#comet: SR

[cometkenji]

Doctor, Doctor, please listen!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!reader Cw; Tension (I tried), cursing, the smallest physical description of reader in the last portion (just mentions their stomach going over their pants), reader has scars from previous cases, rivals to lovers?, lmk if i'm missing smth Summary: 3 times you called him doctor, 3 times he wonders why. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but I don't really ever describe their bodies that much cause it's x READER and every body has a different body <3 WC: 3,596 I am literally so obsessed with criminal minds somebody save my soul OBLIVOUS IDIOTS WHO WANT EACH OTHER MY BELOVED. Title from mad hatter by Melanie Martinez don't even @ me for that

1.

“...she will be an important part of making your team function quicker. We fought hard to get her here. I ask that you all treat her with respect and not make me intervene.” 

Strauss finished her introductory spiel with a familiar “mom-glare” towards the team, walking away once she finished her speech. Unfortunately, her departure left you standing alone in front of the most intimidating man you’ve ever seen and four of his team members. You had been practically still until now. You hated the pressure of everyone’s eyes on you, causing a general freeze response to the stress of a new team. Fawn, you thought, the newest addition to the fight or flight categories and also the lovely thing forcing you to practically disassociate in front of your new boss and co-workers. 

“Welcome, Dr. L/N. We’ve heard good things. I’m Aaron Hotchner, I supervise the team.” He was leaning on the table before he stepped forward to shake your hand as he spoke. “This is Emily Prentiss, Jenifer Jareau, Derek Morgan, and Doctor Spencer Reid.” He pointed towards the corresponding people as he spoke of them. “Agent Rossi is away right now, and you’ll meet our T.I. later…she’s been excited.” If you hadn’t been good at your job, you’re sure you would have missed the way his lips turned up slightly at the edges when mentioning the woman. He didn’t seem so scary anymore, more like a father of the team. You’d been expecting a drill sergeant - your last team leader could have given a bull a run for it’s money with how much aggression that guy had. You welcomed the rush of excitement you felt at the discovery, mentally shaking off the stiffness you were carrying. 

“I’m happy to be here, sir. I’ve heard good things about the team, too. Your boss seems to think highly of your capabilities.” You addressed the room as you spoke. Public speaking was a skill you were still trying to master, so you practiced whenever you could. 

Your statement earned a chuckle from the table. Nobody bothered to explain the reason. You figured it was too much history to sum up on the spot. Your eyes wanted to linger on Reid. He seemed so young, and you wondered if he’d been told that his entire career - lord knows you had too. A fellow doctor. You assumed he was a bit of a stickler about the title, as even his boss kept it tacked onto his name when introducing him. You’d originally hoped to find some comfort in the man, on the surface he seemed a lot like you. He was probably too smart for his own good as well. Given the way he was staring at you, though, you felt the realization sink in that the man had no intention of welcoming you. 

“Why exactly do we need another profiler?” His voice held no malice as he spoke in the direction of his boss. There was more curiosity in his voice than anything, however you did pick up on the sense of superiority that sat just beneath the surface of his words. You guessed that’s how he behaved generally - as though he was superior. Still, your head tilted slightly to the side at the question. 

Damn. Tough crowd. 

You saw the intake of breath in Hotchner as he prepared to defend your place here but you spoke before he could start. “While I am a profiler, sir, first and foremost I am a psychiatrist - a doctor. As I’m sure you heard from Strauss, the board is unhappy with your recent efficiency rates and would also like to aid your team in dealing with mental health crises. I’ve spent my entire life studying the effects and conditions of the mentally diseased brain. I’ll be able to tell you the most efficient and effective way of interacting with these individuals, along with more accurately predicting their actions and methodology. I’m an agent, I took the same oath everyone here did but I was brought here for my expertise.” You were on a bit of a tangent, you knew that, but something about the smug feel of the man forced an emergence of competitiveness. He looked at you so indifferent, and you couldn’t help the tiny sparks of anger lighting beneath your skin. You kept a friendly disposition towards the man - you were a professional, after all, not a teenager - but you sensed a rivalry sprouting it’s roots.

The others at the table suppressed their smiles or looked down to hide it. Nobody had ever challenged Spencer like that. They could all feel he was a tad bit territorial. He was the guy people went to when they needed to know something. He was the Doctor of the group. They didn’t think he would take too kindly to another one encroaching his land. They saw the way he was tense, even more so after you responded. It was a riveting sight, though. The lot of them saw Spencer as a younger brother, and him meeting his match was something they were all so excited to see.

“Play nice, pretty boy.” Derek muttered to him, Spencer was slightly slouched in his chair now, not losing sight of you. Derek followed suit, turning his attention towards you. “We’re glad to have you, Doctor. We’ve spoken about an addition like you before, I’m glad to see the higher ups finally listened. I look forward to working with you - excuse me.” He left once his phone rang. 

The others took his exit as an excuse for their own, everyone giving you a warm welcome as they left. You reciprocated happily, telling everyone they could just call you by your first name, never having been one for titles. ‘There’s one difference.’ You thought, even your internal dialogue was bitter. Aside from him, there was a warmth here that you had been desperate to find in your last team. If you had to work passive aggressively with one uptight man in exchange for a team like this - you were going to take that deal. 

He refused to leave it seemed. He just sat looking inquisitively at the table, occasionally extending his stare to look at you before returning. How did you two end up alone in this room?

“Are you gonna have a problem with me, Doctor?” You shifted slightly on your feet. A notoriously nervous sign, one he definitely picked up on.

He stared again. It was his mind that kept him rooted in his seat. You were fucking alluring. He’d never met someone so like himself in his line of work. He was being a dick and he knew it but it seemed to be instinctual - some type of precaution, maybe. He didn’t know why you were being so respectful. Doctor. God, he didn’t know if the title had ever sounded so good being directed at him. His frustration only rose as he thought on the issue more. He wasn’t welcoming, it would be so easy to drop the formality, something he knew you knew would get on his nerves. But you didn’t. It didn’t seem like a question of dignity. You didn’t seem like the type to refuse a little pettiness - he sure wasn’t the type either. A thought stirred, an unsafe one he wanted to squash immediately but one he also couldn’t help but lean into. Did you want a power imbalance?

“No.” He stood abruptly, obviously still focused on the thoughts in his head. “Welcome to the team.” He addressed you one last time and then walked out of the room.

You followed shortly after, ready to make home on your couch and be done with being the newbie for the day. Your stress would follow you home, though, as the last thing you heard before you left the building was “Oh my god they’re perfect for each other.”

2.

The first few weeks were always the hardest. This was something you knew and were prepared for but it did nothing to calm your nerves. You’d been on countless missions having worked this job for a while now, but this was an entirely new dynamic to learn. You were an outsider for the first time in four years and it was scary. This case was shaping up to be a rough one, too. A man was having delusions telling him to kill. An extremely rare manifestation of his Schizophrenia, only elevated by the newly acquired aspect of him being an insomniac. 

Spencer hadn’t ceased being headstrong in cases either. Every time you wanted to help he made it his mission to overcompensate in order to snuff you out. On the contrary, he’d warmed up to you a little. It wasn’t major, he barely held any positive feelings toward you, but barely was better than not at all, so you coped. You two had managed a couple small talk conversations outside the battle of one-upping that you were currently losing. You absolutely hated it, but you liked him. You liked him a lot, actually. You don’t know when in the past few days that anger morphed into fondness but it had shifted hard. The casual dominance he exuded drew you in like a porchlight lures a moth. You doubted the opposite proved true for him, and that stung. You came to enjoy the banter, the competition, even if you were always playing the losing hand. It was the only way to get his undivided attention and the feeling of his eyes on you started to follow you home. 

You thought a lot about how you could get the relationship to pivot into something better. You didn’t want to be the girl he bickered with at work. You didn’t know what it was you wanted but you knew that your current fate sounded horrid. He was an ass, though, and he did not make it easy to admit those feelings. Every time he undermined you, you grew more attached and also more angry at yourself for doing so. It was because he’s so much like you, you thought. You knew from the way he interacted with his team that he wasn’t a cold guy, didn’t hold malice towards people for no reason. He needs time. He needs to know you, and God how badly you wanted to know him. 

You had sustained good relations with everyone the past few weeks you’ve been here. Meeting Garcia and Rossi had been a treat - both of them being delightful company. You’d heard them whispering about you and Spencer when they thought you weren’t around. The whole team seems to think that you’re basically fated to be together. It was unnerving how comforting that thought was to you. You hoped they were right. 

Spencer hoped they were right too. He’d heard the same whispers you had, chastising the team when he got the chance as if he didn’t think about you every moment he could. His eyes seemed to naturally land on you if you were around. He watched you walk around the bureau more and more lately, enjoying the gained confidence in your step as you cemented your place in the team. The sway of your hips or the swing of your arms. You mesmerized him no matter what you did. One time he got so caught up in his thoughts of you that Prentiss had to check he wasn’t having a silent panic attack. He clung to his sense of resentment, tried so hard to remind himself of the feelings he had when he first met you - you were beautiful, of course you were - but you were on claimed land and he was anything but eager for you to make home on it. That had faded fast, seeing how kind you were, scrambling to help and earn respect from everyone. The only reason he kept up the act of  “man who wants you gone” was so that he could keep talking to you. Spencer was a genius but he didn’t know how to handle someone like you. He’d been interested in girls before, hell he’d had girlfriends before but it had never felt like this in such little time. Such intense infatuation was crippling for someone who’s brain worked in patterns - this was new ground for him. 

“Everybody suit up. We have Foster’s location and we need to move quickly. He’s going after the source of his rage and we don’t have time to spare.” Hotch came down the stairs two at a time, spurring the team into action. 

“This man is highly dangerous but also highly deluded. The cases I’ve read similar to this say it’s best to speak gently. He’s sick but he can be reasoned with.” Spencer pulls from his memory as he sets his ‘FBI’ vest into place on his chest. 

“No, not this time. This man is too severe, his mind is too far gone. If these hallucinations of his are strong enough for him to touch them it’ll be extremely easy for him to rearrange or imagine your words differently. You need to be loud, direct, and assertive. Speak as little as possible. The quieter you are, the easier it will be for him to change what you’re saying in his head.” You also spoke while putting your vest on. You didn’t carry a weapon - a personal vow of yours, as you were more than classified to - so there were no holsters to fill. The contradictions between the two doctors of the team made everyone hesitate even though they lacked the time to do so.

Spencer looked at you, slightly out of breath from working so quickly. “You’re questioning my memory?” 

“I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor. I’m questioning your sources. There’s a higher risk level if we do what you’re suggesting. Let me do my job.” You made the final adjustments to your attire as you finished speaking. You returned his eye contact for just a beat too long, letting the others rush out of the building while you stood your ground, the two of you begrudgingly following after them a moment later.

You had been assigned a different car than him for the ride over. ‘Thank God’ was the only thing you could think when you saw him heading to the other SUV. After another confrontation - another public one, at that - you weren’t sure you could handle being pressed leg to leg with him in the backseat. Your words were a looping record in his head as he rode towards Foster. They were about to attempt a hostage negotiation with a man seeing people who weren’t there but all he could think about was that fucking word you refused to drop. 

I’m not questioning your memory, Doctor

You had to be doing this on purpose, he thought. He originally believed this had started because you knew stripping him of his beloved title would cause irritation. Now he suspected you knew how badly he wanted his name in your mouth and this was your way of torturing him. ‘It’s working.’ He thought. God was it working. He agreed with his team, you were perfect for him. You had knowledge to match his, kept him on his toes. One time the start of a ramble slipped through his “I don’t like you” façade and he felt his heart speed up at the genuine interest that roused in your eyes. You wanted to know him and he was an idiot for all the shit he was doing. 

He wasn’t surprised when your strategy worked and Ben Foster was taken into custody. You were the one to talk him down, and if you hadn’t already been accepted to the team, he knew then and there that they needed you. You were flawless. He knew you’d been doing this as long as he had and it showed. He pleaded with himself to stay focused, zeroed in on the weight of the gun in his hand to save face. His mind never left you, though, much like his eyes. This was the expertise you spoke of - no wonder they fought hard to get you here. 

“You were excellent in there.” It was just the two of you now. Even in the dull, flashing police lights, you were breathtaking. “Good job.” He said. Then he walked away because he was on the brink of kissing you and didn’t feel like breaking about 18 workplace rules while at the scene of a crime. You wouldn’t have been complaining if he did.

3.

Every time something like this happened it was difficult to remind yourself that not carrying a weapon was a choice you made willingly. You were currently sitting in the back of an open ambulance, about to be hoisted onto a stretcher and driven to the ER for stitches. You’ve been with the BAU for almost 3 months now and have miraculously managed to avoid injury in that time. This had been one of the easier cases. No chases or clues to follow, just a sick man who left a fairly obvious paper trail. You were the speaker on almost all cases. You were in charge of de-escalating a situation, making sure the bomb didn’t blow. You’ve never carried a weapon, always preferring to take the wounds of a job over using a gun to back up your words. You were a psychiatrist, you wanted to make people better, not vilify them. It worked, usually. People did tend to trust you more when you were unarmed. This time, though, it got you stabbed.

It wasn’t a bad injury, the blood had already stopped and was mildly dry by the time Spencer was joining you. Just one more scar to your collection. It was to the side of your quad, missing any artery by miles and just serving as a pain source at this point. A little numbing and some stitches and you’d be right as rain is what the doctor in the ambulance had said. 

“What happened?” He spoke softly to you. There wasn’t a rivalry between you two, not really. The banter hadn’t stopped, but it changed. It was playful and actually fun now. The both of you weren’t obsessed with outdoing the other anymore. Some casual boastfulness and a budding friendship is where you were at with him currently. 

“I got stabbed.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

He exhaled like he couldn’t comprehend the stupidity of your answer. You laughed at that. One enjoyable pastime you’d picked up in the past month was trying to bewilder him. The EMT said he needed to check the rest of your body for injury despite your protest of such a procedure. It was typical and you knew that, but you held onto the fear of your own body that middle school gave you. There was a man you liked here, and the thought of him seeing the bit of stomach that hung outside the waistline of your pants scared you more than you thought it would. You forced yourself to be rational in spite of this. It was Spencer, you wanted to be seen by him. 

“Holy shit.”

You chuckled at that. You forgot that maybe a warning was in order for the amount of scars that littered your stomach.

“Probably should have told you about those.” There were dozens. You amassed a countless amount of scars over the course of your job. Stab wounds, bullet grazes, burn marks. Unsubs, as much as you tried to empathize, were often violent at the end of the day and usually lashed out before they could be helped. 

He was staring - well, gazing more like. Not like someone stares at a car accident on the freeway but instead how someone stares at the moon - awe. He was in awe of you. Your strength, your courage, the fact that you went through all these individual events and still chose not to arm yourself. Some of these were in places that could have been fatal, and he thanked whatever entity may be listening that you persevered, begged them to continue that streak. He crashed hard into the desire to touch you, to run his hands over what little of your past he could see. He wondered if you would let him. If you’d fit into his palms the way he thought you would - if that was something you even wanted. The EMT was gone by now, having moved to the passenger seat for the ride to the hospital. 

“Could I - " He hesitated for a moment, this was definitely the wrong question to ask. “Can I touch you?”

Your eyes glazed over slightly. Jesus. You felt your lips part a little.

“You want to?” Genuine surprise. You didn’t think you looked particularly desirable in your current state. He wanted to touch your fucking scars. Who does he think he is?

“Please.” He was looking at you in a way you hadn’t seen before. His eyes were glazed over too. You held his eyes as you nodded. The heat was so stifling that you laughed just a little at the tension.

“Fucking hell, Spence.”

Blood shot to his ears when you said his name. It had been well worth the wait to hear you say it like that - breathy and confused and so fucking pretty that he wondered how he ever lived before you said it. 

“Will you tell me about them?” He was breathy too, but he wouldn’t have you here, not like this. He just needed to feel you. 

“I’ll tell you anything you want, Doc.”

His hands were warm. It wouldn’t be the last time you felt them.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #x reader #x chubby reader #x fat reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds x reader #fanfiction #suggestive #spencer reid x chubby reader #spencer reid x fat reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #plus size reader #comet: SR

[starstruck-critter]

guess who got buggified :]

#rain world #rainworld #seven red suns #srs #srs rain world #srs rainworld #rw #my art #they are a comet moth :] #whoever suggested that on the discord know that i love u forever #I POSTED IN THE WRONG BLOG SHAKING AND CRYING #whatever..

[comet-wire]

*Makes my faves chubby/plus sized bc I am chubby too*

Anyways man's is built like a pear in the animation ofc I'm gonna headcanon him as chubby bc I'm chubby.

Will be cross posted on my Instagram @/comet_wire!

DO NOT REPOST, TRACE OR USE WITHOUT ANY PERMISSION. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! Click for better quality!

🦇

#my art #comets/vals art #traditional art #spooky month streber #sr pelo #fanart #spooky month fanart #spooky month 5 #streber #streber fanart #putting in queue so itll deploy later #comet wires art #sketchbook art #spooky month art

[trippygalaxy]

when locky misreads a message and lore is suddenly created <3 /lh /j

@link-or-sherlock

#trippy talks #sacred realm #sr link #☄️comet sherlock☄️

[pegassi-toreador]

Pfister Comet SR

#gta online #gtao #pfister #comet sr #doomsday heist

[starcrossedmoonlet]

(read this like a crappy reddit post /j)

I (17f) was hanging out with my friend James (17m) and we were talking about how awful the schooling system was. I brought him some fudge I just finished making, and he ended up lightly grabbing my hands, exclaiming how cold they were. He made a huge deal over how COLD my hands are, covering them with his own hands like "i need to warm them up or else youre gonna freeze" and stuff. He ALMOST passed up more fudge to hold my hands longer. was he flirting with me????

#comet yuu rambles #/SRS THO #I CANT TELL

[thatdeadaquarius]

That language SAGAU but the Reader can only communicate writing on paper.

Either the Reader is mute and they (characters) don't know/understand sign language or they somehow lost their voices on their transmigration to Teyvat and can only write now. But the characters are left trying to decipher what the Reader wrote.

Examples:

Kaeya: "I may say, that was very unexpected your grace. One such as yourself should be more aware of who you are."

Reader: "wat, y u sayin dat?"

×

Gorou: "Oh, your grace! Careful now. I am most certain that you stepped on something unsightly right now. Let me clean your feet, your grace."

Reader: "r u srs rn? Fml"

Ooooo, this is nice, this is niiccceeee /ref

this would be the energy⬇️

Man I love this show, I gotta finish it (it’s Komi Can’t Communicate for those who want to see it) where she basically is too shy/introverted to speak (non-verbal neurospicy it seems like to me actually lol) and really wants to make friends and do normal things despite not speaking, her main way of communicating is writing (and her first guy friend who can just read her facial/body language really well lmao)!!

☆

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them)

Planet: Headcanons-ish?

Stars: dashes/mention of most characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Reader/”you” are mute/lost their voice, & Trigger Warnings: None Known.

☆

This kinda falls into that post I made abt texting lingo, abt us being nigh incomprehensible when using texting lang. (its basically a code lol)

but i think it’s always neat to see nonverbal rep so here we are (also i think imma go ahead and say it is both selectively mute but also enforced by video game laws!)

u know a good explanation would be for this is actually abt how we technically are only allowed to freely communicate when we’re in chats,

so I could see that still being the only way we can commnicate in Teyvat (look am i little excited abt taking “video game world” a little too literally in every genshin AU ever- maybe.)

tbh i could see so many allogenes having to either learn to make room for you in convos and u also having to get wayyy more expressive in body language/facial expressions

tbh i think itd be pretty easy to get ur meaning, like in a battle or smth fast-paced where u couldnt write, like how Tinker Bell can?

if u dont know what i mean just search “tinkerbell scenes peter pan” on youtube and u can see ppl just having a full conversation with no words with her, which i think would deffo happen with ppl like Kaeya, Lisa, Lumine, Venti, Heizou, Ayato, Yae Miko, Thoma, Beidou and Itto surprisingly i could see it (ppl in the distance just think theyre all talking to themselves sometimes when ur not as visible hehe)

OMG they get u nice gifts for writing all the time, like the newest compact pens from Fontaine, the finest small, medium, and large notebooks from Inazuma,

like a little compact pocketbook so u can easily fit it in pockets!

u know Im absolutely sure you could literally start the texting appreviation trend in Tevyat like this-

like just so it’s easier to communicate with you, a lot of people are willing to adapt/take on abbreviations like “ttyl, gtg, wth, lol, lmao” even stuff like “etc”

lol u start a whole trend in the writing letters business, hehe silly medieval Teyvat is silly and medieval

yknow I think the quieter vision users would definitely find you to be peaceful to be around and easy to understand just with writing (also deffo most likely to adore the soft moments together of just ur pen scribbling and the sounds of nature or a cafe or something around them),

tbh i also think these ppl would be motivated to talk to you alone, or get you away to just talk the two of you for all the reasons above, like Xiao, Aether, Kazuha, Ayaka, Chongyun, Zhongli, Diluc, Sayu, Ei, Sucrose, Eula, Ganyu, Ningguang, Tighnari, Alhaitham omg he might literally be able to take his headphones off around u bc youd be in such quiet spaces all the time, and bc u dont talk he doesn’t have to worry abt u getting loud either lmao

…and then ofc, there’s the bitches that try and guess what ur writing ahead of timeeee 😭

bein all like, “Uh… you.. would like.. to go to… a restaurant… to get some- OH OH I got this one this time! Some pita pockets! …Oh. A drink. Right. Sorry, again.”

definitely Itto, Cyno, Heizou, Xingqiu, Fischl, Amber, Collei, Dehya, Wanderer, Childe, Venti, Keqing (she just used to being fast ok), Kaveh lmao

☆

I hope my reply was a little fun!! THANK U FOR SENDING THIS I LOVE THIS SM!! Man it’s so hard to make you feel my appreciation for this idea thru the damn screen

like how do i send a virtual hug

ANYWAY, if you or anybody else had an idea for celebrating 1000 followers lmk bc i am STRUGGLING with this same issue for that,

like how to make u guys feel my love 😩 ❤️‍🔥

☆

Safe travels ignihideous,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonderss / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

#genshin impact #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin isekai #my asks #genshin impact sagau #gender neutral reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #idk my tags help #also pls if u got follower celebrate things for me to do lmk #genshin imagines

[hauntthenarrative]

Haunting the Narrative Character Roster

Thank you for your patience while we sorted the submissions, and thank you to everyone who submitted! Here’s the final character roster for our tournament!!

The roster is currently in alphabetical order by character name for your convenience; we haven't made the brackets yet! Please check out this media list first if you want to know the media without potential spoilers, and keep these things in mind going forward!

Ai Hoshino (Oshi no Ko)

Alice (Alice Isn’t Dead)

Altan Trengsin (The Poppy War Trilogy by R. F. Kuang)

Andrey Nokolayewich Bolkonsky (Natasha, Pierre, and the Great Comet of 1812)

August (A3! Act! Addict! Actors!)

Ava Ferin (Just Roll With It: Riptide)

Avator Roku (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Ayano Tateyama (Kagerou Project)

Beatrice Baudelaire (A Series of Unfortunate Events)

Caleb Wittebane (The Owl House)

Carmen (Lobotomy Corporation)

Cassandra “Andi” Brand (Glass Onion)

Chara/The Fallen Human (Undertale)

Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen)

December “Dess” Holiday (Deltarune)

Doug Rattmann (Portal)

Dr. Casper Darling (Control)

Falin Touden (Dungeon Meshi)

Gertrude Robinson (The Magnus Archives)

Godot (Waiting for Godot)

Goto’s Girlfriend (Samurai Flamenco)

Gregory Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

Hinawa (Mother 3)

Indou Hikaru (The Summer Hikaru Died)

Iphigenia (The Iliad)

Jackie Taylor (Yellowjackets)

Jason Todd/Red Hood (Batman)

Joe Tazuna (Your Turn to Die)

Jordie Rietveld (Six of Crows Duology by Leigh Bardugo)

Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Despair/Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony)

Kasumi Yoshizawa (Persona 5: Royal)

Kite (Hunter x Hunter)

Klint van Zieks (The Great Ace Attorney)

Lacie Baskerville (Pandora Hearts)

Laura Palmer (Twin Peaks)

Leelathae/Lilyth (Cursed Princess Club)

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance)

Maes Hughes (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Mami Tomoe (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

Mara (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

Mari (Omori)

Maria Robotnik (Sonic)

Maric Theirin (Dragon Age)

Martel Yggdrasil (Tales of Symphonia)

Murata Himeko (Honkai Impact 3rd)

Professor Sada/Professor Turo (Pokémon Scarlet & Violet)

Rebecca de Winter (Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier)

Red-Haired Shanks (One Piece)

Renju Okiura (AI: The Somnium Files)

Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond (Steven Universe)

Rose Thorburn Sr. (Pact: Devils and Details, by J. C. McCrae)

Saki Momose (Kamen Rider Ex-Aid)

Shannon Masters (Warrior Nun)

Shen Jiu/Original Shen Qingqiu (The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System)

Sliver of Straw (Rain World)

Summer Rose (RWBY)

Tadashi Hamada (Big Hero 6)

Ted Kord/Blue Beetle (Booster Gold)

The Oldest Dream (Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint)

The Pale King (Hollow Knight)

The Snail (Zero Escape)

Trisha Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

White Lily Cookie (Cookie Run: Kingdom)

Zack Fair (Final Fantasy VII)

#haunting the narrative tournament #not polls

[murdrdocs]

5K/6K CELEBRATION

first of all, thank you for 5k and for 6k, so close together, too! it seriously means a lot. if you read for my blog, i want to also bring attention to other blogs and works that i like, and sometimes draw inspiration from! really work through this list and these blogs, show everyone here love !! xx

ꕥ represents no smut

ao3

mcu

: ̗̀➛ caroldantop's i could be your favorite girl

¡! ❞ wanda maximoff, babysitting, infidelity, milf!wanda

: ̗̀➛ talklokitome's the chase

¡! ❞ loki laufeyson, sex pollen, asgardian nature, hunter/prey, jotun heat

: ̗̀➛ endlessreverie's luck be a lady

¡! ❞ loki laufeyson, 1960s, vegas casino, loki is "some guy"

: ̗̀➛ con_fection's violence and intimacy are the only universal languages

¡! ❞ james "bucky" barnes, mean!bucky, so much just read it

: ̗̀➛ bellesque's sweet dreams

¡! ❞ loki laufeyson, incubus, creative sex, legit just read it

- ,,

star wars

: ̗̀➛ anon's this is where the fun begins

¡! ❞ anakin skywalker & obi wan kenobi, sharing is caring, voyeur anakin

: ̗̀➛ therealmaxrebo's a practical lesson in patience

¡! ❞ obi wan kebobi, some anakin akywalker, dom!obi wan

: ̗̀➛ laserbrain's exposure.

¡! ❞ anakin skywalker, public sex, possessive anakin

- ,,

detroit: become human

: ̗̀➛ precursor's deviant behavior

¡! ❞ connor, changed my entire life, one of my favorite fics of all time

: ̗̀➛ chaos_thirium's in dreams he came

¡! ❞ connor, incubus, monster fucking

- ,,

misc

: ̗̀➛ tinybluewitch's nothing's gonna hurt you baby

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, angst, slow burn, smut

: ̗̀➛ lettalady's a turn of the knife

I ¡! ❞ hugh "ransom" drysdale, very autumnal

: ̗̀➛ honeycombstrawberry's you are the only one

¡! ❞ adrian chase, fake/pretend relationship, haven't read yet tbh

tumblr

misc

: ̗̀➛ babbushka's poolside

¡! ❞ philip "flip" zimmerman, slightly public sex, protective husband flip

: ̗̀➛ hanasnx's final girl

¡! ❞ anakin skywalker, alternate universe, ghostface!anakin, murder

: ̗̀➛ matchmorphosis' hello, cowgirl

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, inspired me to get cowgirl boots

: ̗̀➛ carmybear's assembly required

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, established relationship, soft!carmy

: ̗̀➛ rassvetsky's carry you away with me

¡! ❞ carmen "carmy" berzatto, needy carmen >

: ̗̀➛ jangofctts's hot venom

¡! ❞ adrian chase, too much to mention, guided my adrian obsession

: ̗̀➛ love-toxin's shadysider sunshine

¡! ❞ tommy slater, one of my all time favorites, shower fucking, normal tommy

: ̗̀➛ keravnous' bathroom b!tch

¡! ❞ tangerine, bathroom sex, semi canon-complicit

nonpoppin's paul atreides works

¡! ❞ inspired me to write a 4k word essay about him

claireunoia's [8:00] mike wheeler

¡! ❞ mike wheeler, literally altered my brain chemistry

- ,,

mcu

: ̗̀➛ inklore's spectral tease

¡! ❞ druig, kept me afloat for months

: ̗̀➛ greenorangevioletgrass' only joy, only anguish

¡! ❞ druig, also kept me afloat for months

: ̗̀➛ silkscream's peter parker works

¡! ❞ just read them. all of them

- ,,

outer banks

: ̗̀➛ gxtitobxby's dark rafe blurb

¡! ❞ rafe cameron, changed my life, tw for dark!rafe and manipulation

: ̗̀➛ idcntlikedarkness's jj works ꕥ

¡! ❞ fueled my budding jj addiction, made me a jj lover, so srs

: ̗̀➛ folkloreslovechild's sweet nothing ꕥ

¡! ❞ soft!rafe cameron !!!, so so cute, literally my ideal scenario

: ̗̀➛ onsunnyside's innocent reader and jj

¡! ❞ jj maybank, drew inspiration from for 'teaching ethan how to kiss', love love love

: ̗̀➛ storiesbound's halley's comet

¡! ❞ rafe cameron, so super soft rafe, changed my life

: ̗̀➛ bettysupremacy's summer girl

¡! ❞ soft!rafe cameron prevails, channeling this when i go to isle of palms,

: ̗̀➛ forevermoreharrington's i looked at you like the stars that shine

¡! ❞ rafe cameron, love rafe begging for forgiveness,

- ,,

stranger things

: ̗̀➛ wtfsteveharrington's tequila & strawberry lip gloss + others

¡! ❞ robin buckley, steve harrington, smut with many feelings

: ̗̀➛ luveline's zombie apocalypse works ꕥ

¡! ❞ steve harrington, alternate universe, so cute

- ,,

scream

: ̗̀➛ slxsherr's feeling like i never should

¡! ❞ charlie walker, kirby reed, opened my eyes to charlie

: ̗̀➛ castieltrash's the devil has come home

¡! ❞ charlie walker, needy virg charlie>

: ̗̀➛ msgorrilagripcoohie's generous, tunnel vision, after hours

¡! ❞ chad meeks-martin, so chad the characterization is so good

blogs

: ̗̀➛ @fleurfairie

: ̗̀➛ @arachine

: ̗̀➛ @idcntlikedarkness

: ̗̀➛ @forevermoreharrington

: ̗̀➛ @neo-novaa

#𓆩♡𓆪 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 𝟱𝗸/𝟲𝗸 #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic recs #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic recs #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson fic recs #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fic recs

[b33p-b00t]

ᴍᴀᴅɪsᴏɴ ɢᴀʀᴄɪᴀ!!

"Una demonio albina que en vida fue hija de un mafioso conocido, Madison era una chica alegre interesada en la moda, pero no pudo cumplir su deseo de ser modelo debido a la vida criminal de su padre…" -Perfil

NOMBRE COMPLETO: Madison Garcia

NACIONALIDAD: Estadounidense

EDAD: 16

ESTATURA: 1.85 cm

PESO: 55 kg

GENERO: Demigirl

ORIENTACION SEXUAL/ROMANTICA: Homosexual

INTERES AMOROSO: Ninguno

FAMILIARES: Madre biologica (apodada "Sra. Garcia") (estado desconocido) Padre biologico (apodado "Sr. Garcia") (estado desconocido) Hermano mayor (fallecido ⚰️)

PERSONALIDAD: Ella es una persona alegre y ruidosa pero aveces suele ser muy insoportable, es amable y cariñosa con la gente que confia pero solo en privado, es facil tener una conversacion con ella.

GUSTOS: Moda Ir a comprar ropa Dinero Accesorios Maquillaje Limpieza Fiestas Hablar/estar con su hermano Su madre

DISGUSTOS: No tener dinero para comprar Suciedad Lugares tranquilos No poder hablar/estar con su hermano Hacer triste a su hermano Su padre

UN POCO DE HISTORIA: Ella nacio y vivio en la guarida de su padre, el cual era un mafioso conocido con varios enemigos, nunca pudo ir a la escuela por lo peligroso que era siquiera salir unos minutos asi que fue educada por su madre en casa, el unico amigo que tuvo fue su hermano mayor, descubrio el mundo de la moda a los seis años cuando se escabuyo en la habitacion de su madre y leyo una de las revistas que tenia en una caja, desde ese entonces, empezo a hacer vestidos con ropa vieja de su hermano y madre. Cuando cumplio los doce años, su padre le empezo a dejar salir en compania de su hermano, el cual la metio en el mundo del alcohol y drogas. A los dieciseis años ella y su hermano fueron dejados solos porque sus padres tenian una reunion que hacer, dos horas despues de que se fueron, el equipo enemigo de su padre entro a la guarida repentinamente y los secuestraron, el equipo enemigo pidio su padre se rinda a cambio de ellos, pero su padre nego su derrota, lo cual termino en que ella y su hermano fueran torturados y asesinados…cuando llegaron al infierno, ella aparecio como una demonio albina asi que la dejaron ir al mundo humano cuando quiera para cometer su deber y llegar al cielo.

OBJETIVO: Quedarse con su hermano en el infierno por la eternidad.

Despues de 12 dias el cual la mayoria no estuve haciendo nada (xd) aqui esta el diseño de White, el proximo va a hacer uno de los chicos

Hare otro post explicando sobre los demonios albinos

@soutenir-les-artistes

#artists on tumblr #digital art #original character #original art #oc art #my ocs #Supporting small artist #soutenir les artistes

[cometkenji]

the warm spot at the bottom of the stairs

Pairing: Ghost!Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!Reader CW: Fluff, Mild Angst, Soulmate AU, reader has dreams, mentions of sex/masturbation, mentions of death, cursing, reader feels like she knows him but they've never met, let me know if I missed anything please! Summary: After inheriting your grandfather's estate, you fall in love with the man from your dreams. He just so happens to be in your house, too. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described aside from the fact that she has hips, a stomach, and legs on her body. WC: 9k (this is what happens when you let a man cook) This fic is genuinely my baby. I love soulmate aus with all my heart and soul and also love the dynamic of falling in love with a ghost. Enjoy this please, I tried <3

You swore the heat radiating off the sidewalk was enough to melt the soles of your shoes down to liquid. The sun was unforgivably angry today, glaring down at the world like it had a score to settle. You were less than thankful, as the death of your grandfather had stolen any desire you once held for warmth. The brutal dichotomy of the cold pit sitting in your stomach and the burning heat of the day only added to the sour taste in your mouth.

This house was fucking huge. 

You had no idea how your grandfather managed to hide such an enormous investment from everyone in his life but he’d managed the task seamlessly. Nobody even knew what he was giving you at first. The reading of the will and testimony left nothing but confused relatives until they had found the address that marked the estate. Some were jealous of you, some were confused, some even asked if they could come live with you once you got settled in. You had been absolutely floored when you learned he’d given you a house. Being fresh out of university, you were moving on to grad school while simultaneously preparing yourself to live with your mother until you could afford anything besides student debt payments. 

Now though, you had a castle, with no clue why a house this big was given to you of all people. You were your grandpa’s only grandchild and were by far one of the least deserving of such a generosity. Sure, you were close, but never abnormally close. You talked once a week on the phone and were glued to his side at family gatherings - but he saw your aunt everyday, and spoke with your mother much more than he ever did you. Was it pity? Maybe he saw this as the only plausible way of you escaping the fate of leeching off your mother. Hopefully he didn’t think of you so lowly. 

You mentally cursed at the dull ache in your legs that persisted even after stretching. You had been driving all day with a car packed full of stuff that needed to be hauled into the house, and only yourself to move said stuff. You said a short plea in your head to not let the pain hinder your speed and began walking into the house to view the inside. The estate was isolated, huge fences of greenery surrounded the place, adding to the pleasant sight of budding flowers throughout the front yard. Even without the towering hedges, though, the nearest neighbor was miles away. Great, you thought. Any concerns of your car being robbed while you were gone were extinguished as quick as they came, but you locked the car regardless. Force of habit. 

The heat was only lessened slightly when you reached the interior. You made a mental note to get the A.C. turned on, no way a temperature like this was a liveable one. You’re sure the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows were the culprit. They were excessive. Beautiful - of course - and you were thrilled at the amount of light they let in, but you could basically see the heatwaves permeating through the stained glass. Your eyes caught on the odd choice. The slightly colored glass making the mansion feel mildly like a church, the thought coming to you quickly and stripping any of the minimal comfort you held moments prior. That’s weird, you thought. Your grandpa had never been particularly religious. He was a man of faith - said grace before dinner and thanked Jesus for every day he lived, but never to this extent. He was rather progressive for a man his age.

The kitchen could have easily fit a team of 12 and you wondered if there had been staff at one point. There was no sign of any employees, and you prayed there weren’t any left working. The last thing you wanted was more responsibility in your life. You took your time walking the house, marveling at every painting and polished chandelier that was now an asset of yours. The house was gorgeous, you’d give at least that much to the old man. The centerpiece, of course, was the large spiral staircase leading to the second floor. As large as the house was, it held only two stories. Getting it’s square footage from length, rather than width. It was equally as glamorous as the house it resided in, however it filled you with a certain devastation you couldn’t place. As though your most primal self rejected the idea of it. That’s silly, you thought. You wanted to go upstairs, you were definitely not avoiding half of your house because a couple of your neck hairs stood at attention. The only real peculiarity was the heat pooling at the very bottom of the staircase. The kind of heat that seemed to thread itself into you, intertwine itself with your very being. The rest of the house was cold and accusatory, if your grandfather ever did live here, any of his warmth was flushed out by his death. This was the only spot in the whole house you felt calm, cared for. You could bask in it, weirdly fascinated with the little pocket of humanity that sat there. 

It was more difficult than you’d expected to pull yourself out of it, and you could have sworn you felt arms trying to pull you back in. Ten minutes into your new life and you were already on edge. Negative feelings didn’t seem to penetrate the spot at the bottom of the stairs, so you physically felt the wave of unease when it struck you upon exiting. The upstairs was creepy. The abundance of windows was apparently only a trend on the first floor, as the second floor held dark, dim hallways. The whole thing, it seemed, was lit up by ancient lamps that lined the walls. It reminded you of the Shining, and you wondered briefly if maybe your mother would let you move back in. There was a bedroom right near the staircase, and you decided it would be yours. It could have been the smallest one for all you knew, the only thing you cared about was a quick escape if such a thing was needed. Something about the house put thoughts like that at the front of your mind. 

You don’t recall ever being a paranoid person, nor a believer in the supernatural, but this house was watching you. The feeling of eyes on you was simply too strong to write off. What a warm welcome. 

—

It had been a week, but the nights so far had been sleepless ones. The people you called on day one were just now getting around to starting the A.C. so you were hoping for a decent rest tonight. The fridge was stocked, your things mainly unpacked, and the house started feeling a little more like you with each day. Although, your friends were more or less convinced there was a ghost living with you. You spoke of the feelings you had, plus the fact it was an old and mildly creepy house, and they were off and running with theories. One of the tamer ones consisted of the house being an old church - given the windows - and that the eyes you were feeling were perhaps an old priest who died here. You were less than fond of that idea, but you would take it any day to the other propositions of old mental hospitals and certain death. You made a mental note to never again let your friends speculate on situations you couldn’t get out of.

You argued that a malevolent spirit wouldn’t invoke such a comforting sense within you. You felt watched - yes - but it wasn’t as though you felt stalked. It was much worse, actually, you felt lonely. Loneliness was never a battle you fought very hard in. You had hobbies, and you had friends. The desire for a romantic companion usually took the back burner if it was even a thought at all. People questioned the topic - you were pretty, smart, capable - what more could somebody want? They asked if you were insecure, if you liked girls, told you that you were wasting your “prime years” and needed to find someone - but it was never that simple. You just didn’t get it. The feelings others spoke of were unfamiliar ones to you. You held your breath for a long time before realizing that it probably just wasn’t for you, that you were built a little differently.

Needless to say, you were uncomfortable with the sudden sensation. It felt like seeing the moon in a glass jar - something unfathomably beautiful but something you were unable to hold. Lord knows it wasn’t from a lack of desire, though. You’re sure you reeked of longing, able to suppress the lot of it but unable to stop some from slipping through the cracks of your fingers. And with no obvious direction to cast it, it just clung to you and seeped back into your skin. 

–

“No, dude, I’m telling you shit’s fucking weird.” You shoveled popcorn into your mouth as you spoke with your friend. This was the third call since you moved in. “Every night I wake up at like two in the morning and just for a split second I feel it. It’s like I'm lying on someone’s shoulder or something. And - oh my god - the amount of times I get stuck in that fucking warm spot on the stairs is gonna drive me crazy.” 

You could hear her laughing at your frustration on the other end. “What do you mean you get stuck? Y/n I'm getting worried about your mental state.” 

“No I’m telling you, I walk in this one - like - warm spot and I enter some kind of trance. Like I want to leave but I can’t - Jesus!”

“Are you alright?” Your friend was quick to ask, hearing you cut yourself off mid sentence. 

“No! This shit is haunted I swear. My kitchen lights just turned off for no reason. If I die here I’m blaming you and Kelly for not getting me out.” You were being dramatic, you knew that, but it was starting to feel justified. You don’t remember a time in the last week you felt truly by yourself.

“Hey don’t blame us for your own choi-” She started speaking, but you lost her. 

“Hello? You there?” You tried calling her again but the usual buzz of the dial tone was dead silent, the lamps that were illuminating the house followed soon after. Phone lines were the first to go in a power outing. No fucking way the power just went out. You felt around in the dark for the drawer of the end table. There had been a flashlight on the counter when you’d first arrived. You threw it in the end table because you had no clue why it was there - you were thanking God you’d done so while also praying the thing had batteries in it. You wrapped your hand around the object and said one more plea to the stars you wouldn’t have to be without light until tomorrow. Somebody must have been listening, as the room lit up when you hit the ‘on’ switch of the flashlight. 

You’d seen the fuse box towards the south end of the upstairs hallway, sitting between a Da Vinci replica and a mirror taken straight from a movie star's wet dream. I’m gonna die was the only thing you could think at a moment like this. You were for sure going to see glowing red eyes at the end of the hall and die a horrific and bloody death. Thanks grandpa. The warm spot was a welcome refuge from your journey to certain death, and you embraced the sense of  peace it brought you at a time when your heart was surely beating too fast. You held the light in front of you as you ventured up the stairs. The top of them seemed cartoonishly haunting, you thought momentarily that you would fit perfectly into a Scooby Doo episode. It was vast and dark, having multiple pathways you could walk down, but you set your sights on the south hall and did your best to disable your peripheral vision. It was right there. You just had to reset the power and you’d have your precious light back. Who puts a fucking mirror above a fuse box? 

You held the flashlight between your teeth as you focused on your task. Open and reset. Open and reset. It was truly as simple as that and then you could be done. Go watch a midnight rerun on TV and pray that the spirits would leave you alone. Open and reset. The switches were flipped off - you didn’t think that was normal but what did you know - so you flipped them back on and heard the hum of life returning to the house. Thank God. Your nerves dissipated almost immediately. You were alright, no ghost had it out for you. It’s an old house, and would probably experience things like this a lot. You could do that again if you had to. You looked up, though, and ate your words. There was definitely a man behind you. If you had been trying to look at him, you would have seen he was young, tall. You probably would have thought he was attractive, but you had no time for that. You whirled around, yelping at the sight of him and mentally preparing to defend your life. It proved futile though, he was gone as quickly as he came. There was nowhere he could have gone that fast, so as much as you were certain he was there, you settled for him being imaginary. It was dark upstairs, and you were scared out of your mind. Surely your eyes were overcompensating for the paranoia that was racing through you. You walked back to the couch on guard and decided to call your friend back tomorrow. It was nearly twelve, and you knew she had work tomorrow. You could cope using TV and proper lighting to comfort you until sunrise. What’s one more sleepless night?

“You boys let me know if you need anything.” You heard the words in your own voice as if listening to a stranger. 

“Sure thing, doll.” All the men were in uniform. Gray fabric covered their bodies, adorned with hats of the same color. Soldiers.

You walked back behind the front counter as the bell above the door continuously chimed at the arrival of new guests. Orders were being shouted to the cooks. You stared at the bold letters painted on the large graffiti piece decorating the wall, “Cathy’s Cooking.” A greasy apron covered the light blue dress beneath it - waitress attire. The smell of fried eggs clashed hard with the scent of sanitizer you were using to wipe down the counter. Bells rang to signal orders were ready to be taken out to guests, and you discarded the rag you used to mop up spilled coffee. 

“Thanks, Benny.” You nodded to the chef as you took the food plates to table two. He nodded back at you before returning to flipping bacon. 

“L/N!” Your manager barked at you. “Take your break. Be back in thirty.” He was a friendly man, though he got a bit hostile under pressure. 

You couldn’t be more thankful for the break. It was hour 6 of your shift and you were beginning to think he might never let you off. You removed the apron as quick as possible and excused yourself out the back entrance to cool off in the alley way. It got hot as hell during rush hour, so the way the slight breeze nipped your cheeks felt like heaven. 

“Tough shift?”

“Jesus!”

He started laughing as you startled, turning to face him. “‘Fraid it’s just me, honey.” He walked towards you as you grinned at him.

“You scared me, Spence.” 

He shook his head, mocking you. “I’m so sorry.” Drama queen. “How ever will I make it up to you?”

You giggled at that, and wrapped your arms around his neck as he got closer. He put his hands on your hips, leaning you against the brick wall of the alley. You could feel your lungs open up when he kissed you, always feeling like you could breathe better when his lips were on yours. He was your God given destresser. He still donned his uniform but had opted for taking the hat off, he knew you hated when his hair was hidden.

“That’s not very nice, Reid. I thought you were a gentleman. What would your boys think of you being so mean to a lady?”

He smiled a bit at that. “You like when I’m a little mean, Y/N.” 

Fuck. He had you there. 

You looked to the side for a second to snuff out some of the tension. “How long are you here for?”

“We’re in town for two weeks. Gotta catch a boat up to base 14 on the 20th. Supposedly they’re preparing for a big fight.”

You frowned as you made eye contact with him.“I get so worried about you. About all of you. I don’t know what I’d do if - you know if something happened.” He’d been a soldier for a little while now, joining when he turned 18. He’d kept his hands on your hips, and you started to run your hands through his hair, a nervous habit you picked up when the two of you first got together.

“I know, honey. But by the time it’s done I’ll be off my leash. I do this and we can run away together.”

You looked at him the way you always did - with such admiration and love that he often had to look away before it went to his head. He swore he looked at you the same, but you knew deep down nobody could love anyone as much as you loved him. You laughed a bit at the elation you got from just his presence. 

“I got lucky with you, Reid.”

He just shook his head. “Give yourself more credit, L/n.”

Your consciousness hit you like a truck and you realized before long that sun was shining through the windows. You’d fallen asleep sometime between ultimate terror and fleeting hope of your survival. And that dream - dear lord what the fuck was that dream. It was more vivid than you thought possible. You always forget most of your dreams when you wake up, but this time it felt like forgetting would be a betrayal. You could recall word for word every single thing about that dream. It was as though you saw a movie of your own life. A feeling so familiar you could taste it but just far enough to escape your grasp - and boy were you reaching. Not to mention the man. You didn’t know if this was some sort of coping mechanism you were inventing in your head but that was definitely the same man from the mirror last night. An imaginary friend. You had an imaginary friend as a grown woman. Terrific. 

–

“You’re never going to attract a suiter with such a tragic expression, my dear.” This had to be the third time your mother had roused this point in the past hour. 

“These dances are dreadful, idiotic nights of captivity that do nothing but mock the existence of genuine companionship.” The irony of you saying this while patting your cheeks with rose pigment was not lost on you. “Let me scrub myself raw and willingly restrain myself in hopes a man will see me and fall in love.” You spat out the last word with enough vitriol to hopefully drown yourself in. “Maybe he’ll like me so much he’ll lay claim and I can live on to be his housewife and half a person. How I've always dreamed of letting a man decide how much value I have.” You were flustered by the end of your spiel, looking at your mother through the large vanity with the tentative hope of a child asking for sweets. 

“You read too much, darling. Those little romance books of yours are nothing but nonsense.” She was a professional at writing you off by now. “You know plenty of women who are perfectly satisfied with their lives. This is how we do things, Y/n. I don’t understand why you insist on fighting it so intently.” 

She was never truly angry at your defiance, only tired. You could never tell if she was tired of you complaining or if she, like you, was tired of living this way. Your mother had married young - even for the times - and you knew your father left much to be desired in her life. They were basically repulsed by each other, only joining in union to produce a child. Your mother had been thrilled to have a daughter. Your father would trade you if he could, but he made do. The ultimate lack of affection between the two of them made you ill. You weren’t much older than your mother had been, you could very well end up trapped and child-bound in a loveless marriage.

“I would rather die alone than end up with my father.” You spoke, she sighed. 

“I know.”

You stared at her through the mirror for a moment longer, then you rose from your chair. Your makeup was done, your look now complete. You noticed your mother’s eyes start to well up at the sight of you and she started to walk closer. 

“My beautiful girl.” She smiled, forbidding the tears to venture down her cheeks, and held your shoulders. “You deserve a man who will worship you. Your future husband will be the luckiest man on planet Earth.” A gentle prompt, but a prompt nonetheless. You knew she loved you, but she carried more shame as you got older. Having only a daughter was something frowned upon, but having only a daughter hellbent on avoiding marriage was something that weighed on her. 

“I’ll see you in the carriage.” Then she was gone, kissing your cheek and taking her exit to go talk with the director of the communal ride. Carriage was being generous, it was more like a one-way wagon to the local suiter’s ball. You watched her leave with a sense of grief so intense it nearly toppled you. She deserved a man like that too. 

-

This was your third ball of the month. The pool of potential partners diminished with each one. People would often take whatever they could get, meaning less and less people even needed these nights anymore. You walked in with your mother, hand resting gently in the crook of her extended elbow. Your father stopped attending with the two of you a while ago. You believed he’d given up hope of a man ever choosing you - Lord knows he wouldn’t. Scanning the crowd, you saw little to look forward to. The music was pleasant, you would dance with a couple men who seemed bearable at best and criminal at worst, indulge in some of the enticing pastries and teas, and then you would leave. Back home until your mother dragged you out the following week for another one. With your current rate, you assumed you would end up marrying the vagabond that perused your neighboring streets. Taking another look around, you thought you might prefer that. 

You made your temporary home in a corner chair, letting your mother excitedly drag prospects up to you and watch dejectedly as they ruled you out as an option. You felt bad for her, considered caving in and finding a man to give you a child, but you remember swiftly how long the years take to pass when you’re miserable. The chair gave you a good view of the room, you could see the entrance and the dancefloor filled with enticing women waiting for men to notice them. You could feel the sweat start slicking your skin beneath the corset you wore. It was too hot in here. 

If you hadn’t been so determined to ignore the occasional advances of bored men, you would have missed the small group entering the area. Two women and two men, you wondered briefly if it was two couples, but discarded that thought. This wasn’t a place for couples. You felt your heart physically lurch at the sight of the last man in the row of four, as though your heart was running to greet an old friend. Had you seen him before? Surely you would have remembered such a visceral reaction. You averted your eyes before he could notice you. You don’t remember ever wanting to be noticed by a man - especially not this badly. You allowed yourself the escape of your own thoughts, getting lost in your head to pass the time and focus on anything other than what was probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

You looked up, he was standing above you. The chair next to you had been taken all night, the same woman had been sulking in her seat, and you found comfort in the fact someone else was unhappy to be here. She was gone now. Someone was definitely messing with you. 

“Not at all.”

Your mouth was drier than it had ever been. You wondered if your lips remained stained from the color you applied earlier. You’d done nothing but sit all night and yet you were praying nothing had happened to your makeup. 

“Why are you alone in a corner?” 

“Men tend to be repulsed by my pessimism. I also happen to hate it here. Serves for a less than desirable combination.” You refused to let your sudden attraction diminish your stubbornness. You hated the self-consciousness racing through you, no man had the right to take your assurance in yourself. 

“Why do you hate it here?” He wasn’t being mocking. He seemed - genuinely - a little sad at the thought of you being unhappy. 

“Well, sir, I am of the belief that these dances are nothing but congregations of people settling for lives that won’t make them happy. They trade excitement for safety as though the presence of security has to mean the presence of misery. I don’t think anyone can know the true meaning of love in our current state as a society.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke, instead staring out at the people dancing. “I hold no desire to settle. I am capable of making happiness on my own. Most men don’t like the thought of me not needing them.” 

You were almost positive you lost him. You were betting on him not being there when you looked, preparing yourself to bite the bullet and cope with tonight’s losses. Maybe your mother would agree to leave early. 

You heard him chuckle softly. “Sir.” He repeated your words, finding humor in the formality. “My name’s Spencer.” He added. “And I also happen to hate the purpose of these events. I’ve never actually been to one before, but I’m new to the city, and something about tonight was begging me to come out.” 

You were absolutely bewitched by him. “I’m Y/n.”

“Fitting.” He smiled, a smile directed at his own thoughts, as though something in his mind had clicked. “Will you dance with me?”

The music had slowed severely. You scoffed at his proposal, but you were taking his hand as if you’d been waiting on this. Maybe you had been. You were grateful for the ballad that was playing, never having been one for upbeat dancing. He led you gracefully, and for once you felt yourself relinquish power. With a mind like yours, a man’s company was almost never wanted. With this one, though, you laid your heart at his feet as if you’d done so a dozen times before. The heat of his hands was seeping through your dress, and his eyes were locked with yours. 

“I feel like I know you.” A confession. He had an effect like that.  

“Maybe you do.” 

–

Two in the morning. Everyday you’d woken up at two in the morning from a different dream involving the mysterious ‘Spencer Reid’. You friends had kindly dubbed him the “Man of your dreams” following the stories you told them. You’d been a housewife, trying to welcome him home from work before he laid you down and made an altar of your dining table.You’d been the daughter of a king, at one point, falling in love with his favored knight. Shamefully, that one haunted you. Reappearing in your mind during intimate times when you needed a spark. You’d never been one for desire either. When your friends started preaching the wonders of sex to you during your highschool days, you felt no pull towards the act. Just another it you didn’t understand. Now, though, this house served as an aphrodisiac. You lost count of your streak by day 13, and were now just begging whoever put this apparition in your home for the strength to keep your hand out of your pants. 

Spencer had become more like a roommate rather than an unwanted guest. You saw him in most reflective surfaces around the house. You felt him everywhere. He sat at the table with you, watched TV with you, he would wait by the door when you got home from work. Sometimes, your hand or your shoulder would run hot. Physically hot, like he was putting his hands on you. You wondered if he was around during those times, but if he was there he made sure you didn’t know it. You were gaining a sort of intuition for him. The thought Spencer would like that struck you numerous times when you were window shopping or when you tried on an outfit. You were starting to think maybe you were just crazy. Perhaps a ghost who seemed to be your soulmate and made you incredibly horny was how all psychotic breaks started. 

Weirdly, through your bizarre dreams and inconsistent sleeping patterns, this was the most well rested you’d felt in a while. Waking up at two am was routine now, sometimes you managed to fall back asleep afterwards but most times you were up dwelling on the images your mind had shown you that night. You thought maybe your body was just adjusting - surely it was nothing supernatural giving you energy - just the adaptivity of the human brain. One persistent thing you couldn’t adapt to, though, was how much you missed him. The increasing number of times you woke up to being the only occupant of your bed was starting to wear you down. You feel like you’d spent lifetimes with this man and yet he was someone you never knew. You'd seen the two of you fall in love countless different ways except the one that actually counted - the present. 

“I genuinely don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Another phone call, another conversation about your rapidly declining mental state. “I have fallen in love with a figment of my own imagination. Surely this is some demented form of narcissism.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Y/n.” Your friend was terrible at comforting people. It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t been fully honest with her about the severity of your situation. From where she was standing, you had learned to lucid dream and now that was bleeding mildly into your real life. Not the biggest deal, maybe you were just lonely. 

“It’s a ghost, dude, I’m fucking telling you. There’s no way I’m imaginative enough to conjure all this shit up.” 

“You know his name right? Go down to the library and look him up. If he’s a ghost then surely there’ll be something to find.”

Holy shit. She was a genius. “Oh my God you’re so smart. I love you. You just saved my life. You’re God’s gift to the planet. Who would I be witho-”

“Jesus Christ will you just go? Stop kissing my ass and start driving. I want details when you get back.” 

You don’t know if you’ve ever been so eager to get to the library of all places. If you could snag a computer spot then you could put an end to all of this. He wasn’t real, realistically you knew that, but you had a fool-proof way to check. If he was real you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you could see dead people. Well, a dead person. You had never seen any before Spencer. You’d never seen Spencer either, not before the house at least. They say you can’t make up faces, that if you see someone in a dream then you’ve seen them in real life but you were incredibly doubtful of that by now.

Spencer Reid. Thankfully the man didn’t have a particularly common name. You hoped there would be limited matches, less to look through. Pretty soon you could accept your own mental insanity and maybe ask your mother to spot you for some therapy. Well, moment of truth. You watched each letter be typed in with baited breath until his full name was in the search bar. Even just looking at his name brought that sense of calm. You were hopeless. Until, apparently, you weren’t. 

Brilliant Dr. Reid dead at 26

Former FBI agent Spencer Reid found dead in his home

Spencer Reid co-workers speak out on his legacy. Where to go from here?

You scoured every article you could find, analyzing every pixel of every image available. This was your guy. Same Spencer Reid from your dreams. Same Spencer Reid that stands behind you in every mirror of the house. Holy shit who was this guy? He was a little older than you, died last year in the summertime. Each article painted a brutal picture of his death, speculating on how the doctor died but never comfirming anything. Only that he was dead when paramedics got there, the sight of his covered body being extracted from his home was one that would stick with you. His home. It was the same house you were living in. It’s possible your grandfather was renting it out. That’s probably why nobody ever knew about it - he wasn’t living there. You didn’t know when water started pooling in your eyes, you only realized them as they started falling down your cheeks. You didn’t even know him. You didn’t even know him but you felt like someone just sucker punched you and were about 60% sure your lunch was coming back up. Jesus. 

There was no way you could tell your friends about this. The majority of your brain was pleading with you to rationalize this. Maybe you’d seen one of the articles before. Maybe your grandpa talked about him. Holy shit he had known your grandpa. Every individual thought you had was identifiable and that was far too overwhelming for your brain to handle. You signed out of the computer and went to go sit in your car. Could you even drive like this? Your hands were shaking so bad there was a good chance you’d crash the car before you got home. It’s twenty minutes, you thought. You had to go back. Staying away from the house any longer felt like a punishment. You can make it twenty minutes.

–

“No, no. Like I said it was just some old guy who wrote a book. No sign of my Spencer.” You were lying straight through your teeth. You figured it didn’t truly matter. If you sat here and told the entire story of finding exactly who you were looking for online, you think she’d have checked you into a facility. 

“Maybe if you believe hard enough you can manifest him.” 

“Wow you’re hilarious. Remind me again how I ever lived my life without such a humorous presence.”

“I question that same thing everyday, Y/n.” You could hear the smile embedded in her words.

“I’ll let you go. I know Dylan is probably waiting on you. Thanks for checking up on the Spencer chronicles.” You felt slightly bad. She was on her honeymoon currently, and instead of spending time with her new husband, she was listening to your stories of fraternizing with a ghost. 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sure it’s weird as hell. Call me up if you need to, yeah? Hotel has unlimited calls so I can talk all night if you need to.” She was an angel in this world.

“Thanks, same goes here. If you get sick of your husband you know where to find me. Remember to use protection.” 

“Alright, nevermind. You may suffer by yourself for all I care.” She laughed while she threatened you.

“Bye, honey. Love you.” You should have felt alone, but you never did. He was most likely here with you. 

The exhaustion had well and truly crept up on you. You planned on getting home and calling your friend immediately, but you ended up needing a good few hours to cry and pace around the house. You weren’t scared - it was essentially the opposite. The complete lack of fear bred so much confusion that you didn’t know how to cope with the amount of frustration on your shoulders. You paced the house hoping to find him. You wanted to be near him. You harbored the immature hope that knowing who he was would grant you the ability to see him. Did you even know who he was? He was a doctor, an agent, but who was he to you? Is that what you needed to know in order to see him?

Now, sitting on your bed, you felt like you’d been through the ringer. The mental gymnastics of the day weighing heavily on your body. You needed to go to sleep. You wanted to go to sleep. In the last week or so you’d noticed a certain excitement regarding the promise of another tale, another dream. They were so extravagant, not even in the details of them, just in the consistency of pure emotion. You could have been fighting dragons or sitting on the porch in rocking chairs. If he was by your side, there was always this certain euphoria surrounding the two of you. A feeling reserved just for you and him. God you missed him.

– 

You woke up slowly to a familiar bed beneath you, this was your house. The window was open, curtains blowing cautiously as the mild chill of the Fall breeze wafted in and dusted over your collarbones. It wasn’t this cold last night. You felt the breeze again on your whole body, and realized you were lying naked on top of the ruffled comforter. Had he pulled the blanket off you?

“Are you cold? I didn’t think to shut the window when I got up. I was kind of rushing to get my stuff.” You noticed then that he was sat behind a canvas, angled so he could glance between you and the task at hand with ease. He noticed you furrow your eyebrows, and even managed to catch the minuscule tense of your muscles as you prepared to sit up.

“Stay still for me, honey. I’m almost done.” He was adding feather-light brushstrokes to the piece, a finishing touch of his you now recognized from watching him paint so much. 

“This isn’t a very good pose, Spence. You know I’m not the most photogenic.” You referred to the fact you had been sleeping as he painted, limbs not organized and environment chaotic. Notoriously unfavored things by the man. Maybe he was hoping to capture a candid version of you. 

He exhaled a laugh. “How rich coming from you.” His lips quirked upward as he continued adding touch-ups to his art. “Something about you this morning…I don’t know.” He shook his head like he was talking to himself rather than you. “You just looked…mesmerizing.” He shrugged, brushing off the sentiment. “Felt wrong to just look at you.”

Dumbfounded was the only word you could think to describe yourself. He’d painted you before, mainly from the neck up for practice with faces, but this was different terrain. You were nervous to see the piece. You thought of your hips, your stomach, your legs. A silhouette he’d sworn time and time again was worthy of worship. One he wanted to treasure. You hoped you’d see a glimpse of yourself through his lens, hoped all that adoration would show on the canvas. Once he was finished with it, he turned it so you could see. It was breathtaking. His talent never failed to leave you speechless. 

“I feel like I should be paying for this.” You joked, but still felt as though something should be given in return. He stood from his stool and joined you on the bed.

“I assure you, I’m well compensated.” Your face ran hot. “Can I hang it?”

“Spence, I’m naked-”

“Not downstairs, Y/n.” He chuckled. “I’d put it there.” He nodded to a vacant wall space on the right side of the room, entirely visible from his side of the bed. 

“You want me watching you sleep, Reid?” 

He grinned at you, shaking his head slightly at your remark. “Just wanna be able to see you.” He held your eyes. “I’m hoping looking at you before I go to sleep will give me good dreams.” You hummed in sarcastic agreement, your gaze falling soft a moment later.

“You can if you want to.” He looked relieved. 

“Thanks, honey.” He looked stunning in the morning light. The sun hadn’t risen too long ago, and he was only covered partially by a pair of joggers. He was practically luminous, the bare skin of his chest looking golden in the sunlight. You stuck your hands out to feel him, and you felt as though you were trying to touch heaven itself. He leaned down to be closer to you, he always said you felt magnetic. 

“You should let me paint you like this more often.” 

“Is that right?”

“Mhm”

And, just like before, you could breathe again when he kissed you. Truly breathe. It was times like these when he felt like your oxygen, like pulling away should be sin. Lord knows you would suffer any version of Hell for him. 

–

Your frustration seemed to have doubled in your sleep. Two am. You were gonna find that fucking painting. It wasn’t in the spot he left it - you would have noticed a giant painting of yourself naked on the walls, but you double checked to be sure. You threw up every light switch you came across and started scavenging through the upstairs. There was a certain tug in your body - when you didn’t find it in a room, you knew it wasn’t there, something internal telling you to look elsewhere. It was only when you were halfway done with the downstairs raid that you remembered the storage room. You’d found it when you first moved in, a room full of dust and white tarps covering furniture and other indecipherable shapes. It had to be in there.

You wrecked havoc on the tiny room. Tearing off layers of fabric quickly, leaving little thought to where you were throwing them, completely tunnel visioned on finding the painting. You came across a covered square the same size as the canvas had been. It was coated in so much dust that the covering looked ancient, and you were begging any conceivable being to be merciful, to let you have at least this if you couldn’t have him. You unveiled the shape to find the same vibrant pigments you’d seen just hours before. It was you, draped over the comforter and basking in the hue of the morning. This was it, you thought. Holy shit this is real. You had no grounds to deny this anymore. Spencer was a real guy, clearly he’d died in this house and clearly the two of you had lived enough lives together to fill months of sleepless nights with. 

What did this mean for you? Were you a clone? Were you and Spencer both clones? Were you living in a simulated reality and all of this was actually a ruse calculated to induce reactions in the brain that could then be studied? Oh my god - were you a ghost too? Had you died and were now stuck in some form of purgatory?

You felt sick with it. You didn’t know you were capable of bearing such intense metaphorical weight. You needed to see him. Maybe if you went to sleep, you would realize you were having a dream and could figure some things out. That’s so stupid. You mentally scolded yourself for even thinking of such a dumb idea. You needed to speak with him. You needed him to tell you what was going on. Of course him and everyone in your life who could have known him were six feet deep. A seance, maybe? Perhaps  just buy a ouija board and wing it. You’d seen the most of him when you were asleep, that had to be the key to figuring this out. Please dear god let it be the key to figuring this out. You took the painting and headed back upstairs. Maybe it could serve as a medium, you thought. That’s a thing, right?

You don’t think your bed had ever seemed so uninviting. You remember how grateful you’d been to finally sleep on your first day here. It was a pain in the ass hauling a mattress up a spiral staircase and the moment you realized you were done was a relief to say the least. Now you stared at it and your mouth ran dry. What if this didn’t work? What did you even want to happen? Were you going to rummage through your dreams and play detective to piece together what might have happened in your past? No degree of mental antagonizing could push you off course by now. He was real. You know he’d been a real man, and surely the painting of you meant you’d known him as something other than a ghost. You were simply praying this would work out how you wanted. You needed a semblance of closure, even just a small one.

–

The room was dark, making you double check if you opened your eyes in the first place. You hadn’t had a dream. This was the first time in months you had fallen asleep and woken up without having lived a different life. You felt tears forming in your eyes. The disappointment you felt was so immeasurable that your brain practically short circuited trying to find a way to process it. You knew it was a long shot for everything to be fixed overnight, but you’d expected something. Like he was reading your mind, the bed dipped down, him now occupying the space next to you in bed. 

You were worried your head might fall off your neck with how quickly you turned to look at him. The moonlight came beaming in through the window, like she was your secret ally, giving you enough light to finish your battle. It lit him up, practically shining through him like it would a crystal. He was ethereal. You stared into the same brown eyes you’d been looking into for months and felt your resolve give way from within you. You could have looked at him forever, you wanted to look at him forever, but you crashed hard into him. You would have fused your soul to his at that very moment if you were able to. Nobody had ever drawn out such a reaction - you needed to feel him. It was the proof you had been begging for, he was here, he was tangible. You could finally know what it all meant. 

You felt his chest jolt as he chuckled at you. “I missed you.” You could hear the smile in his words. 

Choking on a sob, you spoke your response so quietly you could barely hear yourself. “What the fuck is going on?” You knew tears were probably soaking through his shirt but he just held you against him. “Please tell me you know what’s happening.” You were muttering your words quickly, sharply inhaling between your sentences as air refused to stay in your lungs.

He ran his hand up and down the length of your forearm, a motion so familiar and so comforting you’re sure your knees would have buckled if you weren’t lying down. “Just relax, honey. I can explain everything, ok? I just need you to breathe right now.”

It was hard to maintain your oxygen through the sobs begging to get out of your chest but you were nothing if not stubborn. You needed an explanation. If that was his condition then so be it. You took a deep breath, regaining your ability to inhale and exhale at a regular pace. You could see the room better now having been awake in the dark for a while, so you tried to focus on anything that might help. The painting. You stared holes into that thing and forced your breathing to even out. 

“I was really proud of that one.” His words held an instinctual twinge of fondness, still smiling as he spoke. Like now that he had you, he could describe any horror of the world and still be happy with you in his arms. He looked back at you, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “You seem to get prettier with every lifetime.”

Even as the overwhelming confusion wrecked your brain, your body was completely in tune with him. Warmth seemed to spring to life in your stomach, his words bypassing any guards you had to root themselves within you. He regarded the situation so lightly, so casually. He wasn’t worried about slipping away, or running out of time. He would have given you a decade to calm down if you needed it. He seemed content with just calling you pretty, as though he’d waited a century to touch you again. 

“My dreams, were they -” You paused. You didn’t even know what to ask him. “What were my dreams?” Were they real?

He took a moment to just stare at you. The smallest, knowing smile on his face and a look of pure adoration in his eyes. He knew what you were asking. “They were us.” Fucking obviously. If you were any more on the edge of your seat you would fall off. “All the lives we’ve lived together.” Jesus.

“How long ago-”

“Two thousand years, 5 months, 27 days, and-” he leaned up slightly to check the clock “14 hours.” Giving you the cutest tight-lipped smile when he finished talking like he didn’t just say you’d been in love for two millennia. 

“So we’re soul mates?”

“Essentially.” He nodded. ‘Soulmates’ was close enough. 

“But - is everyone like this, then?” Did all your friends have this too? Everyone in the world? “Everyone has a soulmate?” Your friend’s on her honeymoon right now. 

He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, no. It’s just us.” What was so special about the two of you? “For all I know of at least. Your uh…your husband-” He hesitated for just a second, fingers digging into your skin just a fraction harder. “He found out about us. Had his mother cast a spell. He thought he was punishing us, I think. Figured we’d get sick of it after a while. Poor guy, all he did was condemn us to eternity together.” He held no genuine pity for the guy, more amusement at the thought of his plan actually succeeding. 

“How long have you been here?” You hadn’t bothered to check when the articles were from, too busy trying to keep your head on straight to look for the publication date. 

“A year.” A year of him alone in this house. God, you couldn’t even imagine. “I started having dreams of you. Everyday I just felt, like, something pulling me away from where I was. I knew your grandfather from an old case I worked and everything just seemed to happen.” He reminisced fondly, like the memory didn’t hurt him. “I don’t even really know how I died. I just remember having a party one night, and how the hallway looked from the bottom of the stairs.” Oh my God the warm spot.

“When you moved in I was thrilled but - fuck, honey, it was torture.” He delivered the line like it was a joke but his eyes were watering. “I couldn’t talk to you, I couldn’t help you - I couldn’t fucking touch you and it was unbearable.” His hands hadn’t left you since you woke up. Making up for lost time, you guessed. There was one question you were brutally aware of, something that persisted in your head even as you tried to enjoy the moment. 

“Why can I see you now, then?”

He sighed, so full of devastation that it was clear he’d been preparing for this. “You can’t.”

“What?”

“You’ve seen all our lives, Y/n. This is the only one left.” He was so delicate in his explanations. His palms soothing over your face as if trying to physically soothe the sting of his words.

“Wait what does that-” What was he talking about? “I don’t understand.”

“To be honest, I don’t really understand it either.” He exhaled at his own ignorance, the words unfamiliar in his mouth. “For the first time, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when you wake up.”

“Wake up? What do you mean wake up - Spence I’m awake.” You held onto his wrist that was near your face for emphasis, his hand still caressing your face. “I’m awake.” 

His eyes were definitely watering. “No, Y/n, you’re not.”

“Spencer.” You’d never said it so sadly before. Tears were in your eyes for the second time that night. You would have done anything to carve this moment into stone. Sit here in his arms until time forced you into your next life. 

“It’s ok, honey.” He was always reassuring, always safe. “We’ve done this for two thousand years, Y/n. You’re bound to get a little unlucky sometimes.” His optimism in the face of such a crushing development almost made you sick. Some things never change. “I finally have you back, alright? Just lay with me for a while. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ve got plenty more lives to live.”

You halted the tears in your eyes, sniffling once to reign yourself in. “Ok.” You laughed, a little tearfully, and kissed him with all the love you had to give. 

Plenty more lives to live.

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[mystcrlight]

𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝖉𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖉𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙!

starlight, 25, ela/dela

Resumo e biografia dos personagens podem ser encontrado no fixado nos blogs dos personagens.

Jasmine (@aboutminniethejasmine)

Nome: Jasmine Indra Vishwanath Idade: 27 Anos FC: Amita Suman Conhecida Como: Jasmine / Minnie Espécie: Humana Sexualidade: Bissexual Emprego: Detetive e Caçadora de Recompensas Lealdade: Neutra Petaweapon: Vem aqui juro Objeto: Colar que ganhou de sua mãe.

Jasmine aparenta ser alguém impassível, fria e sem emoções e totalmente focada em seu trabalho, o que não está muito longe da realidade, exceto a parte de ser fria e sem emoções. Ela é extremamente emotiva. Jasmine não tem uma bússola moral boa, é capaz de cometer crimes para cumprir seu trabalho e seus contratos, por isso tornou-se a melhor caçadora de recompensas. Ela não confia fácil, mas se ela confiar em você, saiba que terá sua lealdade e amizade para o resto de sua vida.

Gomez (@thegcmezaddams)

Nome: Gomez Addams Idade: 42 Anos FC: Diego Luna Conhecida Como: Sr. Addams / Gomez Espécie: Humana Sexualidade: Bissexual Emprego: Administrador do Mortuário Addams Lealdade: Neutra Petaweapon: Vem aqui juro Objeto: Aliança de Casamento.

Em sua essência, Gomez Addams é um pai e um homem excêntrico. Ele ama seus filhos e sua família é sua vida, fazendo do impossível pelos Addams. É domo de um imenso coração, aparentemente ingênuo, mas não se engane, ele não tem nada de ingênuo e sabe quando alguém quer se aproveitar de sua bondade. Além de completamente apaixonado por sua esposa, ele gosta de acolher as pessoas que precisam de uma figura paterna e os ajudar em suas necessidades. Uma coisa pode ser dita sobre Gomez com certeza: se você tiver sua lealdade, para você a perder, apenas fazendo algo imperdoável. E ele sempre cumpre suas promessas. E ameaças.

James (@thetalkingcrickets)

Nome: James Hernandez Idade: 40 Anos FC: Oscar Isaac Conhecida Como: Grilo Falante Espécie: Humana Sexualidade: Bissexual Emprego: Psiquiatra Lealdade: Mocinhos Petaweapon: Vem aqui juro Objeto: Um guarda-chuvas roxo.

James é o que você pode definir como o "tio legal", isso quando não está em seu consultório com seus pacientes, ele é completamente profissional, ele sabe a hora de fazer piadas ou não. Ele é facilmente distraído e pode parecer ingênuo, mas é alguém com excelentes conselhos e que se você precisar de ajuda ou mesmo cuidados médicos, ele o ajudará. James também é alguém que dificilmente deixará de fazer serviços comunitários relacionados à crianças, pois é apaixonado por elas e gosta de as ver sorrindo.

Marceline (@vcmpiresqueens)

Nome: Marceline Abadeer Idade: 1018 Anos (21 Anos Biologicamente) Anos FC: Lalisa Manoban (Lisa) Conhecida Como: Marceline / Marcie Espécie: Híbrida (Vampira & Demônio) Sexualidade: Bissexual Emprego: Música Lealdade: Mocinhos Petaweapon: Vem aqui juro Objeto: Sua guitarra.

Marceline é alguém que você sabe que pode contar para todas as horas. Sua paixão é a música, mas ela é uma pessoa que você confia fácil, pois ela faz por merecer sua confiança. É excelente em guardar segredos, e por ter séculos de vida, apesar de parecer jovem, é bem inteligente e usa de seu conhecimento para sempre ajudar aqueles que pedem e adora participar de aventuras e confusões com os amigos.

Mirana (@whitcqueens)

Nome: Mirana de Marmoreal Idade: 30 Anos FC: Jennie Kim Conhecida Como: Rainha Branca Espécie: Humana Sexualidade: Bissexual Emprego: Diretora do Instituto das Maravilhas Lealdade: Neutro Petaweapon: Vem aqui juro Objeto: Sua coroa.

Mirana é uma rainha nata, ela foi criada para liderar o reino branco, tem um coração mais bondoso que o de sua irmã mais velha, a Rainha de Copas, que é conhecida por ser sádica e cruel, mas não subestime a Rainha Branca, ela pode ser tão sádica e cruel quanto a irmã, mas ela jurou um voto de não violência e nunca machucar um ser vivo, mas ela não se impede de ordenar uma punição violenta, desde que seja justo com o crime em questão, ela sempre irá priorizar os moradores de seu reino.

Mulan (@wcrriorsmvlan)

Nome: Fa Mulan Idade: 31 Anos FC: Ju Jingyi Conhecida Como: Mulan Espécie: Humana Sexualidade: Heterossexual Emprego: Dona da Casa de Chá e Dojo White Lotus Lealdade: Neutro Petaweapon: Vem aqui juro Objeto: A ancestral espada dos Fa.

Gentil, determinada, corajosa e leal são algumas palavras que bem definem Fa Mulan, ela é corajosa além de tudo e gosta de cuidar e acolher quem tem sua lealdade e sua confiança, mas também é um tanto insegura quando se trata de suas emoções, apaixonada por sua família, ela busca reencontrar seus pais, e cuidando de um dojô e uma casa de chá, ela se sente perto de sua terra natal e aprimora uma de suas paixões: artes marciais. Ela busca sempre fazer o melhor para tudo e para todos, mas sabe que falhar nesse caminho, acontece, mas ela sente-se map por ser incapaz de proteger quem ama.

Genevieve (@lcvnderhaze)

Nome: Genevieve Idade: 29 Anos FC: Phoebe Dynevor Conhecida Como: Genevieve (As 12 Princesas Bailarinas) Espécie: Humana Sexualidade: Bissexual Emprego: Dona de Academia de Dança, Bailarina e Influencer Social Lealdade: Mocinhos Petaweapon: Vem aqui juro Objeto: Sapatilhas de balé.

Genevieve é uma princesa em todo seu ser: dedicada ao seu reino, família e a quem ama, sendo um prodígio nas artes, música e a arte de um dia, gerir o reino. Por ser a mais velha de doze irmãs, ela sempre prioriza suas irmãs caçula, raramente tendo um momento para si mesma, mas ela não liga de se sacrificar por suas irmãs. É perfeccionista, teimosa e leal, mas também gentil, carinhosa e afetuosa. Ela nunca teve um relacionamento sério, não por nunca querer, mas por nunca ter tempo para qualquer coisa que não seja suas irmãs. Em Tão Tão Distante, ela ainda cuida das irmãs, mas tenta arrumar sempre que pode, 5 minutos para ela mesma, para chorar ou mesmo gritar, mas nem sempre dá certo.

#decidi começar cedo pq se eu for expandir só preciso acrescentar nao fazer do zero #inspirada pela olives lina e key #vem ai minha central de personagens

[comet-wire]

The fact that Strebers VA Gabe pronounces Streber both Stree-ber and Streh-ber is so funny to me

Now I have the idea/HC that Streber in Spooky Month doesn't know how to pronounce his own name because he chose the name, he's trans-

GET TRANSGENDERIFIED

#hits streber with my transgender beam #spooky month #streber #spooky month streber #sr pelo #putting in queue so itll deploy later #val rambles #comet rambles #streber and kevin are trans to me #spooky month headcanon #trans streber #spooky month 5 #edit: no we do not support strebers VA gabe in this household/blog they are not a great person/srs

[hqslegaciesarchive]

SUBPLOT 02: THIS IS... HALLOWEEN!

Na manhã seguinte ao equinócio de Outono, o reino de Storydom se mostra diferente. O sol se esconde, tímido, atrás das nuvens escuras e o céu está tingido de um laranja vivo. Nas principais ruas da capital Arthurian, lanternas de abóboras cravadas com as mais diversas caretas flutuam no ar; os seus interiores luminosos substituindo a iluminação habitual advinda dos lampiões. Os estabelecimentos e as casas enchem-se de decorações típicas da época. As lojas de roupa exibem nas vitrines a última tendência arthuriana para o Halloween de 2022. Personalidades do mundo non-maj. O Novo País das Maravilhas se transformou, da noite para o dia, em um mundo invertido — literalmente, ao entrar lá, você passa por um túnel e, sem perceber, começa a andar de cabeça para baixo — e monocromático. A última moda deles? Botões nos olhos. Já Undersea... talvez você deva agradecer à Academia por decidir mudar de lugar. A decoração de Halloween em Seatopia inspira-se na cidade perdida de Atlantis. Ruínas, escuridão e mar violento. Enquanto em Moors, a natureza perde os tons de verde com as folhas que caem de suas árvores, e assim o laranja, marrom e vermelho do Outono começa a predominar. Como erva daninha, espalha-se rapidamente, até que não exista um canto da floresta que não pareça ter saído de um retrato outunal.  

Storydom ama tanto o Halloween que todo ano se torna uma competição entre os seus habitantes para ver quem faz o melhor adereçamento; ou quem ama mais a data a ponto de se fantasiar de segunda à domingo; ou quem tem coragem de usar a magia para passar dos limites em nome da época de monstruosidades... Para a sorte (ou talvez azar) dos legados, a Academia sempre vence, superando-se à cada Halloween. Ano passado, durante todo o mês de Outubro, os filhos dos nossos heróis e vilões favoritos foram obrigados a viverem em um castelo mal assombrado. E não do tipo "fantasmas roubando as cuecas de alguém e fazendo gracinhas", mas do tipo... um exército de bonecas de porcelana quebradas tentando te matar no meio da noite, cenas do filme non-maj O Exorcista sendo reproduzidas na sala ao lado, vultos te seguindo... E você sem poder escapar.

Mas não é para falar de decoração de Halloween ou do terror vivido na Academia no ano passado que todos os legados são convocados às nove no Salão Principal. O Feiticeiro espera até que a taça no centro da mesa dos professores esteja cheia de um líquido azul cintilante para se levantar e chamar a atenção de todos no salão — a taça é um medidor. Quando cheia, significa que não há ninguém faltando. E não deveria ter, porque a convocação foi urgente sob pena de expulsão aos que não a obedecessem.

O homem ajeita a gola do traje formal e começa a falar no tom alto e versado de praxe. Ele sequer precisa de um microfone. Ninguém ousa interromper o Feiticeiro — muitas aulas com ele mostraram a você que isso é sempre uma péssima ideia.  

"Devido a compromissos com o Conselho, alguns dos professores não estarão presentes para a reunião de hoje." Você nota a ausência de Hiccup Horrendous-Hofferson, Elsa Snaer, Jim Hawkins, Mirana Marmoreal e, é claro, do diretor e Light One, Merlin e do rei e da rainha. "Como membro do Conselho e responsável pela Academia na ausência de Merlin, é meu dever informá-los que o sr. David Charming e a sra. Fada Madrinha manterão os seus cargos. Parece que a Excalibur cometeu um equívoco na primeira vez e eles passaram no segundo teste." Um legado do segundo Módulo ameaça abrir a boca, mas o Feiticeiro lança um olhar tão afiado na direção dele que o rapaz se encolhe. Independente do que você tenha a dizer sobre a Excalibur não cometer erros ou sobre as mentiras que a Ordem não cansa de contar, é melhor deixar para os ouvidos de um professor menos... rigoroso.

"(...) Mas como devem imaginar, não estamos aqui para falar de política. Todos devem ter recebido em seus iWishes a notificação do retorno às aulas, com os novos horários. Para aqueles que ainda não abriram a mensagem, na próxima segunda-feira, nós iniciaremos um novo regime na Academia dos Legados. As aulas normais seguem das 18h às 23h, mas durante o período matutino, das 7h às 12h, vocês terão aulas complementares de Defesa Contra a Magia das Trevas, independente do Módulo em que se encontram no momento.".

Muitos dos seus colegas precisam se conter para não reclamarem de maneira audível, mas você pode vê-los suspirarem ou arregalarem os olhos.

"Não preciso mencionar os motivos para que a decisão de aumentar a carga horária de aulas tenha sido tomada. Seria um discurso repetitivo, não acham?" O Feiticeiro encara a sua mesa, onde um amigo seu soltou um palavrão baixinho. Sério, como ele consegue ouvir? Você apruma os seus ombros, endireitando-se na cadeira, e não é o único a fazer isso por ali.

Você lembra os motivos. Merlin deixou bem claro na última reunião, quando vocês honraram a memória de Wendy Darling. São tempos sombrios e não demorará muito para que piore.

O Feiticeiro retoma a palestra.

"As aulas matutinas de Defesa Contra a Magia das Trevas terão presença obrigatória e baixa tolerância à faltas e atrasos. O Módulo I será acompanhado pela professora Elsa Snaer. O Módulo II continua comigo, em dois horários diferentes." Dessa vez, o Feiticeiro não consegue controlar o coro de aaaaaah's de frustração dos seus alunos. Você percebe o fantasma de um sorriso no rosto dele, porém o homem não tarda em se recompor. "O Módulo III, incluindo os alunos do Módulo III.II, fica com o Light One.

(...)O conteúdo das aulas será novo. Nada que tenham aprendido antes e nada que possam estar aprendendo na grade curricular da Academia. O que nos leva ao segundo motivo de estarem aqui hoje.

Para que estejam realmente prontos para irem à guerra contra as trevas, caso esse seja o nosso destino, é necessário que conheçam todos os seus truques. Todas as suas vertentes.

É necessário que tenham contato direto com ela para que aprendam a arrancá-la pela raiz."

A fala dele ecoa pelo salão e atinge os legados como um sopro de vento congelante.

"Esqueçam as simulações. Cada um de vocês nesse salão tem uma raiz de trevas crescendo dentro de seus corações. Essa raíz foi plantada durante a valsa da Lua de Sangue, como devem estar começando a supor, e é dela que vocês vão extrair o seu verdadeiro potencial. É só então que receberão as suas dádivas.

Como farão isso sem que sejam consumidos pelas trevas é o que as aulas ensinarão. Vocês passarão por desafios exaustivos. Vocês sentirão medo. Vocês terão que fazer escolhas.

Até o fim do semestre, aqueles que forem incapazes de arrancarem a raiz serão forçados a terem os seus poderes retirados.

E aqueles que tomarem as decisões erradas, não voltarão."

O salão está estático pelo choque. Você procura a mesa dos alunos do primeiro Módulo. Os calouros que ainda não sabem como lidar com os próprios poderes de luz. Uma garota parece prestes a vomitar. O Feiticeiro vê o mesmo que você, e decide clarificar:

"Não se preocupem. A raiz não será um perigo. Vocês não deverão senti-la até que o momento seja certo.

E vocês não estarão fazendo isso no nosso reino.

Alguns de vocês devem conhecer as histórias das aulas de Lugares Mágicos. Alguns terão que aprender as regras desse lugar assim que saírem dessa sala. Mas hoje damos as boas vindas ao novo território da Academia.

Halloween Town."

O Feiticeiro bate uma mão na outra e, assim, a magia acontece. As luzes do Salão Principal são substituídas pelas abóboras flutuantes. As cortinas das janelas caem e revelam a paisagem do lado de fora. Está nublado, e apesar de não ser nem dez da manhã, não há nenhum sinal de que o sol vai aparecer durante o dia. Mais adiante, uma ponte de ossos de esqueleto faz a travessia até um portão alto e enferrujado que você nunca viu antes. E depois dele, uma cidade estranha começa a criar forma...

CONHEÇA HALLOWEEN TOWN, O NOVO TERRITÓRIO DA ACADEMIA.

Mas antes, leia os avisos OOC.

Espero que gostem! Foi mais um cenário especial pensado com carinho.

Assim como em Seatopia, os legados PODEM sair de Halloween Town quando quiserem. A Academia continua tendo os seus portais que levam para qualquer lugar de Storydom, a fim de que vocês possam continuar usufruindo de Arthurian e outros. Eles NÃO estão presos nessa cidade, apenas a Academia está residindo lá por motivos que o Feiticeiro explicou.

Nada mudou no cenário da Academia, exceto que agora faz menos sol.

Não é obrigatório interagir em Halloween Town, uma vez que o ponto principal continua sendo a Academia. É a mesma lógica de Undersea.

Esse NÃO é o evento oficial de Halloween. O evento será anunciado apenas perto do Halloween.

Ask e chat sempre abertos para dúvidas e sugestões! Aproveitem!

Sugestões de estabelecimentos e FCs para os novos NPCs desse subplot são aceitos!

#lhqssubplot #subplot: this is halloween #NERVOSA PQ TÁ MT EXTENSO MAS ESPERO QUE GOSTEM

[girlreviews]

Review #96: Automatic For The People, R. E. M.

Are you very depressed? Me too. Automatic For The People is rich, beautiful, tonally downer music for sad people who occasionally have bright sunny days.

It describes such a complex sadness, and that’s something I love about it. In Nightswimming, we aren’t just swimming at night, we are “pining for the moon”. Who among us sad losers doesn’t pine for the moon from time to time? Hmm? And we are doing so alongside glorious strings, oddly chirpy piano, and what I believe to be a damn OBOE. How often do we get to hear an oboe? Do you know? I do. It’s not that often. It’s not.

I have complicated feelings about Everybody Hurts. I was only four when this record came out. But this song didn’t go anywhere for a really long time. It was constantly on the radio well into my teens. The riff becomes very monotonous. What is supposed to be a comfort, a message that you’re not alone, can kind of eventually sound like, hey get over it because your problems are the same as everybody else’s, everyone has heard this song too, and everyone kind of hates it by now. It’s been a long ass time since I’ve spent time with it, and it might just have been long enough. Let’s try again in a few years.

I have always liked R.E.M. and a lot of their songs well enough, but maybe never known their albums inside out. More like, well versed in their radio hits, and I definitely always had an attitude about them. I wouldn’t admit to liking them, kinda thing. Imagine my surprise when I stuck this album on for reviewing purposes and I started singing all the words to all the album tracks? I knew them all. All of them! Suddenly I was taken back to Sunday afternoons in my house when it was time to clean, or cook, or whatever you know, just boring nothing Sunday stuff, and I guess this one was one that my Mom liked. It must have reverberated through the house and I must have absorbed it. This is the way I’ve come to know and love a few artists and albums that I believe I previously held disdain for. Over time, I have reluctantly accepted that they’re just pretty fucking good, and I can’t hate it just because my Mother likes it. Simon and Garfunkel being probably the greatest, and most painful example. Sigh.

As annoying as this might be, Drive, the opening track, is pretty joyous to relive. I mean, it’s the opposite of joyous in that it’s a huge dose of frowny-face sounds, but joyous in that it’s a song about challenging the status-quo by voting (seriously, it is — they were a big part of the Rock the Vote campaign and some of the lines are very pointed towards Bush Sr, who was running for a second term), but also questioning your sanity and driving around to uh, feel better. Relatable. It also references another song, a mechanism that I delight in — Rock Around the Clock, by Bill Haley and the Comets, if you’re wondering.

R.E.M. stand out with their use of mandolin and other not so typically utilized instruments, and it’s always really funny to me that they were so popular in top 40 music when they just, aren’t pop music at all. But that isn’t a bad thing. The bright sunny day for your average sad sack lives in The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, where you even hear Michael Stipe laugh his way through the lyrics. It’s upbeat, it’s absurd, and it’s also fucking great. It’s fun as hell to sing. Lastly, I may be in the minority, but I love instrumental tracks (when they’re good), and New Orleans Instrumental No. 1 is two minutes and thirteen seconds of someone letting me fall asleep on them like a cat while they gently play with my hair. I could listen to it on repeat forever and I’d never be sick of it. It’s so beautiful. In my incessant need to know everything about every song, I have learned that a longer version exists (may I hear it?), and that it has never been performed live (may we hear it?).

I guess my Mom just really liked them. She grew up playing a few different stringed instruments but is deaf in one ear and can’t hold a tune to save her life. Still, once, she took me and that shitty boyfriend to our hyper local village music store (it’s long gone but was such a gem), I think so I could buy some guitar strings. The woman picked up a mandolin, and played a few chords perfectly. Our jaws hit the floor. Every time I hear the mandolin in one of their songs, I think of that moment and how cool she was to me in it.

They will always get bonus points for two additional things: Mike Mills is a consistent staple in the modern day Big Star lineup, with R.E.M. being one of the bands responsible for their later resurgence by citing their influence. Actually, I’m only just realizing this, but I HEAR IT IN ALL THAT MANDOLIN. Holy shit.

So, okay, I’ll always love them for that. But also, they are fictional character Ben Wyatt’s favorite band in the dorkiest and most pure, sincere way ever. Could a depressed person make this?

I had no idea I had this much to say about R.E.M. I’m a little embarrassed.

#album review #music #music review #rolling stone top 500 #r.e.m. #automatic for the people #ben wyatt #parks and rec #big star

[starcrossedmoonlet]

Today's Lyric

When you're at home, alone in your room, wishing on a star I'll be gazing at the moon.

#song is I've Been Missing You by my Papa Joe #he made this song for me /srs #comet yuu daily lyrics #Youtube