#i’m either put into a box or category that helps the person make sense of my identity and it’s usually not the male/guy box 🙄

[switchytransboy]

2nd message into a conversation w someone here and i was indirectly being asked what’s in my pants bc they wanted to know “what kind of person they were talking to”

… as far as i’m concerned i’m just a trans guy and that’s pretty obvious. but “what kind of person” just made me feel like more of an object.

i’m not one for call out posts unless it’s something REALLY bad so while i won’t be saying who this was, if it wasn’t already obvious, please NEVER ask not even just trans people but ANYONE what genitals they have.

i didn’t know it was necessary information to have in order to, not even just engage in tickles, but have a conversation first??? like damn.

[my-current-obsession]

Contemplating more Rune Factory “Special” changes/updates I’d like. In this case, things I’d like to see changed/added in a hypothetical, absolutely NEVER going to happen Rune Factory 4 Special+ (or Super Special, or Special 2, etc.)

Obviously since this game already has an updated rerelease, this isn’t happening. But there are still a few ways I think it could be brought even closer to perfection.

- So most of my wants for a theoretical “5 Special” came from 4 Special. Similarly there WERE actually several upgrades or quality-of-life changes made in 5 I’d love to see come back to 4 (or more realistically, maybe they’ll show up in 3 Special!).

- PLEASE let me just examine the stone/lumber box and add in all the materials I have instead of manually taking out stacks and putting them in. You can also do this for fodder bins and the fertilizer, which is nice, but the stone/lumber is the BIG one.

- Automatically picking up items as you run over them is great! I’d love to see that in other titles.

- Tabbing between storage options or categories when cooking/forging/crafting is super convenient. Hopefully that comes back, because after getting used to it in 5 I keenly feel its absence and get a smidge annoyed in 4 when I have to make something and then back out entirely to choose to make something else.

- Make Illuminata a romance option! It’s not clear if she was ever intended to be one and then scrapped, but personally I think she was. She is the only character outside the marriage candidates to have a swimsuit model & sprite, and she has several town events where she is a primary focus, similar to the events that are prerequisites for other bachelor/ettes. Plus she has lots of dialogue explicitly pointing out that she’s single and WANTS to find love. There’s really no reason NOT to make her a love interest other than her taking care of Amber, but if Amber is old enough to be romanced/married, then she’s old enough to live alone too. And Illuminata could continue to run her store after marrying the same way that every other love interest continues to do their job.

- I actually prefer the dragons in 5, but I know A LOT of people would love to see Venti as a love interest, and I’m not opposed to that. She’d be locked to a post-game romance, but she does have a human appearance and she seems to be into Lest/Frey (given her conversation where she blushes and starts to ask “If I were a human...”). Narratively she IS the person Lest/Frey cares about most so she’s got the role of a love interest already, kind of. It would be difficult to do since they’d need to add/change the story to allow her to change to her human form, and probably add a few town events for her, but it would be great if it happened. And perhaps including this would help the... abrupt ending to Act 3.

- Make it a little less ridiculous to romance Doug. I understand narratively why his friendship is INITIALLY gated at 3, but I think it’s ridiculous that it stays there until you’ve beaten Act 2 (which is basically the end of the story proper...). I think it would make sense to unlock the initial gate near the end of or after Act 1. After Doug comes around and basically decides to trust you and help Venti, or right after you beat Act 1 (saving Leon), I think you should be able to progress his friendship further. That said, it makes sense to keep his romance gated, so maybe until you’ve beaten Act 2, he stops progressing at LV 6. This way he won’t be SO far behind everyone else and if you want to romance him you’ll be able to do so almost immediately after he becomes available instead of taking several weeks just to get him from 3 to 7. As someone who dated multiple people in a run, Doug is at a HUGE disadvantage due to his late availability combo-ed with his affection almost surely being worse than everyone else. You either have to wait to date ANYONE to try and snag him first at LV 7 or basically give up in favor of dating others because it will only get harder to date him with every subsequent boyfriend and he will probably always lag behind in terms of affection, making any other guy easier to add to the harem by comparison. Literally all of this is mitigated by just raising his gated affection from 3 to 6 partway through the story. Depending on how long it takes you to complete Act 2 and whether you’re plying him with gifts, you might not even HIT the new limit, but even if you do, if you want to romance Doug it would be much quicker and easier now.

- Give players the ability to manipulate town events, at least a little. Technically players can already manipulate town events by determining when one happens and then just save scumming until they get what they want, but I want an in-game method that’s intended to help get the events you want. That said this IS an RNG system and I kind of like that. I wouldn’t want it to give you complete control. But I think something like adding “Orders” to the game at some point that allow you to, say, spawn “only town events involving [name]” would be GREAT. I won’t get into the particulars of how early the feature should be allowed (personally I think end of Act 1, but it could also be after Act 2 or an “Extra Order” reward for beating Act 3 and available from the beginning in any new game) or how much each Order would cost. I just think being able to force the game to only pick from town events involving a specific person (and including any mini-events) would be nice. Once you’ve seen all town events involving that person (excluding the marriage event, which has priority anyway) the order is automatically canceled. You could also cancel it yourself at any time. With this feature it would be MUCH easier to get the prerequisites for your intended spouse, but there is still some element of RNG considering everyone has at least a few events they’re involved in that AREN’T their needed events. This would also be great for trying to get mini events for characters you haven’t seen before.

- Some kind of weather forecast would be nice. With the exception of typhoons, people in town only comment on the weather that is currently happening. And you can still get taken by surprise if no one happens to mention the incoming typhoon or if you don’t talk to everyone. I believe weather is probably RNG as well, but if it was randomized and set like a week in advance, it would be nice if there was a way to check the weather for the next few days. Obviously this is most useful for making sure you KNOW a typhoon or snowstorm is coming and could wreck your farm. It also has other small uses - if you know a thunderstorm is happening you can remind yourself to go to the area that requires that to unlock. You can plan outdoor dates knowing the weather in advance. I don’t know about the airship or observatory but I KNOW there are variations of the lake date depending on the weather, so if you want to see them all you need the weather to comply. This way you’d know ahead of time and be able to plan for it.

- Lastly, either the game needs to be smarter about characters equipping everything they’re “given” or it needs to give players a way to directly, manually change other’s equipment from all the items they have. This is MOSTLY a problem with Kiel specifically since he has a reoccurring quest where he asks you to give him a weak shield and then he equips it EVEN IF IT’S SUBSTANTIALLY WORSE than whatever he had previously (and thus the better shield just DISAPPEARS), but in general I wish characters wouldn’t just automatically equip whatever you give them. If the system checked to be sure it was better than what they already had, that would be ideal. Of course, then you’d have to define what makes it better - which stats matter most, or is it the difficulty level of crafting/forging the item, etc. Alternatively, characters could have a stash of every equipment item you’ve ever given them and you can manually go in and decide what they actually equip (similar to the original .hack games, if anyone’s played those. In that game, characters did automatically equip “stronger” weapons/armor but you could manually change them to whatever you wanted that they had).

Overall I think 4 Special is an AMAZING game and I love it a lot. Most of my complaints are quality-of-life changes, compared to my more substantial issues with 5 (which is still like, but not as much. I like these games mostly for the social/romance aspect and that’s where 4 blows 5 out of the water even despite the RNG of town events making it way harder to actually marry who you want). In both games I long for more love interests, but that can’t be helped. Partly I just crave the extra content that would bring, though I do genuinely like and would want to marry some of those people if I could.

[reidslibrarybook]

They've Seen It All

Couple - Spencer x Fem!reader

Warnings - Language, sexual allusions, anxiety, typical case violence, insecurities, self-hatred

Summary - Self-loathing had been an obstacle for Spencer in the many years that he had worked at the BAU, his signature converse seeing him through it all. Reader helps bring back his sense of self-worth, reminding him of the shiny boy he used to be by surprising him with a new pair… or several.

Category - hurt/comfort

Word Count - 3.5k

A/N: **i totally forgot to add this when i posted this last night but this fic is for @goldensonlyangel 800 celebration with the prompt “i picked these for you”. congrats!!!**

masterlist

join my taglist here!

—————————————-

You wiped the little drops of sweat from your forehead, sitting down on the floor with your mess of a closet splayed out before you. As you were cleaning it out, you found an interesting little box hidden in the corner.

You probably weren’t supposed to find it if he had buried it that deep in his closet, but you were cleaning it out to make space for your clothes-- might as well check that he wasn’t hiding something weird.

You opened the dusty shoebox, met with a worn pair of converse and fun, colorful socks rolled up in their respective pairs that were stuffed around the shoes.

Spencer was always a complicated man, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you asked him out on the date after you noticed him watching you from across the coffee shop every single day.

He was hurt and broken and troubled with the cruelties life had thrown at him from every which way.

But he was also kind and caring and afraid.

He saw himself as a burden that no one wanted to deal with, a burden that would give his friends and family the dark feelings he went through alone. He walked into the BAU for the first time as a shiny, beaming boy and walked out as a tired, destroyed man— torn up from the inside out.

On his feet were a pair of brand new converse coupled with mismatched socks, a superstition that his mother had instilled in him since his childhood. It was his good luck charm.

After the traumatic events that had happened in his first few years at the FBI, the pure and innocent angel was tarnished and stained with tar from the scum of the earth— and so were his shoes.

The rims and laces were no longer white, dirtied and corrupted with mud and everything bad that he had managed to wade through in the river of every horrifying case that he and his team faced.

He replaced them with dress shoes. They were simple and barren and hid away his personality that he refused to let through.

His self-image wasn’t safe either, crumbling soon after his struggle with the many unsubs he pitied— especially Tobias Hankel. It was almost as if Hankel had dragged the minimal love he had for himself with him to the depths of hell, never to be seen again.

There was a slow and steady decline of his self-perception, only increasing in speed after every case that struck his heart in a particular way.

It wasn’t uncommon for him to avert his gaze whenever there was a mirror, casting his eyes down to his feet to avoid looking at the very broken man in front of him. His reflection only served as another device to torment him with the failures and shortcomings of who he used to be.

They say there are 6 signs of self-loathing, and all 6 were nothing new to Spencer.

—————————————-

Inability to Say ‘No’

Spencer always had a habit of putting others before him, refusing to decline any call for help even when it affected him negatively. He was a giving man in the worst ways.

“Boy Genius!” Penelope’s kitten heels clicked on the ground as she tried her best to catch up with him.

“Garcia?”

“You know the party I’m having this Saturday?”

He nodded. “Good. Can you help me set up my apartment?”

“Of course, I’ll be there.”

“Fantastic!” She gave him a loving peck on the cheek before rushing away to set up a list of all the things that she needed to purchase before the big day.

He walked away, a hole burning through his chest as a dizzying feeling set in. He was supposed to visit his mom on Saturday, he hadn’t seen her in a while and her lucidity was deteriorating like his self-image. He had a finite amount of time with her but he couldn’t let Penelope down, it was his job to make everyone happy— at least that’s what he thought.

…

“Come in! Come in!”

“Hey, Penelope.”

She ushered him in, handing him a drink and spitting out a list of things that the both of them had to do. He was in a solemn mood, missing his mother and time to himself, but he knew he had to help to make her happy.

Once they finished, she immediately began filling him up with food.

“So,” she munched her taquito and took a sip of her water, “Did you have any plans this weekend besides being here?”

He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly pressing his lips together. “Oh. I um, I was going to visit my mom today since Saturday is the only day on the weekend that the facility allows visitors.”

“What?”

“M- my mom, you know. She’s in a mental facility and I-”

“You skipped visiting your mom to help me?”

“W- well you said you needed help so I-”

She dropped her food on the plate, wiping her hand and walked up to the man across from her. Penelope placed her hands on his cheeks and squished them together to grab his attention.

“My sweet Spencer, why did you waste something as precious as time with your mother for something as trivial as this?”

“You said you needed help?”

“You could have said no.”

He looked away, a warming feeling in his heart. “I- I didn’t want to let you down, Penelope. You’ve been there for me and I wanted to be there for you.”

She took him in her arms and rubbed his back comfortingly, hearing small hiccups coming from someone she considered to be family, her little brother.

“You could never let me down, Spencer. I would have understood why you couldn’t help, saying no is okay to do. You’re not disappointing me at all, that could never happen. Understand?”

His mop of curls entangled in her blonde hair as he nodded, tears dripping down from his face. She let go of him, packing up her purse and grabbing her keys.

“W- wait, where are you going?” He wiped the tears from his eyes.

“The facility closes at 7:30, correct?” He nodded.

“I’m taking you to see your mom.”

“B- but what about the party?”

“Screw the party. You are much more important than some silly event that I can always reschedule. Now, come on.”

Suppressing Emotion

Emily looked around, a smile wide on her face as she looked around for Spencer. The team had just solved a case at record time and they were about to celebrate before their genius had completely disappeared.

She opened the doors to different offices while on her search for him. She was stopped by sounds of hyperventilation coming from an empty office down the hall.

Emily walked towards the source of the and poked her head in, finding the one and only Spencer Reid breathing into a paper bag underneath the table.

His legs were curled up in an uncomfortable position as his tears stained the brown paper.

“Spencer?” She kept her voice quiet, afraid that she’d overload his senses.

He looked up at her with glassy eyes, completely terrified that his colleague had to see him in such an unprofessional state.

“C- can I sit with you?”

He waited a moment before nodding slowly. She crawled under the table and sat with him as he continued to cry and try to steady his breathing.

He leaned onto her shoulder as she opened her arms out for him. He snuggled into her shoulder and cried away the pent-up emotion.

“I- I don’t want to go out today.”

“That’s alright, Spence. You don’t have to.”

“Th- they reminded me of Tobias, and I know I should be mad at them but I- I can’t. I can’t help but feel anything but pity, I- I pity a serial killer.”

“Spenc-”

“They remind me of myself, Emily. I could’ve been them if I didn’t have my mom and sh- she’s slowly forgetting me. Sh- she won’t be able to remember me in the next few years, what will I do without her?”

She looked over at the sniffling man beside her. “What’s going on with your mom if you don’t mind me asking?”

“The doctors told me that she’s becoming less and less lucid. At some point, her memory is going to deteriorate and she won’t even be able to recall her own name, let alone me.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Spencer? I- we could’ve helped.”

He fiddled with the paper bag, the tightness in his chest dissipating as soon as he confided in his friend. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

“You are never a burden,” she lifted his face so he could look at her eyes and realize that she meant it genuinely, “Do you hear me?”

He nodded. “Good.”

He laid back down on her shoulder, her arms wrapping around the person who no longer felt worthy of support.

Incessant Apologies

“Sorry.”

Luke looked up from his paperwork. “For what?”

Spencer met his eyes, biting his lip. “I- I must be boring you.”

“By talking?”

“Rambling. People don’t like it when I ramble.”

Luke could see the small boy inside him excited to share everything he learned with the people around him, only to be shut down by every single person.

“I don’t know who the people you’re talking about are, but if I did I’d smack ‘em senseless.”

“N- no. I understand what they mean. I know it’s not very fun to have someone constantly talking, I’m sure if I was normal I’d feel the same way.”

Luke got up from his chair, startling the man sitting across from his desk. He plopped onto the corner of his desk and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No one is normal. Normal is a social construct. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”

“B- but I know that me talking all the time is a hassle and I do other weird things like reading fast and-”

“That’s not weird, that’s you being you. Don’t apologize for being yourself… ever.”

He nodded, giving Luke a smile as he ruffled Spencer’s hair.

Stuck in the Past

“What’re you thinking about, Reid?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing important really.” Tara handed him a coffee, he thanked her and took a sip.

“Would this have something to do with the unsub?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“It’s not your fault that he killed them.” She leaned back, assessing his body language. He was doing his usual tics, lip biting and pulling at his fingers— nervous.

“It is.”

“It’s no one’s fault, except for the unsub. There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I could’ve persuaded him more, been more convincing when talking him down. There are a million possibilities of the things I could have done to save her. I’ve just left a mother and father childless.”

She reached her hand over to calm his shakiness. “You’re right, there are a plethora of possibilities but neither of us will ever know. What’s done is done, at the end of the day— you did your best.”

“I don’t think so. This has happened before, Tara. You haven’t been here as long as I have so you don’t know how many times I failed to save them. All their names, I remember them. I wasn’t even convincing enough to save my girlfr-... friend.”

“Were you intentionally slacking, were you trying to get them killed?”

“No.”

“Then there was nothing you could’ve done for this case and all the other ones.”

“I could have tried harder, I could have taken off my kevlar to show them I wasn’t a threat, I could’ve dropped my gun, I could have-”

“Stop, Spencer. Don’t get caught up in the little things. You can’t change your past or your mistakes, just learn from them.”

Denying Praise

“Damn, man. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Luke wrapped an arm around Spencer’s shoulder as JJ walked up to him and patted his arm.

“We really wouldn’t have been able to solve that if it weren’t for you, Spence.”

“Really, we all helped. I- it’s not a big deal.”

“You figured the whole thing out by yourself, take the win.”

He nodded, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was given too much credit for what he considered a minimal contribution on his part. He said his goodbyes and walked away, rubbing his arms and slinking down into the leather seat of his car.

He shook his head, telling himself that he didn’t deserve the words of pride from his colleagues. A menial insight wasn’t worth anything but a small pat on the back, especially since he had the help of the entire team.

It was unfair to attribute their whole ‘win’ to him.

The denial was nothing new, it had started to manifest himself as his deteriorating self-image began. He’d brush off the comments that congratulated him on new achievements or anything notable he had done.

Spencer never thought the praise was justifiable for a man like him, a darkened image of the person he used to be in his youth. The shiny, naive demeanor was long gone as time passed, a cynical view of the world settling over him as he aged.

He wasn’t worthy of praise, he never thought he’d be.

Assuming the Worst

You first noticed him watching you from afar the fourth time you entered the shop. He sat in the corner, sipping his coffee and nonchalantly watching you with his eyes distracted from the book he opened in front of him.

You smiled in his direction once or twice but they were never returned which discouraged you. He continued looking at you and you continued catching him in the act.

His glances didn’t go unnoticed every time you stopped in front of the register right next to his usual table. You intentionally bit your lip or looked his way quickly to elicit a reaction from him, but it never worked.

Your frustration got the better of you as you discontinued your frequent trips to your favorite place to get coffee. You were craving their drinks and couldn’t help but return after a two and a half month break from visiting.

You swung the door open, the bell on the door ringing as a familiar pair of eyes flicked up to look at you. He was still there, still as handsome and stunning as he was before, and still frustratingly silent.

He had never been to the little café before he saw you and made it a habit to visit every day in the morning to catch a glimpse of you before heading to work. You eventually stopped coming but he always made a stop at the same place just in case you did. He held out hope for you.

He smiled to himself, wondering why you left and debating if he should approach you. He decided against it, he couldn’t rope you into his messy life.

A waitress came over and handed him a blueberry muffin, his favorite.

“I- I’m sorry. Excuse me? I um, I didn’t order this.”

She smiled and handed him a piece of paper. “That woman from earlier did.”

He thanked her and unfolded it revealing a note that he had never experienced in real life, a note that he only imagined in the cheesy teen rom coms he and his mother watched to pass the time.

Do you like me?

☐ yes ☐ no

If you checked yes, see you tomorrow! ;)

He did see you the next day, gathering enough courage that he found scattered in little niches inside him. He began talking to you, testing the waters before handing you the piece of paper you had sent him yesterday with the first box checked.

You giggled and asked him out on a date, knowing full well the obstacles ahead of you.

Every single day for Spencer was a struggle, contradicting himself and questioning everything he did when it came to you. He would always second-guess himself, spending well over an hour picking the ‘perfect’ flowers or dinner or movie or gift or book.

You eased his worries and slowly healed the wounds that he was left to deal with alone.

He’d fall apart over the littlest things, repeating a negative mantra that replayed on an endless loop in his mind: ‘she’s going to leave me’.

It took time for you to work past all the trauma he had, discovering new scars and old fractures in his heart. You loved him, but he never thought he was worthy of something so special as your affection.

His self-loathing was mended with your help, the two of you taping and gluing him back together into one piece to the best of your abilities. Spencer still had times of struggle but he knew you’d always be there for him.

—————��———————-

Over the years, his love for the simple things diminished. His pair of converse metaphorically symbolized his life before the trauma was buried beneath the self-hatred.

His childish ways and youthful innocence were swept away by the bubbling anxiety inside him. He deserved to know that he had the right to be that bright and shiny boy again, the boy that knew he was going to conquer whatever life threw at him… with a pair of converse and mismatched socks on his feet.

Plain old brown dress shoes were his go-to, his feet wrapped in plain black socks. He thought they were mundane but fitting for the sanitized life he lived.

Spencer opened the door and sighed, placing his bag on the ground.

“Y/N? What’s this?”

You waved him over and patted the seat right next to you. He settled on the couch and leaned his head onto yours, yawning. You opened your arms to him and kissed his cheek gently as he scrunched his nose at the affection.

“I thought I’d get you some gifts to kinda celebrate our milestone of moving in together.”

“Mmm. I can think of something much better than opening gifts to celebrate,” he whispered into your ear.

“Hint: it happens in the bedroom.” You pushed him off as his breath tickled your ear.

“Spencer,” you giggled.

“No, no, scratch that. We could christen every room here, that is a much better idea.”

You smiled as he bombarded you with little kisses to your face. “Alright, alright. We can do that after you open these.”

You shove the wrapped boxes into his hands and waited eagerly for him to open it anxiously. He smiled and unwrapped each one, revealing a plethora of converse boxes each with a different colored pair of high-tops inside.

He opened the bag and pulled out his mismatched socks that were stuffed away in his closet along with a few new pairs.

“I found this,” you opened the dusty shoebox, “And I thought that you needed a new pair… or a couple.”

“Y/N. I-”

“I kind of went overboard and just bought one of every color and these really cool dinosaur ones too. Your socks had holes in them so I thought I’d sew them back up and make them all brand new for you. I picked these out for you, some new ones that you could add to your collection with the old ones you had.”

You fidgeted with your fingers. “D- do you like them?”

“I-” he looked up at you as tears stung his eyes, “I love them.”

“Spencer-”

He flung himself onto you and wrapped his arms around you tightly. “I love you.”

A content smile settled onto your face. “I love you too.” A comfortable silence loomed over the both of you as you relished in each other’s warm embrace.

You teased him, ruffling his hair with your hands, “Still wanna christen every room in our apartment?”

“I think all the crying and snotty stuff I left on your shirt ruined the mood.”

“You never ruin the mood, love.”

“Well, now I have some new lucky mismatched socks to make sure I never do.”

“Mhm,” you rubbed his back soothingly.

“Are you really going to wear these to work? I didn’t know if you’d like them since all you wear are dress shoes now.”

“I will wear them every second of every minute of every hour of every day.”

You giggled, “Not every second, Spence. You’re not bringing those to bed.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you, lifting you up and grabbing a pair of shoes with him. “I absolutely will.”

“They’ve seen it all, might as well see this too.” He threw you on the bed and attacked you with kisses as the two of your laughs reverberated through the rooms of your home, marking another occasion where Spencer found himself again.

—————————————-

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[ootahime]

what is utahime’s role in the future? — a prediction (manga spoilers)

part 2 (unedited)

part 1 is here!

let’s continue answering the question: is utahime weak?

chapter 135

what preparations is utahime making? like i’ve mentioned before, i theorize that she needs to charge up in order to use her technique. since momo and the other kyoto students are fighting on the front line to buy time for utahime, i believe that they trust that their teacher’s ability can help turn the situation around.

what do the students think of her? do they think she’s weak?

chapter 128

mechamaru manipulates the circumstances in a way that allow him to keep the kyoto people away from danger. this has more to do with how much he cares about his classmates and his teacher rather than seeing them as incompetent sorcerers who can’t hold their own. notice how he says “EVEN utahime”.

chapter 128

kamo thinks mechamaru doesn’t have that much faith in the Kyoto students—but this isn’t true at all! he knows who the enemy is and has a grasp of how dangerous they are. he just wants to keep his friends safe. besides, kamo is a semi-grade 1 sorcerer which means he’s more than capable of defending himself against curses. but since he’s being kept safe too, it suggests that this is not a matter of keeping weak people away from fighting :)

chapter 41

this seems a bit off topic but let’s talk about the misogyny in jujutsu society. momo points out to nobara that the women from the zenin clan are expected to be perfect. the misogyny runs so deep to the point where some women aren’t allowed to even fight. you may think that this is just about the zenin clan but it’s about society as a whole. that’s why nobara responds to momo in a more personal sense. she doesn’t care about the boys versus girls issue because she embraces all aspects of herself. she loves herself when she’s strong, and she loves herself when she’s dressed up and beautiful. if it only applied to the zenin family then nobara wouldn’t have responded the way she did.

in the chapter before, nishimiya explains, “even if a girl has skills, if she’s not cute, she’s looked down upon. of course, if she’s only cute with no skill, it’s the same. women sorcerers aren’t expected to be skilled, they’re expected to be perfect.”

some of the female characters in jujutsu kaisen apply to this. for example, maki and mai. they’re looked down upon because one can’t use a cursed technique or see curses, while the other’s cursed technique is weak. in chapter 148(?) naoya says the only thing maki had going for her was her face, but it’s ruined now so she’s nothing. the zenin twins fall under the “cute but not skilled” category in jujutsu society. before we can put utahime into a category, let’s examine mei.

i promise this will all connect so please bear with me LOLLL let’s move on to mei. we find out that mei has the ability to control crows. she deems this ability as weak because it’s simple and doesn’t have much attack or defense power.

she convinces herself that a sorcerer’s worth doesn’t revolve around their CT. by following this ideal, she soon found herself at her limit because you can only hone your physical abilities to an extent. she said she was crushed because she thought that her weak CT would forever stunt her ability to grow as a sorcerer. but because of all the training she did in order to not rely on her CT, she was able to combine her physical prowess with her technique to make what’s best of her ability to control crows.

mei is an example of a perfect woman based on the standards the jujutsu world has established for women. although she has a weak technique, she makes up for it with adept use of weapons and physical prowess. she found a way to incorporate this “weak” ability to make it something strong. she’s beautiful and powerful so therefore, she was promoted to be a grade 1 sorcerer. she is what a woman is expected to be in order to be acknowledged by others.

what about utahime? why couldn’t she follow the same footsteps as mei?

i can’t answer that because we don’t really know much about utahime so far. i can only speculate why. being a grade 2 sorcerer at 20 is not bad at all. but why is she stuck as a semi-grade 1 sorcerer at 31? that surely proves she’s just weak, right?

semi-grade 1 sorcerers are sorcerers who have performed well on missions with a person accompanying them. i feel like when utahime was on a mission to exorcise a grade 1 curse on her own (the final step of the grade 1 promotion process), something happened that gave her her scar and made her unable to fulfill the mission. it’s either that or she did complete the mission but her appearance is too unsatisfactory. can you recall what nishimiya said? if you’re cute and not skilled, you’re not good enough. if you’re not cute and skilled, you’re still not good enough.

in men, scars are a symbol of honor and strength. on the other hand, scars on a woman’s face are seen as an imperfection. as a result, those who are scarred are deemed imperfect and unsuitable for marriage.

gojo hates the way things are run because the higher ups are so close-minded. they make decisions on a whim and have no compassion for sorcerers who are breaking their backs on their orders. he wants to change jujutsu society for the better by raising the next generation of sorcerers to be as strong as him. the old-fashioned and narrow-minded attitude of the higher ups leads me to believe that utahime is stuck as a semi-grade 1 sorcerer because she is viewed as imperfect. utahime’s scar is most likely the reason contributing to her being held back. who would want to promote a woman who isn’t beautiful enough to be a grade 1 sorcerer?

she obviously has a lot to offer because she’s a teacher at Kyoto. todo, a grade 1 sorcerer, has never shown any sign of disrespect towards utahime despite the fact that he surpassed her in rankings. he trusts in her and believes she has some things she can teach him.

can we additionally address the fact that gojo respects mei? he refers to her as mei-san and says that there’s no way she’d cry because she’s strong. mei has a weak technique though? 🤔🤔🤔 controlling crows?!?!?! nah im jk, mei is strong with and without her technique, of course. since gojo respects someone like mei, a person who doesn’t have an out-of-this-world technique, i believe his view of someone strong isn’t solely based on their technique. when he calls utahime weak, he may not be insulting her CT. it’s just all jokes because in chapter 65, geto and mei join in on the fun too and pick on her. mr. hot shot knows that utahime is a valuable asset to his plans so he entrusts her with the task of unearthing the traitor(s). if she was so incapable of such a thing, why did he pay mei to do the same job? 🤔

*a lot of people think mei was actually paid by gojo to promote his students but that’s incorrect. it goes against everything gojo advocates for. he wants his kids to enjoy their youth because his was taken away. being a sorcerer is not a smooth job and no matter how many years you’re in the profession, it never gets easier. he doesn’t wish for his students to be thrust in a world full of hardship and loss, which is why he was so against yuuji and yuta’s execution. he works hard to preserve the innocence of his students. he doesn’t want yuji’s heart to break, not even once. why would he pay mei to promote his students to grade 1? that would automatically strip them of their innocence and youth and push them into a world full of burden and pain.

PHEW that was long. how does this all tie back to utahime’s future role in the story?

her CT will probably come in clutch in an important battle

she might be the one to help get gojo out the box (A REACH i know)

she will help gojo with his plan to overthrow and change jujutsu society as a whole

i don’t really have to dive into the first bullet point. as for the second one, look at what i found!

in the second opening, utahime is seen searching for something in a dim forest.

*i read an analysis about opening 2 and apparently this just symbolizes her looking for the traitors. that makes sense too.

in chapter 144, this scenery pops up right before they enter master tengen’s base(?) the branches are thicker than in the opening but it gives the same vibes to me. i think utahime will be the one to break gojo out.

why utahime? well, gojo is their best shot at stabilizing whatever the fuck is going on right now. she knows it’s a crime to unseal him, but she wants her students to be safe so she’ll probably risk it. plus, gojo’s flashback starts with him breaking utahime and mei out of a building with a barrier.  i think utahime breaking gojo out of the prison realm will make a perfect parallel :3

that theory is a massive ass pull I KNOW. it’s just fun to think about. it’s likely that kurusu hana will be the one helping yuuji and megumi out with that.

if utahime isn’t the one freeing gojo, she will definitely come face to face with the other traitors.

ive read numerous Reddit threads and tons of users think she’ll play a small role in the story—nothing too significant. i’m perfectly content with that as well. i never expected her to be gojo level or anything like that LMAOO. as long as we get to see her technique in action, i will be satisfied 😮‍💨

——

i feel like there may be a few things i missed but i tried to include everything i could think of. the organization of this post is quite off but im too lazy to rearrange it in a way that makes it more coherent LOL. thank you so much for reading. ill probably analyze gojo and utahime’s interactions in the manga and anime next :-)

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 6

@pocketramblr another :)

.

Shouta trudged back to the staff break room. His counseling session with Midoriya had lasted a little over an hour, so while there were still teachers in the building, many of them had left. With the exception of semi-retired heroes like Recovery Girl, everyone working here had two full time jobs. Hizashi, despite his carefree air, had even more than that in the form of his radio show. Hizashi had probably left with the students.

But Hizashi wasn't either of the ones he wanted to talk to. Not today.

He opened the door. Three, no, four teachers were there, but Snipe didn't count, seeing as he was completely passed out on one of the couches with his gas mask half off. He must have had an early shift patrol today, poor sucker.

Nemuri was there, too, with most of her hero outfit on. She was applying her hero-grade makeup (water proof, resistant to three common contact poisons, and guaranteed not to react badly with mace).

More importantly, Kan and Yagi were both there, poring over papers on the same desk, no less. Shouta walked up to the table and looked down at sheets and sheets full of incomprehensible numbers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"We-"

'Don't tell him!" said Kan, urgently. "This is going to be my class's leg up on Aizawa this time around."

"Haha! Good one!" Yagi slapped Kan's back, and apparently even in his skeletal form he could pack a punch, because Kan had the air knocked out of him. Before he could recover, Yagi continued, "I'm making personalized nutrition plans for his class!"

"What?"

"One of my undergraduate degrees was in nutritional and health sciences, after all!"

Wow, there was a lot to unpack there, but Shouta was more than happy to leave it in its box. He had other fish to fry and topics to interrogate. Small talk requirement fulfilled, he moved on.

"How well do you know Midoriya?"

Yagi blinked and put down his pencil. "Moderately so? We met about this time last year and have been meeting regularly since then."

So, so much to unpack.

"Why?"

"Ah, he... impressed me, I suppose? He was involved in the bodysnatcher incident last year."

That was an understatement.

"He had a lot of heroic spirit!" continued Yagi. "But... not so much in the, ah, body category. I thought it would be a shame, a waste, really, if he wasn't able to pursue his dream, and a hero school prep course wasn't really in the cards for him, considering his quirk status and the timing... And I did have this degree..." He waved his hands vaguely at the table. "I just gave him a little help."

"What brought all this on, anyway?" asked Nemuri. "Midoriya is the little green haired kid, right? One of Chibiida's new friends?"

"If you keep calling him that, I won't be held responsible for when he snaps and attempts murder. But, yes, that's Midoriya."

"So...?"

"He told me I was the best teacher he'd ever had."

Nemuri started laughing.

"Oh," said Yagi. "I'm glad the two of you are getting along so well."

"I think he's pulling your leg, Shouta," said Nemuri, coming over to pat him on his shoulder. "Man, I didn't think a friend of Chibiida's would have it in him. Such youth!"

"I cannot even begin to tell you how much he wasn't."

Nemuri's laughter died off.

"Judging from some comments he made today," said Shouta, "not to mention the discrepancies between his record and his observed behavior in the classroom, I'd say he's been the target of severe quirkism in the past, particularly from his teachers. Did he ever mention anything like that to you?"

Yagi's face darkened and the mood in the room grew much more somber. "Not in so many words, no. However... some of his comments about his teachers disturbed me enough to bring it to the attention of the Musutafu Educational Services District, but as an unrelated stranger without concrete proof..."

("You can use the acronym, you know," muttered Vlad.)

"You're telling me they ignored the number one hero."

Yagi made a face. "I didn't go to them as All Might. Can you imagine the media frenzy if I did that? I didn't want to paint that kind of target on young Midoriya's back."

That was fair, actually. If largely-anonymous Shouta had enemies, All Might had ten times as many. Not to mention supposed fans.

"Other avenues of inquiry were also fruitless," said All Might, countenance darkening. "I asked some of my police colleagues, but they don't have full discretion over the direction of their investigations, and, again, if I were to use my weight to move them... It would get out, and people would wonder why I was so concerned with an apparently normal middle school."

"Did you try talking to Nezu about it?"

"No? Why?"

Shouta reminded himself that although Yagi was an alumnus, he was also very new as a teacher, and was as of yet unfamiliar with Nezu's more interesting traits.

"I'm going to," said Shouta, "and you're going to come with me." He turned to Kan. "Have you heard anything from Bakugo about quirk discrimination?"

"All I've heard from him are explosions, threats, and some kind of complex I don't have nearly enough psychiatric training to- They're from the same school," he realized.

"Yeah."

Kan pinched his brow. "So, the sweet shy kid you keep gushing about-" Both Shouta and Yagi attempted to reassure Kan they weren't gushing, "-and the demon brat are from the same school."

"That is what their records say," agreed Shouta. "Did you know, Yagi?"

"Oh, that they knew each other? Yes. Actually, I was rather under the impression they were childhood friends, as Midoriya ran out to help him during the bodysnatcher incident."

Shouta grunted. It was possible. He hadn't seen the two of them interact, at any rate.

"I'm going to Nezu with you," said Kan, standing up. "No matter what else this hell school did, they deserve to suffer for inflicting Bakugo Katsuki on me with those recommendations full of lies."

"Why don't you just expell him if he's that bad?"

"Because he's talented, hardworking, and hasn't actually broken any rules except for the swearing. He's just a pain I wasn't prepared to deal with and will probably contribute more to my hearing loss than Yamada by the end of the year."

"Wait, wait," said Yagi. "What exactly are you expecting Nezu to do in this situation?"

"Well," said Nemuri, who still hadn't left yet, "let's just say there's a reason hid name is 'god' in the staff group chat."

.

Terrible did not even begin to describe how Izuku felt when he woke up. His skin was static. His mouth was dry in a way that hurt. It felt like a siren was going off in his brain, and also like it was too quiet. He wanted to both run all the way to the school and hide in his closet.

This, of course, left him paralyzed in bed.

He hadn't felt remotely like this since the first time someone had left spider lilies on his desk at school. What was wrong with him?

No, that was the wrong question. All signs pointed to him having Danger Sense. He was in danger. And also immobile in bed.

With a great deal of effort, he turned to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. The clock in the corner read 4:42. Far too early to call anyone. And yet...

With shaky fingers, he navigated to Mr. Yagi's contact information and pressed dial. To Izuku's surprise, it only rang once.

"Young Midoriya? Is something wrong?"

The sound of his voice loosened the terrible knot under Izuku's breastbone. "I- May-maybe? I don't- I don't know, I think so."

There were sounds of movement on the other side of the line. "What happened?"

"I just- just woke up, and I- I think it's Danger Sense. It- Something bad is going to happen."

"I'm on my way. Is your mother with you?"

"N-no. She's at a- at a tech conference in Tokyo. She won't be back until- until tomorrow. Mr. Yagi, I don't- I don't think it's something here. I think it's later... at the school."

There was a pause. "My boy, are you quite sure?"

Izuku's laugh was just a little hysterical. "I mean, I'm- I'm pretty new to this, but..." he'd like to think his flight or fight reflex would have a more constructive response to am immediate threat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have woken you up, I should have waited-"

"Nonsense! Forewarned is forearmed, and time is one of the most valuable resources a hero can have! I'm still picking you up, I'll just-" Mr. Yagi coughed, "-take the car instead."

"The car? You mean Hercules!?" The excitement was enough to free Izuku from his paralysis and propel him into a sitting position.

"Well, yes, but, my boy, how did you know? I don't think I've ever mentioned the name in my interviews..."

"But you did! In one of your American interviews. It was for a local station and you and Mr. Shield were on together."

"But those were in English."

"I know! When I found out about them, it really motivated me to work on my English! I think I could probably pass the Level Two fluency test..."

"Young Midoriya, have I ever told you how glad I am that you aren't a villain?"

.

"Hikage, did Danger Sense ever make you feel this bad?" asked Nana as Yoichi fussed in the background.

"Super Anxiety made me feel this bad all the time. Sometimes, it made me feel worse. I got used to it."

Nana let out a sigh of relief. It sucked to Ninth right now, but if it was normal for the quirk...

"That's good, then," said En. "Not for Ninth, obviously, but if that's just how the quirk works, he'll be able to figure it out. What did it usually mean, when you felt like this?"

"Generally, that someone was planning on killing me in the next few hours."

Dead(er than usual) silence.

"Ah," said En.

"You know," said Nana, "sometimes the kinds of lives we led slips my mind, but then the universe is always real happy to turn around and slap it back into me."

Yoichi started screeching.

.

"Do you feel any worse now that we're here?" asked Mr. Yagi after shutting Hercules down.

"Not really," said Izuku. He slumped down in his seat and looked away. "I'm sorry, I dragged you out of bed and this is probably just a stupid pointless meaningless panic attack..." He felt tears begin to prick at the edges of his eyes. He was so stupid. And selfish. All Might could be out helping people right now. Or taking care of himself (which, according to Recovery Girl's comments during their training sessions, he didn't do nearly enough of).

"Hey, hey, there's no need to cry, it's alright."

"Because you're here?" asked Izuku with a sniffle.

"Well, yes, but also, even if it was 'just' a panic attack, I'd still want to be here for you." He reached across the central console to pat Izuku on the shoulder. Then his face twisted into something rather sheepish. "But on the subject of panic attacks, something did occur to me on the way here."

Izuku looked back down at his knees. "What is it?"

"This is the anniversary of the day we met."

Izuku... had known that, actually. Waking up as he had had driven it from his mind, but the date was marked on his calendar. He'd even gotten All Might a gift, although he hadn't yet talked himself into being brave enough to give it to him, and with what happened today, it would most likely languish in his desk drawer for an indefinite period of time as the idea of giving it became progressively more awkward.

"My boy? I can't quite make out what you're saying. You're mumbling."

Izuku clapped his hands over his mouth. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright. I'm just an old man with hearing problems."

"You're not old! It's... I just- I just don't see how- how that's connected to this." He gestured at himself in all his vaguely-trembling glory.

"Young Midoriya... you almost died three separate times that day. That's traumatic. And sometimes anniversaries are... reminders."

"I only almost died once?"

"The first time with the sludge villain, grabbing on to my leg- and I don't think I ever apologized for telling you to let go, I was just so surprised- and then the sludge villain again."

"But I only almost died the first time..." He trailed off as Mr. Yagi gave him a look. He'd thought his mother was the only one who could give looks like that... "Do you really think this is connected to that?"

"I don't know," said Mr. Yagi. "Do you feel like it might be?"

"I don't know," said Izuku. He bent over and knotted his fingers in his hair.

"Do you think it might help to stay home today?"

"No!" yelped Izuku. "No," he repeated, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Alright, alright. Never fear, my boy." Mr. Yagi gave him another steadying shoulder pat. "In that case, let's go into this with the assumption that this is danger sense, and it is attempting to warn you of a real threat."

"Okay," said Izuku. He rubbed at his eyes. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Yagi tensed and looked up at the top floors of UA. "Well..."

.

"Hm!" said Nezu. "That is something of a conundrum! The extent of your quirk is unclear, and it is not properly registered, so we cannot go through the official routes we normally would for a warning given through a precognitive or clairvoyant quirk, even given that we are aware of One for All and the probable nature of Danger Sense."

Nezu knowing about One for All had been a bit of a surprise. In retrospect, maybe it shouldn't have been. All Might would have had to tell Nezu something so that Izuku was allowed on campus before he was really a student, and seeing as how All Might was originally teaching here to find a successor... well, it made sense. Izuku just wished he'd been told.

How many other people knew was a question for later, however.

"Your inexperience with the quirk and other circumstances further complicates the matter."

"Sorry," said Izuku.

"Whatever for? It isn't your fault." Nezu did not wait for an answer. "Then there is yesterday's incident to consider... You say you felt something with the reporters?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Hm. Yes. Toshinori, I so believe you have a contact who could clear this up much more efficiently."

"I know," said Mr. Yagi. "He isn't picking up his phone."

"You don't think-?" started Izuku.

"No, no, he just hasn't been speaking to me lately."

"Oh? I was under the impression you had been communicating with him regularly since returning to Musutafu."

"He thought I would change my mind about something I didn't change my mind about, apparently. It doesn't matter. What else can we do?"

"A good number of things, luckily. Midoriya, I am going to make a series of phone calls. I would like you to tell me if the sensation you are experiencing changes at all while I make them."

"Yes, sir."

Nezu began methodically going through Izuku's list of teachers, warning them that something 'like yesterday' might happened and going over lesson plans and safety procedures. Nothing really changed. Until Nezu called Thirteen.

(Oh, gosh, they were going to go to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint on a field trip today? That was so cool!)

But after Nezu talked to Thirteen about checking safety systems, a little bit of the tension he'd been holding onto leaked away.

"Interesting," said Nezu. "Perhaps we should reschedule rescue training until-"

Izuku dove for Nezu's garbage bin.

"-or perhaps not," mused Nezu as Izuku expelled the meager contents of his stomach.

It was a good thing he hadn't eaten breakfast.

.

"Hikage," said Banjo. "I'm sorry for calling you a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard with a warped sense of humor if this is what you had to put up with all the time."

"You called me a dead-eyed emotionally stunted bastard?"

"Not to your face, but yes."

"Well. It isn't as if those things aren't all true..."

.

"I'm okay," said Izuku. "That just... felt bad."

"No cancelations in that case," said Nezu as Mr. Yagi hovered.

"Y-yeah. Oh gosh, now I know how Uraraka feels..."

"Perhaps you should stay home-"

"No! I can't! That would be..."

Nezu held up his hands- paws? "It was merely a suggestion. Can I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, please," said Izuku, voice catching uncomfortably on his raw throat.

"I do have a few more calls to make. Do you feel up to staying, or would you prefer to head down to Recovery Girl? Or perhaps even the cafeteria? I imagine you haven't eaten breakfast."

"I'd like to stay."

"Very well." Nezu picked up his phone again. Izuku could just make out the click on the other end when it was picked up. "Am I a mouse? A dog? A bear? One thing's for sure! I'm the principal!" There was laughter on the other end of the line. "No, not at all! I am in fact calling for you, Tensei. Or should I say, Ingenium? I'm aware this is last minute, and you were planning on taking the day off- How do I know? It was quite simple, really- but between the break-in yesterday and a tip I received this morning regarding a threat to the school, I would like a few more hands on deck than usual. Why, yes, you can stay with your brother's class. Do try not to tease Shouta too much. He has a reputation to maintain." After a few more pleasantries, Nezu hung up. "Midoriya?"

"I... think that's better? I'm sorry, it's hard to tell what could be the quirk and what's just me feeling bad."

Nezu nodded. "In that case, I do recommend that you head to Recovery Girl's office. My other calls will be similar, and the other heroes will not be with your class."

"Why not?" asked Mr. Yagi.

"Because Midoriya's reaction to the field trip being canceled suggests that the danger may not be limited to himself or his class. Oh! And one more thing. Midoriya, I noticed that you put in some costume alteration requests. Naturally, most of them will not be finished until some time next week, however, some of the support items you mentioned are fairly common. If you have time before the field trip, you should pay a visit to Power Loader."

.

Izuku hadn't expected it, but he did feel much better after eating, despite his continuing sense of impending doom. It was also about half an hour from the beginning of homeroom, so he had the time to go to the support department and check if they had anything he could take.

He hoped they had grappling hooks. Izuku had always wanted a grappling hook.

Mr. Yagi took him most of the way there, but students had started to arrive at this point, and Izuku convinced him to go prepare for classes (and hide in the staff area so that no one would wonder why he, a skeleton man not recognizable as a hero, was at the school). Before too long, Izuku stood in front of a rather sturdy-looking metal door. He hoped this was the right one.

He raised his hand to knock just as something crashed into him. Ah. This was it for sure. The way he would die. The danger he had foreseen.

No. Wait. Never mind. He was fine, just on the ground.

"Oh! There was a person there! You okay?"

"U-um," said Izuku, sitting up and rubbing his head. "I'm fine, just a little startled."

"What're you doing here, anyway?"

"I- I'm here for... support... gear?" He sort of trailed off as he looked up.

It was the intense pink haired girl from the other day. As he watched, her expression changed from one of mild concern to calculating interest.

"Support gear, you say?"

.

Shouta answered his phone as he walked down the hall. "Nezu, I've already done every security check I can think of that'll fit-"

"Not quite why I was calling, although I can see why you would think so. One of your students needs to be rescued from the support department."

Shouta changed direction without missing a beat. "It's Midoriya, isn't it?"

"Why, yes."

"Did you send him down there without warning him?"

"Yes, again. You know me so well!"

Shouta hung up.

[inkbyajm]

Something Brewing

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: fluff

warnings: anxiety attack

word count: 1.5k

notes: felt like angst, felt like sobbing uncontrollably, but my body wouldn’t cooperate, so imagining it will do for now. this was supposed to be a one-shot, but i didn’t realise how much i had written. now i’m splitting it into two parts. next part will definitely be more angst than fluff, so stay tuned for the terrifying sight that is angry corpse :) (p.s. don’t mind the occasional use of british english, it’s my default lmao)

next >

A peculiar thing it was, the concept of love. It was very personal and feelings about it varied from person to person. For some, it had existed since the beginning of time, when Adam and Eve first walked the Earth, when the Almighty willed his beloved humans to lead their own lives with him in their hearts. For others, it is a feeling to long for, to crave, a feeling they found themselves daydreaming about often. And for the rest, love is a tool of ruin, potentially driving people who cared for one another away from each other, instilling at least a smidge of repulsion in each one of them. However, humans are social creatures after all, and sometimes, attraction was unavoidable no matter how much one tried. And try he did.

━

Living in California could get hard and stressful at times, but at least Corpse didn’t live at the heart of the city of anxiety-inducing social interactions and constant chaos that was Los Angeles. Sure, it meant that he didn’t live close to his friends, but he wasn’t far away from her, and that was enough for him.

A few soft grunts and sounds of slippers landing on the hardwood floor echoed from the kitchen of (Y/N)’s apartment. He got up from the couch in her living room and decided to investigate the source of the noise. Coming into the room, he saw her jumping to reach the highest shelf in one of the cupboards. Looking at it, he noticed her favourite mug sitting at the edge of said shelf and, afraid she would knock it over whilst attempting to grab it, he effortlessly got it for her. “Thank you. God, I was about to grow a foot taller trying to reach for this thing.” she sighed, eliciting a deep chuckle from him, “See, this is exactly why you’re my favourite friend.” Friend? Well, yes, of course a friend, what else would he be? Corpse felt an uncomfortable tug at his heart, and he couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why he was feeling that way, so he brushed it aside. “Why was it that high up if you can’t even reach it?” (Y/N) wasn’t a short person, she was perfectly average, and he himself wasn’t that tall of a guy either. But when it came to situations of this kind, he couldn’t help but feel good about his being taller. “It usually isn’t, but I let (F/N) use it once the other day because she refused to drink out of any of the other mugs, that stubborn bitch.” she replied, pouring her homemade Italian hot chocolate into the acquired cup. (F/N) was also taller than (Y/N), so it was only natural for her to be putting things in higher places. It was done out of habit.

(Y/N) and Corpse walked back to the living room to once again settle into the couch. He glanced at her as she sat with her legs crossed, concentrated on blowing on her moderately hot beverage, while the light from the moon peeked through the curtains of the balcony door, illuminating her face ever so slightly. Since when did he start noticing these things? Looking away to set his eyes on the TV in front of them, he sensed his heart beating at an usual rhythm, palpitating, and along with it came slight lightheadedness. Was he having a heart attack? Were these signs of atrial fibrillation? Or was this simply the start of an anxiety attack? Surely any of these would be more...recognisable, to say the least. The only situation he could think of with similar reactions was when one would develop a crush. A fucking crush? At his age? How old was he, ten? “Earth to Corpse? Please don’t tell me you’re one of those people who sleep with their eyes open, that’s fucking creepy.” Her finger snaps pulled him out of whatever trance he was in. “Sorry, were you saying something?” “I asked you if you had watched Bly Manor like three times. You were very far away.” she answered, emitting a few giggles. “Sorry, I uh- I was thinking of something, but it’s stupid. And no, I haven’t, I’ve been meaning to, though.” And just like that, they settled on the show they were going to watch for the next couple of weeks.

━

“NOOOOOOO,” (Y/N) yelled, voicing her defeat “WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF LUCK IS THIS.” Corpse lay on the floor, slamming his palm down onto it out of hysterical laughter. They had been playing Unmatched for the past hour, this being their third round, and after many cards and a level of tension that could only be cut through with a saw, his Robin Hood had finally defeated her Alice. It was Corpse’s first time playing, so to say that his winning of all three games was a crushing moment for her was an understatement. “This is not normal, you lied saying you’ve never played before!” she pouted, putting everything back into the box, “I’m usually really good at this game.”

He wiped the tears from his eyes, struggling to keep a good composure. “I’m sorry, I guess I’ve found my talent,” he joked, but he did feel bad for stealing her thunder, “Would it make you feel better if I said that my Robin Hood is, like, extremely hurt right now? You have a fucking gigantic knife as a weapon, I only have, like, a bow and arrow. That’s kind of unfair.” (Y/N) bit her lip in hesitation, then picked up her figurine and lightly tapped it along the table to approach his. Putting Alice at a slight angle, she made a kissing sound as to imitate her character smooching his. “There, a kiss to make it better. I promise not to hurt you too much if you let me win next time.” 

The same strange feeling he had experienced for the first time two months ago, when they were sitting on the couch of her living room, and many more times after that, had come back. He would’ve blamed it on heartburn, except it was nothing like it. It wasn’t anything he was used to. “Hey, you alright?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows in concern “You’ve been doing that a lot lately, rubbing your chest like that.” Fuck. He had never noticed the habit he had developed. “I’m fine, just me and my heart problems, nothing unusual.” Filthy liar. Brows still furrowed, she moved closer to him and, with her legs tucked under her, she put her hand above his heart to check. “Jesus, Corpse, your heart is going a million miles per hour! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Looking up at him, she noticed how red he had suddenly become, and this worried her even more. “Bubs, you’re literally changing colours.” How did she expect him not to when she was doing this? (Y/N) further inspected his condition and put the back of her hand on his forehead, then his cheeks, to check his temperature. Expectedly, he was getting warmer. She stopped for a second and listened intently, only to hear his shallow breathing fill the silence. She then glanced down at his left hand resting on his thigh, and surely enough, found it trembling. “Alright, Corpse? Hey, can you hear me?”

His breathing only picked up its pace as the seconds went by. On the spur of the moment, (Y/N) placed herself in front of him, her legs on either side, and gently cradled his head. “Corpse, darling, I’m gonna need you to look at me, okay? Focus on me, focus on my breathing, mm?” He forced himself to tear his gaze away from the ground and did as he was told, eyes darting around, analysing her expression. He’s never found himself having an attack in her presence, it was surprising how well she was handling it.

Wait- darling? Bubs? “Now, can you name four things that you see? Can you do that for me?” He briefly scanned the room for answers, his mind still cluttered. “The fridge, the couch, the light and-” Did she mean to call him that? It was probably nothing, she could be using it with any of her friends for all he knew. He wasn’t special. “and the game, the board game. On the table.” “Good, now can you name three things you hear?” This one took a lot of concentration, there weren’t many obvious sounds for him to point out. “The motorcycle outside, your hands rubbing against my skin, uh-” What the fuck else? Was he losing his mind? The task was simple enough, why was he having so much trouble with it? “I’m sorry, I- I don’t hear anything else.” “No, it’s okay. You’re doing splendid, see? Your breathing is much more stable.” she reassured him, squeezing his upper arms.

“Lastly, can you give me two things you can smell?” Nodding, he closed his eyes. “The coffee you drank earlier.” It took him a moment to come up with something else, and just as she was about to get off of his lap, figuring he had done a good enough job, she heard him mumble “your perfume”. Scared he’d get another attack, Corpse avoided looking into her eyes, which he could feel the gaze of. He only picked up on the scent from her shifting closer in the last second. “That’s funny, I had forgotten to put perfume on this morning.” 

[shadowfae]

We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and  Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea. 

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents  but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers. 

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

[reidgraygubler]

not just a ghost hunter (raymond wadsworth/reader)

Title: Not Just A Ghost Hunter

Request: no

Pairing: Raymond/Gender-Neutral!Reader

Category: Fluff/Angst

Content Warning: seance, talks of demons and ghosts, swearing, bloody nose, mentions of dying and death, use of a Oujia board, mentions of the death of a parent

Word Count: 4,194

Summary: A ghost is haunting Reader’s home, so they get in contact with a close-by Ghost Hunter, Raymond Wadsworth. 

A/N: the final day of my 7days7fics!!! I had a lot of fun writing these this could be read as platonic, could be read as romantic, depends on how you want to read it :). Also I'm sorry if there’s ANY inaccuracies with this one, I just went off the knowledge that I knew… which is basically from buzzfeed unsolved… not a super trustworthy source… anyways… and lastly, my sister read this and she said she got spooked at some parts, so just… proceed with caution. thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

My house isn’t haunted. It can’t be haunted. Right? I mean, all my life I’ve lived in houses that were normal. I’ve never lived in a haunted house. And if they were, I’m sure I’d remember that. Though, I did have an imaginary friend when I was a kid, and now that I think about it, I don’t think it was imaginary.

So, if my house isn’t haunted, can someone tell me why my reflection wasn’t my reflection… And was instead the face of a little girl…? She was pale and translucent and looked… lost. 

She looked lost until she jumped at me, causing me to fall back in my chair.

“What the fuck!” I jumped off the ground and looked back at the mirror. The little girl was gone now, and I was left staring at my own reflection. It was like nothing happened. Everything was… normal. 

I was quick as I finished getting ready for the day, trying hard to ignore anything… out of the ordinary. But it felt so hard when the room went from comfortable temperature to freezing cold. A shiver went down my spine, causing me to squeal.  

My house seriously can’t be haunted…. I just moved in! Maybe that was why the house was for sale. The previous owners were sick and tired of a creepy little girl wreaking havoc in their lives. Aren’t realtors supposed to disclose whether a house is haunted or not? Or was that just a myth?

I did what any other sane person would do: I ignored my problems and hoped they would go away on their own. That’s the right thing to do, right? I mean, I’ve done it before and those issues went away. 

It was hard. At first, it was the lights flickering on and off, then came the clattering from the attic, then I would find the chairs in weird spots or pulled out from the table… And then what it was… was waking up with scratches on my arms, legs, and torso. That was what got me worried and scared. 

I decided to stop being a normal and sane person. I couldn’t live like that anymore. So, I called someone. I was half expecting them to laugh at me and hang up. But, instead, they were very understanding. 

“Ghost Hunting and Psychic Medium,” a woman spoke cooly into the phone. I pulled the blanket tighter around my body as I looked around my home.

“Yeah... Hey, hi, I was just wondering how much your services are?” my voice was soft as I spoke. It was hardly a whisper. I wasn’t afraid that the ghosts could hear me. I was… Yeah, no, I was afraid the ghost could hear me. 

“Well, that depends on what you’re looking for. If your house is haunted and you need help putting the ghost to rest. Or, if you want to reach out to a loved one…” she continued, her voice droning on as she talked. I wondered if she actually liked her job. 

“Uh… I think my house… is haunted.” I wrinkled my nose as I looked at the coffee table, watching as a magazine dragged off the edge of the table by seemingly nothing. “I definitely think my house is haunted,” I nodded and spoke quickly.

“Do you know by what?” 

“What? What the fuck does that even mean?” 

“What kind of spirit is it? Like, is it a poltergeist, because if it’s that we don’t do that. Is it a normal spirit? A ghost? Do you know what type of spirit? And have you seen any orbs?”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I just… I don’t know! I need help. That’s all. I just need help.” I spoke quickly, “The fucking magazine just fell off the table! I woke up with scratches on my body from nowhere! I just need help." 

“I’ll send Raymond to your place, right away. What’s your name and address?” she asked, her tone suddenly calming as she spoke. I took a deep breath before giving her my address. “He’ll be over when he’s done with this client.” 

“Thank you.”

“Oh! Real quick! Do you have any pets? Cats, dogs…?”

“No?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to not think about how weird of a question it was, “Is… Is that important?”

“Mmm, a little bit. Raymond will ask you more questions when he gets there. But, I can tell that you need our help with the urgency in your voice.” 

“Thanks, I… I think…” I furrowed my eyebrows as my eyes shifted across the room. 

“He should be over soon!” 

“Thanks, again,”  I swallowed roughly before hanging up the call. I held my phone in a tight grip as I stared at the front door, waiting for the bell to ring or there to be a knock with the knocker. 

‘Stupid old house,’ I thought to myself as I slowly nodded off.

However I wasn’t asleep for very long because 20 minutes later, there was a knock on the door, causing me to jump awake and fall to the ground. 

“Coming!” I shouted, pulling the blanket tighter around my body as I shuffled to the front door. 

When I unlocked the door and pulled it open, I was met with a tall, scrawny-looking guy who looked nothing like a ghost hunter or psychic or medium. He just looked like a normal-looking dude. 

“Are you…?” he asked my name, looking at me with a friendly smile on his lips. I stared at him and nodded, forgetting that I gave his secretary my name earlier. “Perfect! Nice meeting you, I’m Raymond Wadsworth,” he stuck a hand out with his introduction.

“It’s… It’s nice meeting you too,” I stared at him before stepping to the side, “Thanks for helping me, by the way. I just moved in and I swear my house isn’t haunted,” I lied as he entered my home. My lie was foiled as a loud clatter followed by a bang came from up the stairs. “That’s the cat,” I lied, again, although I wasn’t sure why I was lying to begin with. I’m the one who called for help. I think my nervousness is making me lie. I’m pretending that I don’t need help when I really do need it; it was just a defense mechanism. 

“You said you didn’t have a cat,” Raymond looked down at me with a raised eyebrow. I swallowed roughly before shrugging.

“I… I don’t,” I widened my eyes before stepping into my house a bit more. “Roommate?” I glanced over my shoulder and at Raymond. He didn’t seem too convinced by my lie. And to be honest, neither was I. “I thought I lived by myself,”

“When did you say this house was built?” he asked, looking around at the old crown molding before looking down at the original hardwood floors that creaked with every step.

“Uh… 1901… I think. I don’t remember. I just know it’s very old.” I stepped so I was beside him, making the floor creak with my step. Raymond jumped slightly at the sound, forcing me to hold back my snicker. 

“People definitely died in this house then.” Swallowing roughly, he looked towards the staircase. Another clattering came from somewhere upstairs, causing me to jump behind him. It wasn’t like that’d do much help, honestly. I mean, standing behind a ghost hunter… while we’re both looking for ghosts… doesn’t really make sense. 

“Sorry,” I looked over at him as I felt the terror grow in my stomach, “I can’t move out either… I just moved here two months ago…” I spoke as I gave him the tour of my haunted house. I really wished I didn’t move into a haunted house. 

“You definitely do have some angry spirits here,” he looked around my home. I froze as we walked through a cold spot. “Dining room?” he looked over at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded before taking the lead back to the dining room. 

“Do you need anything? Like, uh, water? I don’t know. I’ve never thought I needed to do this before,” I looked up at him as he placed his bag on the table.

“Do you have any offerings to give the spirit?” Raymond asked as I sat across from at the table. I looked at him as my hands folded on the tabletop. 

“Uh… Er… An offering? I thought you were the ghost hunter here! Not me!” I watched as he set up a Ouija board and candles. 

“Not a ghost hunter,” he looked up from the candles as he lit them. I furrowed my eyebrows before standing back up. “Do you have anything?” he didn’t exactly clarify what sort of offering I would need. So, I went in blind.

“Yeah, yeah, let me… Let me check,” I tapped my fingers on the table before walking away. I slowly walked back to the kitchen, my phone flashlight safely guiding the way in the dark, spooky halls and rooms of my home.

“Stupid offering,” I scoffed, rummaging through the cabinets for something, anything that would work as some sort of “offering” for this stupid ass ghost. 

It was near impossible to find anything for this ghost. Granted, my food situation was a little on the lower side, seeing as I needed to grocery shop. Maybe this dumb thing would like.…

“Rice Krispies!” I exclaimed as I spotted the blue boxed cereal treat. I grabbed a few Rice Krispies before running back to the dining  room. But, before I made it, I seemingly tripped over nothing. 

“Fuck!” I shouted, landing hard face-first into the floor. My hand found its way to my nose, feeling blood trickling down my lips. “Shit, shit shit,” I muttered as I scrambled to my feet. 

“Did you find something?” Raymond looked back at me. I smiled, ignoring the blood coming from my nose, as I held up the 3 Rice Krispie treats I had. “What happened to your nose?” his shoulders dropped and worry took over his face as he looked at me.

“Oh! Uh, I tripped over the rug,” I lied, looking at him as I approached the table. I have one rug in the whole house, and it’s in the dining room. It was obvious that I had lied. He’s picked up on my lies covering for my fears.“I have… I have Rice Krispies! Will these work?” I looked down at the snack before placing them on the table.

“No-Well, yeah, they’ll work,” he shook his head as he picked up the treats. I nodded before rushing back to the kitchen, grabbing paper towels to hold to my nose. I returned to the dining room to find Raymond sitting at the table. The candles he had set up on either side of the Ouija board were lit, and the lights were turned off. 

“Do you do this with your girlfriend?” I laughed, looking at him as I slowly approached the table. Raymond looked up from his book and right at me. 

“I… I don’t have a girlfriend,” he furrowed his eyebrows. I swallowed roughly before sitting across from him. “Now, we have to summon the spirit,” he looked at me, watching as I nervously tugged my finger tips. 

“You… You want to summon the spirit… H-here? Are you sure that’s a good idea,” I could feel my body shaking with fear with his words. I was already dreading this. But I knew something had to happen because I couldn’t live in a haunted house. Something had to go, and it wasn’t going to be me. 

“We need to figure out why it’s here, where it came from, what it wants, and how to get it to leave.” Raymond looked at me as he placed his hands, face up, on the table. I stared at them for a moment before carefully resting my fingertips in his hands. 

“Are… Are you sure you need me for this? I could wait outside if you don’t really need me,” I stared at him. The way the small flames glowed off his face only mildly scared me. The intensity of his eyes told me I should stay here. “Okay, I’ll stay,” I whispered. 

Raymond started talking, bringing the ghost to the dining room with us instead of where it lived upstairs. I jumped out of my skin the second a loud bang came from my room. Raymond looked back at me, his grip around my hands tightening slightly. I couldn't tell if he was doing it to keep me still, or he was doing it to reassure me. I hoped for the latter. 

“Everything will be okay. I’m scared too,” he whispered as he looked at me. I swallowed roughly and nodded. 

“Don’t you do this for a living? And you’re scared?” 

“Everytime I do this, I’m scared. Because, if it’s a vengeful spirit… I’m fucked. I just started this business with my partner last year. I’m in no way equipped to deal with a vengeful spirit or poltergeist. I just do pissed off ghosts who need help crossing over.” The way he spoke was almost sad. I couldn't exactly put my tongue on it, but there was a certain sadness in his words. “They get a little lost and get stuck in the homes of their former lives.”

“That’s… That's really sad actually,” I whispered, looking down at the Ouija board in front of me. “Don’t make me feel bad for ghosts. This thing has been tormenting me since I’ve moved here.” I looked back at Raymond and scolded. He only smiled and shrugged.

“Ready?” he asked as he removed his hands from mine and placed them on the planchette. I swallowed roughly, resting my fingers opposite his. “Are you here?” his voice was low as he looked down at the tiny window on the board. 

I watched as the planchette moved across the board, slowly moving towards ‘Yes’. My heart was in my throat as I stared at the yes. I had to convince myself that this was real, and it wasn’t just Raymond messing with me. I mean, this whole thing could be a total scam and this guy I invited over is a total scam artist. 

“Can you tell us your name?” Raymond asked, causing me to look up at him. He had a crease in his brow as he looked down at the board. 

I looked back down at the board as my hands were moving with the planchette. It moved between letters, giving us the name Marjorie. 

“That… that’s the name of the little girl I dream about,” I looked up at Raymond. He looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “I only have dreams about every so often, like once a week.” 

“She must be trying to get a message to you,” he looked back down at the board.

“Hello Marjorie, I’m Raymond,” he introduced himself to the spirit that was with us. “Can you tell us how old you are, Marjorie?”

My eyes dropped back down to the board, watching the planchette move to the number 1 twice. 

“She was 11 when she died,” I whispered, staring at where our hands sat. My heart slowed as I stared. Swallowing roughly, I looked back up at him. “She’s just lost…” I blinked as my eyes began welling up. 

“We’re here to help her,” Raymond reminded me. I nodded, feeling as a tear rolled down my cheek. “Marjorie, are you lost? Do you need help finding your way home?” 

I was too distracted to see the answer. And the reason why I was distracted was because there was a laughter of a little girl coming from behind me. 

“R-raymond,” my voice shook as my body froze. Raymond slowly looked up from the board and right behind me. “Please tell me you heard that too,”

“I need you to stay very still,” he whispered before he stood up. I watched as he walked beside me and knelt to the ground. “You must be Marjorie,” he looked behind me as he spoke. 

“C-can I move?” I asked, swallowing roughly. And, before he even got the chance to answer, the candles were blown out and the room got very cold. 

“Fuck,” Raymond muttered as he stood up straight. I looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck as in “fuck she’s gone for good” or Fuck as in “Fuck she's fucking gone”? Because I don’t like the way you said that,” 

“The latter,” he paused when more clatter came from upstairs. I swallowed roughly before turning in my chair to look at the stairs. “She must’ve gone up there. I’m willing to bet her bedroom is your current room,” he looked down at me. 

“I-I’m guessing you want us to… go up there?” I stared at him. He dropped his head before nodding. I looked back at the table, looking at the Ouija board.

“I’m never sleeping ever again,” I muttered as I stood.

“It’ll be that way for a long time. But then someday you’ll have the best rest of your life, and you won’t even realize it,” he looked down at me. “Trust me, I speak from experience.” 

“I mean, I suppose I have to trust you. I’m paying for you to get rid of this ghost… Which I feel bad about now… Now that I know it’s a little girl,” I sighed as I slumped my shoulders.

“C’mon, we should go see if she’s up there,” Raymond nodded, taking the lead from me and brought us towards the stairs. And just as we made it to the top of the stairs, his hand brushed with mine. I looked over at him with wide eyes. “You don’t have to hold my hand… I’m not that scared,” I laughed as his fingers interlocked with mine. 

“I don’t know how to tell you this…” his voice was low, and he audibly swallowed. 

“Tell me what?” I shivered as a cool shock went down my spine.

“I’m… I’m not holding your hand,” he looked over at me as he slowly lifted his hands. Swallowing roughly, I very slowly looked down at the space between Raymond and I. The ghostly figure of Marjorie standing between us, her hand encased with mine. 

“Fuck!” Raymond and I both screamed at the same time before we both ran towards my bedroom. I slammed the door shut before locking it and pressing my back to it.

“Offering!” Raymond looked at me with wide eyes. I stared at him, feeling my heart jump to my throat from the fear. 

“I-I gave you something,” I stuttered over my words as I vaguely gestured towards the kitchen. 

“Do you have, like, something important to you?” he placed his hands on my shoulders. I swallowed roughly as I looked around my room. A tattered stuffed rabbit sat on my bed. It was something I’ve had since I was little. My dad had given it to me for my 11th birthday. It was the last birthday I had with him before he died. “Something that isn’t a lunch snack.”

“Why do you need something important?” whispering as I asked. My eyes went back to him.

“Marjorie is lost. She’s a disturbed spirit in your home and she needs help crossing over. Giving her something of great importance will help her cross over,” he explained as he kept his eyes on me. I swallowed roughly before nodding.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll have to look." I stepped away from him as I went deeper into my room. 

“Okay, I need… a mirror,” he turned as he watched me look in my closet. I turned to look at him, my eyebrows raising in confusion. 

“A mirror?” 

 “I need to leave a simple message for her to figure out what she wants or needs. She can give us a message to help us… help her,” he looked over at the mirror by my dresser. My raised eyebrows slowly became furrowed the longer I stared at him. 

“A message?” 

“That’s what I said,” he looked over at me as he went up to the mirror. “Stay here, keep looking for that offering. I’ll be right back,” he pointed at me before exiting my room. 

I was going to have to  pretend that I didn’t have anything of great importance. I wasn’t willing to give up that stuffed rabbit. Not now, not ever. Marjorie was going to have to want something else.  Or she was going to have to become like Casper the Friendly Ghost if she was going to stay here longer. 

The door opened and closed with a soft slam.

“Hey, I have… this,” I held up a book that I got a few years ago from an old friend. It had no real importance to me anymore, but what Raymond and Marjorie won’t know won’t hurt them…. 

I turned around to show Raymond the object, my eyes looking at the cover of the book. When I looked up, I didn’t see Raymond. It was Marjorie that I saw. 

“H-hi Marjorie,” I whispered, lowering the book. She stared at me as she slowly lifted her finger, pointing right at me. “R-Raymond!” I shouted, taking a step back. Marjorie copied my step, except she moved closer to me. “Raymond!” I shouted again, this time a little bit louder. 

Raymond came crashing into the bedroom, looking at me with panic on his face. 

“Oh, I-I see,” he caught himself before he could crash into me or Marjorie. He looked between me and the ghost as he slowly walked towards us. Marjorie’s head turned, her body staying put, to face Raymond before screaming and vanishing. 

“Something tells me this book won’t work,” I lifted the book back up and looked at it. I wrinkled my nose as I looked back at Raymond. He was looking at me, watching me carefully. 

“Do you have anything else? Something more important to you, maybe?” Raymond stepped up to me, his arm extending out to take the book from me. I looked at the book before looking over at the stuffed rabbit. 

“Y-yeah, I do…” I sighed deeply, my shoulders slumping as I walked over to the rabbit. I picked it up and looked down at it. “It’ll be gone forever if I give it to her,” I pushed the ears back before resting my hand on its stomach.

Raymond looked at me, a certain sorrow on his face. “It’s the only way,” he whispered softly. I looked up at him and sighed deeply. 

“How do you know?” 

“When I went down stairs… On the bathroom mirror, she had written stuffed animal,” he stepped up to me, looking down at the rabbit in my hand, “She must’ve left hers behind… and she can’t leave without it,” 

“I…” I stopped, cutting myself off with a deep sigh, “I guess… I guess if it’ll help her, she can… she can have it,” I swallowed roughly and looked back up at Raymond. 

“I’m sorry it has to be this way.” 

I shrugged before looking at the rabbit. “She can have it,” my voice cracked. I wiped my cheek on my shoulder and shook my head. 

“Come on, the quicker we give this to Marjorie, the quicker you can have your home back,” he looked at me with sad eyes. I looked up at him and nodded. Raymond took the lead back down to the dining room, his set up with the ouija board cleaned up and my room was back to normal. 

“Do I just-” I stopped talking when the little girl appeared beside Raymond and I. I looked down at her, watching as she was looking between me and the tattered bear in my hands. 

“She’s waiting for you,” Raymond nodded at the bear. I swallowed roughly before lowering to the ground. 

“H-hi Marjorie,” I smiled at her before holding up the rabbit, “This… This rabbit is super important to me… You take care of him… O-okay?” I held the rabbit closer to her and blinked. 

Marjorie looked at me and nodded lightly before grabbing the rabbit from my hands. I smiled softly as she cuddled the rabbit before vanishing on last time. With a deep sigh, I stood up and looked at Raymond.

“Thank you so much for your services, Raymond,” I smiled sadly at him and nodded, “I’ll uh… You’ll send me a bill?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Raymond smiled and shook his head. “Happy to help you get rid of your problem,” he spoke as he collected his belongings. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, really… It’s no problem,” he held his bag over his shoulder, “Hope you finally get a good night’s rest,” he smiled before leaving. I smiled, standing alone in the dark dining room. It took me a long time before I finally moved to get ready for bed. But, when I did get to bed, it was the best night of sleep I’ve had in a very long time.

And, when I woke up the next morning, sitting at the foot of my bed was the rabbit I had given Marjorie the night before.

if you want to be a part of a taglist or have any comments about this one shot, let me know here

[broken-stardust]

The Sweetest Thing

Summary: Spencer plans on proposing to Reader, but the night has something else in store for the two of them.

Category: Spencer!POV x Male!Reader Fluff!

A/n: I had this idea suddenly and I thought it would be so cute so I just had to get it out there

Word count: 1.9k

It's not every day that you get to wake up next to the love of your life, seeing their hair fall into their face as they snore softly, smiling to yourself and thinking about how you're the luckiest man in the world. But, if you play your cards right, it can be the rest of your days. That's what I was planning on making happen tonight. You only get to propose once in your life - if you're not David Rossi - and I was going to make this one count. I was going to make it something so special, it would be a story to tell our grandchildren.

I'd bought the perfect ring with JJ's help, and we were set to go to the fanciest new restaurant that had just opened. I'd made the reservation six months in advance. Tonight would be perfect. We'd have our dinner, and when the waiter asked if we wanted dessert, I'd say "No, thank you. I already have the sweetest thing right in front of me" and get down on one knee. Y/N was a sucker for clichés, so I was sure he'd love it. 

It was almost time to go, so I took one last look in the bathroom mirror to fix my hair and my tie. I shook my nerves out and smiled. Everything was going to be perfect.

I quickly shuffled over to my sock drawer before my boyfriend could see what I was doing, hoping to slip the ring into my pocket clandestinely. Except there was one problem. The ring was missing.

My breath caught in my throat as I struggled to comprehend the reality before me. How could the ring have gone missing? Did I misplace it? I couldn't have. I had an eidetic memory. I knew where I put it. My head spun with improbabilities and possible outcomes for the coming night. As I caught my breath, I resolved to call the only person who could rationally get me through this: JJ. I dialed her number, and after two and a half rings that felt like two and a half eternities, she finally picked up.

"Hey Spen-" I didn't even let her finish her greeting before telling her what was wrong. "The ring is missing," I whisper-yelled into the phone. "What?" I could practically hear her jaw on the floor.

"The ring is missing," I repeated in a panicked frenzy. "I went to get it from my sock drawer, and it wasn't there. How am I supposed to propose with no ring?" I was pacing around the room and running my hand through my hair every two seconds. I was sure that it was a mess by now.

"Are you sure you didn't put it somewhere else?" JJ asked. I glared as if she could see me, but she still somehow got the message. "Right, sorry," she apologized. 

"What do I do, JJ?" I pleaded.

She took a second to think before replying. "Just act like it's a regular date. Y/N doesn't have any reason to believe otherwise, so just pretend you wanted to spoil him tonight. Tomorrow when he's at work, I'll come over and help you look for it, okay?" I let out a sigh and nodded before remembering that she couldn't see me. "Okay," I replied.

There was a knock on the door and I jumped in surprise. "Darling?" I heard Y/N call. "Are you almost ready? Our reservation is at seven so we have to get going."

"I'll be right out, Love!" I called back. Then I turned back to my phone. "I have to go. Thanks for your help, JJ." I hung up without giving her a chance to respond and rushed to fix my hair. I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to calm my racing heart.

It's fine, I told myself. Everything is fine. It probably just fell behind the dresser. There is nothing to worry out. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. I smoothed my shirt down before exiting the bedroom and meeting Y/N in the living room. I grinned bigger than I thought possible when I saw him.

In front of me stood the gorgeous man that I had fallen in love with. It wasn't even his physical features that made him beautiful to me. No, it was more than that. It was that smile that he was wearing now, the same one that he wore every time I tickled him until we were both out of breath. It was those mesmerizing eyes that glistened when he cried during a movie that made him too emotional. It was the soul behind the body that I was in love with.

"Are you alright, Dear?" he asked me. I cleared my throat and nodded, trying to avoid any further questions. I didn't want him to know that I had lost his engagement ring. "Alright... You just look a bit upset."

"I'm fine," I assured him, taking his arm and leading him to the door. "Let's get going. We don't want to be late."

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. I drove with one hand resting on Y/N's knee. He had put on his favorite radio station, and he was humming along quietly to the songs as they came on. It was moments like these that I loved the most. Moments where we could do nothing together and still enjoy each other's company. But all too soon, the moment was over, and we arrived at our destination. I gave up my car to the valet, and my beautiful boyfriend and I made our way into the overpriced establishment.

"This place is nice," Y/N commented once we were settled at our table. He took a look at the menu while I just stared at him like a lovesick puppy. The dim lighting cast shade in just the right direction to accentuate his sharp features. The quiet music in the background was just the perfect noise to accompany the beautiful sight before me. Eventually, he looked up and started to laugh at my expression. "What is it?" he giggled.

"Do you remember our first date?" I asked dreamily. Of course, it would have been difficult to forget, being the disaster that it was. He laughed incredulously at my question.

"How could I forget?" His smile stretched so wide as he laughed, I wondered how his face hadn't ripped open. "You scared all those poor people by walking into that museum with your gun!"

My face turn red at the memory. It was true. I had messed up pretty bad, but if I hadn't, maybe we wouldn't have still been together now.

"I didn't mean to," I defended myself. "We had just gotten back from a case and I was not canceling on you for a second time." I looked down at the table and bit the inside of my cheek as I added "I just got a little too excited to see you, I guess."

"So excited that you ran into a museum with a gun holstered to your belt," Y/N scoffed. He let his head fall back as he laughed, and my heart fluttered at the sight. I felt heat begin to rise over my face, and he reached over and put a hand to my cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb over it. "It's okay, though," he whispered, leaning in. "Because that was the moment I knew that I'd fall in love with you."

I was so smitten that I could die right then and there. How had I ever gotten so lucky to meet a man such as Y/N? He was truly the love of my life. I couldn't wait to propose to him. I was just disappointed that tonight wouldn't be the night.

We enjoyed our dinner together, sharing laughs over old stories long forgotten. At least, they were long forgotten by Y/N. I, of course, could never forget, and there were no better times to be grateful for my eidetic memory than when I was reliving my favorite memories with him. He recounted the days of his puppy Winston, and all the trouble that they'd get into together, and I mused about all the books that I planned on reading to him. It really was the perfect date.

I hadn't even realized we had finished our dinner until our waiter came by. Truthfully, I was disappointed. I knew that Y/N and I would be heading home together and that we'd get to be able to continue our conversation, but something about this just felt different. I never wanted the moment to end.

"May I offer you gentlemen any dessert?"

That was the phrase that caught my attention. Well, not so much the phrase, but what came right after. Y/N's eyes glistened with an emotion I couldn't quite name, and he started speaking before I had a chance to say anything.

"No, thank you. I already have the sweetest thing right in front of me."

My heart stopped dead in its tracks. I looked into the eyes of the man who sat before me. No, he stood before me. He stood up in front of the whole restaurant and raised his glass. I knew what he was doing. I was supposed to be doing this. What was going on?

"Spencer Walter Reid," Y/N started, winking at me as he saw the confusion cloud my face. "From the moment I met you, I knew that you were special. It wasn't your fancy memory or your three PHDs, either. You saw me like no one else had seen me before, and you showed me what love is. You showed me what it's like to look forward to going home because the love of your life is waiting for you there. You-" His voice cracked as tears slid down his cheeks. "You are my soulmate. I know you don't believe in that, but I do. And that's why I want to ask you..."

Y/N dropped to one knee as he pulled a small box out of his pocket. Opening it up, he finally popped the question.

"Spencer, would you do me the absolute honor of being my husband?"

Through joyous tears, I could barely make sense of anything. All I felt was pure love and ecstasy at that moment. And then I saw the ring, and things started to make sense.

"Is that my ring?"

Y/N let out the biggest, happiest laugh is ever heard come from his mouth. People were now staring at us, but I didn't care. I was too happy. But first I wanted answers.

"It is if you say yes," he answered with a devilish grin plastered to that gorgeous face of his.

I let out a laugh of my own this time, allowing the relief of knowing I didn't lose the ring wash over me. Even when he was being such a child, Y/N had this effect on me.

"I can't believe you did that," I sigh, taking his hand and pulling him up to his feet. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I continued to speak. "I was absolutely terrified that I lost it. I wanted to propose to you tonight."

In typical Y/N fashion, he ignored all of the worrisome bits and went straight to the point. "Is that a yes?" he asked.

"Yes, it's a yes," I laughed as I leaned in for a kiss. He placed the ring on my finger and pulled me in for a hug. "Never do something like that again," I giggled in his ear.

"You know you love me," he quipped back.

"You're right," I hummed, placing another kiss on my fiancé's lips. "I do."

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Inflated Egos” (Rated G)

Summary: When Kurt takes one of his students to compete in their first competition after landing their Axel, Kurt is confronted with the conundrum of choosing good sportsmanship or doing anything you can to win...

And Sebastian and Blaine are of no help whatsoever. (2080 words)

Part 69 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3. 

“I wanna add the Axel!”

"I know you do, Kevin. It's exciting to land your Axel. But we can't add it to your routine last minute."

"Why not!? I know the perfect place for it!"

Kurt sighs, steering his precocious pupil down the corridor that leads to the ice, rehashing this conversation they've had close to a hundred times over the past three hours.

“You can't add the Axel because you're competing at a level that doesn't include Axel."

"But this isn't a technical competition!" Kevin argues, the words tumbling around his mouth as if they don't belong. "I'm skating spotlight artistic! I can have an Axel in my program. They just won't score it!"

"Wow. You have such a firm grasp of the rules and qualifiers for a ten-year-old. Almost as if someone fed them to you... " Kurt shoots his boyfriend a dirty look. Sebastian shrugs, but he doesn't look the least bit guilty.

"It might be considered bad sportsmanship, and that could lower your score,” Blaine adds, inching in on Kurt's side of the argument. He has nothing against Kevin adding the jump. It would add pizzazz to his program. But judging at the ISI level can be ambiguous, to put it nicely. Not like in higher levels where it's required to put real-time scores on a readily available screen throughout the performance for transparency. If a judge doesn't like your music or your costume or your coach or you in general for whatever reason, a skater can lose fractions of a point. 

And those add up.

Most ISI judges coach competitors, and they tend to favor skaters in their own skating clubs. Scratches magically disappear if a coach happens to know the performer, knows that they've done better in the past, and cuts them some slack. 

It happens more often than the casual onlooker may think.

Kevin is a talented up-and-comer who hasn't ruffled anyone's feathers (that Blaine knows of), so he doesn't see how one little Axel could sully his reputation. And Kevin is correct - it's not technically against the rules for his event class. 

It's just frowned upon.

But if Blaine joins the Kevin-Sebastian tag team, that would be three against one, and that wouldn't be fair to Kurt. Kurt is looking out for his skater like any good coach would. Bad scoring won't tank a judge, but bad sportsmanship can kill a skater's career before it starts.

“I know the kids at the rink love this event, but I've never competed in spotlight artistic," Kurt admits. "Only technical. So I don’t really know what to expect.”

"I didn't either," Blaine chimes in. "My coach was adamant that it was a waste of time for serious skaters."

“I did a few," Sebastian says, "when I was part of Elite."

Kurt peeks over at his boyfriend, lips twisted behind his mask in an amused grin. "Why? That doesn't seem like Elite's cup of tea."

"Because coach wanted our names on the board for every event possible - technical, spotlight, shoot-the-duck, spirals... "

"What sort of routines did you do?"

"Nothing too impressive. Not like my technical programs. I was a big Avengers fan, so I stuck with that. I was Thor one year. Had a Mjölnir with lightning coming out of it and everything."

"Oh, please tell me there's a video of this somewhere!" Blaine begs, clasping his hands together in front of his chest. "I would pay good money to see it!" 

"You can't afford it," Sebastian says, blowing him off without a glance. "You had to have a prop for spotlight, but coach always said it was about the skating, like every other event. Or it was." He raises an eyebrow at a tractor prop covered in LED lights, quietly questioning, "What the hell song is that for?" as it drives by. "Something tells me that may have changed a tad.”

“Ya think?” Blaine chuckles, pointing to three skaters dressed in inflatable T-Rex costumes pulling an animatronic Indominus Rex the size of a VW bus behind them.

Kevin gasping diverts their attention to a podium covered in holographic wrap, a giant "diamond" mounted on top spinning slowly, throwing colored beams across the floor, pushed by a young lady dressed as a one-eyed spy. "These props are awesome!" he says, his own small prop clutched in his right fist.

"Maybe next time, we can wrap you up in Christmas lights and glue drones to your shoulders to make you fly," Sebastian suggests. "Eh, Kevin?"

"Can we?" Kevin asks, bouncing on his blockers, excited at the prospect of taking his hand-made Elvis costume to the next level.

"No! Kevin doesn't need any bells or whistles," Kurt declares, unsure what Christmas lights and drones have to do with Elvis. "His routine is about his skating. Props are just gravy. We don't need more. One is enough."

"Yeah. Right. Okay," Sebastian and Kevin grump. Even Blaine looks disappointed. 

So when Kurt hears a chuckle, his ears prick up, and his head turns.

Everyone he sees around them seems focused on their warmups. No one is paying attention to them. But off to his right, he spots a brown-haired woman, her smiling green eyes darting their way, then back to the ice. When she looks back and notices Kurt watching her, she knows she's been caught and waves their way.

"I'm sorry," she says, trundling over. "I didn't mean to overhear, but I was wonderin'... are you fellas new?"

It's not often that Kurt walks into a rink in Ohio and isn't immediately recognized. But unlike Sebastian, he enjoys the anonymity.

"Let's just say I am," Kurt says. "What am I missing?"

"A lot." She laughs again so hard, she snorts. "I'm sorry. Saying it's about the skating is admirable. That's what it should be about. But it's not. Not in this category. It's about the props. The bigger the prop, the better. You have to use every advantage you have if you want your skater to come close to winning a medal."

"Not everybody thinks that way," Kurt argues.

"Oh no? Do you see that boy over there in the gold crown?" She motions with her head past the crowd to where a boy slightly older than Kevin, dressed in pale blue and gold brocade, warms up. "That's Michael. He's skating as Tommen from Game of Thrones. His dragon prop is programmed to roll around the ice on its own. It even breathes fire! And at the end, he's going to jump out a tower window."

"Wow," Sebastian says when he catches sight of said tower. It has to be made of styrofoam. The skaters are responsible for getting their props on and off the ice by themselves. There is no way this kid would be able to push his tower around unless it was constructed out of foam. But it looks like stone. It stands at least six feet tall with a platform roughly three feet up and outfitted with a cushion for Michael to land on, painted to look like a cloud that will blend in with the ice. "Kurt, you're super dramatic and stuff. This sounds right up your alley! How about we sign you up for the next go-'round? You can do an excerpt from Wicked. Or Phantom of the Opera! We just need to find you a cape, a mask, and about seven dozen candles! Whaddya say?"

"I say it depends on which testicle you want to lose," Kurt mutters, hoping the bubbly stage-mom dressed in head-to-toe flair doesn't hear.

"Look, it may not be my place to say," she starts. "You are his coach and all, but... uh... " Her eyelids narrow. "What event is your skater in?"

"Thirty-seven," Kurt says.

She sighs, looks strangely relieved. "Okay. My Maggie's in twenty-three."

Kurt's brow furrows. Then he rolls his eyes, realizing she asked to make sure Kurt's skater wouldn't be competing against her daughter after she imparts this valuable nugget of information.

"If you want some advice, let him add the Axel. His prop is a little... well, it's a little... " She glances down at the object Kevin is strangling in his grip, searching for a polite word to describe it "... puny. He'll need a little oomph. Ooo!" She yelps so suddenly, all four boys jump. "I almost forgot! I have a boom box in my trailer from Maggie's last spotlight! It's got a detachable disco ball and flashing strobe lights! It would go great with his costume!"

"Is it big?" Sebastian asks, infuriating Kurt by getting caught up in this woman's prop propaganda. 

"It's the size of an Irish Wolfhound!" 

"And they're big," Blaine concurs, sharing a nod with Kevin, then Sebastian.

"Oh, I couldn't put you out..." Kurt tries, but she shakes her head, refusing to let him turn down her offer.

"Nonsense! I'm parked right outside the loading doors! It'll take five minutes to get!"

"It couldn't hurt," Blaine says, having the good sense to move away after.

Kurt can't reach him, but he fixes him with a glare that could melt glass.

"You can't honestly believe the skating doesn't matter?" he says, not directed at any one person.

"Of course, I believe the skating matters," Maggie's mom says. "But in this event, you have to have some sort of edge. Especially when you're up against stuff like that." She points past them, her eyes traveling up, way up, and Kurt's heart sinks into his stomach before he even turns around.

”Jesus Christmas,” Sebastian moans, staring at the monstrosity traveling their way - the biggest, gaudiest, parade-style float he has ever seen indoors, decorated to look like a six-year-old girl's dream: the base wrapped in tons of fluffy pink tuille intertwined with hundreds of white twinkle lights, crystal baubles and gold balls hanging from fishing line so they look like they're suspended in air, no less than three machines spewing bubbles straight up, a hidden fog machine obscuring the view slightly with pink mist, and in the center, a whole family of inflatable rainbow unicorns on an elevated platform, each one rotating independently, all surrounding a cocoon of pink satin pillows where a skater sits, carried onto the ice by this cotton candy throne. “I’m not even skating, and I’m suffering from some serious prop envy.”

Kurt stares at the thing as it passes by, its smug passenger waving at them like they're peasants waiting for crumbs of stale bread, until the image is burned into his retinas. He looks at Kevin and his pathetic prop - a lime-green inflatable guitar his mother bought for five dollars at the last county fair. There's something wrong with it. It keeps deflating at the neck. Kurt brought a hand pump with him, one he uses to put air in his yoga ball. One of Kurt's jobs as Kevin's coach is to fortify the thing before Kevin takes to the ice. He tosses it about three seconds in to his routine anyway. 

Because it's not the star of the show. 

Kevin is.

Kevin could probably skate circles around half these kids, but if what Maggie's mom says is true, he doesn't have a chance simply because they didn't think to look for anything larger for him to hold than this defective pool toy. Kurt finds it horrible that Kevin has lost before he even begins because his prop is less in-your-face than everyone else’s.

Excuse him for thinking that a skating competition would be judged on skating!

Kurt isn't necessarily proud of his next few decisions since they play into the "anything to win" mentality. But later, Sebastian will convince him he wasn't elevating Kevin so he could win. It was leveling the playing field so he had a chance.

And Kurt can live with that.

"Sebastian? Blaine?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Blaine debates calling Kurt babe, too, if for no other reason than to rankle Sebastian, but now might not be the best time. "Yeah?"

"Could you please escort this kind woman to her trailer and retrieve the enormous boom box she has graciously offered to lend us?"

"On it," Blaine replies.

"Yessir." Sebastian gives Kurt a playful salute, then hurries away, led by the now effervescent woman who couldn't be more thrilled than if they were outfitting her daughter. 

“And Kevin?”

“Yeah, coach?”

Kurt puts his hands on Kevin's shoulders and gives him a reassuring squeeze as they watch that grotesque, bubble-spitting giant take the ice. “Add the Axel.”

[saadiestuff]

thoughts on 3x08

Some thoughts I had while transcripting 3x08.

Observations:

You know I love parallels -- the pool cue fight between Isobel and Jones has soooo many similarities to the sword fight between Louise and Jones. Please someone gif this!!! Or if you did, @ me!!!

Jones pouring Maria coffee -- In 3x06 when Rosa was hearing everything, multiple times we saw Maria at what looked like the Crashdown with coffee being poured in front of her. That was footage from 3x08 of Jones pouring Maria coffee!!!!!! 

They’ve run into the common villain-with-powers problem where it doesn’t really make sense how people keep getting away from Jones/it is unclear what is the extent of his powers. This happens on pretty much every show where a villain has powers though so I’m not holding it against them. It is kinda funny how Jones keeps being defeated by human things like trucks, shotguns, and coffee pots.

Alex’s shirt has horseshoes on it!! Horseshoes were important this ep. They kept Maria warm AND gave Liz a key idea.

Questions I have which await further info:

The hand bandana… MIA on purpose or just wardrobe malfunction? Did it yeet itself somewhere?

Where is Tripp in all this? The box and journal he left for Patty were for her to read when he died. But if Patty already knew about aliens and all that, why was he waiting? Maybe Tripp was kept in the dark about Patty’s involvement at Nora’s request so he would be safe, and be a backup plan to put someone in place to help the pod squad when they hatched if Patty couldn’t. Did Patty and Louise ever meet??

How will the Alighting tie into all this? Is that the name of a special triad of aliens? Also TRIADS are a thing now officially and I am VERY interested. What about how Louise finally died when the pod squad hatched, saying "He has arrived so I may leave." Who?? Did she mean Max or no??

Both Alex and Ramos have talked about making all the suffering worth it. How? I don’t understand what they are talking about. What about the Lockhart Machine would make 70 years of torture of innocent aliens worth it? Are they thinking they can save a whole planet of aliens on Oasis like Nora was kinda saying if they can use it to communicate the science they need? We don’t even know if it is still a war there.

Why was Patricia going to pay the guard with silver crosses? Vampire problem? We’ve got the bats… Also silver is important for pod things. Hmm. Did the guard just want silver so he could sell it? Why did Patty have access to silver in the form of crosses specifically? Does this tie into Dallas somehow? Idk, just spitballing.

Kyle is mentioned twice: 1. Liz (while talking to an unconscious Maria) says she’s been listening to Kyle. And 2. Michael says to Alex, “I know I was right about Kyle and the dead bats, but you said it was all nothing.” This makes it even more unclear about what the gang knows about Kyle??? Alex must have told them something, right? Because if they all believed Kyle was still fully MISSING there is no way they are taking time to celebrate at the Pony. No way. So they have to know he is found… but then how did Alex explain that without telling them about DS and that he was drugged?? Liz would want to be working on that. We saw Alex told Michael about DS but that’s it. I’m fine with characters being told things off screen, but in this case it does not make sense either way! (Maybe this should go into the next category… cuz I am bothered. It is possible this will be addressed next ep though.)

Things that bothered me: 

There is no way they didn’t tell Rosa about Caulfield all this time. There are so many things she would have been told about that needed some background on Caulfield. And it would have been easy to fix that scene to still give the explanation for viewers without making Rosa not have been told about it. I’m going to headcanon that Rosa was told about Caulfield but she forgot the name in what surely was an information overload, and then just patiently waited through Isobel’s one sentence explanation that it was an alien prison run by Manes. (I can buy that Rosa wasn’t told the detail that experiments on humans took place there and that part was new info for her.)

What is happening with Alex and the Iraq/Afghanistan thing. If that was the story about losing his leg (which I think it is) and therefore needed to be set in Iraq, then why the Taliban?? And it was a bit of a yikes choice of story to write to motivate Alex. No doubt it would motivate Alex if he was a real person, but it is not real so it did not have to be written that way. (Note: Afghanistan was first mentioned in 3x02. Prior to that we’d only ever heard Iraq. In 3x02 Alex had both on his salad bar.)

[feckin-zicons]

that's why i hate larries, i hate them with all my heart. besides being boring they are hypocrites 🙄

Hey nonnie, sorry its taken me so long to reply but if you’re following me you know I’ve been travelling lately and have been more scatterbrained than usual. Not that I’m ever not scatterbrained, but its been just a little crazier than usual!

Now I wouldn’t go as far to say I hate Larries. After all their delusions can be pretty funny sometimes!

Joking aside, I don’t hate Larries, I love Larries, I’m a Larry, so I really hesitate to tarry the whole group with the same brush. However I do strongly agree with you that there are those who are complete hypocrites. Nothing annoys more more than when Larries ™ treat the other boys, other celebrities, their friends and even family as one more side character to the Larry Show.

In particular when Larries ™ flood comment sections asking or in some cases, ordering people to confirm rumors/the couple being together. The absolute fucking disrespect. Not just because they’re flooding comment sections in videos streams, tweets, what have you, that sometimes have nothing to do with the couple in question, but because its presumptuous and rude as fuck to think they’re owed a coming out- just because they’re fans of the boys.

Stop it. Thats fucking ugly as hell.

While I have no doubt all the boys will one day be out (as referenced by their continued efforts in fighting the closet. I don’t get the sense the boys will just stop at being freed from their contractual obligations). It should and will be on their own terms. Provided they’re not forcibly outed some other way.

Coming out is a deeply personal experience and no one, no one ever, has the right to out someone else. I’ll never not be absolutely furious at the Larries ™ who posted about having ‘receipts’ that would out the boys. Which… tbh weren’t receipts at all but thats a whole other story. I’m also still angry at the reactions after Liams Attitude spread that wouldn’t have been as bad if not for the entitled fandom that peddled ridiculous claims beforehand about Liam confirming Larry to be real.

I mean… What the actual fuck. Setting aside the fandom experience of the time, and boy was it an experience. What right would Liam have confirming Louis and Harry’s relationship? I mean, get some perspective? It doesn’t help that a lot of fandom adults were the ones coming up with, and reblogging those theories and the younger fans ate it up. It would have made more sense for Louis and Harry to do it but idk maybe I’m still out of touch for thinking so. I mean, it felt like every other week someone was talking about Larry coming out. It was such a shit storm oh my god.

Biggest issue I still have with them is that the entitled behaviour hasn’t stopped. For some it seems like, Larry coming out is it for them. Like pack it up, goodbye, shows over, Louis and Harry are gay and in a relationship and everything is rainbows, we get to see cute pictures of them and everyone lives happily ever after.

Yeah, no. Coming out, for anyone, is just the beginning, can’t even begin to imagine what its like for them. They’re still going to need everyones support, and it irritates me that for some fans it seems so fucking conditional.

Time and time again, I’ve seen tweets, and posts, and videos, whatever, going on about Larry coming out and it reads like a fucking wattpad story. Not just that but its always on the assumption by the poster, on the off chance they consider the other 3/5ths of the band and Ziam being a possibility, that Larry will come out first?

What?

I’m sorry but, what?

Everything I’ve seen from the boys tells me they’re all in this together, they support each other and are working through the bullshit as a team. We have all seen the No Judgement music video yes? The merch, posts, double speak etc referencing each other, yes?

I mean, I suppose if you only look at Louis and Harry, like so many do, sure. Only Larry matters, everyone else is a side character in their life.

(Lemme just, scream for a second).

However, that kind of thinking leads them to the wrong conclusions. Like… assuming the SBB/RBB countdown was attributed to nothing, when it counted down to Liam finally being free of Sophia. In the years since, I’ve seen Larries ™ backtrack on claiming the bears had anything to do with the boys, that they weren’t behind it at all, or that they were just trolling the fandom.

You know, despite all the proof otherwise, and some really, really good posts breaking down clues about what the boys were trying to tell us. The moment something might not actually be about Louis and Harry its like all their thinking shuts off. Its frustrating. Really fucking frustrating.

Seriously, fans of the other boys as individulas, not just Ziams, have been talking about the stunts too and how they fit together. Its why we tend to be right, because we’re considering the entire group. They’re still a group. They’re not free until all of them are free.

Just for that Nialls coming out first. Lmao. I’ll call it now. Lets go Niall, whens the baby coming. We all wanna know. Its been years.

Imagine, imagine! Acting like coming out is some race to be won. The fucking audacity.

Go outside and touch fucking grass you absoulte ninny.

I get it, you want to be vindicated, you want to be rewarded for putting your faith in two celebrities being together.

Newsflash you dandelionfluff, its not a race, Louis and Harry coming out isn’t a fucking prize. Thats not what supporting a relationship looks like.

Its worse when someone admits they don’t know much about Ziam or the possibility of Niall being LGBT+, and claim they’re open to it, but then immediately tweet or reblog or sub tweet or tag comment a post or answer an ask from another Larry ™ talking about how Larries ™ are the most marginalized and persecuted group.

???

In what fucking world?

IN WHAT FUCKING WORLD?

If we wanna play that game, boohoo, the media claims Louis and Harry aren’t friends anymore because of crazy shippers. Meanwhile Zayn publicly isn’t friend with anyone and “left” the band… despite the Ziam fandom calling the stunt about either Louis or Zayn “leaving” and getting it down to the exact week (the second article coming out a week before about the Ziam kiss pretty much cemented it for Zayn leaving. Which did a lot to fan the flames of the already rabid fanbase when Ziam got two articles confirming a Ziam kiss over the years and Larry got nada. Like that actually means anything).

Not to mention Larries ™ using the hetties and management tactics against the other parts of the fandom to silence them.

Who cares what the media says anyway!  TPTB, 1DHQ, The Sun, The Mirror, Simon and his minions and their unpaid interns have used the media to split the fandom apart and it worked.

Who the fuck cares if the media calls the 1D stans delusional, you know the truth! The truth it out there and you’ve seen it! The truth is coming! Who gives a damn about what some two bit “journo” who failed out of their creative writing course writes? They get worse by the year. If it wasn’t so pathetic and hilarious I might actually feel embarrassed for them. They can’t even come up with new stories and have just taken to copying old articles, but you’re upset with them??? Give it a rest. Honestly.

The sense of disconnect, entitlement and victimhood of some Larries ™ is absolutely ridiculous.

Oh my god they’re Karens. I’m not trying to be insulting, but thats exactly who they remind me of.

I’m not going to say its a surprise to me that so many in the Ziam fandom are POC, LGBT+, and Neurodivergent and any combination of those, but I am going to say I’ve read a lot of Larry fics that just have Het sex made gay. Those in the Ziam fandom just tend to look at facts in a different way than Larries do due to their life experiences. A interfaith, interracial, relationship where one or both partners fall under the Bi umbrella (not saying Louis or Harry can’t be or aren’t Bi+ but rumors, and the way the fandom markets them, puts them firmly in the gay category) looks very, very different than gay or straight relationship. Both looking from outside and being in one. There’s just different dynamics at play that aren’t often realized or understood by the gays and hets.

Its not a bad thing. All relationships are different. The issue is that theres a lot of biphobia/racism/religious prejudice etc that arises from people being unwilling to understand the inherent differences.

Taking myself for example, I’m bi, like, bi as hell, and I don’t understand how gays and hets only like one gender. I just don’t. Can’t wrap my head around it. If someone asks me to choose one gender over the others to prefer I can’t. Its so stressful. My brain goes into panic mode and it feels like I’m being torn apart. My sense of identity is shaken- its a shit feeling. I just can’t lie to myself like that. If other people feel the same well, its no wonder bi+ have such high rates of depression and suicide. Its not about choosing who to like, there is no choice, I just feel attraction to everyone. Aces, I get. Its similar to being the opposite of what I feel, or not feeling an attraction to someone I’m not interested in. Easy. Gays and hets? I’m completely lost on.

Completely, and I know I’m not the only one who feels that way. But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try and understand where they’re coming from. Its alien to me, personally, but I’m not going to shut down the fact, that theres a fuck ton of people who only like one gender or try and make up reasons as to why they’re actually bi+

I digress, none of the boys fall neatly into the gay stereotypes, its just that parts of the Larry fandom have boxed Louis and Harry into certain roles to fit preconceived notions (likely do to them initially fitting in better with the white, sassy, somewhat effeminate twink thats been plastered all over Hollywood as their “LGBT+ representation” for years. Gag), they can understand better, and only look for proof to back up their theories but don’t look at things objectively.

They really need to get out more and make some LGBT+ friends that aren’t on the internet and talk to some gay elders. They need educating that’s not the often sanitized and insulting Hollywood version, that’s all I’m saying.

They made Louis and Harry more palatable for themselves and its… really gross.

I don’t know, I don’t get it.

Some Larries ™ turned the boys into their fandom and fanfiction stereotypes when they’re so much more than that. The Sony leaks should have been enough to dissuade the fandom, and prove that the brand sold to the broader audience is just that- a brand, and yet… Niall only talks about food and golf and Ireland and is only allowed to be straight or ace. If he exists at all its just to be Capt Niall. Liams slow and dumb and depending on the day he’s either Capt Liam or a horrific abusive homophobe. Zayns just The Worst, a unstable drug addict, and the boys hate each other, and they should have kicked him out of the band sooner because he never wanted to be part of them anyway, etc.

It drives me absolutely around the bend some days. They’re real people who don’t owe anyone anything, especially not coming out.

Yes, I think they will. But they’re not obligated to. They can change their minds, I’ll support them regardless of an “official” coming out or not.

Look, a part of me gets it. They wanna be right, they wanna prove the haters wrong, they want to be able to say I called it all along! The vindication will be sweet.

But like, it takes a quick look at someone other than Louis and Harry to realize theres something hinky going on with Liam, Zayn and Niall. Please listen to their fans who have spent just as much time as you have looking into Louis and Harry compiling together evidence.

It might take a weekend to watch the ILYSM and pterodactyl bros videos and a few more hours looking into some Niall blogs, which isn’t much compared to the hours I know they’ve spent looking into Larry. At least then they’ll have enough information to form an opinion on things.

I wonder, for some, what would happen if Larry didn’t come out, or didn’t come out first, or one of the other boys was outed against their will. Because… I don’t know. It seems like some would rather just be proven right at this point.

I get it. We’re tired. Its been eleven long years. But this isn’t a television show were everything can come to a head with a s3 or s4 cliff hanger and fixed in the series finale. Its real life, and they started off as boys trusting industry veterans who never had their best interests at heart.

Iduno. I just want some Larries ™ to take a step out of the echo chamber, realize life isn’t The Larry Show & co. And especially. ESPECIALLY, that every instance were someone, friends, family, co-works, industry peeps etc support the boys they are SUPPORTING THE BOYS, NOT THE FANDOM. They are not “confirming Larry for the fans” they’re doing it to support the couple, not to cater to the fandom. Please stop confusing the two. There’s a huge fucking difference. Learn it.

[ohtobeaspettyasleah]

so. how did the coffee date go? do Ethan and Piper just talk for hours on end about life and get to know each other more? And talk about the kiddos??

Coffee. For many of us, its the one thing that makes the world go round. It’s the morning ritual we allocate time for to either enjoy on the couch before the morning news. 

Catching up on all the horrors of the world sprinkled amongst the okay and somewhat high spirited good news story of the day. For others, it’s a moment where we watch the coffee stream down into our just barley washed and slightly over pungent travel mug that you tell yourself daily you’ll throw out-- but never do. Hell, maybe you invest in a flavouring. Sugar-free perhaps? Vanilla, caramel or maybe pumpkin spice depending on the season. You wait for the milk to steam-- or maybe you fall into the heart of people who poor their oat milk over ice to make a quick and easy iced oat latte. Cost-effective. 

But then there is the very large chunk of people out there, that allocates a portion of their weekly pay for their coffee. Barista made. They know who makes their coffee each morning by name and they know how that persons day is going by the taste of the roast. Maybe it’s perfect? A good day, maybe its slightly burnt? The milk too hot or too cold? Not enough hazelnut syrup. 

Ethan Dolan and Pipper Reid fall into the same category. Because out of the three mentioned above? There are about six others that follow and we just don’t have time to sit here and talk about coffee enthusiasts all day when you wanna know about Ethan and Pippers coffee date at Average Jo’s. 

The best cup of Jo on the go:

“If you don’t promise to put your mind body and soul into this coffee Jo you won’t ever see this face again.” Ethan was joking. Maybe, deep down he wasn’t. Pipper Reid, sitting in the nook by the window smiling as she brushed her hair behind her ear as Ethan was caught out staring back at her. He froze, but his heart didn’t. Beating in his chest to loud it rang in his ears. 

“You back on the dating sense hey Pal? Haven’t seen you walk in here with a Woman no bigger than that little bug of yours since well” Jo paused, he knew Ethan knew what he was referring to, “Hows she doin’ anyway? Lex.”

“Uh--yeah yeah shes good Joey, has this kindergarten teachers whos really pushing her along, Leo’s thriving too, apparently hes some kind of boy genius?”

“What as in math?” Jo smoked as he handed over the two cups of coffee. To go, even though Ethan had every intention of staying in-store. He just wanted an excuse to leave and leave with his coffee if things didn’t go the way he was hoping for. There was a brown paper bag handed over the counter too. Strawberry tarts, free of charge. Ethan chuckled to himself with a small sigh. 

“Kid artist Joey, just think Leonardo DaVinci.” Joseph Ardale was always there for Ethan and his kids. A kind neighbour who just so happened to be the only person who Ethan would buy coffee from. No Starbucks in sight, just a small local business Ethan didn’t know how to live without. Considering the espresso machine sitting on his kitchen counter-top hadn't worked in years. Any single dad with twins lives and breathes coffee, add high school teacher to the mix and Ethan Dolan was no exception to the rule. 

“Hey, you’re back!” It was the way Pipper seemed as nervous as Ethan himself had him softening. He liked the way she moved over for him. Accepting the gesture as he handed her her coffee. An Oat milk latte with two pumps of caramel syrup. She didn’t care if it was sugar free. 

“You think I wasn’t gonna come back after asking you for coffee?” 

“Just uh, a little nervous is all, I usually don’t uh—this, um—“ Ethan chuckled as he sipped his coffee sinking into the nook. 

“Date? That the word you’re looking for, because if it is that’s not what this is, just coffee. I mean if you want it to be a date it can be.” Ethan was teasing, he liked the way Pipper smiled—he couldn’t really tell but he had a feeling her cheeks were hot. In a good way. “Date or no date I just wanted to spend—“

“Spend some time drinking coffee together.” Pipper interrupted, chuckling as Ethan nodded and laughed with her. 

“Exactly and isn’t it the best cup you've ever had?”

“It’s pretty good, companies even better.”

“There’s no way you’re trying to flirt with me right now?” 

“Would it be so bad if I was? Still confused about the wedding band but hey—you said you aren’t a married man? Fair game right?”

“Oh completely fair game, as fair a game is the kindergarten teacher with the not clinically diagnosed Psychotic son.” Pipper gasped. 

“My son is a handful, But he’s a good kid.” 

“Have you seen my eye? If I wore an eyepatch in this joint Joey over there wouldn’t stop laughing for a decade.” 

“Learnt from the best I guess.” Pipper sipped her coffee, there was a slight change in her tone. Ethan almost didn’t pick it up, he pressed though.”

“Box with his dad huh?” The silence and delayed answer said it all. They both came before the drop in facial expression.

“Ollie doesn’t have a dad.”

“Oh—“

“I mean, sure yes there’s a guy out there whose sperm helped create him but, sorry this is uh, I should probably get going.” Ethan thought he was going to be the one who dipped. Tan off with his take away coffee because this was all too soon and he wasn’t ready for this. But watching as Pipper stood from her chair, his chest hurt. Reaching forward to grab her hand. 

“Hey, no, wait wait wait wait.” Ethan stood, placing his coffee on the table and a hand a little too low on Pippers hip. For a second he saw his past—for a moment he saw his future. Pulling his hand away because hell, he didn’t want Pipper to think he wanted something more. “I—“

“Ethan—“

“I crossed a line, too personal.”

“Ethan—“

“I don’t know anything about you, you’re good with my kids, that’s all I know and I just, I wanna get to know you because—“ it was Ethan’s turn to pause, Pipper watched as Ethan looked like a deer in headlights. 

“Because?”

“Because, you are the first and only woman I have looked at since.” Ethan took a deep breath. 

“Since I lost my uh—my wife.” 

“You said you weren’t married.” It was out of shock. Pipper didn’t mean to sound rude. “Sorry—“

“Well I mean, yeah I wear my band, I uh— but you can’t be married to someone who just isn’t here anymore. I don’t, please don’t think this changes anything, I wanna get to know you—to me? Yeah, this was a date.” Pipper was silent. She just watched as Ethan sat back down and ran his hand through his hair. Defeated. He knew this was a terrible idea even if his heart told him otherwise. Pipper sat beside him. Her hand reached out for the coffee on the table, handing back to Ethan as she leaned back, settling in. 

“My ex is a piece of shit.” It shocked Ethan. He just listened though. “I’m not the person who you want to get to know Ethan—I’m, I’m a mess. There’s this book I read, called getting your shit together and apparently out of Simon, Theodore and Alvin? I’m Simon. I uh—I’m a grade-A mess but I hold it together well, I don’t show it.” 

“That’s the weirdest metaphor or analogy I’ve ever heard.” Ethan laughed as pipped did. Comfortable again with one another. Drinking coffee. “But it doesn’t change anything, we’re both Simons.”

“You’re wife? How’d she uh—“

“Car accident, drunk driver about three years ago, just been me and the kids since.” 

“That must have been difficult, is difficult?”

“Twin two-year-olds? That’s hard enough on anyone, Leo doesn’t remember her, he was in the car accident, doctors think he lost his memory or something, his body’s way of preventing more damage. Lexi just knows her mum isn’t here anymore. She’s in the sky, creating the clouds for her.”

“I don’t even know what to say.” 

“You don’t have to say anything, I went to therapy, I proceeded everything, I still have days where it’s hard to function but damn it Pipper the moment I saw you, the second, I just knew, I knew I had to get to know you. Even if just as a friend, more would be great but I’ll settle for anything because like I said, I haven’t looked at anyone the way I looked at you in three years.”

“Well, if it means anything, I like the way you uh—look at me.” Pipper smiled before taking a sip of her coffee. 

“Oh really?” Ethan smirked, eyes just taking in Pipper. Wondering what she was thinking. Maybe that her coffee was shitty or he’d shared too much too soon. But as she smiled and just stared back softly he couldn’t help but hope she was thinking about maybe wanted to kiss him. Because he was thinking that, shamelessly. 

“I do, nobody has ever looked at me the way you look at me.”

[ulkoilla]

I found this meme via @bleachbleachbleach​ and decided to tag myself xD

Color coding in here is weird? But I’ll use it so that S is for search, A is something that I super-like and D is something that I don’t like that much. But I don’t really skip stories for tropes, it’s more about how the tropes are done that does it for me. This is mostly for my reader self’s opinion, but it’s not overly different from my write’s opinion.

Because I love to hear people’s comments on tropes, I’ll provide some of my own!

I usually view “fix it” as canon divergence, which is something I hugely go for. Because few canons have done everything Right, and I love to see the divergences. But the fics tagged as fix it… I don’t know, they often tend to focus heavily on the one (1) aspect they are trying to fix. Often it’s a pairing, which is why I personally don’t normally search for fix it.

I also lump arranged marriages and fake relationships together because the arranged marriage fic I search is often a fake relationship xD Because it makes sense. Two people have marry because they are told to and there are little other possibilities? “Listen, sir, I know you don’t want to marry me, and I don’t want to marry you, but it is what it is, so let’s marry for the sake of X and have our own lives. Let’s be mature about this and communicate, and I’m sure we’ll get along as much as we’ll have to.”

Sadly, these stories too often end up as love stories, but it was fun as long as lasted.

Ofc there are other takes on arranged marriage. If they are taken, I’m almost always pleasantly surprised. Which is how we get to Dark fic – one of the tropes I’ll go wild for. Often it is because “the good guys” in canon material are so good they make me a bit sick. Sometimes it is because the villains seem to better persons than I am, which make me a bit more sick. So it’s good to have some actual darkness in the story.

But if it gets too dark, angsty and hurt-ey, it loses it’s potency. Hurt/comfort is therefore a good thing to have, but I admit I don’t search for it as much I used to. It’s probably because many h/c stories lack other aspects, and I prefer long fic. A 100k story made purely to hurt and heal a character isn’t my cup of tea anymore. I’ve read them, I’ve enjoyed them, but after a while they start to seriously repeat, in this reader’s opinion.

Body swaps and gender swaps instead have always been a thing for me and I’m a bit disappointed these are rarely seen these days. I think there are two reasons on this: sensitivity towards for the readers who struggle with gender dysphoria, and that way these fics are too often turned to simple crack fic. Which is not to say that I dislike crack, but I think there is a lot of potential in body swap and gender swap, if approached seriously.

The last “S for Search” bunch for me is the AU’s. I don’t usually search a single type of AU, I just search an AU. Yes - also Soulmates AU! I’m not after romance and sex in my fic reading preferences, but I actually have taste for this because of how utterly, deliciously fucked up the soulmates systems tend to be.

Moving to a category down (from search to super-likes), there is unrequited love, with a bit of the same note than the Soulmates AU.

Missing scenes, time loops, gen fic and amnesia fics are in super-likes category mostly because it usually doesn’t occur for me to search these, but when encountered, I usually approach if the content is otherwise of interest for me. I usually pass, for example, missing sex scenes. Of these I especially like amnesia fics, but I usually view them primarily through other tropes (h/c, canon divergence etc ). They, too, have a lot potential but too often (to tastes of this reader, not objectively xD) amnesia is played as a tool to facilitate romance. For example, I can’t remember ever seeing a fic where the one with amnesia is forced to study the world around them more objectively, free from the previous biases towards the actions and objectives of their allies and enemies.

In the “B” category, “likes”, I put slow burn, crack and A/B/O. Slow burn is perhaps my favorite romance trope, probably because it usually comes with another plot attached, and usually I’m there for the other plot. In A/B/O, similarly, I go for the whole hypothetical sexuality things and how the writer shows it and its effects on the society.

“B” is also a category for neutral tropes or “tropes”, like Crack and Major character death. This is stuff I don’t have a bone to pick, it happens, I usually like it in a story if the other aspects are doing it for me.

Category C is now called “approach with some caution”. Many romance-related trophies go in here. Established relationships, pregnancies, and babies, especially. Again, I don’t dislike these elements - add a layer of fire and brimstone and I’m in! But when the story focuses on, say, a pregnancy, there is relatively little one can do with it. A pregnancy you wanted? Nice, congrats, end of the story or enter: a baby fic. An unwanted pregnancy? More room for drama, but it doesn’t make much of a story either if the characters don’t behave stupid or seriously Miscommunicate.

Which end up the least desired box, D, “approach with extreme caution” for being the perhaps weakest and most boring method to create tension. The D category has mostly vehicles to initiate sex and romance, which I’m not after, in case it wasn’t clear at this point of the post xD Ofc there is also e.g. humorous takes on sharing a bed, or other takes that won’t result in sex or cuddling after the initial awkwardness. Nothing wrong with the less typical takes, in this reader’s opinion!

Most of the persons I follow and may be interested are already tagged, so please help yourself if you feel like sorting!

[drlauralwalsh]

You and Your Grieving Parts

Do you ever think about your...parts?  No, not those parts, you mischievous little spark plug!  I mean inside your mind - the parts that get weird ideas, warn against danger, are mean to you, and tell you to engage in late-night food rituals.  That last part might just be me.  Seriously though, I’ve been doing some research into the parts of my mind. The idea that our minds have “parts” is not a new idea. Like right now, a part of me wants to keep writing to you and another part just wants to nap. Oh the drama inside! There is one theory that explains this and it has intrigued me since grad school: Internal Family Systems.

INTERNAL FAMILY SYSTEMS (IFS) THEORY

The IFS theory believes that the mind is made up of a number of sub-personalities or parts, each with their own set of beliefs, opinions, and responses, and that interact with each other.  At the core is the Self, which has the ability to lead the parts but isn’t always up to the task.  No single part is bad but like an orchestra, the parts can be in harmony or honk cacophonously like a flock of agitated geese.

Along with the core Self, IFS sorts the other parts into categories by function: Managers, Firefighters, and Exiles.  Managers and Firefighters protect you from feeling the pain of the Exile parts.  They have the same goals but use different strategies.  Managers constrict and hold you back while Firefighters automatically react and let it rip.

MANAGERS

Manager parts proactively run the day to day operations of the system and are considered the most “acceptable” parts because they say very adult things and sound most like the core Self.  They maintain balance within you through control.  Managers parts are perfectionist, judgmental, self critical or people pleasing.  They want to prevent humiliation and abandonment by keeping you busy, criticizing what you do, worrying, sabotaging connections, and generally being a control freak.  They strongly believe in self sufficiency and are generally relentless, exacting, chastising and sometimes, anxious and depressed.  They’re really good at giving you a false sense of security by telling you it’s doing it so you’ll look good to others.  A typical Manager thought is, “You really should stop bothering people with your sob story.”

FIREFIGHTERS

Firefighters are your first responders.  They automatically fly out the door to rescue you when something hits too close to home.  They extinguish the fire of pain by smothering or creating a diversion.  They attack “enemies” and get defensive in an effort to control or suffocate emotions.  These are the parts that have anger issues, spending too much money, drink too much or use drugs, get obsessive or suicidal, self harm, or dissociate.  They like to eat too much. binge watch TV and endlessly play video games for hours.  They don’t give a crap about the goody-goody manager parts.  Those weenies don’t know what it’s like to charge heroically into danger.  Firefighters are really good at distracting you from upsetting, painful or overwhelming feelings.  A typical Firefighter part thinks it’s better to rage than to show vulnerability - even in the privacy of your own head.

EXILES

As a psychologist, I get to see other people’s Exile parts more than the average person.  I’ve developed such a knack for it that the Managers and Firefighters appear almost transparent.  When I’m interacting with someone who’s leading with one of those parts, I can see through to the Exile it’s protecting.  Just wish I could more reliably turn that super power on myself!  Exiles are the younger parts that hold pain from the past.  You compartmentalize and isolate them from the rest of the system for their safety and stability in the system.  Because of their vulnerability, they also seem kind of dangerous.  They’re the parts of you that are scared of being abandoned, get intimidated, experienced trauma, and feel a lot of shame.  This is where the Big Four live - not good enough, too much, if you really knew me, and everyone leaves.

Exiles are desperate to tell their story but Managers pessimistically believe your pain is a burden to others. Firefighters flat out refuse to put you in danger of being hurt again.  If a sad, little kid part of you revealed a disgusting longing for an authority figure’s approval during a job interview, a Firefighter part might change the subject while a Manager sabotages the rest of the meeting.  Neo-exiles are the parts we hide within close relationships.  Imagine a romantic partner or friend that gives you attention when you’re doing something nice but ignores your bids for reassurance.  You’ll shut down the needy part of you to maintain the relationship. The message from that person you tell yourself is that only your good parts are acceptable.  

THE CORE SELF

So far, we’ve been describing the orchestra - or if you’d prefer, the various departments of your business or the governmental branches of your personal nation.  Let’s switch to the head of it all - the conductor, the CEO, the President, YOU.  In the center of all of this is your core Self.  It’s a beautiful place to be.  It doesn’t need work because it’s already perfect.  It spontaneously emerges when the air is clear and all is safe.  It is the natural essence of who you are and is sheltered from damage or destruction by function of your parts.  

You know you’re in your grounded center when you feel authentically chill.  Some theories describe the Self by the 8 C’s:

Confident

Courageous

Creative

Clarity

Compassion

Calm

Curious

Connected

I know I’m in that place when nothing said or done can move me off my square.  For instance, I am confident about my intelligence.  If some bozo tried to lecture me about how I’m really a dummy, I might get a little irritated but he’s not going to shake my confidence.  Now if the same bozo flicked some booger comment about something more vulnerable, that might temporarily knock me off-center.  Note: my own managers and firefighters have censored me from revealing said vulnerability for my own protection.

WORST CASE SCENARIO

Your personal configuration and manifestation of parts was constructed to deal with your worst case scenario to date.  Since we have different histories and experiences, each set of parts is like a fingerprint of the individual.  While I’m currently working hard to lead with my core Self, recent events (i.e. the death of my wife) have thrown the system into a reorg process.  All previous worst case scenarios were blown out of the water and my mind’s company is frantically looking for new hires in two main departments.  I thought I’d give you a peek into the frenetic remodeling of my inner Self as the parts run around with their pants on fire.

Exile: [Can’t speak and just cries endlessly into the void.]

Firefighter: “Oh shit!  Their wedding song started playing overhead at the grocery store!”

Manager: “It’s fine.  Everything is fine. Close your ears, stop being a baby and don’t think about it.”

Exile: “But I can’t stop thinking!” [Stops responding as snot clogs up nose.]

Firefighter: “Leave the store!  Leave your groceries where you are!”

Exile: [Blows nose, hides in deserted health food aisle.]

Manager: “Someone could have seen you out there.  Now go check out and remember to smile at the clerk.”

Firefighter: “I think it’s a great time to call it a day and watch more episodes of Designing Women.”

These parts are obviously clueless as to what to do with this newly emerged and devastatingly sad grief Exile.  She’s a little girl part of me that either pitifully weeps or gets hulk-smash rageful.  She isn’t a new part; she’s come out of semi-retirement to hold my overwhelming grief.  She believes that everyone will leave her and she’s left on her own to figure everything out.   She thinks things like, “Why don’t people notice how sad I am???” She doesn’t know a Firefighter distracts her from feeling with a stupid magic trick while a Manager runs around pulling the curtains around her so no one sees.  All the parts are trying to help but the animals are loose at the circus.  Though the Exile doesn’t know it, she’s waiting for my core Self to step in and corral the monkeys.  My Self knows what to do if I can only find and access it.  Stepping from the shadows, my centered Self brings a soothing presence that stops the commotion and quiets the protectors.  Here’s an example:

Manager: “You should shower and do a little cleaning.  This place is a mess!”

Firefighter: “Honestly, I think eating a little cookie butter will make things better.”

Exile: “[Sobbing] Things are never going to get better!  I don’t want them to get better!”

Firefighter: “I know!  Let’s listen to Rage Against the Machine really loud in the kitchen!”

Manager: “Fine, don’t shower even though you stink.  Don’t change clothes either.  It’s not like anyone sees you anyway.”

Firefighter: “Uhhh, isn’t that friend coming over tonight?”

Manager: “Oh yeah!  He’ll certainly notice those dishes that have been in the sink for 3 days.  Just sayin’...”

Exile: “Oh no!  [Hangs head in shame] People will find out how horribly disgusting I am because I haven’t run the dishwasher or broken down and recycled the Amazon boxes.”

Firefighter: “Just throw everything in the backyard!!!”

Manager: “Stack up all the piles neatly so it looks like you wanted them there on purpose.”

SELF: “Alright, let’s think about this.  What if you broke down the boxes right now, put them outside, rinse the dishes, and filled the dishwasher all while listening to Rage Against the Machine?”

Manager: “That’s not enough but okay, fine.”

Firefighter: “Great ideas as always.  I’m going to rest up for the next emergency.”

Exile: “Thank you for listening to me.  I feel a little better and I think we can do this.”

SELF: “Great. Afterwards, everyone can take a break and zone out in front of the TV.  Now put on that music and let’s get to work.”

WHO’S IN CHARGE?

As long as there’s no one in charge, your mind is a confusing and chaotic miasma of competing needs.  Ideally, the Self steps up and takes over negotiation between the parts and directs the next steps.  However, sometimes a part fills in the leadership role.  You know you’re leading with a Manager when you feel buttoned up, intellectually sharp and emotionally numbed out.  Leading with a Firefighter part feels like a continual state of irritability and agitation and keeps you ‘at the ready’ to react to danger.  Exiles are rarely in charge because they’re really bad at it.  They collapse the system and insist on activities like staying in bed all day.

WORKING WITH YOUR SYSTEM

As with most life problems, the first step is awareness. You’ve got to get to know your parts - their personalities, beliefs, and functions - before trying to intervene in their conflicts. Like I said before, there are no bad parts - just competing beliefs and strategies. A given part feels strongly that it’s right, sees it how it really is and knows the truth. Every thought or feeling originating from a part is trying to help you out, even if it doesn’t seem that way. The part of me that says no one wants to be around me is actually trying to protect me from rejection and abandonment. Unchallenged, that part will keep me from connecting to supportive people.

OBSERVING AND IDENTIFYING PARTS

It may be difficult to put your finger on and capture a particular part.  When you’re ready, there’s a few ways to access them.  Start by being curious and non-judgmental.  Think of your centered self as just a researcher interested in data collection.  Reassure yourself that nothing has to change as you’re presently in observation mode.  

Take your emotional temperature by asking yourself how you feel right now.  Ask to see what emotions are already present and how or where your body feels with that emotion.  Observe those messages that are on repeat in your mind.  Alternatively, you can access an upsetting memory from the past and examine it.  Ask yourself, what exactly was upsetting about what happened?  Did you feel afraid, sad, anxious, angry or something else?  How did you react and what did you do?  Did you rage, freeze, numb, avoid, or try to smooth it over?  These questions will reveal clues to what was exiled and what managers and/or firefighters protected you.  If at any time your brain says, “I don’t know,” consider that another protector part and explore accordingly.

STAYING CENTERED

Once you’ve got a handful of observations, pick out one voice and interview it.  More than likely, you’ll be talking to a protector - probably a manager.  Getting it talking by asking what it believes and it’s job in the system.  Ask how old it is and what it looks like.  A voice that says. “This isn’t fair,” may believe you get dumped on more than most and thinks the job is to  protest on your behalf.  It may show up as a finger wagging old man who suggests that something must be wrong with you because this keeps happening.  What’s protective about this voice?  What kind of Exile is it defending?  Be gentle with digging down to the Exiled little kid part underneath.  Kids are delicate and need protecting.  If you find yourself continuing to have strong emotions or becoming reactive, you’ve likely run into another manager or firefighter.  Interview and explore this part before moving deeper.  We can’t access, validate and utilize the burdened exiles without honoring how the system set itself up to protect us.

Once you’re working with a particular part, another angle is to check back in with your calm and centered Self.  What do you understand about the part?  What do you think is going on?  Can you find empathy and appreciation for the part?  Even our nastiest parts work really hard on our behalf.  A critical voice is mean but its heart is in the right place.  An obsessive or addictive part is trying to soothe the system in the best and only ways it knows so far.

TRUSTING RELATIONSHIPS

Getting to know your parts is the process of creating trusting relationships between them and the Self.  This is the next step in the process of converting your protectors and split-off exiles into your allies.  Think about how trust is built with other people: consistent interactions, listening to and honoring what’s said, believing their words are important - even when you don’t understand.  That’s exactly how we build rapport with the different parts of ourselves.  It may be scary or unpleasant to get close to your inner critic or the tightly-wound explosive rage but it’s a vital step.  Like a good CEO or President, once your core Self begins to get everyone on board, it’s easier to know what to do when life throws you the next curveball.

I’ve got a story for you from back when my wife was still alive.  I left to go grocery shopping but stopped in at the craft store to shop for just myself.   This nagging little voice kept popping up but I successfully shoved it back down at the craft store.   Entering the grocery store a short time later, I could no longer ignore a little girl voice on repeat: “She’s going to be mad at you!” Sighing, I got centered and engaged it.  Here’s how the conversation went:

Little Girl: “She’s going to be mad at you!”

SELF: “Okay, well, we can handle that.  Why will she be mad at me?”

Little Girl: “Because you took too much time at the craft store.”

SELF: “Why is that a big deal to you?  What are you feeling?”

Little Girl: “I’m worried she’ll be mad and call you selfish because you took time for yourself.”

SELF: “Okay, well if that happens, I’ll take care of it.  You don’t have to explain it to her.  I don’t think she’ll actually be mad but if she is, I’ll be in charge.  How does that sound?”

Little Girl: “I’m still worried but I’ll try it your way.”

SELF: “Great. Thank you for trusting me. No matter what, it will be okay.”

This is the actual transcription of me engaging with a worried part.  For the record, it’s not grounded in current reality.  Naturally, Patty would be concerned if I hadn’t returned from shopping if it had been a few hours but she wouldn’t be mad.  I already had a relationship with this part - the Little Girl.  She’s about 5 or 6 and feels too small and powerless to change things in the world.  She’s used to being  dismissed and pulls at my sleeve to warn me about all the monsters lurking in the shadows.  She’s protected by another part - my rebellious teenager.  If I’m not gentle with the Little Girl, the Rebel leaps to her defense and commandeer the entire system.  The Rebel says things like, “Oh no, you fucking didn’t just do that!  I’ll show you!” and promptly turns off all inhibition and motivation and steers us back to the craft store to buy $100 worth of crap.  I’ve learned my lesson - listen to and trust the Little Girl, or else it’ll cost me.

YOUR PARTS IN GRIEF

I’m still getting to know and lead the parts of me as they grieve.  As with outside life, my internal life was thrown into disarray after Patty died.  I had all the parts nicely organized, productive, and had good working relationships with all.  Death took my puny little shoebox diorama on the inside of my mind and… shook it up really hard.   I was so proud of my hand painted little figurines, all precisely glued in their rightful places.  A manager most assuredly came up with that idea.  Now, there’s a part of me that just wants to toss the whole thing and another part that’s picking up each piece, crying over its brokenness.  

All I can do is be patient with myself for now as I sort through the pieces in the shoebox.  I tried throwing it out but it just reappeared.  I’m working on getting the lay of the land.  I’m doing my best to accept and soothe the broken parts - even as they overreact, judge me for not keeping things cleaner, numb out with cookie butter, and cry at the grocery store.  We are trudging down the road right now but when I get to know everyone again, I’ll call a meeting and figure out what’s next.

[vannahfanfics]

The Intricacies of Human Interaction

Category: Friendship Fluff

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts

Characters: Naminé & Xion

Hello, everyone! I am super happy to present my piece for Fading Tides: A NamiXi Zine! 

Naminé’s brows were furrowed as she stared intently at the pair of teenage girls seated at the bistro. Her pencil glided across the paper to record their debonair poses— legs crossed primly in the wrought iron chairs, hair cascading over slim shoulders borne to the open air by halter-tops, hands waving dramatically as giggles and exaggerated “nooooooo’s” and “stoooooop’s” and “shut up’s” joined the pleasant jazz music drifting through the air. The lead sketched their giddy smiles and bright eyes onto the white paper. Naminé’s hand faltered as her mind became engrossed in something other than drawing. 

Is this what normal girls do?

Naminé was still coming to grips with being a normal person. As a Nobody, emotions had been a convoluted phenomenon to her. Even after gaining a heart and a body all her own, she could not navigate feelings she had never understood. She’d managed to comprehend the basics— happiness and sadness and the like— but integrating them to perform as a functional human being was still something she had yet to master. The intricacies of human interaction still perplexed her. 

She wondered what had those girls so insouciant. Surely, just chatting about everyday comings and goings couldn’t be that entertaining? From the snippets of conversation that she caught floating on the air, that seemed to be exactly the case. Naminé’s illustration was all but forgotten as she leaned in close, trying to drink in more of their chit-chat— as if she could osmose the ability to frivolously converse. 

“Hey, Naminé. What are you doing?” 

The blonde jerked back into her chair and glanced over at the speaker, a pink flush of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. Xion blinked blankly at her, making Naminé squirm uncomfortably. She felt almost as if she’d been caught doing something wrong, but that was silly… wasn’t it?

Xion’s eyes drifted slowly to the girls at the table, who were cackling and slapping the surface as they watched a video on one of their phones.

“You’re wondering how they do it so easily, aren’t you?” Xion smiled in amusement when she looked back at her. 

Naminé sunk down in the chair, idly playing with one of her colored pencils. The look of discomfort she wore was all the answer Xion needed. 

“I get it. I’m still not really used to it either, after spending so long without emotions or understanding them all that much,” Xion shrugged empathetically. 

Naminé deflated in relief. At least she doesn’t think me silly… she thought with a teeny smile. After a second, she straightened up and looked back to the other girls. They had finished their cake and coffee and were rising elegantly from the table, cheeks still rosy with mirth and a gleam in their eyes that she envied so much. She wondered if her eyes would ever glimmer like that, or if they’d just remain flat and uncertain, relics of her troubled past she could never polish. 

“Anyway, look what I came across,” Xion said. 

Naminé looked back with inquisitive eyes as Xion set a colorful flyer down on the table. It depicted a jovial girl lounging in a claw-footed bathtub filled to the brim with bright cotton-candy pink bubbles. Her head was tipped back with her hair piled into a towel upon her head, and cucumber slices rested over her eyes. Naminé found herself drawn to the young woman’s serene smile, the effortless contentment that she just never could capture herself.

“It’s an advert for a local spa,” Xion explained, tapping the address outlined in white font at the bottom of the page. “I was thinking maybe you’d like to go with me.” 

Naminé looked up at Xion in surprise, then back down to the advert. She tucked it into her sketchbook with a smile, and then stood up with an eager nod. 

“Yes! Let’s do it!” 

As she and Xion followed the street signs of Traverse Town to the spa, Naminé found excitement bubbling up in her belly. Olette had talked frequently of the luxurious fun of spa days and self-care, meaning that these were the kinds of things normal girls did. Perhaps, if she and Xion partook in the activity, they could become a little more in touch with the emotions that eluded them. She and Xion had abounces in their steps as they strolled down the cobblestone streets, both repeatedly looking at each other in anticipation. 

The spa was tucked away in the corner of the business district, surrounded by a white picket fence enclosing a garden of aromatic herbs and flowers. Blooms spilled over flower boxes nestled in the windowsills of open windows, where white curtains fluttered in the breeze. A tinkling bell signaled their cautious arrival through the front door; they meekly walked into a tiled room with gray sofas accented with soft-looking throws and polished coffee tables. The attendant at the counter greeted them pleasantly. Xion, the more sociable of the pair, approached her to book their appointment for the day. 

As Xion conversed with the attendant, Naminé inspected some potted orchids resting on a side table. They were gorgeous, white petals that faded into lavender toward the pollen center and emerald blade-like leaves framing the thin stem. She couldn’t help but flip open her sketchbook and color the flowers onto the page, and make a little note in the corner stating that it was her first time at the spa. 

She jumped violently as someone put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey! They’re ready for us to go back,” Xion smiled. Her blue eyes dropped down to the orchids colored onto the paper, and her smile widened. “Keeping a memento, huh?” 

As Naminé closed her sketchbook, she nodded. As nice as memories are, she always liked to have something physical to remind her, too. After all… Sometimes memories weren’t as reliable as she would like. 

Another attendant led them back to a room of small lockers, where she and Xion stored their belongings and changed into a pair of fluffy baby-blue robes. Naminé smiled as she breathed in the rose petal aroma that clung to the incredibly soft fibers, feeling a sense of calm flood through her being. Xion giggled and spun around in the robe, laughing when the straps slapped Naminé in the thigh. 

When the attendant happened upon them, they were slapping each other with the robe straps. The two girls hurriedly composed themselves, smoothing their disarrayed strands of hair with bashful smiles, as they were escorted further into the building. 

“Okay, ladies,” the spa worker chirped as they came into another tiled room with a couple of bathtubs, some fresh towels, and luxury soaps. “You can fill these tubs at your leisure and use any of the products in here! In about forty-five minutes, we’ll collect you for your massages.” 

“You booked us massages?” Naminé gasped in disbelief as the attendant sashayed off. Xion winked and stuck out the tip of her tongue as she waltzed over to one of the tubs to flip on the tap. Clear water gushed from the silver spout, and she poured a bottle of bubble bath that looked like raspberry syrup into the stream. Naminé wrinkled her nose as the pleasant scent of wildberries and vanilla began to waft through the air. 

“I wanted us to get the full experience!” Xion explained as she inspected the various products in linen-lined baskets resting on nearby plush stools and vanities. She dropped some flower petals into the water, as well as some pink bath salts, before looking animatedly at her friend. “I’m already feeling really relaxed and happy… I’m pretty sure this is what it’s supposed to feel like, right?” She laughed nervously, scratching at the side of her head. 

Naminé glanced down at the bottle of sea salt ocean breeze bubble bath she was holding in her hands. Now that Xion brought it up, she was enjoying herself, and wasn’t thinking too hard about enjoying herself either. Beaming, she turned on the water and squirted some of the solution into the bath. She breathed in deep, relishing the aroma of the ocean that spilled up into the air. 

“Yeah! I think so,” she agreed with a contented hum. She sprinkled some blue bath salts and orchid petals into the rising water.

As they both slipped out of their robes and descended into their respective tubs, they released simultaneous sighs of exultation. They glanced at one another over the rims of the bathtub, and then both began giggling. 

Naminé’s smile was serene as she played with the flower petals floating on the rippling water. The bath salts crackled against her skin, exfoliating it and leaving it fresh-feeling. She closed her eyes, and as the scent of the bath wafted up her nose, she felt like she was floating on the beach in Destiny Islands with the waves in her ears and the palm leaves swaying above her head. 

“You know what I could use right now?” Xion sighed. 

“Some coconut milk in a coconut half, with a little umbrella and a straw?” 

“You read my mind!” Xion squealed, and they both erupted into giggles again. “Olette probably would have said a pretzel,” the girl mused after they had stopped chuckling. Naminé nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, do those three eat anything aside from pretzels?” 

The two conversed amicably, their giggles floating like the bubbles in the air. Time flew, and before they knew it, they were rising out of the tubs with light pink and silk-soft skin. If the robe felt good putting it on the first time, it felt simply divine slipping into it after soaking in the bubble bath for forty-five minutes. The attendant led them into the adjoining room, where two masseuses were waiting beside two tables. They laid flat with towels covering their lower halves, while the masseuses lathered their hands in oil. 

Naminé rolled her head to the side to look at Xion. As the masseuses began to work into their muscles, relaxing them, Xion made a funny face. Naminé snorted in laughter, trying to keep it together so she didn’t move too much for the masseuse. However, that was immensely difficult with Xion sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes and baring her teeth. Naminé’s shoulders kept shaking as she tried to suppress the snorts and snickers, and come up with funny expressions of her own. The two masseuses were smirking at one another by the time they were finished and the two girls were heading out from their spa experience. 

Naminé was almost disappointed to put her white dress back on after waltzing around in the immaculately soft robe. Still, with the aroma of flowers clinging to her baby-soft skin and her body completely relaxed, she really couldn’t feel too downhearted. She and Xion were wearing identical smiles as they walked out of the front door into the garden. Bumblebees bobbed against their legs as they strolled down the pathway into the street. 

Ironically, they saw the same pair of young girls trouncing by, giggling airily as they nibbled on ice cream cones. Naminé looked at Xion, smiling knowingly. 

“You know what? I think I understand now.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Xion agreed. “Wanna go get ice cream?” 

“Sure!” 

The girls looped their arms together and resumed strolling off down the street. Their hips bumped as they happily walked along, the scent of flowers clinging to them like a cloud. Maybe they still had a long way to go, learning to navigate their new humanity and how emotions worked. That being said, Naminé relished how carefree she felt right now, not worrying about whether she was responding appropriately to the scenario, or making the right expression. 

She was just Naminé, having fun with her friend, and that was really all she needed to do, wasn’t it?

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!