to raise anyone's eyebrows.

And then, a gasp sounded from the dining table.

"I found him! I have his obituary right here!"

"Holy shit, let me see!"

Spencer made his way to the table to observe.

The girls passed around Maya's phone, looking at his obituary photo. Robin made a low whistle, then called out into the air on her left. He was standing to her right, unable to help the dry laughter that escaped him at the irony of the situation.

"Spencer, you were hot!"

Maya shook her head and sighed. "Yeah. What a damn shame. Sorry, man."

Robin seemed more amused than anything, turning to Y/N, who was reading through the obituary. "Hey, at least you can rest easy knowing you've got a hot FBI ghost watching over you."

"Yeah, but... Why? Do you think he lived here? In this apartment?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask him."

Y/N sighed, handing Maya her phone back. "I'm sure he has more exciting ghost stuff to do on a Friday night than entertain us three. All I know is he promised not to hurt me, so I don't really care if he stays."

He was glad for her ease of anxiety, but he certainly cared if he stayed. However, she sounded exhausted, and it was fair. Finding out your new apartment was haunted by a ghost (even a harmless one) sounded like a reasonably stressful situation. He wanted desperately to figure out how to finally move on, but for now he could accept the simple fact that he could actually touch things now, and let Y/N rest easy.

Even if he couldn't yet.

ACT II: X's and Oh's

Every time she came home, Y/N would greet Spencer kindly. Probably out of precaution (you know, just in case he really was lying about being harmless), but brightly all the same.

"Spencer, I'm home! I... I don't know if you're haunting me or the apartment, but... I hope you had a good day, just in case it's me."

He smiled, wishing he could greet her back.

Eventually, he found small ways to do it.

He fogged up a spot on her bathroom mirror, that way the next time she showered before bed, the heat would reveal a message on the glass: "Good night. —S.R."

Y/N talked to him that night, dressed in her pajamas and walking around the apartment like she was deciding where to talk to him. Eventually she decided on standing in her bedroom doorway.

"Spencer? You said good night so you might not even be in here, but... I guess this is me saying good night back...Thanks for being a nice ghost, I really appreciate it. If... If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay? Okay... Goodnight."

If only there was a way she could hear him. Communicating in mirror-notes was hardly good for anything more than a simple "good night," and despite the fact that he could touch things, he couldn't grip them, so writing on paper was out. He'd kept trying to open a door with the handle, and with no luck. It was starting to get irritating, wondering what the next step was to evolving as a ghost.

He couldn't even believe he'd thought up the phrase. Ghost evolution sounded absolutely insane, but he supposed it was his current reality regardless of how it sounded...

Tonight Y/N was out rather late. For a brief moment Spencer started to worry, but then the key turned in the doorway and relief settled in when she finally stepped inside. She seemed rather tired, but greeted him with a gentle smile all the same.

"Hi, Spencer."

"Welcome home, Y/N."

She didn't hear him, obviously, but it still felt rude not to say it back. He wondered if he could try to touch her in greeting. Maybe a brief brushing of hands or a tap of acknowledgement on the shoulder. But he didn't want to scare her, so he'd have to figure that out.

Thankfully, she seemed to have felt his curiosity somehow.

Later that night, as she laid in bed, she called out, drawing his attention from the living room where he tried to open a cabinet. Still no luck there.

"Spencer? Are you there?"

He wandered over to the bedroom, glad to see she'd left the door cracked open so he could get in. He hesitated before moving, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw the door open.

When he did finally gather the courage to move the barrier and step inside, he heard her gasp as she sat up in bed.

"Spencer? Was that you? Um... Move the door again if it was..."

He obliged, swinging the door shut gently as he stepped inside the room. The second the door clicked, he realized his mistake.

Now he was trapped in here with her. Not that it was a bad thing necessarily, but the last time this happened, he'd accidentally intruded on a rather intimate moment. His essence warmed at the thought.

"Holy shit. Um... This is kind of weird... I've gotten your notes and talked to you through the Ouija board, but... seeing you move things in front of me is... only slightly terrifying."

Her nervous laughter endeared him but also made him want to comfort her.

He walked over to the side of the bed closest to her body, hoping she'd be willing to communicate more thoroughly somehow. The two of them together could surely come up with something.

Again, their brains seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"If I hold out my hand... Would you touch it? Just to... let me know that it's you?"

Her arm outstretched, and Spencer slowly brought his middle finger down to touch hers, ever so lightly.

The second there was contact, there was a shock. Spencer jolted and Y/N yelled and yanked her hand back, her whole body shuddering as she kicked her legs. "Oh my God, holy fuck!" And then she laughed, reaching out to search for his touch again. He felt... different somehow, but he was still invisible to her. Her fingers wiggled and Spencer helped her out, gently holding her hand to keep it steady, as if to convey, "I'm right here, and it's okay."

"Hi," she said through a smile, her breathing heavy. "It's... Nice to... finally meet you. Kind of. Kind of meet you, I mean... Not kind of nice. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his thumb gently over the top of hers in response.

"I'm still wrapping my head around this whole thing, I... I guess I just wanted some extra confirmation that you were really here. Can I ask you some questions, Spencer?"

He rubbed her thumb again, and she breathed out with a smile.

"Okay um... Maybe draw a circle on the back of my hand for yes and an X for no... That sound good?"

Spencer traced a circle against her skin, and she nodded. "Good! Okay, cool. This is cool. Um... Did you live here? In this apartment?"

A circle.

"Is... that why you're here now?"

An X, and then a question mark.

"No... You don't know why you're here then?"

A circle.

Y/N pondered for a moment. "Could there be something of yours that's holding you here? Something we have to find or a mystery we have to solve?"

Spencer drew another question mark, then sighed. As much as he liked Y/N, he was pretty sure she would not be able to answer any of those questions. But there had to be another way to... level up, so to speak. To make him visible or audible.

"I'm sorry," she said somberly. "From what I've read, you seem like you were a good person. I hope you figure it out, whatever it is. And... I meant it. If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."

He drew a circle on her skin, but kept going around a few times, his symbol of appreciation.

Y/N warmed at the sentiment, smiling and hanging her head to look down at the hand he was holding. He didn't know it, but her skin was tingling at his invisible touch.

"Spencer... I know this is probably going to be weird... But the night I first met you, when my friends were with me... Robin asked you if... you'd uh... If you'd seen me..."

She wouldn't look up, like she was afraid to look at him even though she still couldn't see him. She didn't finish her sentence, seeming to be embarrassed about the punchline, but Spencer didn't need it. He knew exactly what she meant. Before she had time to retreat or move on, he drew a slow circle on the back of her hand.

Her head lifted. "You did see me? Naked?"

Spencer let out a shaky breath. Hesitated. Then drew another circle, followed by S-O-R-R-Y.

"Oh, I'm not upset, I promise. You don't have to be sorry."

Something shifted in her eyes then and she paused, and Spencer realized that before when she'd asked, she wasn't embarrassed. She was simply feeling the water before diving in.

He swallowed hard.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her voice was soft, but simultaneously hard with mischief. He looked at her then— truly looked at her with his overly-perfect Afterlife vision, and even in the dim light emanating from the open curtains and the streetlights beyond it, he could see her clear as day. Rather than the big tee-shirt she always wore to bed, tonight she was wearing something lacy and lavender.

And her door was closed. He couldn't leave this room.

Although, he had a feeling right then that it didn't matter anymore. Because his hand tightened over hers instinctively and he felt himself get hard beneath the suit pants he'd been buried in.

That's new, he thought through a sigh of excitement, quickly recalling that night he'd seen her. And heard her. Feeling was growing in his joints, and he found himself flexing his hands with a new strength he hadn't felt since being alive.

"Fuck," he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.

I think she may be slowly bringing me back to life.

He drew a slow, sensual circle on the back of her hand, and she laughed through a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that. I was also hoping that maybe we could try something a little... unconventional. The truth is, I've always hated living alone. It's too lonely, and I hate it... Now that I have you to keep me company, though... It's not nearly as bad."

She shifted her fingers, grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it to her face. Spencer caressed her as he came closer, his knees now touching the edge of her mattress. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch, goosebumps forming along her skin.

"Will you touch me, Spencer?"

His name falling suggestively from her lips was quite possibly the greatest thing he'd ever experienced, among life and death. The afterlife. Whatever. None of it mattered, nothing mattered right then except for Y/N and her needs.

He drew a circle on her cheek and she laughed, the sound dissolving into a rather wanton sigh when he traced his middle finger down her jaw and over her throat. Just the gentlest of touches, barely even a touch at all.

"You want this just as bad as I do, don't you?" she asked, lolling her head to the side as his finger traced her collarbone and then her shoulder.

"I do." He focused on the way her chest heaved, slowly up and down as she melted into his touch, and then traced the strap of her nightgown until he reached the front, just at the curve of her breasts.

Y/N arched her back and pulled the covers away from her body, revealing herself to him in full as she got comfortable. She scooted and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Spencer along the side of the bed. He gladly followed.

"I give you permission to touch me in any way you see fit, okay? I... I want you to do whatever feels good to you. How does that sound?"

At the invitation, he quickly let his mind wander to extremely filthy places and wondered if he had the ability to taste again...

The thought alone made him twitch beneath his pants, and suddenly there was no going back.

He let out a long breath and touched the bottom hem of her nightgown. It was already short to begin with, but since she'd moved around in bed and her feet were flat, knees pointed upward, the fabric rode up to the very tops of her thighs. He drew another continuous circle right there, just below where it ended, and Y/N instinctively started to spread her knees apart.

Spencer stopped her, gripping one knee and spelling out W-A-I-T before slipping his shoes and jacket off. She arched an eyebrow, confused at first, but then looked down to the floor when she heard his shoes being kicked back and his clothing falling there.

And then, when he was ready, she looked back to the bed in front of her as Spencer climbed and knelt, positioning himself in front of her. Her eyes watched the mattress move, and a flicker of excitement danced over her features, amusing him.

He placed his hands on her knees, and even though she'd given him permission, he asked anyway, drawing a question mark against her skin.

She nodded. "Please."

Slowly, his hands pulled her legs apart. He drew it out as long as he possibly could, curious to know how long he could test her anticipation threshold. He still planned to give her everything she wanted, of course, but there was something oddly erotic about being touched by somebody you couldn't see that she was obviously keen to explore. So he would take his time until she begged him otherwise.

Sure enough, her stare was laser-focused on her body as he moved it to his liking, her breath hitching once her legs were far enough apart for him to realize she wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightgown and he paused. Already she was glistening with arousal, a sight that nearly made Spencer go completely slack.

"How long have you wanted this..." he wondered aloud, overwhelmed and in awe as his hands traveled firmly down her inner thighs. She squirmed under his bold touch, and leaned her head back against the headboard with a soft thud.

"Please," she whimpered, her hands reaching out to grip whatever bunched up fabric she could find on the bed.

He had planned to test the waters a little longer, ever so the scientist at heart, but figured that was as good of a plea as any to give in and finally give her what she wanted.

And so, Spencer ran a gentle, steady hand down through her heat, dragging his middle finger along the seam until he barely entered her, then came back up.

The long, desperate moan that Y/N drew out was like Heaven to his ears, and he'd never been more grateful for his heightened senses than in that moment. Every breath she took, every gloriously wet sound her body made as he explored her, every rustle of her hands through the sheets... All of it was sharp and crisp, and no other symphony had ever sounded so beautiful.

He wanted more of it.

One finger became two, and Spencer looked up to watch her face as he fingered her slowly. Parted lips and focused eyes fighting to stay open despite the pleasure she was feeling made for quite the perfect view, he almost didn't want to look away. But there was so much to beauty see between her soft facial features and the curves of her body and the obvious arousing sight below him. It was overwhelming how hot he felt in that moment, he could have sworn he was glowing.

His pace quickened, and Y/N had finally given into the temptation to close her yes, her head falling back again as she rolled her hips. He was getting impatient now.

With his other hand, against the inside of her thigh, Spencer spelled out "T-A-S-T-E-?"

"Oh, God, please. Yes."

Still hesitant to scare her even though his fingers were already deep inside her, rather than diving in as he so desperately wanted to, he slowly brought his head down to meet the area between her legs. He turned to press his cheek to the soft flesh of her thigh, and she gasped, the sound fading to a low laugh as she took in the feeling of his mouth and his hair caressing her skin. He kissed her then, tentatively darting his tongue out to taste her and sighing with relief once he realized he could actually taste again. Once he had that revelation, there was no going back. He was a man starved, his kisses growing more hungry as they traveled up and up and up...

Once his tongue made curious contact with the hood of her clit, Y/N gasped again, clutching her bed sheets and rolling her hips up to meet him. Spencer groaned, and a selfish part of him wished she could hear it. He wanted her to know just how crazy she was driving him, how much he wanted her. She could certainly feel it, her reaction to the vibrations causing her muscles to flex and her toes to curl, and he decided then that it would have to do. He was just going to have to make her feel his desire so deeply that it rattled in her bones and lingered there for the rest of eternity. He wanted to ruin everybody else for her, to stay with her until the end of time.

She reached and felt around for his head, fingers threading through invisible curls as she cried out.

"Spencer, you're so— so good..."

He hummed his approval at the praise and continued to work her, adding a third finger and sucking on her clit to feel her fingers tugging at his scalp. The sensation alone had him nearly lightheaded, and he wanted to stay there forever, lost in her taste and her touch and her noises.

God, her noises...

She sighed and whined, and stretched and squelched around his fingers, and he was convinced that had he not already been dead, he would have begged whoever was listening to keep him alive just to experience her forever.

The second she struggled to keep her legs open, trapping his head between them, he knew she was quickly approaching her orgasm, and he couldn't wait. He'd heard her climax before, but being right there as it was happening felt like a privilege he would always be grateful for. He wanted to replicate everything he'd heard that night and get to feel it, too— get to be the one to make her feel that way.

"Fuck, don't stop, I'm s— so close..."

Spencer groaned into her as if to say, "I know, I can feel you." Oh, how he wished he could talk her through it, to tease her with his words... Alas, he had no choice but to encourage her with his actions, so he used his free hand to search for one of hers. She gave up her hand to lace their fingers together, and his thumb continued to draw mindless circles into her skin as she clenched and released, over and over again until she was coming.

"Spencer!" she cried to the air, over and over again as if she could will him into existence again. It was a desperate plea, a manifestation, and the both of them secretly hoped that it would work.

She wanted to see him

He wanted her to see him, too.

He felt her climax subside, and then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and trailed his tongue down to keep tasting. A part of him was scared to realize he might not actually be visible like he hoped, but he pushed the potential disappointment aside and luxuriated in the way she tasted. He delved in and gripped the underside of her thighs to keep them steady, and with a delighted groan as he pushed his tongue inside, Y/N gasped.

"Fuck, I can hear you..."

The words excited him greatly.

"Thank God."

Spencer kissed her, tasted her until she was writhing and begging him to stop.

"Please, Spencer, kiss me."

He pulled away and looked up at her, smiling even though she still couldn't see him. "I am kissing you," he replied, pressing his lips to her thigh.

"You know what I mean. Come here..."

He laughed and obliged, kissing his way up her legs and crawling up her body. He slowly dragged his hands up her stomach, bunching up her nightgown and sliding it up her body the farther he got. Her eyes watched in allure as the fabric rode up and up and up, seemingly on its own. But she knew better, she knew who was undressing her and worshipping her, and it made her squirm.

She lifted her arms over her head and let him take the clothing off, revealing her chest to the chilly air. She watched as the fabric flew to the ground, and then felt Spencer's hands return to her skin, gentle fingers raising goosebumps all over. Her nipples pinched and hardened the closer he got to them, and soon enough he was palming her breasts as he pressed his forehead to hers, wedging his body between her legs.

"Kiss me," she breathed, feeling his nose touch hers. His breath was hot against her own, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Please..."

"Anything for you, sweet girl..."

She sighed as his mouth finally collided with her own, the heady and prominent taste of her arousal growing stronger the deeper he kissed her. Their bodies couldn't stop moving, wandering hands and urgent hips, and with his newfound ability to speak to her, Spencer spoke in gentle praises. He sighed out her name reverently, telling her how good and sweet and perfect she was, and she returned every word with a whimper, in awe that he was really there. He was becoming more and more present, and she couldn't get enough.

"I want to feel you," she said against his lips, dragging her hand down his invisible chest. She fingered through every button of his shirt until it was loose and open, and the cool hum of his skin as she explored his torso made her hands numb.

Spencer kissed her jaw and groaned, feeling himself throb at her words. "Let me help..."

He grabbed her hand and guided her to the bulge in his pants, even though she could have just as easily stumbled onto it herself. The intimacy of it all was almost overwhelming, so much so that when her grip tightened softly on his clothed erection, Spencer almost came undone right then and there.

"Fuck, Y/N... I'd say you're going to be the death of me, but..."

They laughed together until she kissed him again, deeply and with a sigh. "You're becoming more and more real, but... this feels like... it feels like a dream."

He understood what she meant, and it filled him with a tinge of sadness, but her hand slowly palming him was becoming harder and harder to ignore. He gripped her wrist and his breath hitched in her ear as he nipped at it.

"Trust me, sweetheart... I am very real."

She shuddered at his words and squeezed him tighter before fumbling for his belt.

"Spencer... Do you think..." Her hands successfully undid the confines of his pants and started to slide them down over his hips, trying not to mess up her words as he sucked marks into her neck. "Do you think that if you fuck me... I'll finally be able to see you?"

"Mmm, God, I hope so," he groaned earnestly, repositioning themselves so he could kick off his pants and rest her head on the pillow. She let him take the lead, her breath getting heavier with anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs and grabbed her wrist. Once again, he was guiding her hand to his cock, hard and, this time, bare. She cursed under her breath as she gripped him and he helped her languidly stroke himself in exploration. His fingers were strong over hers, and he applied just the right amount of pressure to draw out a groan from the both of them.

"Please," she sighed out desperately through shallow breaths. "Spencer, please, I need you..."

How could he resist?

He didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying.

"Then let me take care of you, sweet girl," he cooed, hiking her thighs to rest over his hips and slowly sinking into her with ease.

Once he was all the way in, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, comforting her through the low burn. He slowly rolled his hips forward as she cried out his name, her fingers coming up to grip his shoulders. "You feel that?" he whispered into her skin. "How perfectly I fit inside you? It's like you were made for me..."

"Uh-huh," she stuttered in agreement.

He stopped teasing her then, pulling back to start fucking her nice and slow as she adjusted to him. Her fingers curled and knotted into the loose material of his shirt. She would have slid it off of him, but the grip on something steady was nice as she let him focus on his ministrations. He seemed to be doing just fine with the shirt on, anyway, and it was hard to even think about anything other than how good he felt.

She wondered then, as he picked up momentum and started peppering kisses down her jawline, what she looked like to the night. If she were standing there, outside her own body, watching herself being thoroughly and beautifully wrecked by something invisible and obviously enjoying every second...

Her eyes rolled back at the image, just as Spencer started going harder. His hips snapped into hers with a strength and precision that felt like it was rattling worlds. It very well could have been, and neither of them had any mind to care; They were so intensively intertwined with each other that it was a different world entirely.

They started to burn hot, that familiar warm chill of impending pleasure creeping up through their bodies and setting them alight. Y/N snaked her arms up to Spencer's neck and brought him down for a searing kiss as she melted into him, and he returned it with a fervor that elicited the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He felt it all the way in his bones, felt the waves of pleasure start to drag him under as she squeezed him with her limbs and started to come undone herself.

The atmosphere around them was purely electrifying, bright snaps of skin and sharp whispers of mouth combining to brew a perfect storm that nothing would ever survive. It was wild and unconstrained, glimmering and grand, and in their wake, the two entities left their desire lingering in the air for the dead of night to stew in for as long as it would allow.

Spencer collapsed on top of her with a hefty sigh, and he was grateful to be able to finally share his voice with her. The mystery and simplicity of the X's and O's were fun to indulge in at first, but now that they'd grown closer and created something beautiful and memorable together, he had to tell her exactly how he felt— no symbols, no mysteries...

He kissed her softly and pulled back to look into her eyes, dragging a thumb over her cheekbone as he told her the truth.

"You're perfect."

Her eyes went wide, welling with tears as she reached up and ran a finger softly along the bridge of his nose.

"You're beautiful."

Relief and something else—something warm—stirred in Spencer's chest at the confirmation that she could finally see him, and that she was moved by what she saw. Who she saw...

He couldn't help the smile that adorned his face, and the soft joyous laughter that escaped him as she continued to explore his features with the pads of her fingertips, like she was trying to memorize him from touch alone in case he suddenly disappeared again.

"I mean it, Spencer, you're... even more beautiful than I imagined."

"You imagined me?" he inquired rather suggestively.

With a laugh, she brought him down for a slow, searing kiss. "Duh..."

Even though they were tired, they stayed like that for hours, kissing and exploring and sighing until the sweet lull of sleep took hold and carried them through the night.

For a solid few hours until he awoke, Spencer completely forgot that he wasn't alive.

ACT III: Unfinished Business

Y/N had never done so much research in her entire life. She liked Spencer, and she was more than happy to help him out, but man... Reading dozens of articles and textbooks and blogs about the different types of spirits and how to lay them to rest was a long, exhausting road that led pretty much nowhere. There was no way to know what type of ghost Spencer was or how to help him move on, not that she could see, anyway. She didn't know if he'd age with her, or be 'undead' long enough to become vicious and bitter like a lot of the spirits she read about, and Spencer's research was just about as inconclusive as her own.

A selfish part of her hoped she'd never find out, to keep him around forever... But she also knew that wasn't fair to him. No matter how lonely she was or how much fun they had and how they enjoyed each other's company, well... The fact of the matter was, he was dead.

And he deserved to rest.

In the meantime, in the hours between headache-inducing frustration at the lack of answers, Spencer told her about his life. His friends, mostly— the best people he'd ever known. The way he described them, she had a feeling that they might hold the key to his dilemma. If not directly, perhaps there was something about him that they knew, something that might give Y/N some insight into his ghostly purpose, so to speak. Not that she couldn't ask Spencer directly, but they'd already discussed a lot of back-and-forth on enemies and people that could have wanted to harm him, all of which were surefire impossibilities. Not to mention the fact that he seemed tied to this apartment and not anything else. Maybe that didn't have anything to do with it, but neither of them knew.

It was the only other option she had.

They laid next to each other in her bed, her head laying on his chest. Her ear warmed gently, and tried as she might to hear a heartbeat, all she could hear was a faint white noise, almost like he was merely a figure of tangible energy rather than a body. She supposed that was technically what he was, but as much as she'd grown to know and like Spencer, it was hard to think of him that way. It was... sad to think of him that way.

She frowned and nestled into him, trying to push away that petulant nagging in the depths of her soul that screamed "This isn't fair!" and she told him the most difficult thing she'd ever had the courage to push past her lips.

"I think I have an idea... You can say no if you think it's too weird, but... It might help you. Maybe."

"Mmm, what's that?" he responded, curious but not audibly hopeful. It made Y/N even more sad to think he probably figured he'd never find peace.

"What if I go talk to your friends? Do you think they might know something you don't?"

There was a beat of silence before she felt his chest heave with gentle laughter. "Derek Morgan definitely wouldn't think so..."

Recalling some of the funny stories he'd told her about him, she smiled. Still, she pressed. "I mean it. What other outlets do we have? Where else is there to look? If there's anyone who knows you better than anyone else, wouldn't it be them?"

Spencer sighed, giving it a thought. His fingers raked through her hair and massaged her scalp to the point of gentle, comforting numbness, another one of those domestic moments that had her feeling absolutely conflicted.

And then, he said, "Actually... I think I know exactly who you should talk to..."

———

There was a deep chill in her bones as she approached Penelope Garcia's apartment building, but not because of the lively, rustling October wind. In fact, she wanted to throw up at the thought of having this conversation. But not because she didn't want to help Spencer. She did, more than anything.

She was just afraid of being arrested.

Spencer assured her that it would be fine and that Penelope was harmless, and while the latter she could believe, it still nerved her to wander up to a woman's door and announce that she lived in the apartment of her beloved dead co-worker and needed to help him fulfill his destiny as a spirit. It sounded like a cruel joke.

"If anyone would believe you, it would be Penelope," he'd said, comforting her with a pat on the shoulder.

Maybe it was true, but she didn't want to find out if it wasn't. It was one thing to have the door slammed in your face by a grief-stricken loved one, but a grief-stricken loved one who worked for the fucking FBI was ten times worse; There were a lot more horrifying outcomes that came with that combination.

Still, she trusted Spencer on a level she'd barely trusted anyone else, and he wasn't even alive for God's sake... So she strapped on her boots, threw on her most comfortable jacket, and braced the wind and whatever fate blew with it.

For Spencer.

"For Spencer," she muttered under her breath as she rapped on the door. Three times. Third time's the charm, three's a crowd, three clicks of the heel and you're home... Three seemed like a lucky number. Three was inviting, friendly, not intended to inflict emotional damage.

Please, God, don't let her hate me, Y/N prayed to whoever was listening. Don't let this go horribly wrong.

A bright voice was yelling beyond the door, and with every millisecond that it got louder and closer, her heart started to beat faster. Blood thrummed in her ears, and she kept repeating, "For Spencer, for Spencer, for Spencer," on a loop to remind her why she was going through all this anxiety.

The voice got closer, but still muffled, until the door swung open. Then it stopped altogether. Y/N blinked and stood there with a stiff back and sweaty palms, in front of Penelope Garcia. The woman was obviously expecting somebody else to be at the door, but she didn't look disappointed, just confused.

"Oh. You're not Luke. How can I help you?"

"Um... My name is Y/N. I... Before I tell you why I'm here, I need you to know that I'm not trying to play a trick on you, and I don't want to make you sad or upset, and if there's anything you need or want to know about me in order to trust me, then I'll gladly give you that information, but this is really important and I need you to know that I'm not crazy or harmful, I just want to help him."

Penelope's eyes went wide as she reached out and grabbed her hand. The thrumming in her ears got louder as she took a deep breath and waited for the yelling to start, her body to be thrown to the ground, or a sharp piercing sting of a backhand.

The only thing she felt, however, was a tug at her heart and the gentle dissipation of nerves as Penelope spoke one simple word.

"Spencer."

"How... How did you know?"

"Ever since he... Since he's been... I just knew something didn't feel right. Everyone told me that it was just grief, and for a while that's also what I told myself, but... That feeling was just too... Wait, who did you say you were again?"

Y/N stuttered her name and gripped Penelope's hand tighter, hoping to create some rapport. "I live in his apartment. He's been... Visiting me."

Something in her eyes softened and then saddened at the confirmation that her friend was somehow still among the living. "A visitor in his own home... Poor Boy Genius..."

She couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "He said you called him that often..."

Wide eyes welling with tears, Penelope nodded and tugged at her visitor's hand. "He was the smartest person I ever knew. Kindest, too. Here, come on inside, I'll make you some tea. Do you like tea? Maybe some hot chocolate?"

Her hospitality as she ushered her inside was both comforting and saddening to Y/N. It was in her nature to be that way to guests, even strangers, sure, but it also acted as a shield from the somber feelings she'd been rushed with at a moment's notice, no thanks to said stranger.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Penelope," Y/N rushed as she shrugged her coat off. "You don't have to make me anything."

"Oh, I know I don't have to, but would you like something warm to drink?"

She was practically begging for the distraction, something to do with her hands as she had time to process and prepare for what was about to happen.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Perfect, I'll get it started. Make yourself comfortable, Sweets."

She carried her coat over her arms, holding it to her chest like a tether to reality. None of this felt real, even though she could still feel the warm glow of Spencer's energy all around her, like it had burrowed into the pores of her skin and made a home there.

As she looked around at Penelope's bright and colorful space, she thought about him... How often had he been here? What did they do together, and where did they hang out? She imagined the laughter and the stories and the cooking... She wished she would have known him then, been a part of his life. As scary as he told her it was at times, she knew there were also plenty of bright spots, and she knew Penelope was definitely one of the brightest.

Y/N smiled, hugging her coat tighter.

"I like your apartment," she complimented, sitting down at a small dining table in the corner.

"Thank you! I always told Spencer he should get some more color, but... What can I say, he really loved his neutrals."

The familiar detail brought a smile to her face. "That doesn't surprise me. He told me that even though he likes me, he really hates my floral couch and that it looked weird in his apartment. I told him he was boring." And, that technically, it was her apartment now. In fact, her exact words after the fact were, "What are you going to do, haunt me?" before they both laughed and continued making out on said couch.

But she didn't need to remind Penelope of the fact that he was gone. Or to inform her that she was intimately involved with his ghost.

Just the thought alone was enough to make the low, ever-present hum of his imprinted memory on her skin even more intense, and she smiled.

"Oh... I know that look."

Y/N looked up at Penelope, who was grinning with the most mischievous gleam in her eye.

"What look?"

"You think he's cute, don't you?"

"I... I don't..."

"Well, I suppose even if you can't see him, I'm sure he's charmed you anyway. And you probably Googled him."

"How did you—"

"It's what I would have done... So?" she prompted, still waiting for an answer of some kind.

Y/N sighed, defeated and impressed by Penelope's skills at quickly retrieving information. But she also didn't want to lie to her, so she had no choice but to answer her questions with the truth anyway. "Well, I can see him. But I couldn't at first. My um... My friends came over one night, and they brought a Ouija board. We used it for shits and giggles because I'd joked to them after I moved in that I didn't feel totally alone, and well..."

"It wasn't a joke?"

Penelope brought over the tea, steaming and aromatic. Y/N took it with a nod of thanks and sighed as she sat down across from her.

"No. But I didn't actually think I was living with a ghost, I mean... I didn't believe in that stuff. But I also wasn't going to risk pissing him off, so I tried to be nice to him. I only knew his name, and then my friends looked him up and we read his obituary, and... I don't know, I guess I just thought he seemed like a good person, so he deserved some kindness in the afterlife. I said hello to the air every time I came home from work, I yelled out a good night before going to bed... And then he started leaving me notes on my bathroom mirror, and I guess... I don't know, the more he and I got to know each other, the easier things became. Eventually he could touch things, and then soon after he was audible, then visible..."

She conveniently left out the details of that journey, though her skin warmed again at the memory.

"And now that we can communicate, it's become clear to me that he doesn't know where he's going— Why he's not at rest... I feel bad for him. He deserves..." Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard before looking down at the mug in her hand. "He deserves to move on."

Penelope was quiet for a moment as Y/N sipped her tea. Her hand reached out to grab hers, and the gesture almost had her in tears.

"You sound... Sad about that."

She couldn't help the pressure that pulsed behind her eyes, stabbing at her throat... Still, she made herself speak, barely above a whisper to prevent that inevitable cracking of the voice that would surely break the dam she was trying so hard to keep still and strong. "I... I know it sounds absolutely crazy..."

"You're falling in love with him."

Though the words didn't come from her own mouth, they came flying at her like a sucker punch to the gut. The wind was knocked out of her for a moment, until all she could do was exhale and let the tears fall silently as she nodded.

Penelope let her cry for a minute or two without a word while holding her hand, until she was ready to elaborate. "But I can't... I can't keep him here, it's not right. If he doesn't have any unfinished business, then he should be put to rest. And I... I don't know how to help him. I thought maybe, if I could talk to the people who knew him the best... I could get an idea."

"Oh, Honey, I... I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than you do." She was talking through tears herself, and Y/N squeezed her hand back. "His mother's been gone for years now, and there's no other family that he was close enough with to even consider, other than us, but... Truthfully I don't know if we really count in the grand scheme of things... I'd like to think that we do..."

"You might not be blood-related, but you were his family. He loved you so much, I could tell by the way he spoke about all of you. He... He misses you a lot. I just wish he didn't have to feel that loss anymore."

Penelope frowned. "I wish I could give you an answer... When you go back to him... Will you at least tell him that we love him?"

"He already knows. But yes. I will."

"And I'll keep on thinking. Whatever you need, you got it. I have access to pretty much everything so if there's information to be had, I will get my paws on it, and you will know. Thank you for coming to see me. And for telling me that Spencer's okay... He is okay, right?"

Y/N hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer without giving away their extra-curricular activities. "I think so. He's tired, I can tell. But I do my best to keep him happy. The last thing I need is to have him angrily haunting me."

Penelope laughed, then sighed. "Unfortunately, I think that means you better get rid of that glorious couch, then."

The laughter was a welcome break from the tears, which had already started to dry on her skin, leaving her cheeks itchy. "I really appreciate you being so kind, Penelope... Losing Spencer must have been absolutely impossible, and having a complete stranger show up at your door and pour salt in the wound... I couldn't imagine..."

"Y/N... If there was any person on this planet who could have moved into his apartment and helped him through this... I think I speak for the whole BAU when I say that he's lucky it's you."

The sentiment made her chest tight, and an involuntary pout tugged at her mouth. "You... You really mean that?"

Penelope laughed and squeezed her hand again. "Oh, Darling, you even pout like him... You're kind of perfect for each other."

"I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that," she replied through a fit of hysterics, and Penelope joined her.

It was clear then that these two women were meant to bond seamlessly over the loss of someone dear, one in life and the other in death. They were two sides of the same coin, a best friend and an anchor to the other side. It was a solace that neither of them had expected, but welcomed with open arms and warm understanding.

They exchanged stories and laughs and phone numbers and hugs, and joked about exchanging addresses, and a while later, just as Y/N was about to go home, fastening her coat, Penelope stopped her.

"Wait... I don't mean to make you sad or anything, and maybe this isn't the answer that either of you were looking for... But after today? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Spencer's unfinished business is you."

The thought froze her entirely. It would stand to reason that they were meant to find each other, only to let each other go. Because, of course. Nobody was ever that lucky, especially neither Spencer nor his new roommate.

Sensing her overthinking, Penelope continued. "I know it's unfortunate given the circumstances, but... You did say that the more you got to know him, the more... alive he became. At least as alive as he can be. And I've only known you for about an hour, but I can confidently say that you are about as perfect for Spencer as somebody could be for anybody. And..."

She shifted on her feet, unsure of whether she should actually say what she was about to tell her, but obviously needing to make her point with as much context as possible. "You know, he's tried. He watched many of us find love and have families of our own, and he's always wanted that, but... He never got to have it. I think... that was the one thing that he always truly and completely wanted, especially after his mom passed and he had no one left but us... Somebody to go home to, somebody who understood him and cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him... A soulmate. And... Y/N, I think it might be you."

Her head was swimming and tears were blurring her vision again. As much as she wanted to believe it, ever the lover of grand romantic endings, it didn't make sense. She didn't really believe in soulmates, did she? Then again, she didn't believe in ghosts, either, until recently...

"How could you possibly know that?" she whispered to Penelope, hoping for a switch in her brain to flip. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to dash home and confidently confess to the ghost living in her apartment that they were made for each other and that she could finally set him free.

And... Then what?

There had to be another explanation.

"I wish I could tell you how, definitively," Penelope answered sadly, "and like I said, I don't want to upset you... But it's just a feeling. And my feelings are hardly ever wrong. Hey, I mean I had a feeling that Spencer was still out there somehow, and that turned out to be true, right?"

"I... I guess," she sniffled.

"Just... Do me a favor, okay? Think about it. Spend tonight with him, like you normally do, and really really think about it. And tell me you don't feel it."

It almost sounded like a playful challenge rather than a request. Y/N wiped at her eyes and sighed. "You're really sure?"

"Positive."

Y/N wasn't really sure if she believed it still, but there was a conviction in Penelope's voice that was too sincere to ignore. And Spencer trusted her, which obviously meant a lot.

So, she promised that she would think about it anyway, bade her new friend farewell, and made her way outside, where the wind had died and left the streets lifeless and quiet.

———

Something was different about Y/N when she came home.

Spencer tried to let her go about the night and refrain from saying anything, but after regretfully informing him that Penelope had no wisdom to offer her about their situation but would get back to her if anything did come to mind, she was... odd. Perhaps she was just as tired as he was in trying to solve this mystery, or just tired in general. But he didn't want to push her if she didn't want to open up, so he did what he could and offered his company.

Still, she didn't seem right.

He thought maybe a flurry of warm, tender kisses along her skin would put her in high spirits, but the longer she let him worship her skin without so much as a sigh in return, it started to sink in that something was deeply wrong.

"Are you okay?" he asked sweetly, stroking her jaw with the back of his hand as he looked her in the eye. She looked at him for only a few seconds before averting her gaze, like if she allowed him to meet her eyes for any longer, he'd pull something from her that she'd rather not share. It sent a small wave of panic through him. "Y/N, talk to me, please... What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," she said unconvincingly.

"You don't... have to talk about it if you don't want to... But you're upset about something, and I want to help you. I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll listen, I'll leave you alone, I'll kiss it better... Whatever you want. It's yours."

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, defeated. "God, you FBI people are too good at getting information out of people, it's annoying."

Spencer laughed. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel interrogated. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I'm..."

She couldn't seem to get out the words, like there was a frustrating lack of understanding how to convey them. He drew continuous circles gently into her palm and waited patiently for her to open up, silently promising that he would be there for her when she finally found the right words.

It was a question that she finally settled on. "Have you ever been in love? Like... Really in love?"

Something inside him jolted at the thought of where this conversation might lead. If he had a heartbeat, it would have raced and thrummed so heavily that the organ might have failed. In truth, he'd been thinking about it for a week or two now. Ever since the night he realized that his interactions with her were the key to becoming more sentient, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps she was the thing he was tethered to.

He didn't dare say it out loud, or to her face, because... Well, it was too soon, wasn't it? And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because once he was lain to rest, they could never be together.

It was complicated.

"I think I was, a few times," he finally answered in earnest. "And to be fair, just because things didn't work out with them, it doesn't mean I didn't really love them. I did. But... I think deep down I knew they weren't really The One... Does that make sense?"

"I think so... I don't think I've ever been in love before. Even with long-term partners, we said the words, and I felt something that was happy and I thought was love, but..." She paused, avoiding his eye again before rapidly blinking back tears. "Now I feel this... this anchor to you that I can't let go of... I want to be around you all the time and I know it's not fair because you deserve to rest, but I can't help it. Spencer, I... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm afraid that once I really admit it out loud, you'll be gone forever."

He knew, then, that this was it. Listening intently as she confessed, absorbing every word and allowing himself to feel and admit what he knew to be true for a while now, his body began to tingle. It was so dull at first, he almost mistook the feeling for 'butterflies'. It felt cruel not to tell her that he was starting to fade, but he didn't want to ruin the moment or panic her. He didn't want to tell her that she was running out of time. That they were running out of time.

So, instead, to try and ease the blow, he told her something sweet.

He told her, "I love you."

Her eyes glossed over at the confession. She reached urgently for his hands, her grip strong and willing like she knew what was going to happen. And maybe she did. Still, she sat there and listened to him, her eyes taking in every inch of his presence and committing him to memory.

He aimed to make it a memory she would never forget.

"I don't know when we'll see each other again, but I don't doubt that we will. Not for a second. And until then, my only wish is that you keep allowing yourself to fall in love. Don't be afraid of it. You shouldn't deny yourself just because I'm gone. Can you promise me that you'll try?"

Y/N blinked away tears and tugged at his hands. "What if I can't?"

"You will, my sweet girl. And I promise, I won't be mad at you."

She laughed despite herself, then almost cried again when she felt his presence start to fizzle and break in front of her eyes. She was desperate to hold on to him, clutching his hands for dear life and breathlessly whispering, "I love you, Spencer Reid," as if the conviction alone would be enough to keep him here. As if whatever cruel deity was putting them through this would see how much she needed him and decided to spare her the misery.

"I wish I could have known you when I was alive," he told her, leaning in closer. "Maybe we could have been neighbors."

She smiled through tears and pressed her forehead to his, the contact making her skin go numb. Silently she hoped that wherever he was going, she would be sucked in with him. "Then I would have invited you over for dinner."

He squeezed her hands, already feeling his grip fading, his essence nearly numbing him. Still, he willed himself to stay long enough to paint this life for the two of them—one they would never get to have, except only in dreams and perhaps in another life entirely. Anything was possible, after all.

"And I still would have made fun of your ugly couch."

"And I would have pushed you onto it and made you take it back."

"And I would have refused."

"And I would have kissed you ."

"And I would have kissed you back."

"And I would have fallen in love with you immediately."

"And I would have sworn that I'd fall in love with you in every universe."

She closed her eyes, feeling the very last remnants of his presence as she whispered, "I think it's safe to assume that you already have."

"And I think I'm inclined to agree."

THE END

[rs-hawk]

I don't think i can explain to you the near-boundless giddy excitement I got form seeing EJ on that creeptober list of yours. (If it's not obvious, he might just be my favourite, snort) Looking forward to all of em tho ~!!

He’s GREAT. I used to have so many head cannons about him since so little is actually known. This story is actually based off my hc about his origin. I hope you enjoy!

Creeptober: Day Three

Eyeless Jack’s Obsession

Yandere! Eyeless Jack x AFAB Reader

CW: horror themes, stalking, blood, pain, death (not of reader), hypnosis, breeding, etc

Eyeless Jack was once an ordinary spirit. He lived his afterlife the way most spirits do. Bored and alone. However, that all changed when you bought the mansion in which he resided.

You moved in without ever seeing the place in person, which you soon regretted. The entire place gave you a creepy vibe that made the pit of your stomach twist into knots. At all times it felt like something was watching you. Stalking you. Filling every room with its presence.

And he was. Jack was following you no matter where you went in the house. It was like you were a drug and he was an addict. Being around you made him feel almost alive again. And the more alive he felt, the more he could interact with the physical world.

Soon he was moving things. Taking things from you. You noticed but kept trying to brush it off. You hoped thought that you were going a little crazy. After all, you worked a remote job and lived in this big creepy house all by yourself. You were supposed to fix it up and sell it for your aunt, who hadn’t lived here in decades, but it was hard. Even with the money she gave you, you struggled to make up the remainder.

Eventually though, you did, and construction started. You still lived in the loft like area that was once an attic while the crews worked downstairs. Unfortunately for the construction workers you hired, Eyeless Jack wasn’t as enthused with the intrusion into your space as you were.

On the very first day, a ladder fell over, nearly killing one of the roofers. He was fine, but he refused to return as he said he was pushed. The next time a ladder fell, a few days later, someone did die.

You heard the screaming and the sound of a body hitting the concrete. It took you a few minutes to rush downstairs. Terror filling your body. Did someone really just die on your aunt’s property? Holy fuck. How would you be able to keep living here? That poor man and his family.

While you were panicked, Jack was ecstatic. He hoped now you would send all these other people away so it could just be the two of you again. All he wanted was to be able to have you all to himself again. As he watched you panic, and the other workers calling the cops or trying to scrape their dead friend’s body off the concrete, he realized that he had blood on his hands.

For a few moments, he just stared at it. Vague memories of being alive and kicking blood from a cut on his finger drifted through his mind, but nothing solid. It was too long ago. Too hard to remember. Yet, his tongue darted out to flick across his palm.

The blood in his mouth solidified some of the memories, and made him feel almost alive. In a frenzy, he licked the blood from both of his hands, the coppery and metallic taste filling his mouth. His eyes glazed over and all he could think of was getting more blood. How much could he touch then? Could he touch you?

The next few days were a blur for you as you worked with the company and your home owners insurance to work out the logistics of the worker’s accident. Everyone saw that he just fell. The ladder was properly secured. No one was messing with it. He was acting responsibly. He wasn’t impaired or intoxicated. It was a freak accident.

But you knew. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew. It was because of that disturbing presence in the house.

You decided that you wanted the renovations done as quickly as possible, so after getting some of your money back from the previous company, you hired another. And another. And another. Every time, someone died. It was horrifying. One man came to your house just to survey the land and came across a missing roofer. He looked like he had been ripped open with a man’s bear hands, and, to both your and the surveyer’s horror, all of his organs were missing.

That night you called your aunt and told her that you were done. In the morning, you were leaving. She didn’t even try to protest after you told her everything that had happened. Jack, having over heard your conversation, was furious. He couldn’t lose you.

Over the past few months, he had undergone a transformation. Every bit of human flesh he consumed made him more solidified. More tangible. More alive. However, his face has become mutated and disturbing. Where his eyes once were, were just empty chasms, dripping black blood. His skin turned to a disturbing shade of ashy gray. So, to prevent your terror as much as he could, he carved a mask out of a piece what used to be a blue shelf. Now there was no reason for you to rebuff his affection.

When he made his way up to your room, you were on your laptop. In seconds, he tossed it from your lap, and your phone was pushed off the bed. He was on his knees on the foot of the bed, leaning over you, caging you in with his arms.

A scream welled up in your throat as the black holes bore into your eyes, but a muttering voice soothed the fear away. Your brain turned fuzzy. It was like you couldn’t think for yourself. He tilted his head, which you mimicked.

“A pretty puppet,” he purred, stroking the side of your face with one of his hands.

You couldn’t think of anything. It was like his eyes had drawn every thought or ounce of individualism from your skull. When he told you to take off your clothes, you did. When he told you to lay down, you did. You couldn’t see his mouth, and his voice seemed to come from everywhere, but you knew that it was him talking.

“Make sure your pussy is good and wet for me,” he instructed, and you obliged.

You began to finger yourself, using your other hand to play with your clit. The soft whimpers and moans that escaped your lips had him gritting his teeth behind his mask. He wanted to take you so badly, but he also wanted it to be perfect for you. His little morsel. He wanted to be apart of you. For you to be apart of him. Forever.

Once your juices began to drip onto your sheets, he finally cooed at you to stop. You did. Despite the frustration and throbbing of your pussy. He was still caging you in with his arms, his form nearly engulfing you. After a moment of watching you squirm, your neglected cunt clenching around nothing, he eased back. Unzipping his pants, and pulling down his boxers, his hard and throbbing cock was shown to you.

Once his hypnotic gaze was broken, your mind began to flood back to you, and the sight of something so massive made you try to scamper back on the bed. However, your loving Eyeless Jack realized that his hold had been broken and grabbed your face, forcing your gazes to lock. Once again, anything in your mind seemed to melt away.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed. And you did.

He slowly slid inside of you, watching your face intensely as it contorted in pain and pleasure. He stretched you out to the point that you felt like you’d burst. Your walls were still throbbing with need, forcing you to clench around him. Clearly to his immense pleasure.

“There we go. Mine. So good for me,” he moaned as he finally sank his cock deep inside of you, his eyes flickering away from your face for just a moment to see how your stomach extended from his cock.

When his gaze returned to you, he saw tears in the corner of your eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to me, won’t you?” he promised, cupping your cheek almost tenderly again. You nodded obediently.

He was only slow for a few thrusts before losing what little of his kind remained. It was clear he wanted to care about your pleasure, but the decades of death and isolation left him desperate for the comfort and warmth your pussy brought him. The tip of his cock slammed against your cervix repeatedly, making you wince. He muttered out apologies, but never stopped. Never slowed down.

His cock ripped you slightly, blood beading along your tender lips. He muttered out another apology about how he’d make it up to you, and all you could do was whisper out an “okay”. It took hours for him to finish, and when he did, he slammed himself deeply inside of you, his cum pumping directly into your womb.

“There we are. Now I’ll always be apart of you,” he smiled, pulling up his mask to press a kiss to your forehead before disappearing.

As your mind came back to you, you winced at the pain, but wondered with a twisted hunger if he would come back for you.

Like this story? Support me on Ko-fi ☕️ ❤️

[zoppa682]

I am a therian who fully identifies as non human. The ONLY part of me that is human is my physical vessel, otherwise I am not human at all. Because of this, I have kinsidered fictionkin many times in the past, and every time I have, I pushed it aside since the characters I were kinsidering were human when I don't feel human at all. That was until it occurred to me: both the characters I am kinsidering are characters I headcanon as therians. Therfore, it would still make sense for me to feel nonhuman. So now I have been kinsdering them all over again.

I could not find much info online since all the info about fictionkins I found was past life stuff. I personally do not belive in the multiverse (I find it a cool concept and respect anyone who does), and I don't feel like I had a past life as any characters at all. Because of this, I came to the fictionkins, nunhumans, and alterhumans of tumblr.

I am kinsedering two characters. I will post here my experiences with both.

Jade Harley

Well, from the time I first got into Homestuck I always said "She is literally me!" And it always felt far more serious than just a fun joke. I feel so connected to Jade in so many ways. I really sometimes feel like her. My friends even call me Jade for fun, but it feels more serious to me, and I am happy going by the name. I relate to her a ton, for example, not just my therianthropy headcanon, but also her personality (both good and bad), her mannerisms, and even down to the way she types with the emoticons. Maybe that's not enough to mean anything, though.

It gets a little more complicated with the second character.

Mayra Tikuna

Mayra is a character from The Post Traumatic Manifesto by vocaloid artist Weevildoing. My Weevildoing hyperfixation only started about a week ago (on December 20th, when the series ended), but I knew their music and was a part of their fan base for way longer.

From the first time I heard Taxidermy Girl, something felt extremely off about it, in a good way I mean. I am not joking when I say I listened to it 10-15 times in a row after hearing it, trying to determine what it was I felt. I couldn't tell if it was the oddly haunting melody, or the fact that I heavily relate to the song, but either way, it stuck with me a lot even before I began to actually hyperfixate on the series.

I am in countless fandoms, and within every fandom, I have a favorite character that I will go crazy at the mention of, and my obsession with them always seems so exaggerated to others. Out of all the fandoms I have been in, there are only ever very few where I have related to the characters this much, and only ever these two characters have i felt THIS attached to in this context.

Because of how much I, once again, relate to the character in many ways (Again with the ties to therianthropy, the character's gender identity, their negative experiences, etc.), I have kinsedered him as a kintype. Though, I am unsure if it is too soon to tell. It's only been a little over a week, but I still feel as though something is stirring up here.

What do you all think? If there is any guidance or advice you can give me, I'd greatly appreciate it. Anyone who reads this far, have a wonderful day :3

(Also, go support Weevildoing, their music is incredible and has helped me through struggling with horrible intrusive thoughts many times)

[bi-bard]

Throw a Punch, Fall in Love, Give Yourself a Reason - Crowley & Aziraphale Imagine [Good Omens]

Title: Throw a Punch, Fall in Love, Give Yourself a Reason

Pairing: Aziraphale & Crowley X Platonic!Reader

Based On: Call Your Mom

Word Count: 2,279 words

Warning(s): **LOOK HERE** depictions of mental illness/poor mental health, yelling

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are left on a hunt for something... well, someone quite important. When they find who they were looking for, they are confronted with questions that they have no answer to.

Author's Note: **PLEASE READ THIS** Let's have a serious talk here. This imagine is heavy. I use my personal experiences as a major influence for this (granted that I will not go into detail about that at this time). This is to say that it won't reflect everyone's experience and that is not the goal. This story is not meant to be educational in any capacity and I will not claim as much.

If you are experiencing struggles with your mental health, then I would invite you to skip this story. Please be responsible with the media that you are consuming. Thank you.

NOAH KAHAN - STICK SEASON [WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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It all started with pacing.

Quite annoying pacing, really.

Crowley had walked- no, sauntered into the bookshop and found Aziraphale pacing the floor.

Over and over. Back and forth.

Annoyingly consistent steps. Floorboards seemed to creak along with each one, no matter how many times before that he had crossed them.

Crowley's voice was slow, "Angel..."

Aziraphale's pacing didn't change much as he hummed in response to Crowley. Crowley's face scrunched up a bit. He wasn't used to Aziraphale's attention not turning immediately to him when he spoke up.

"Angel," he said more firmly. Aziraphale finally looked at him. "What's going on?"

"I haven't seen (Y/n) in some time," the angel replied. "Have you?"

"I was honestly getting suspicious that they just hid in the shelves," Crowley muttered. "I don't visit them outside of your shop, Angel."

Aziraphale frowned even further than before.

"How long has it been?"

"Weeks," he answered simply. "I will admit that I have been getting a bit worried."

"Then, go visit," Crowley suggested. When there wasn't a response, he continued, "You didn't think to do that?"

"I didn't want to intrude!"

"Well, I do," Crowley turned on his heels and began his walk to the door. He stopped when he didn't hear an extra set of footsteps behind him. "Angel."

"Are you... What if they don't want to see us," Aziraphale asked.

"Well, (Y/n) can tell us that to our face," the demon shrugged before continuing his path out.

It wasn't until they started walking that the pair realized that neither one of them truly knew where (Y/n) lived. They had been told small details. Colors of curtains, what books were on shelves, the collection of notebooks that they always seemed to have. However, beyond that, the demon and angel had not thought much about where their dear friend lived.

Why would they when (Y/n) spent more time in the bookshop than they ever did in their own home?

It took some time- and a small miracle- before the pair found themselves outside an apartment door.

There was a small welcome mat sitting before their feet. It had been clearly well-loved. It had followed (Y/n) from place to place. An old gift from a parent that was meant to symbolize being a proper adult for the first time.

Aziraphale hesitated. He was still thinking about how (Y/n) may simply not want to see the two of them and that this visit would be incredibly intrusive.

He had tried to stop Crowley on the way there in the hopes of avoiding such a fate. He had mentioned that (Y/n) may just be sick, but Crowley reminded him that (Y/n) would still stop by because the pair of them couldn't catch a cold. He suggested that (Y/n) was on a trip, but Crowley mentioned that (Y/n) would have told them to keep them from worrying. Any and all alternative explanations for the unexplained absence fell less on deaf ears and more on a stubborn mind.

Crowley raised his hand and knocked on the door, hitting the wood a little harder than he probably meant to. He'd never admit that though, so it's best not to ask.

There was a long pause. A pause that caused Aziraphale to feel even more like their presence was not wanted. A pause that made Crowley contemplate how much harder he could truly knock on the door.

The two stared at each other. It had been thousands of years since the pair had met each other. A conversation done with no words exchanged was alarmingly common for them.

"(Y/n)," Aziraphale said through the door. "Are you home?"

It was still silent.

"Open the door," Crowley added after a moment. "Aziraphale may not give up, but I am far more stubborn than you think."

(Y/n)- who had confined themself to their couch- knew that the demon was being honest.

With a heavy sigh, they pushed themself off of the couch cushion and trudged to the door. They considered leaving it shut. Leaving the two celestial beings standing on their doorstep until they gave up. Like one would do to missionaries or door-to-door salesmen... which were truly one and the same when you thought about it.

They rolled their eyes at the thought and finally unlocked the door, pulling it open a second later. The angel and demon stood there as if this visit was the most normal thing in the world. Crowley in his standard all-black outfit with his glasses seemingly glued to his face. Aziraphale is ever formal attire, a grin on his face that was meant to offer some silent comfort wherever it may be needed.

"Hi," (Y/n) greeted quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, we haven't seen you for a while," Aziraphale explained. "We were worried."

"Well, I'm fine," (Y/n) didn't even bother to question the angel's statement... no matter how certain they were that the demon would never admit to feeling the same worry as Aziraphale had. "You two can go."

"What's going on," Crowley asked.

"Nothing. I'm just tired and want to be left alone."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at them.

"Please, just go."

"When will we be seeing you again," Aziraphale asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Can we come in?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Because we're your friends and we care for you-"

"Friends would respect my boundaries when I asked them to leave."

Crowley scoffed. "Not if they got a proper look at you."

"Thanks," (Y/n) replied sarcastically. They knew how they looked. How the bags under their eyes looked and how their clothes looked and their skin and their hair. They knew.

"Tell us what's going on," Crowley pushed.

"There's nothing to tell."

"I don't believe you."

"That's not my problem."

Aziraphale tried to step in, "(Y/n), we just want to help-"

"Well, I don't want your damn help!"

The door slammed shut in front of them.

Another silent conversation was enough for both of them to be fully prepared to break in. This kind of anger was not common from (Y/n). (Y/n) was typically very levelheaded. They made a point to be so. It was meant to keep the angel and demon from picking too many pointless fights.

Crowley vaguely moved his hand to ensure the door had unlocked before going to walk inside. Aziraphale walked in awkwardly, making sure to close and lock the door behind the two of them.

(Y/n) jumped at the sound of the door opening. "What is wrong with you both?"

"You're lying to us," Crowley said simply.

"Oh my..."

"(Y/n)," Aziraphale's voice was much softer than Crowley's. "I promise that we're only trying to help-"

"Fine, then help me," (Y/n) stepped even closer to them both. They both seemed puzzled at (Y/n)'s reaction. "Go ahead. Angel and demon, right? Do one of your little miracles and fix me! Rewire my brain! Adjust all of the chemicals and impulses! Make me suddenly feel better! Get me to stop feeling like such... crap!"

The pair fell silent as they caught sight of the tears building in (Y/n)'s eyes. How long had (Y/n) been holding this in? How blind had the two of them truly been?

"Go on!"

Aziraphale spoke up first, "(Y/n)... I- I can't-"

"Fine, what about you?" they turned to Crowley. "Or is this all part of Hell's hope of causing suffering and torment? Is that why you won't properly help me?"

Crowley felt guilt begin to sink in his stomach like a weight. "(Y/n)-"

"What's Heaven's excuse," they turned back to Aziraphale. "The race of angels that claim to want to protect the humans and all of God's creations... what's their excuse for... this?!"

Aziraphale didn't have a response.

"What is it? Some garbage excuse about God wanting his bravest soldiers to face the hardest battles?"

He didn't want to respond. There wasn't a response that wasn't going to sound like some variation of exactly that.

"Because I don't want to be brave!" they continued shouting. "I am so tired of being brave and strong and calm and controlled! I am so tired! So stop acting like you can fix it!"

Any further attempt at conversation from Aziraphale or Crowley got interrupted by (Y/n) storming out of the living room. The next sound was the slamming of (Y/n)'s bedroom door.

The silence after the fact was nothing short of suffocating.

Admittedly, it was foolish of (Y/n) to assume that the pair would give up at the sound of a slamming door. The two had been around for far too long to let such an action truly stop them.

When they opened the bedroom door, (Y/n) was lying on their side, back facing the door. They were shaking a bit, clearly crying or overwhelmed or both.

Crowley stayed behind as Aziraphale stepped forward.

"(Y/n)...," Aziraphale said softly.

No response.

"I know that you don't believe that we can help you, but you have to understand why we can't just leave you alone right now."

Still no answer, but there was some kind of small shift as (Y/n) wiped their eyes.

"You know... if there's one thing that I've learned about humanity," Aziraphale explained, "then it's that they are creatures of profound hope."

(Y/n) closed their eyes. They had been told to hold onto hope. They had been told to look on the bright side. It always felt so pointless. Almost condescending.

"But I know that they commonly will hide themselves away in the absence of it," he continued. "That there's this embarrassment that comes with finding oneself without hope. And I think that such a thought leads to such loneliness that it makes the hope even harder to find."

There was still no response.

He hesitated for a few moments longer before sitting on the mattress next to them. "I am not going to demand that you complete some search for hope now. I think that you will find it when you need it most. I am going to ask that you don't isolate yourself. Not from us."

Crowley was still in the doorway, leaning against it as he listened to the angel talk. He knew that Aziraphale was much better at this kind of thing. Who was Crowley to speak on not isolating when that was all he had done for most of the time since he had fallen from Heaven?

Aziraphale didn't feel like he was the right person for this moment. Not in the silence that followed his words. He felt as if he had failed. As if (Y/n) would tell them to leave again and he would have to finally accept defeat in this situation.

He was about to push himself off of the bed but didn't get the chance before (Y/n) sat up and suddenly jumped forward. They wrapped him in a tight hug, hiding their face in his shoulder. He hugged them back as he glanced at Crowley.

Crowley stepped forward, letting his mere presence be a comfort. Physical affection in a time like this was never something that Crowley was particularly good at. In all fairness, he had never really had to be. There were two people in this world that he cared about enough to even entertain the idea of such an action.

"Thank you," (Y/n) muttered into Aziraphale's shoulder.

"You're welcome," he mumbled back. "How about you lay down here and I will go make you some tea... maybe a light lunch?"

(Y/n) leaned back and wiped their eyes before nodding. "Okay."

"Good," he nodded before standing up.

(Y/n) didn't speak up until Aziraphale was at the door, "I'm sorry."

The two looked at (Y/n) with confused expressions.

"For yelling at you both," they explained. "You two didn't deserve that. You were only trying to help."

"It's quite alright," Aziraphale promised, nodding with a gentle grin on his face.

There was a pause and a pointed look from Aziraphale before Crowley spoke up, "Consider it forgotten."

(Y/n) nodded before going to lay back down on the mattress.

After taking a deep breath, Crowley rounded the corner of the bed, going to lie on the other side of them. He plopped down on his back, legs thrown over each other rather lazily as he tried to relax into the mattress.

"So, what's the plan," (Y/n) asked, listening to the distant sound of Aziraphale waltzing around their kitchen as if he belonged there. "You two are just going to stay here?"

"Yup," Crowley replied. "You're stuck with us."

(Y/n) sniffled and wiped their nose. "At least take your shoes off if you're going to lay in my bed."

A small chuckle escaped the demon as he sat up for long enough to pull off his shoes. When he laid down, he reached over and grabbed their hand. He offered a small grin. Maybe the gentlest gesture that he had done in hundreds or thousands of years.

(Y/n) accepted it, merely moving closer and resting against his shoulder. "Thank you, Crowley."

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured, pretending to be completely unbothered by the situation. "Just don't go telling people about it."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Good."

By the time Aziraphale had made it back with tea, (Y/n) was in a light sleep, hand still clasped tightly in Crowley's as they did so.

He set the dishes on the bedside table and moved to sit with the pair on the mattress. A quiet comfort for the time being.

And for once, (Y/n) found fighting that isolation to not be nearly as terrifying as it had once been.

They just needed somebody to truly hear them and still be stubborn enough to stay.

-------------------

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What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[apathetic-pixel-42]

hello, I noticed that you write for shaman king and I wanted to request if you could make like oneshots or head cannons about the boys realizing that they fell for the reader. You can use any gender you want. Thank you!

Hiii!! Thank you so much for your request!! I hope you love it! <33333

Shaman King Boys Realizing That They're In Love 💌

Includes: Yoh, Horohoro, Ren, Lyserg, Chocolove, and Hao

Yoh:

I think when Yoh first figured out that he had feelings for you, he'd definitely have a mini mental crisis.

I mean, he planned on marrying Anna after all! Imagine what would happen if he tried to call it off.

He'd probably take some time to clear his mind, asking his friends and family for any advice on what to do.

He'd eventually talk it out with Anna, which surprisingly goes quite well. No hard feelings and even some words of encouragement!

During this time, I think he'd definitely be a bit distant. I don't think he'd actively try to avoid you, but he'd probably be less talkative or touchy.

However, once he has everything sorted out, he'd slowly start actively pursuing you.

There'd be little changes in his behavior: he'd be hugging you or holding your hand more often, naturally standing closer to you, staring at you more often, and the likes!

It probably wouldn't be super noticeable at first, since you guys would probably be close friends before all of this.

If you don't get the hint, then he'd start upping up the ante. He'd start spending more alone time with you, gifting you little trinkets, training with you, etc.

Eventually, he'd have the courage to confess to you. Of course, if you confess to him first, he'd be ecstatic.

Overall, super sweet and chill about the whole thing. He'd have his awkward moments, but he's super relaxed and comfortable around you.

Horohoro:

Another one who'd have a mental crisis, but for different reasons.

Given what happened last time Horohoro liked someone, he's terrified that you'll end up with the same fate.

He almost immediately becomes distant, too lost in his fears and intrusive thoughts to actually consider what he's doing.

It isn't until someone like Ren or Yoh knocks some sense into him that he understands what he's actually doing.

He takes a lot of time to himself, reflecting on what he should do and if he should even try to pursue you at all.

Not only that, but he also has to consider a lot of other circumstances! With the competition still going on, Hao's presence, and his own personality, who knows what'll happen?

He's so scared about scaring you away. He doesn't want to hurt you, but he also doesn't want someone to target you.

If you confronted him first, he'd be extremely nervous. He'd be serious though, explaining his fears and apologizing for pushing you away.

If you didn't confront him, he'd probably approach you when he knew he couldn't avoid it any longer. He tells you about the issue, wholeheartedly expecting you to reject him.

If you reject him, he'd understand. If you reciprocated his feelings, he'd be so grateful and happy. It'd take him a while to get fully comfortable with the new situation, but you'd get to see the old, playful Horohoro soon enough.

He'd be stuck by your side, always at your beck and call whenever you needed him. He's super protective and clingy, always going to you whenever something upsets him. Overall, it'd be a bit of work in the beginning, but he'd be super sweet and loyal!

Ren:

I can see this going one of two ways. He'd either be super confident and accepting of his feelings, or he'd be panicked and freaking out. Maybe both.

Ren's the kind of guy who confronts his problems head on, but he seems to struggle when it comes to an internal problem.

He probably seeks out Yoh's advice first. I mean come on, Yoh's the one with a fiancé after all.

Ren also talks to his family, asking them about how he should go about this. He also wants some other points of view on the matter. After all, he wants to be prepared for every possibility.

He takes some time to prepare. He plans out an outline of what he wants to say, but he also prepares himself for rejection.

Once he feels ready, he approaches you nonchalantly. He keeps his confession short and sweet, laying out the basic foundation of what he wanted and what he'd like if you agreed.

If you reject him, he understands and quickly moves on. It would depend on you whether or not your relationship with him changes, but he wouldn't be too bothered by it.

If you accepted his feelings, he'd be pleased. He'd sit down and quickly establish stuff like boundaries. He's let you know about the stuff that comes with beings his partner, and you'd do the same.

He's not super physically affectionate, but he makes up for it through acts of service.

He's also a bit protective given the enemies him and his family have, so he's usually stuck by your side.

Overall, he's super loyal despite not being super vulnerable. It'd take some time for both of you to find a normal routine, but he'd eventually get the hang of it.

Lyserg:

Lyserg is definitely one of the more complicated ones on this list.

Given how good Lyserg appears to be when it comes to hiding his feelings, I honestly don't know how he'd react when he first realizes his feeling for you.

Whether or not he's with the X-Laws, I think he'd be conflicted on what to do.

I see Lyserg as the one who doesn't do anything about his feelings. He tries pushing them down, hoping that they'll eventually just go away.

I doubt that he'll approach you about it, so you'd probably be the one to confront him about his behavior.

I also think it'd be a lot worse if he had just joined the X-Laws. He'd be missing you terribly, but he'd also be actively ignoring you and pushing you away.

With everything and everyone in the way, you'd probably get fed up or give up. He's not surprised, but he slowly becomes more frantic and persistent in wanting to see you.

If you agree to meet, he'd confess everything. He'd probably cry and beg for at least your forgiveness, promising to never do this again.

If you reject him, he cries himself to sleep that night. If you accept his feelings, he runs to you sobbing. He hugs you tightly, nuzzling into your shoulder and accidently getting your shirt wet.

He'd actively start working on himself in order to help the relationship, even sticking up to Marco a few times. He's not the most affectionate, but I see him as a guy who's great with words. He'd write you little love letters, expressing his love for you and how grateful he was for you.

Overall, he's super sweet and affectionate behind closed doors. He's more modest around the group, but he makes sure too make up for it.

Chocolove:

The most accepting and reassured with his feelings out of the entire group.

When he first realized he fell for you, he didn't mind acknowledging it. Sure, he felt a little embarrassed, but he couldn't help but feel giddy.

He wouldn't change the way he acted around you, but it'd be obvious that he was taking a liking to you. He'd be more playful, more touchy, and he'd do more jokes and stunts to get your praise and attention.

If you reciprocated with teasing remarks, you can expect him to be flustered as hell. He'd quickly regain his composure though, teasing and playfully flirting back.

This wouldn't change when he became blind, but I think he'd start spending more alone time with you.

With everything that'd happened, he'd be a lot more vulnerable with you. The loss of his friends hit him hard, and he doesn't want to take his time with you for granted.

He'd initiate small acts of physical affection, testing the waters to see what you like and don't like. Once you were comfortable with each other, then he'll start being more openly affectionate around the others.

Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, hugging you, holding your hand, it doesn't matter. If you like it, then he likes it.

Eventually, he'd build up the courage to properly confess. Maybe with a cheesy pun, but it's certainly adorable.

If you reject him, he'll understand and back off despite being disappointed. If you accept him, he'll be so happy that he'll pick you up and twirl you around.

Overall, the most playful and relaxed. He'll have his flustered and embarrassed moments, but he knows you love it.

Hao:

The most confident about his feelings. The second he realizes what he's feeling, he immediately begins pursing you.

If you were on his team, he'd pursue you in private. He'd start hanging out with you more, but he doesn't beat around the bush about his feelings.

If you weren't on his side, then he'd have fun messing with you. He'd show up at random times, teasing you relentlessly just to get your attention.

Sometimes after your fights, he'd secretly approach you and compliment your skill. He doesn't do this with amateurs, so he considers you special.

Given his mind reading abilities, he'll automatically know whether you like him or not. Even if you don't feel the same, he'll still continue his fun until he's bored.

If you happen to be bold, he'll happily have flirting sessions with you. His remarks are teasing and playful, but they can sometimes become a little possessive.

He doesn't necessarily feel the need to confess, but he will nonetheless. In private, under the stars, he'll take your hand and ask you to rule beside him.

Breaking the news to the others doesn't matter to him, but he'll be alright with keeping the relationship a secret if you really wanted to.

You'll have to make up for his lack of physical affection from the last 1000 years, so be prepared for a lot of late night snuggles. He'd only be affectionate in private, since he doesn't need anyone else knowing about his weakness: you.

When he becomes the Shaman King, he gives you the option of whether or not you want to stay with him in the Great Spirit. Though, he'd much prefer if you stayed with him.

Overall, he's infatuated with you. After years of being alone, he's grateful to have you by his side.

[panlight]

Since Edward tends to be pretty judgmental with his mind reading, how do you think he reacts to people who have intrusive thoughts? Is he like “Yikes, that person’s fantasizing about killing their friend!” Or does he hear that the person doesn’t like having these thoughts?

I think in his early years it may have been hard to tell; he's the only one who can read minds in this way, so is navigating and figuring it all out on his own, plus in the early days he's really just 17 years old without decades of life experience yet. Carlisle can't read minds so there's only so much help he can offer him. I think he probably rushed home to Carlisle on several occasions about some terrible thing he heard someone thinking, and Carlisle would quietly look into it and 9 times out of 10 it turned out to be nothing. But over time I think (hope) Edward's learned the difference between idle, intrusive thoughts and genuine threats of danger/violence/harm.

I think he probably had a decent hand on it by the time Alice and Jasper showed up, but their arrival also helped because they do have the kinds of powers that Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie and Emmett don't and could help him manage his 'gift' or at least relate to his struggles. Plus if he heard something worrying he could bring it to Alice and have her look into the future to see if the person actually acts on the thoughts/made a decision.

So I think in the present day it's not so much a problem other than it's probably unpleasant for him to hear this stuff. He can probably tell, from experience and decades of Alice's 'fact checking', when it's something to worry about and when it's intrusive and not something the person actually plans doing or would ever do.

[sudokufag]

Mmm it's something I've always wanted a chance to talk about but have never gotten a real chance to online or in real life but since it's disability pride month and all

I wanna give a huge shoutout to people with phobias. (long post ahead)

I feel like phobias aren't talked about nearly as much as they should be in mental health spaces. We talk a lot about people's triggers related to traumatic events, but we don't really cover what it's like to have a trigger from a phobia.

Phobias can come from trauma, but just as many times that happen for no reason at all. Sometimes a slightly uncomfortable, embarrassing or spooky one time occurance buries itself into your mind for no reason at all and it just stays there because the human mind is funny and often slips up.

There's not really a community for phobias, if you look up your phobia online you will be flooded with really triggering images, you can't search any tags online because those tags exist to censor triggers, not to form a community. (not to say that those tags aren't important ofc they are) The closest I've seen is the tag "actual phobia" in Tumblr but this seems small and drowned out by fandom posts somehow.

Phobias are hard and exhausting. They effect you in ways that people wouldn't expect and you cant really explain. They can be humiliating to have: kids in middle school intentionally would trigger my phobia because they didn't understand the severity until I fainted onto the floor. I'm an adult by my mom has to hold my hand and head at the doctors office so I don't break down like a child, the worst was when I had to get my covid shot and confused children and judgemental elderly people alike stared at me in the midst of my meltdown.

Phobias are very isolating. That new movie everyone raves about has triggering subjects right on the poster and no one really thinks to tag it while it's trending. That video game looks right up my alley, but oh, it triggers my phobia and theres no way to censor it in the settings. You try to tell friends and family about your issues as they halfway pay attention as they file your fears under the same urgency "needs to ask their partner to kill the spider". If you've got an uncommon or silly sounding phobia, you will straight up get laughed at for expressing your fear, even in what should be really progressive and accepting places.

It's hard to really describe a meltdown to someone who's never had them. Phobias often make people cry and scream and kick involuntarily, we can vomit and drop in blood sugar and have migraines and faint. To say that it's the feeling of walls closing in on you is to only put in the slightest terms. When I have a meltdown, I feel like I am dying. It's the most pain and fear you can feel, reverting you back into a confused childlike state, and the only reprieve I can get is knowing that I 15 minutes I will feel better if a little tired and I will get to drink a coke with a silly straw as congratulations for making it through.

Lots of people will give you a flat and unsympathetic "get help." even when they're typically progressive enough to know it's rude to say that to people suffering from things like depression. It applies to us too! It's damn hard to get a therapist already, even harder to feel ready to look a phobia in the eye. Signing up for exposure therapy is a very scary thing to do.

So to anyone reading this with a phobia or phobias:

Weather being the very common ones or ones so rare and niche that you aren't taken seriously, and God help you on avoiding triggers

Being unable to enter doctors offices or grocery stores or the post office without shaking in fear

Those whole also struggle with OCD too and have intrusive thoughts about their phobias, triggering them even when sitting alone in their room

Those who's circle doesn't take their phobia very seriously and feels lost and alone when triggered

For those who have been hospitalized or institutionalized because of their phobia

You're not alone! And all feelings, even the very worst feelings, always will come to pass.

I wish that there was a community around phobias the same way there is for my conditions ADHD and anxiety, so we could learn coping mechanisms and better understand ourselves as people through each other's experiences. I'm not sure how that'd work or what that'd look like, but the best way I can think of to get started is to post things like these!

*feel free to share you experience if you want to in the tags

[lariumbreon]

Um, hi. Your posts about bpd have been incredibly relatable. I was wondering if you knew of any unique overlap between bpd and plurality, or any way symptoms might clash.

For example I know for someone with adhd rigid routine can be exhausting and uncomfortable, but for an autistic person, it can be necessary to not get overstimulated. People who have both often deal with a lot of internal conflict over these two needs.

Thanks in advance c:

-Ember

Yes. There are a lot of overlaps and struggles with being both plural, and having bpd. People with BPD exist in extremes, black and whites. The way we think, the way we handle situations. It's very hard to be rational and look at the nuances of situations. You can feel complete and total love for someone one moment, then abject hatred the next. This can be even more intensive for one of your favored persons. This is a scenario called "Splitting" where all of your thinking goes to one extreme or another. "They said they don't care after opening up to them. They just hate me and I should distance myself from them." or "They didn't keep this promise. Everything they've ever said is a lie and I cannot trust anything about them." or even "This was a small overstep of their boundaries. I am the absolute worst and I shouldn't be their friend anymore. I should go." This can even lead to some very chaotic intrusive thoughts, and even outright internal fabrications about that person in particular. Someone with BPD may entirely change every way of how they carry themselves and view others based on even the slightest change in tone.

Because of this, very often with BPD you WILL feel like a different person. Which makes it very hard to distinguish it from things that may be shared with DID or OSDD symptoms. You're more likely to fawn and freeze with frictions and conflicts with others. You're more likely to adapt to and mirror others you're closer with. You may find yourself acting like a mini-me for some of your friends, partners favored persons, and even abusers. Taking in their behaviors and mannerisms. Much of this can take years to unpack, unlearn, and reassociate. It's not uncommon for a person with BPD to become infatuated with a new FP and start to make attempts to change their whole personality and outward presentations to align with that person, or with that person's likes and wants. We often internalize the people we infatuate and obsess over into ourselves. People with BPD often refer to ourselves in plural terms, "let's do this," "we should do this," etc. because of this. It makes it really hard to piece together who you really are. And if you're plural this causes a lot of internal confusion and friction.

You should caution yourself if you're diagnosed with BPD and questioning if you're plural. This isn't an attempt to gatekeep, but a genuine wish for you to moderate yourself and take your time to figure yourselves out.

[elizaditton]

Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 16)

Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N & T/W: Hey guys, just as a heads up I wanted to let you know that this chapter contains an intrusive daydream of Kaylin's that may be uncomfortable or traumatic for some of my readers. It deals with food and the idea of humans and pertheans eating together. I wanted to convey how this makes Kaylin uncomfortable without making my readers uncomfortable. I've thought a lot about what I've written and I don't believe I've crossed any lines, but for those like me who like G/t but struggle with the idea of food or sharing a meal in that context (and of course, the fears associated with that), the content may be uncomfortable to read. I just want to make it clear that my content does not and never will contain fetish material. My writing will always be safe for work content as I strive to please God in all I do. With that being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

- - - - - - - - - -

It was only about a month ago that Dad and I packed our bags and moved half way across Koronia, and now it's already Rosan. At first, I wasn't expecting much from my dad's hometown, but I've been blown away with how much has happened since we arrived in Chancelor. I wasn't expecting to be forced into attending a deskmate school, and I certainly wasn't thinking I'd ever become friends with a perthean. I always worried about what would happen if a perthean found out about my fear, but never in a million years would I have ever predicted that one would actually want to help me overcome it!

Derrick and I have met up after school a few times now, and although these meetups have been helping me a little, I'm still not sure what my deskmate has in mind for us in the long run. Surely there's more to this than practicing eye contact and learning how to step onto a perthean's palm without falling over.

I think through what could possibly be next as Brittney and I make the trek from the cafeteria back to the pickup area.

"I really wish we could all just have our lunch together, you know?" Brittney says with a huff, interrupting my thoughts.

"What?! What makes you say that?" I ask, my heart skipping a beat at her suggestion as I desperately try to keep my mind from forming any pictures of sharing a lunch table with pertheans.

"It's just... we'd have so much more time to hang out as a group if we had our lunch together! Since this school is so focused on getting humans and pertheans to get along, you'd think they'd want us to have meals together, right?"

I hadn't thought about it before, but I guess what Brittney's saying makes sense. I was surprised when I first found out I wouldn't be sharing Physical Education or lunch periods with my deskmate, but in my relief, I decided not to question it. I suppose separating for P.E. makes sense since it's not a good idea to mix humans and pertheans for strenuous activities like exercise, but what about lunch period?

"Come to think of it," I start, a part of me curious to know and another part of me fearing the answer, "why do we separate for lunch period, anyway?"

Brittney's eyes narrow as she looks away, her lips pouting.

"It's all that Steven's fault!" she says.

I blink. "Steven? Who's Steven?"

"Soaring Steven, back in the twenties. Lunch period was shared here until he had his deskmate throw him across the cafeteria to see if one of their friends could catch him. Landed in a girl's soup and even broke some bones in the process," Brittney says.

I shudder at the realization that humans are light enough to pertheans to be thrown across a room by them. Not only that, but we're small enough to swim in their soup, too! I'm relieved that I don't have to suffer through a shared lunch period with my deskmate, but I can't stop myself from shaking at the idea.

I turn from side to side only to realize that I'm surrounded by mountains of colossal foods stacked much taller than I am with no way of escape. I spin around to face a wall of green fabric that I trace up, up, and up to my deskmate's enormous face. He ravenously gorges himself on nearly half of the sandwich in his hand—tearing off a hunk bigger than me—and thoughtfully chews his meal, his eyes locked with mine. My legs tremble beneath me as I stumble backwards, my eyes darting anywhere but the sight in front of me. This isn't happening.

As I continue to inch away from the perthean in front of me one of my feet makes contact with a thick metal prong, causing me to let out a yelp as I fall flat on my back. Lightheaded and out of breath, I sit up and discover the object was one of the tines on a huge fork.

A massive digit rests under my chin and leads my gaze back to the tall perthean boy in front of me. He gulps down the rest of his sandwich while his big blue eyes scrutinize my fallen form.

"Kaylin," he chuckles. "You're so... tiny, you know that?"

I stare into those massive blue orbs of his as blood rushes to my cheeks, making my ears hot. Anxiety floods my nervous system leaving me incapable of doing anything but quiver where I sit.

Tiny...?

"Anyway," Brittney says, interrupting my thoughts again, "after that incident... the school decided it would be best for deskmates to have 'less time for shenanigans' or something like that. If you ask me, they shouldn't have punished the whole school for a couple of students' idiocy!"

I stare down at my quaking hands. Tears prick the edges of my glazed eyes, and one or two trail down my face. I try to steady my breathing, but my lungs begin to take in more and more air at an increasing rate.

"Hey," Brittney says, turning to me. "Kaylin, are you—"

WHAM!

Something crashes into Brittney and I, interrupting our conversation and sending us both to the floor along with the contents of our open bookbags.

"Hey! What's the big idea?!" Brittney says, dusting herself off as she sits up.

"I-I'm sorry, I couldn't—" utters a boy on the floor in front of us. He coughs, lowering the tone of his voice. "I mean, it was an accident."

Brittney sighs. "That's okay. Here, let me help you with your books."

"Th-that won't be necessary." The boy says, brushing his black hair away from his green eyes before scrambling to pick up his books.

I rub my head, which throbs from the impact with the boy. I blink a few times, staring at him. He's familiar to me, but I'm not sure why.

"Hey, wait a minute," I start, remembering my encounter with that boy from my apartment last week. "Aren't you—"

The boy looks to me, eyes wide, and shakes his head vigorously. He grabs the rest of his books from the floor and stands, running off to the balcony without another word.

"Ugh! Rude! And hasn't he ever heard of a bookbag?" Brittney grumbles. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I say, picking up Brittney's Algebra textbook and passing it to her.

"The nerve of that guy! 'That won't be necessary...' just who does he think he is bumping into people and then running off like that?"

As Brittney passes me my Koronian and Biology textbooks, I can't help but wonder why Sam was in such a hurry to get away from us. He's run away from me twice now, which I find a little odd. And why wasn't he wearing his glasses? He probably could have avoided bumping into us if he had worn them.

"Hey, what's this?" Brittney says, picking up my sketchbook and flipping through the pages.

My heart sinks heavily in my chest. I've never let anyone look through my sketchbook before! Most of the drawings in there are unfinished sketches, many of which I never ended up being happy with, and none of which I feel too excited about sharing. But as Brittney flips through the pages, her eyes widen in awe with every new piece of artwork she lays eyes on.

"You made these? They're incredible!" Brittney exclaims.

"They're not that great, really." I say, reaching for the sketchbook.

Just as I'm about to take the book away from Brittney, she lets out a big gasp and turns the interior toward me. On the pages are two nearly completed sketches of Captain Tristen and Merlot from Stranded, respectively. They're old drawings, and not ones I'm particularly proud of. My insides convulse and cringe as I'm met with the sight of improper foreshortening and all sorts of rushed, sloppy details.

"You draw Stranded?! You know this is my favorite show ever, right?!"

Brittney babbles on elatedly and at a rate I find myself straining to keep up with. I can hardly make out what she's saying, but from what I can tell she's gushing about some recent revelations about Merlot and how she was able to predict them in her fanfic.

"Anyway, here! See? This is my cover!" Brittney says, pulling out her phone and swiping to Splosion. She shoves her phone into my hands to reveal the cover for 'Jack And Merlot: A Frame Of Mind,' which consists of a crude doodle of the titular duo holding hands.

"Oh, um... cute!" I respond, my mind still struggling to process what she's going on about.

"Do you think you could draw me a new cover?" Brittney blurts out, her hands clenched excitedly.

"I-I don't know... wouldn't it be put online for anyone to see?" I ask, the idea of strangers seeing my art making my insides flip.

"Well, yeah, but they don't have to know who drew it unless you want them to!" Brittney responds, folding her hands together and pleading with her big brown eyes. "Come on! Pleaaase? Your art is so good!"

I think for a moment as I look into Brittney's unrelenting puppy eyes. I guess it wouldn't hurt to draw her a picture for her story, especially if no one has to know I'm the artist.

"Sure," I finally answer.

"Yippee!" Brittney exclaims, jumping up and down like a little kid.

"Come on," I say, handing Brittney's phone back to her and taking back my sketchbook. "We're going to be late for sixth period!"

"Oh! Right!"

Brittney turns and hurries down the hall to the balcony. Before following after her, I quickly flip through my sketchbook and land on a page with a finished sketch of a perthean boy and a human girl laughing together under a cherry tree. My cheeks redden when I lay eyes on it and my insides flip around again. I let out a sigh, relieved that Brittney didn't get this far into the book.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So!" Brittney exclaims from the balcony, her hands secured on the railing as she beams up at my deskmate. "Your birthday! What do you have planned?!"

Derrick rubs the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. "I didn't exactly plan anything."

"Come on," Brittney says, "there has to be something you'd like to do on your special day! Can't you think of anything?"

Derrick places a hand under his chin and closes his eyes, thinking for a moment. "Well, I won't be home until around five, since I have... an appointment."

Kevin looks up from his phone. "You made an appointment on your birthday? What for?"

"I— well, yeah. It's a... doctor's appointment. I forgot to reschedule," my deskmate says, glancing in my direction. "But if you guys want to come over to my house at 5:30 or so, we could hang out? Maybe play some games?"

"I'm in!" Brittney hollers, pumping her fist in the air.

"Sure," Kevin answers, his eyes once again glued to his phone. "Need us to bring anything?"

"You could bring some games if you have any, but other than that nothing comes to mind," Derrick says.

Brittney turns to me, her eyes wide with excitement. "You're coming too, right Kaylin?!"

The world begins to spin as the others' eyes all turn to me. Me? Go to a perthean's house? No way! The enormous classrooms at school are hard enough for me to deal with as it is, but an entire house? I don't think I could handle it! The sheer scale of everyday items would overwhelm me for sure!

"I... don't know," I say. "I think my dad needs me home for... something." I mentally kick myself for not being able to think of any kind of real excuse.

"I'm sure your dad won't mind!" Brittney reasons. "After all, birthdays only come once a year!"

I look around at the group. Brittney's grinning with her hands pressed together, gazing at me expectantly. Derrick gives me a knowing smile, his brows upturned. And then my eyes fall on Kevin. His narrowed brown eyes look void of any life as he stares me down from above. My gut twists and turns as the weight of his stare presses down on me.

I can't go to this party. No way. Not if he's coming. How did Derrick manage to become friends with this guy, anyway? Was it just because of Brittney? And why is Brittney even with this guy? They're complete opposites! My fear may include all pertheans, but it's pertheans like Kevin that really terrify me!

"Kaylin?" Brittney says, pulling me from my thoughts. "What do you say?"

"I-I'll talk to my dad," I stutter. "But I really think he needs me for... that thing."

"Great! See you all there!" Brittney spins around with her arms stretched wide and heads for the door. I don't think she registered what it was I said at all.

"Hang on there, princess," Kevin says, causing Brittney to come to a halt and turn back around.

Princess? I never expected a guy like Kevin to call his girlfriend something so sappy!

"Yes, my prince?" Brittney answers, clasping her hands together as she flutters her eyelashes.

"If you're going to Derrick's place, you might as well come with me. You can't get there by train, you know," Kevin says.

"I guess you're right," Brittney giggles.

Kevin looks over his shoulder, presumably to see if any teachers are nearby, and then offers his open palm to Brittney who runs and leaps into it with a loud 'wheee!' The way she flew into his hand without a second thought makes me think about how I can barely even walk onto Derrick's open palm without struggling and stumbling. How does she make it look so easy?

"Shh!" Kevin hushes his girlfriend. "I'm not supposed to pick you up this way in here!"

"Sorry," Brittney says, her lip protruding in a pout.

"See you later," Kevin says to Derrick before walking off, mumbling something to Brittney about how he doesn't want to get in trouble 'again.' I guess I'll have to ask Brittney what that means later.

Derrick looks at me and laughs.

"What?" I ask.

"I'd like to see you jump into my hand like that," he says.

My face reddens, and I immediately avert my gaze. "D-don't be ridiculous! What those two did was dangerous!"

"I know, I know," Derrick says. "It's just that..."

His unfinished phrase hangs in the air for a moment, causing me to wonder what it is he means to say. I look back at my deskmate, his gaze fixed on me. What emotion is filling his eyes I can't say, but what I do know is that something has to be weighing on his mind.

"It's just that what?" I finally ask.

"Nothing," Derrick says, shaking his head. "I'll see you out back."

With that, he turns away, leaving the balcony behind him as he heads down the hall. My heart sinks in my chest. What isn't he saying?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I heave a sigh as I close the door behind me. I feel bad we didn't cancel our meetup for today, considering it's Derrick's birthday and all.

"Hey," he says with a smile, approaching the balcony and placing his hand on top of it. It's sort of become routine for me to walk onto his hand at the start of our meet ups, not that I've gotten any better at it.

"Hey," I answer as I approach his open palm.

The size of his hand still manages to freak me out, but at least I'm not as averse to it as I was when he first started helping me with my fear. After a bit of wobbling and struggling, I manage to position myself in the center of my deskmate's palm and sit down.

"Sorry for making you come out here on your birthday," I say with my head down as I nervously twiddle my thumbs. "I know there's other things you'd rather be doing right now."

"Aw, come on, you know that's not true!" Derrick beams at me from above. "There's nothing I'd rather be doing right now than helping out a friend."

I smile back at him, though his words don't reassure me completely.

"Now," he starts as he moves beside the balcony and gently sits down, "since you've been improving so much this week with both eye contact and with walking onto my hand, I thought we'd try something new. If you're up for it, that is."

"Something new?" I ask, my gut immediately beginning to twist. "Like what?"

"Would you be up for trying shoulder etiquette?"

"Shoulder etiquette?"

"Yeah! I'd place you on my shoulder, and you'd stand there," Derrick explains. "It's a formal form of etiquette that even the teachers use, so we can practice it during school as well."

My mind flashes back to orientation day, when I saw most of the school staff going around in pairs like that. I remember Derrick had asked me that day if I wanted to try standing on his shoulder, and I coldly turned him down. A weight fills my chest as I think about all the ways I was unkind to Derrick before we became friends.

"Okay," I say, "we can try it."

Derrick nods and lifts the hand I'm in up to his shoulder. My core tightens and my heart thrashes about within me as the distance between us gets smaller and smaller. As I find myself nearing the crook of his neck, I begin to feel heat radiating from his body like a space heater. He's so warm! My insides do a somersault, and my cheeks redden as I release a shuddering breath. I don't think I've ever been this close to anyone before, let alone a perthean!

I slowly rise from my place in Derrick's palm, carefully maneuvering past his fingers and onto his shoulder. I nearly slip once or twice as I struggle to maintain my balance, but manage to secure myself by grabbing onto the collar of the white button up he's wearing under his blazer.

"How are you doing?" He asks, removing his hand and leaving me stranded on his shoulder.

My eyes can't help but wander downward until I'm gazing helplessly at the hard concrete below us. Even though my deskmate is sitting down, I'm still so high above the ground! A fall from this height would certainly kill me! I let out a yelp and slam my eyes shut, gripping the collar of Derrick's shirt more tightly lest I slip and fall to my death!

"Hm, not good?" Derrick asks. "I suppose it takes some getting used to. Just hold onto me, you'll be fine."

"Mhm," I hum as I try to keep myself from trembling. If my legs continue to quake like this, I'll slip for sure! I have no idea how the teachers or the other students at school manage to go around like this!

"So, while you're getting adjusted..." Derrick begins, "is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"Um..." I think for a moment. "You're turning eighteen, right?"

"Right. Just two more years and I'll be an adult."

"How has preadulthood treated you so far? Do you feel prepared for adulthood?" I ask.

Derrick hums, thinking through my question. "Well, I guess it beats being a teenager. I still can't drive, but I'd say I can cook, clean, and budget decently enough to live on my own if I wanted to. I'll probably wait until university to move out, though. What about you?"

"I've learned a lot from my dad. He's a good teacher. He taught me nearly everything I know about being a preadult. Cooking, cleaning, budgeting... although he's not very good at home repair..."

"Did your mom teach you anything?"

My heart plummets to the ground, and my guts twist and turn tightly within me.

"I... well, my mom died when I was only six. It's just my dad and me."

"Oh... I'm sorry," Derrick apologizes.

"No, it's okay. I'm over it. It was a long time ago," I sigh.

I bite the inside of my cheek, unsure of whether I'm being honest or not. It's been years since my mom passed, but I've always longed for her to be a part of my life. I wonder all the time what might have been if only she hadn't...

"You know, I guess my mom did teach me something," I say, letting my mind go to the past. "I remember when I was a little girl, I'd watch her make different pieces of artwork. I was so fascinated with how she was able to draw such fine details and pick such beautiful colors to paint with. I have a memory of her sitting down with me and teaching me how to draw different flowers. Pansies, bluebells, rotizelles... and although I'm still not very good with flowers, she did instill in me a love for art."

"I remember you said you liked to draw when we first met, and I've seen a few of the doodles in your notes," Derrick chuckles. "I have yet to see a finished piece from you, though. Especially since you're always hiding your drawings."

My face gets really hot really quickly as my mind turns back to the sketchbook I brought with me to school. "A-actually," I stutter, "there's... something I wanted to show you."

"Something you want to show me? Really?" Derrick asks, surprised. "Am I finally going to see one of your drawings?"

"I-I— well," I stammer, embarrassed, not really knowing what to say. Is what I'm about to do really a good idea?

I reach into my bookbag and feel around for my sketchbook. Pulling it out, I turn to the page with my finished sketch of the two of us laughing under a cherry tree and look it over for a moment.

'It's hideous!' I can already hear my deskmate say. 'Is that supposed to be us? What an ugly art style!'

"Kaylin?" Derrick asks after a long silence.

"I— um...! H-here, I... made this for you," I sputter. "For your birthday!"

I grip the collar of Derrick's shirt with one hand, and with the other I stretch out as far as I'm able and present my sketchbook to him.

"For... me?" Derrick asks, taking the sketchbook in between his thumb and forefinger.

Silence fills the air as my deskmate stares down the human-sized book in between his fingers. My heart pounds and pounds while my insides swarm with butterflies! What will he think? What will he say?! I almost wish I never brought this up! I'm sure he'll think it's a pathetic gift! I knew my art wasn't good enough to be shown to anyone, so why did I ever think it would be a good idea to make this dumb drawing for his birthday?

Derrick gasps. "Wow, I don't know what to say."

I try my hardest to slow down my breathing, but it's no use. My whole body shakes as I brace for the impact of whatever criticism is about to come my way. He hates it, doesn't he?

"Kaylin, you drew this? This is amazing!" my deskmate exclaims.

"I'm sorry! I knew it wouldn't be good enough!" I say, only to blink a few times in confusion. Do my ears deceive me? "Wait, what did you say?"

"This is amazing! Is this what I think it is?" Derrick asks.

"I-it's... you and me," I answer, "under that cherry tree we saw the other day."

Derrick continues looking the drawing over. "Wow," he says again.

"I-I can send you a photo of it, if you want," I suggest.

"That would be great!" he says, handing the sketchbook back to me. "After all, I'm sure you wanted to keep your book."

I put my sketchbook away and quickly open up my phone to send a picture I took of the drawing to Derrick. Once I send it, his phone buzzes almost instantly, and he unlocks it to view what I sent.

"Thank you, Kaylin," he says, gazing at the drawing once more. "Really. It's a wonderful gift."

A warmth fills my heart, soothing any remaining anxieties I had about the drawing and leaving me with a grin that stretches from ear to ear.

Time continues on in the blink of an eye, and before we know it, we've already reached our usual time of departure.

"Well," Derrick says, carefully standing up from his spot beside the balcony, "I guess we better get going."

My heart races and my eyes widen as he stands to his full height. I look beneath me at the ground below and watch as it gets farther and farther away. If the distance to the ground when he was sitting wasn't enough to kill me, this distance will surely do the job! My vision doubles as the scenery around me spins and my insides churn and convulse! I grab onto the collar of Derrick's shirt with a death grip, lest I topple down toward the unforgiving concrete below!

"Sorry," Derrick says. "I tried to be more careful, since you're on my shoulder."

"N-no, you're fine, it's just that... I feel like I..." I trail off, unsure of how to describe what's going on inside of me.

"You feel like you're going to fall?"

"Y-yeah," I murmur, trembling where I stand on my deskmate's shoulder.

"Don't worry," Derrick says, pressing a hand against my little frame and gently pinning me against the side of his neck. "I'll keep you safe."

Is this... a hug?!

I blush. Hard. My trembling increases as I'm wedged between Derrick's hand and his neck. What do I do?! I can't move! I can't escape! I begin to breathe in and out at a rapid pace, shuddering more and more with each exhalation.

After a few seconds, Derrick removes his hand, releasing me from what had to be the most frightening embrace I've ever been on the receiving end of!

"Hey, listen," he says. "About earlier... you really don't have to come over if you don't feel like you're ready. I understand that the idea of visiting a house twenty times bigger than what you're used to is likely overwhelming to you, especially if other pertheans are involved. But, in case you do want to come, I thought I'd ask anyway—would you like to come over?"

"Um, yeah! Sure," I say, Derrick's words going in one ear and out the other as I try to calm myself down.

"Wait, really?" He asks. "You'll come over?"

"Sure," I say. "I just... need a moment." I try to steady my breathing again using the techniques I learned in therapy as a kid, still not registering what it was Derrick just asked me.

"Alright, well, we should get going then," my deskmate says, walking away from our spot behind the school and heading toward the sidewalk beyond the school grounds.

I'll have every opportunity to think through what just happened when I get home.

[kostudies]

04.08.24 ; hello. how are you? i'm good. it has been a while, and i'll share with you a long post full of updates. It's crescendo.

I didn't validate my last year in psychology, so i'm retaking it this year. It is very stressful for me, it'll be my... sixth year in uni without a bachelor's degree. I'm getting tired of this, and discouraged - though i'll keep it up.

I wanted to change of city; I wanted to meet new sceneries, to leave myself with me and I only. I wanted to embrace another lifestyle, far from what I already know and feel comfortable. I wanted to change, and to become more active in my own life.

Friendships were hard. People sometimes repeated toxic behaviours, as I did too. I may be the one who values friendships too much, and it hurts to see it is not returned the same way. And, other times, insecurities talked, and it hurt the same way.

I saw my older, middle brother - it has been around one year now that I didn't see him nor talked to him. He, somehow, became someone I don't want around me; impulsive, freely hurtful, conservative, overbearing and deaf to people's opinions and feelings. He enrages me. He's unfair. We saw each other for my grandpa's funeral.

I lost my grand-father. I wasn't close to him, I thought he was a asshole for the abuse towards my grand-mother and my own mother, he was ignorant and arrogant. It had been quite a big change and event in my family's life, and it still weighs on my grandma.

Recently, I thought I would die. In another city, around 1am, with a friend who can't run, we've been followed by a group of 5 dudes. Slurs, threats were thrown, and I never hated men more than at this moment. I thought I would die, for the city was known for some mafia stuff. I am terrified by the idea of stalking and intrusion, it was quite scarring to me.

I stopped smoking. Even if it happens for me to have one cigarette here and there, I completely stopped buying packs and I am grateful. I breathe better! It's amazing! My throat is not as sore as before, my heart is thankful, and I assure myself to low down the chances of breast cancer. However, I'm struggling with weight gain...

... So I'm trying to get back to working out. It's a real up-and-down journey, but I feel like I'm going somewhere. For the past month, I walked one hour (home to work, work to home), 5 days a week, and it helped me a lot. I do some home exercises here and there, and I'm waiting to get back to the swimming pool to do lengths.

I uninstalled Instagram. I also think about going to therapy. I am a priviledged person - my parents take care of my rent and my transports subscription, though they might not be able to in the near future - but I still don't have the money for it (I still have to take my theory test, driving test to have a driving license). I might try to save.

I plan to work on the side during the upcoming uni year, and I want to invest more time in associations. I want to go out more and see more people, more things. I want to try more, fail more, understand things more and reach people's minds, stories - I don't want to hide in fear of failure and shame anymore.

I met new people, but I don't know if they'll stay around. Through them, I tasted how magnificient friendships could be, how sharing experiences was an amazing thing to do, and wanted to do this more often. I'm also progressing on my way to see people as experiences, not possessions. It is hard and triggering, but I keep it up.

Finally, I had the pleasure to discover the world of drag; and it has been therapeutic. I felt myself connecting with my feminity, as I always struggled to express it. I've never felt this confident about my own body and about me wearing more revealing stuff, acting different towards people; I enjoyed this progress in me. I am deeply thankful for the community, for their performances, for their work, for what they embrace and what they share. I am thankful for their existence.

It marks my comeback here. It has been a few months now since my last post, but it didn't mean that I was giving up. I don't want you to give up, either. I'm confronting my laziness and comfort zone, because I feel like I can't continue to feel stuck like this. It is very hard and I would prefer to give up, but the learning is tasty, it feels nice. And I wanted to share with you, even if you're not really following what I'm doing, if you forgot about this blog, if you don't care anymore.

I wanted to share, simply.

[pixxiesticksys]

Not radqueer

Parasocial Attachment Disorder

Parasocial Attachment Disorder

Image ID: Two flags. Both Feature 11 stripes of pinks, yellows, and a very light blue. The first three stripes on both flags are light pink, each slightly more yellow than the last. The forth flag is a much redder and darker shade of pink. The fifth stripe is yellow and the sixth is very light blue, easily confused with white. The last five stripes mirror the first five. Yellow, the redder pink, and the three light pinks, now going from the most yellow to the least. The first flag also has an icon of a phone with the visual of a person inside. Faded outlines of love hearts float behind the phone. End ID

This is NOT a radqueer term

Parasocial Attachment Disorder is a term to describe people who experience parasocial relationships on the most disruptive level.

Symptoms people with Parasocial Relationships may experience are

Inability to think about anything other than Parasocial Figure for long periods of time, resulting in lack of focus

A need for constant updates or viewings of Parasocial Figure causing excessive internet usage in their name

A sense of emotional pain or distress when Parasocial Figure is no longer accessible or available which can lead to feelings of abandonment or loss

A sense of jealousy or discomfort towards other fans or when when Parasocial Figure interacts with others

Intense emotional reactions to the life events of Parasocial Figure

A tendency to view Parasocial Figure as perfect, leading to unrealistic ideals

A tendency to struggle interacting with those on the same "relationship level" as Parasocial other. Siuch as having a hard time making friends due to the belief that they will never be as good or feeling they're cheating on their partner due to their feelings

Unrealistic ideals for the future, such as believing they will meet Parasocial Figure and Parasocial Figure will immediately be everything they dreamed of them being/solve all of their problems

Desire to take/intrusive thoughts of taking extreme measures to ensure a relationship with Parasocial Figure

Feelings of depression, distress, anguish, or even suicidal over the reality of the relationship between themself and Parasocial Figure

Inability to stop or control thoughts relating to or about Parasocial Figure/Influx of intrusive thoughts

Attachment to Parasocial other feels like a disorder or an addiction and is near impossible to get over without the help of others

Attachment lasting years without pause

Attachment randomly triggering again after the haver was thought to be over with it

This is still NOT a radqueer term ! I cant stop anyone from using it but if you do please don't like if your main is radqueer or reblog onto a radqueer blog

[psychotrope777]

i dont want to sound like im shitting on the show because i do genuinely really enjoy it and i do think it succeeds in other areas im not calling it terrible. the buildup to the demigod arc was genuinely really well executed IMO and you can tell it was planned for a long time but the conclusion was just kind of. a little disappointing and kinda left a weird taste in my mouth

so literally speaking, chikn is a godlike entity with the power to destroy the world, but the demigod storyline is obviously meant to be taken metaphorically. metaphorically, chee is too busy to hang out with chikn and that hurts his feelings. which is pretty objectively speaking not a fucking big deal at all, and the comparison is already in and of itself a little strange. the show does a good job of illustrating that chikn obviously has some shit going on, for lack of a better term. it shows that he struggles with abandonment issues, he's pretty sensitive to how other people interpret him, and it explains why he would react the way he does. but the show hasn't really done anything on that end thus far. i'm hoping it does, and to be fair it might be a little soon narratively, but it kinda... i dont know. like i said i think it's kinda weird how the blame for all of this is placed squarely on chee, who you can still argue didnt really do anything wrong.

im not trying to insinuate chikn is a bad person or a terrible friend. i have been chikn before. this episode in particular really resonated with me because i know this feeling exactly. imagining a world where you arent present and that your friends would be happier / better off without you. i know what it's like to worry that you're an "extra" in your friend group. i also know what it's like to bottle shit up and hold grudges until you end up blowing up on people. it's something that i have and occasionally still do struggle with, and it's WRONG!!!!!! i don't feel like there's enough emphasis put on that chikn freaking the fuck out on his friends IS shitty and he IS in the wrong for that. there's so much blame placed on chee for something that ultimately chikn did. and honestly the whole thing with chee can be boiled down to him getting in his own head over chee not having time to hang out. he could have just talked to her. he could have just met up with her or messaged her and been like "hey, i know you've been busy but it's bumming me out that we haven't been able to hang out at all. do you think we could make plans to do something together sometime?" he doesn't, and he instead allows his thoughts about his friends not caring about him fester until he breaks down. chee couldn't possibly have known how he was feeling and again yeah she definitely kept a poor balance between her friendships and her relationship but insinuating she's a bad friend because she hangs out with her girlfriend a lot (and insinuating that anybody is entitled to her time or attention) is really kind of scummy to me.

and again, speaking objectively the chee situation was chikn making a mountain out of a molehill, regardless of why he did it. yeah, we understand how he feels, but the reaction was still disproportionate and, well, dickish. is there going to be any real effort from chikn moving forward to examine his own issues and insecurities? is he going to work on his own self-esteem and try and be more transparent with his friends? is he going to seek some kind of help for his intrusive thoughts and clearly volatile emotional state? or is the world going to risk armageddon any time something happens that mildly upsets him? is it the correct thing for this friend group to revolve entirely around chikn's feelings and chikn's whims 100% of the time? should chikn's friends shoulder the responsibility for him having poor self-esteem and walk on eggshells constantly because it's going to be a shitshow if he gets mad?

i know the show is trying to send a message to its audience but i think there's also something to be said about the characters having all this discord in their relationships and then immediately shifting into therapyspeak and being posited as emotionally mature and empathetic after the demigod thing only to still... handle the entire thing incorrectly imo. do you know what i mean like the show is trying to show that theyre doing the right thing but they kinda arent so it's just. weird

[diagonal-queen]

Hellooo, Do you write for Mushitarou? If you do Can I request Him to get drunk (at first Mushitaro and Y/n status are just friends.)

Mushitaro feeling low and sad? He's just sad about his friend's death but at the same time would never speak out about what he had done to Yoko. He vents pretty faintly to Y/n and y/n would still try to comfort him no matter what? But Then, in some way it turns out into some hot make-out session, please?

[I hope this isn't confusing </3]

i do indeed write for the astrology babygirl!

Secret Secret

♡ pairing: Mushitarou Oguri x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: Noticing that your friend's mood had shifted recently, you decide to ask him about it while the two of you are out drinking. Things go in a...certain direction.

♡ wc: 1.2k

♡ cw: Consumption of alcohol, Mushitarou and reader get a little drunk, and they also make out, Mushitarou is struggling mentally after killing Yokomizo (spoilers, whoops), mentions of intrusive thoughts.

note: I'm really hoping that this is what you asked for and I didn't totally misunderstand the request...if I did, I'm sorry anon T-T Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Mushitarou had been acting differently recently. You'd noticed it almost immediately, but you hadn't said anything about it because you got the notion that you wouldn't get anything out of him anyway. It was at its worst when it was a new issue; he was slowly getting better, or so you'd assumed.

You'd come to learn that Mushitarou's new attitude ran deeper than you'd assumed when you brought alcohol into the mix.

Mushitarou was unusually quiet after a few drinks. You had both gone out drinking together a few times in the past, but those times were often lighthearted and fun. Alas, you could cut the current tension in the bar with a knife.

"Hey, Mushitarou?" You finally decided to ask him, breaking the silence. He cast his yellow eyes towards you.

"Yes?"

"What's got you all sad and stuff? You always seem, like, really melancholy. Well, not always, but I feel like when you think I'm not paying attention to you you behave that way. And I've been noticing it for a while, but I thought it'd pass, but it hasn't. And I'm worried."

It all came out at once, which wasn't exactly how you'd intended to bring up the topic, but you guessed it could have been worse. Mushitarou was the type of person who could keep up with things, anyway.

"...ah, I suppose I should..." he began, after a moment of silence. You waited for him to continue. "Or- no. I shouldn't."

"Shouldn't what?"

"Tell you about- no. Alright..." he muttered, seemingly more to himself than you. Mushitarou was rarely so incoherent. On the contrary, you knew him to be rather eloquent. Safe to say, you were a little confused.

"No pressure," you quickly decided to interject before he could say anything more. "It's fine."

"...things are different now, in my life," he explained. "I've...done things I regret, and I've associated with people I...I've lost others, too, and it's just...I've been affected by it all more than I thought I'd have been."

You were smart enough to know that he was skirting around the issue, being annoyingly vague about it. You wondered why he didn't want to tell you what was wrong. Did he think that you wouldn't be able to understand? That telling you wouldn't help anyway?

"...you're a strange one, Mushi," you sighed, playing with your glass. "I don't really get you most of the time."

"I suppose there isn't much of a point in trying, is there?" He murmured. You turned to him.

"That doesn't mean I don't like spending time with you, though," you hastily clarified. "I care about you still."

"I know...I know you do. And I don't want to hurt you." You turned to him with a frown.

"Why would you ever do that?"

"Do you think I'm a bad person, Y/N?" He then asked, ignoring your question. You tilted your head at him.

"Why would I think that? Of course not," you answered. "You're my friend. We wouldn't be friends if I thought you were a bad person."

"...right. I just..." Mushitarou trailed off, before taking another drink. You watched him do this, your gaze clearly concerned. He didn't seem to want to look at you.

"Have you been having intrusive thoughts, or something?" You asked, quietly.

"Hm?"

"We all have them, y'know. It doesn't make you a bad person, as long as you don't act on them and hurt people."

"That's not it..." he told you, his eyebrows furrowing almost as if he were flinching. "I mean, of course I've had intrusive thoughts before, but that's not relevant to my matter. This is...much more serious."

"Serious? Are you in danger, or something?" You quizzed, worriedly.

"No, nothing like that," he said, though you couldn't tell if he was being truthful.

"Are you sure?"

"...I shouldn't be telling you this," he sighed, burying one half of his face in his hand. "I don't want you to think differently of me."

"I don't think differently of you, Mushi," you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

"...you're much too kind to people, Y/N," he told you softly, fighting back a solemn smile. "You'd hate me if I told you the truth."

"No! I wouldn't hate you, ever," you insisted earnestly. "I'd never hate you, Mushitarou. Don't say that."

Your sincerity prompted a quiet chuckle from Mushitarou.

"You're so precious, Y/N. I could never hate you either," he closed his eyes and let out a long exhale. "...I don't want to lose you."

"You're not losing me, Mushitarou," you said, hardly noticing the way your hand slowly travelled from Mushitarou's shoulder to his cheek. "Whatever you've got going on, we can handle it together. I promise."

"...you promise?" He repeated as he leaned in, as if he hadn't heard you properly. You nodded, your faces growing closer and closer.

"I promise," you said, glancing at his lips. Mushitarou seemed to be sharing your blooming desire, though he appeared to be waiting for you to take initiative. "Mushi..." you cut yourself off by locking your lips with his.

Though you'd never considered kissing Mushitarou prior to tonight you wondered why you hadn't done so sooner- it was as if his lips were made for yours. They were warm and soft, and rather gentle against yours, as if he were somewhat apprehensive.

When you pulled apart for air, Mushitarou blinked, his expression suddenly incredulous.

"Y/N...you...?"

"...yeah," you breathed with a smile, kissing him again. This time, your hand snaked around the back of his neck, his travelling to your chin to tilt your head so he could better capture your lips. His hand was cold and the sudden contact caused you to gasp against his mouth, which quickly curled into a smirk.

"Shut up..." you murmured, bashfully.

"I didn't say anything," he replied, pecking your lips once more before you could respond.

Neither of you were quite aware of the depth of your actions, due to a combination of slight drunkenness and being so lost in the taste of each other. Admittedly, if the two of you had stopped to think about it, you probably wouldn't have really cared anyway.

"By the way, I..." Mushitarou trailed off, before clearing his throat. "I like you, too."

You stared at him for a moment, awestruck, before letting out a giggle. "...that's good to know. This would all be pretty awkward if you didn't."

"I do trust you," he continued, brushing a loose lock of hair from your face. "I just...things are complicated at the moment. Not with you, of course, but-"

"Mushi." You interrupted, firmly. "I understand. I'm not upset, or anything. You can tell me about it when you're ready, alright?"

"...yes, alright," he nodded, before pulling you into an embrace. You rubbed his back as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. "Thank you."

"Mhm..." you hummed, before you raised your head and pressed your lips to the corner of Mushitarou's mouth. "Hey, uhm..."

"Yes?" He asked, pulling away to meet your eyes. You bit your swollen lip, suddenly nervous.

"Do you wanna...continue this at my place?" Mushitarou's eyes widened slightly, before a relaxed smile appeared on his face.

"...it'd be my pleasure," he answered, offering his hand to you. "Shall we, then?"

in my long and illustrious life i have kissed one (1) persons and i'm sure they regret it every day. so yeah, i'm pretty garbage at writing kiss scenes. sry (ノ_<、)

[muppetears-stuff]

Warren hate has always been ableist in the very beginning. He gets too much shit for not understanding Max's body language. He gets a lot of hate 'for not taking a hint' or understanding social cues. Hell in the very beginning of the fandom like in 2015 i think i remember there were angry pricefielders calling Warren the literal r slur because he's 'so stupid'. Their words not mine. l I've seen people talk about how they're convinced he's a s*ciopath or a n*rcissist or a ps*chopath which I find ableist and uncomfortable. I think the biggest red flag from the fandom is how there's a lot of shit talk about Warren is an 'obsessive freak/stalker' in their eyes to talking in general about how 'obsessiveness' and 'obsessions' are red flags and are signs of 'evil' apparently and not symptoms of mental illness or neurodivergency apparently. I really relate to Warren and I also suffer from obsessive and actual intrusive thoughts, so i find this fandom to be extremely cruel and alienating toward people with stigmatizing illnesses which I find explains the Chloe demonization bc she is so BPD coded. I don't think Warren is autistic coded like Max but I do think he's ADHD / OCD coded in a way I can't explain. Sorry to drop this really long rant in your inbox, but you're not wrong about the Warren demonization and I just wanted to say something about it. Becauze the demonization of all these characters go back to ableism and the Life Is Strange fandom is the most ableist fandom I've ever been in at all and that really speaks volume about how atrocious it is.

THIS ^^^ YES. FUCKING YES, ABSOLUTELY.

I find the Warren hate unwarranted (hehe) and SUPER FUCKING ABLEIST. you make amazing points, thank you for putting my thoughts into words anon🙏🙏

He very much struggles with social interactions, very evident by the way he only talks teachers or people that are into the same stuff as him, he can become very chatty, sometimes too much, when it comes to things he likes which comes off as "annoying" and "obsessive" when he just wants friends.

Mr. Well's talks about it in his student file, btw.

I share. Alot of the same traits as Warren, with myself also having ADHD and liking science and talking excessively to the point where I find MYSELF annoying.

It's so upsetting too that the developers leaned INTO the stalker/obsessive Warren allegations that I can't even fucking talk about him or mentioning that I like him on certain platforms without the fear of people saying I "support stalking" which I don't. I can't defend him and say that he wasn't stalking without someone going, "but it's canon, the developers confirmed it!!" Yeah well, Mark and Nathan have done some more fucked up shit and I still see people defend them. (I love Nathan too for his complexity and ability to become better. He just needed help, but it doesn't excuse anything he did.)

Warren is the best character. He had so much potential to be an amazing recurring character, but he was their simply for plot convenience or to make the player not suspicious that Mark could be behind everything because Warren was "creepy"

I'm probably gonna have people saying I'm being a baby over this and that he's a fictional character and stuff, you can totally have your own opinion on Warren Graham, I'm not telling you you can't, just please stop calling people who like him "stalkers" or say they support stalking and creepy behavior, when that isn't true. The amount of hate towards anyone that isn't Max or Chloe, and then the immediate hate on YOU for not liking them or liking/defending another character makes me sick, as well as the flat out abelism. The reason why I left the fandom in the first place before picking it back up because of Warren<3

Thank you again, Anon. For sending me such a lovely ask(?) And letting me rant about him because he's my favorite, and I agree with you so much, you're so right<3

[thedemolitionderby]

I dont know my name or anything right now. I'm a new alter formed over the past couple of days and well.

Thats the thing. I got medicated for ADHD and my mind has quietened down and its so calm here. When I'm not stuck in the static of my thoughts, playing in several realms at once, I just feel like Loki. Right now anyway. Shifts do still occur but I find that unsavoury ones from alters who would take over for coping purposes, happen much less frequently. Its become kind of odd, actually. When interacting with the body's family and friends, instead of shifts occurring (I have no idea what happens when theyre in the same place. I feel only one of us is fronting and pretending to be the other one that would front to talk to a friend if family is also present) I kind of just stay me. Whoever I am right now.

Thats the thing. All of us are Loki. We're always Loki no matter who we are. Right now I feel more connected to the 'essence' of Loki, as I feel the flame flickering in my chest, nice and warm. But there's kind of a conflict because I want to put feathers in my hair and fly across cold plains which...I can't do that. Not in this realm at least.

I feel there needs to be a distinction between 'corporeal' - 'real world' - physical world, external world whatever its called, and the...er, other one. Incorporeal? Spiritual? I dunno. Yeah. Two things can be true at once. I've always thought of things as absolute - autism haha - so if one thing is true the other can't be. Because I like computers and gaming and maths and programming and doodling, it seems, well, kind of the opposite to what the fire in my chest makes me feel. When I'm more connected to my self as Loki, I think...pine needles for some reason or pinecones, that appeared somehow, and the opposite of tech, and falcons and swifts. Lots of swifts. Snakes too. Haha banana snake

Maybe shit isn't that deep. Maybe I can be two things at once. Well, three. Even though I'm the only one fronting right now.

Theres...me right now, kind of unknown name, maybe T(). Who wears modern clothing and has tech related interests.

And there's me right now who is the opposite of that. I'm Loki chilling out somewhere. It's either a mind palace of the past or me doing other stuff in other planes. Not sure. Completely different.

Oh and there's me in animal form. That's why I identify as a therian. I'm usually a snake, swift, falcon, or a shrike.

And these are true at the same time. That's the thing I've been struggling with grasping. If one thing is true how can that other thing be true? If im here and like these things and like this, how can I be pretty much the opposite in every single way, at the same time?

Answer: I don't know. But I do know that I operate in 3 planes default. (Not counting if im covering for another alter while they're off doing god knows what and theyre the one who made a friend who thinks I'm that alter so shit is really awkward and I just pretend it's me)

So I guess, 3 planes authentic.

1 plane (covering+masking plane) non authentic but still happening.

Before the meds I was operating on like...20 🗿 also, I couldn't tell which were intrusive thoughts and which were actual stuff that was relevant. So. 3 is perfectly OK.

So...tldr : stuff is weird. Very weird. It keeps getting weirder.

The more I realize what's going on the more I hate covering for other alters because now I know its not me my friend thought they talked to. In the past before I knew I was plural I got an odd bodily sensation like I was watching my body talk, like they were talking through me to somehow behind me and I'm just relaying info from the person behind me to them. Actually I think that's pretty accurate. I didn't understand why. I've only understood why more and more recently and...I guess, I'm angry that it is this way. Really angry. And because the body I live in is tainted with trauma, especially since I look like SK (first alter) it keeps triggering shifts to SK which is really annoying. Also I get confused and think I'm SK which I'm not. Also SK isn't really active, he kind of grew up a bit to Cleo, so...I feel Cleo ends up fronting every time I just...see a picture of my body's face. I can't express things well, even anger, in the external/physical/corporeal/'real' world because everything is twinged with trauma and one specific alter, some versions of Cleo, have been carrying us through for years and years and none of us know how to really exist outside of the internal worlds. I feel we will be able to with time, but its one of those problems that are relevant every second, every movement, just you can't ignore it and if its a problem it will continue to be a problem every moment. If you can't ignore it you deal with it. Oh and I'm trying to learn acceptance rather than problem solving. "Yeah this occurs. Yes it sucks. Yes its a problem. And that's OK. I dont have to try to solve every problem immediently, especially since its not possible, sometimes the solution is completely unknown to you right now, a new experience or perspective is needed. I'm going to live with it instead of feeling things that aren't desirable are villains to be killed. Theyre part of me. They make up bits of me. I can't choose the good bits and try to kill the bad bits. It's just not even true."

So, yeah. Gonna have to live with the fact that existing as of now is very confusing, uncomfortable, and weird. People are talking to other people and I have to pretend I'm other people and its frustrating and invalidating. My body is riddled with trauma and associations with the body's parent that are no longer relevant. Seeing it makes an alter who technically dosent exist anymore front - or try to. Or his thoughts bleed into mine. I dont know my name or my story. I exist 3 times at once. Annnd that's OK. It is what it is.

Written by T - 'Midwinter'