#OCD! ghost

[mactavishenjoyer]

Ghost getting diagnosed with OCD and realizes he's not a monster that fantasizes about brutally killing his own teammates no matter how hard he tries not to he's just a man with intrusive thoughts. He holds roach and soap a bit tighter now. Less afraid of hurting them because he knows he has no control over those thoughts. He stays longer with them after they make love now slightly less afraid that he'll do horrible things. Or something like that idk

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

[iammyowncryptid]

“You know, a lot of us thought you were a ghost. Jazz said you fit the profile. Black and white morals. Obsessed with bats. Always wearing the exact same thing.”

“I’m autistic.”

“Oh,” the ghost hummed. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

[roseheartss]

Rain with his arms securely around Dewdrop just listening, holding him tight. Dewdrop quietly voicing his every thought knowing if he says them to someone he’ll hear how silly he sounds. Rain never judges him for it. He could never. He knows how much Dew struggles to rationalize his own thoughts from the intrusive ones. He’ll sit all night with his fire lily if Dew will have him. If it keeps Dewdrop safe and healthy, his mind at ease even just for a short while, Rain would go to the end of the world and back.

[beeloovedd]

What if I just start a series about phantom dealing with his OCD

[martyrbat]

ghosts - batman: haunted knight

[ID: A multi panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as a child on Halloween. He's dressed up in a Mask of Zorro costume and is excitedly running down the stairs while holding two swords, calling out for his mother happily. He tells her that he's ready to go trick or treating. Martha Wayne has her hand on his shoulder and is smiling as she tells him, “your costume looks great!” Bruce replies, “Thanks, I made it myself. Alfred sorta helped. Is dad home yet?” Martha draws her hand back hesitantly and says his name. Bruce already knows that that means there's bad news. He tells her, “don't tell me,” before she continues and says his father called. Bruce has his head down, angrily finishing her sentence, “he's gotta work late!” He looks out the window as if his father will appear and says, “It's not fair! He promised he would take me trick or treating!” Martha soothes that she knows as Bruce repeats, “he promised,” to himself disappointedly. She tells him, “But there was an emergency,” which makes Bruce snap, “There's always some emergency!”

Bruce continues to stand in front of the window as Martha looks at him. Bruce announces, “I'm gonna wait for him. Even if it takes all night!” as he tensely clenches the handle of his sword. Martha reaches out for him sadly and suggests, “Bruce, I could take you out myself. Or, we can call some of the other children at school and go out with them.” Bruce, as an adult, somberly says off panel that, “she doesn't know...” as his kid self stares out the window still. His hat casting a small shadow on his face as he tells her, “There are no other kids to call. I have no friends at school.” Martha says his name again but doesn't know how to comfort him. Instead, she just silently places a hand on his shoulder. We see a silhouette from far away of her standing next to him as Bruce waits for his father to eventually come home. END ID]

[umbra-mayhem]

OCD!Simon "Ghost" Riley

I have ocd and I can't stop thinking about Simon Riley, so I'm making him suffer like me :/

(tw: SH)

He'll lay in bed for hours analyzing and scrutinizing every action he took during the last op. False memories plague him, his mind trying to convince him that he killed that kid instead of saving her or that the enemy he shot was actually a civilian or one of his own. It's especially difficult when he has vivid nightmares about doing horrible things. He'll wake up and struggle to tell if what he remembers is a dream or something he actually did.

He doesn't speak much. Not because he doesn't have a lot to say, but because he overanalyzes and obsesses over anything that comes out of his mouth. He's so worried about hurting people with his words or saying the wrong thing, so one of his compulsions is to just avoid speaking unless absolutely necessary.

His teammates probably assume that he wears gloves all the time because he doesn't like germs, but that isn't it. Rather, he's convinced that he himself is morally tainted and that anything or anyone he touches will become tainted as well. It takes a long time for Ghost to believe that he won't ruin Soap by touching him with his bare hands.

He's also afraid to touch his teammates because he is convinced that any touch he gives will hurt the other person, regardless of if he wants to hurt them or not. So fighting out on the field isn't a problem. But any casual, friendly, romantic, or sexual touch that he gives is stressful and causes him to obsess and overanalyze. So he tends to avoid it. Which especially becomes a problem when he meets Soap and wants to touch that man constantly.

Being touched is difficult for Ghost too. Again, it doesn't really bother him in fights; he's a bit too preoccupied with not dying. But those casual, friendly, romantic, and sexual touches...those are harder. For a long time, Soap thought Ghost was touch averse. But eventually he realizes (either through Ghost telling him or just through astute observation) that Ghost needs everything mirrored. Once he begins balancing the touches he gives on both sides of Ghost's body, Soap discovers that the man is desperate for contact. He just needs it to be even.

Ghost has also trained himself to be an ambidextrous fighter. He can handle all of his weapons skillfully with either hand. He doesn't favor a side when he fights. This is partly to ensure his need for things to be even. But he's also convinced that if his strength or skill becomes unbalanced, he will not fight effectively and will die. He'll even go so far as to try to mirror the injuries he gets on ops just to make sure his body stays balanced, even though that ultimately weakens him overall.

[voidedjuice]

Ebenholz is my fave arknights guy because as a fellow intrusive thoughts + headache sufferer, flute player & a gay i feel a sense of solidarity with his soggy self

[atlas-ghoul-account]

Aether, who's seen as the 'strong ghoul', has ocd. 'Just right' ocd, as well as checking and harm ocd.

Aether who subtly touches wood when no one is looking.

Aether who has to run through his memory over and over to make sure he didn't hurt anyone.

Aether who does things multiple times, until it feels just right. Who, when playing on his own, will restart a song again and again until it feels right.

Aether who avoids cooking when other people are in the room because he's terrified of hurting them.

Aether can't focus on a conversation because he's going over the previous one with a fine comb to make sure he's not offended anyone.

Aether who forces himself to be the last one to go to bed so he can go round and check everything is turned off because what if something happens whilst they're all asleep?

Aether who desperately hides all of these from Papa and the other ghouls.

[mausoleum-resident]

Autism gang: ghost, rudy, alex, roach, farah

ADHD gang: soap, gaz, alex again, laswell

[mentallyilllittleguy]

I'm thinking about Konig with OCD. Always needing to kill an enemy with some form of headshot. Always needing his hood to sit a certain way. Always beginning a mission with 36 bullets in his gun. He has been told off several times for how long it can take him to line up a shot just so it can be perfect and soothe his OCD-induced anxiety. On base, it's not quite as noticeable, or maybe everyone just ignores his compulsions. The way he hangs out his washing and makes sure all the pegs are matching colours; or has to have the radio/TV volume at some increment of 5; or has to divide his food into categories of meat and vegetables on his plate, never letting them touch. The others call it, if anything, 'eccentric'. The only person who understands it is Ghost.

One day, when the OCD obsessions of cleanliness and symmetry and counting are buzzing especially loud in Konig's skull, he hangs out his washing and hums quietly as a distraction. Ghost comes to join him. He hangs out only a handful of items, and... all of them are done with matching pegs.

"Want any help?" Ghost asks. His voice is gruff, devoid of tone, forcing Konig to fight his social anxiety. Yes, Ghost's tone is dry, but he probably doesn't realise that. He just asked a kind question, blunt and straightforward.

Normally if someone asked whether Konig wanted help with anything, his mind would scream incoherent variations of the word 'no'. But with Ghost, he thinks he can give it a try. Even if it's just once.

So, in silence, they hang out Konig's washing, every peg matching perfectly. When the job is finished, Ghost looks at him, nods, and walks away without a word. Konig can't help but smile.

[moldycantaloupe]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ghost (Sweden Band) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rain/Swiss (Ghost Sweden Band) Characters: Rain (Ghost Sweden Band), Swiss (Ghost Sweden Band) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Rain has OCD, because I said so, Insomnia, Mental Health Issues, Cuddling & Snuggling, Not Beta Read Summary:

“Hey, Sharky.” Swiss came to stand right next to Rain, looking down with soft eyes. “What’re you doing out here?” “Oh,” Rain glanced into the water as he kicked his foot, causing a ripple in the surface, “you know.”

Or, Rain's insomnia keeps him up. antics (Swiss) follows.

Or if you’d like to read it on here, full fic is under the line

Rain never had the worst insomnia. With sleeping in a shaky and cramped tour bus with six other ghouls for months at a time, he’d learned to sleep through a lot. So it was a wonder why his mind was racing tonight.

Maybe his body was just now digesting his dinner, giving him all the unneeded energy he could use. Maybe he got too invested in a game he was playing with Dew, heated yet playful arguments ramping up his adrenaline. Maybe, and it’s a wild thought, it was just one of those nights.

He had gone to bed tired. It was a long day. He did a lot of things today, and now he was exhausted. He could feel it in his bones, his muscles worn out from the day's workload. All he wanted to do was to sleep, but here he laid, on his side, staring at nothing in particular as he let his mind race.

Rain hadn’t caught up with his mind in time just ten minutes ago, letting himself believe he was going to fall into a deep sleep. His eyes were closed, he thought he could feel himself drifting. It took him a few minutes to realize how hard he was breathing, how rampant his thoughts were. He had to sit up to calm himself down, tail whipping around behind him, trying to physically shake the thoughts away. It was no use, though. He kept conjuring up horrific ideas; events that could unfold onto his pack, imagining the outcomes. He could feel himself diving deeper into his subconscious, finding a strange comfort in the pain he’s causing himself.

He had to sit himself up again, casting his eyes over to his window as he calmed his breathing down. What was wrong with him? Did he find some sick pleasure in thinking of his packmates being hurt? Deceased?  He felt no real pleasure, he knew that. So why would he continue to obsess over the idea?

The moon was shining bright through the window, casting white glow throughout his room. Maybe it was close to a full moon, he reasons. Maybe he should go out to be with Her.

So that’s what he does. He slips out of bed and hurries to leave their den, decidedly forgetting his shoes. He needed to be closer with the earth tonight.

He gets to the lake in no time, the moon radiant against the still water. Sitting at the end of the dock, he disturbed that stillness as he sank his feet into the cool water. Immediately, he felt his mind ease into a similar stillness. The crashing waves in his mind reduced down into nothing. Being with his element when he gets like this reminds him of Aether’s quintessence, in ways. Both ease him into a puddle, offering comfort in his despair. The only difference is that one offers a metaphorical hand, the other offers his own.

Rain doesn’t know how long he’s out there for. He, at some point, laid his body down onto the creaky dock, keeping his feet dangling in the water. If he really wanted to, he could jump in and sink to the bottom of the lake’s floor to finally rest for the night. It wasn’t cold enough that he’d get sick, but he knows the trouble that’s caused in the past when he slept in. He laughed to himself in remembering the look of true annoyance on Mountain’s face when they had finally found him, pinching his bridge as Cumulus wrapped his shaking form up in a towel. To be fair to them, though, it was the middle of winter, and he did get sick after.

His thoughts were cut short by a twig cracking in the distance. His ears perked and he shot up, tail sticking straight up behind his back. He twisted his body to see who could possibly be disrupting his peace. A sister, maybe? He’d need to put his glamour up right away. An intruder from the catholic church down the road, finally finding their reward to show at Sunday Mass? Maybe another hell beast, in the throes of primal instinct, or-

He sagged in relief as the figure got closer, revealing to be Swiss. Swiss shot a smile his way when he noticed him staring, waving his fingers.

“Hey, Sharky.” Swiss came to stand right next to Rain, looking down with soft eyes. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Oh,” Rain glanced into the water as he kicked his foot, causing a ripple in the surface, “you know.”

Swiss hummed as if he did know, moving to sit down next to him, criss cross, shoulder to shoulder. Maybe Swiss did know, maybe he could sense the anguish the water ghoul was subjecting himself to.

“What about you?” Rain looked over to him, head tilted, letting his hair fall onto his shoulder. “Why are you out here?”

Swiss chuckled, casting his eyes out into the lake with a shrug. “Well, I was up doing… stuff,” Rain giggled and Swiss gave a toothy grin as he continued, “and heard a certain water ghoul’s door open, and soon the front door.”

Rain pursed his lips and stared at the rotting wood of the dock. Swiss bumped his shoulder as he finished, “Figured I’d check on him.”

The water ghoul sighed through his nose and wrapped his tail around his bicep and squeezed. “Sorry.”

“It’s nothing, Sharky.” He waved his hand around in dismissal. “You want me to go?”

“No.” Rain turned his head fast enough that Swiss looked back just as fast, eyes still so soft. “Please, stay.”

And he smiled. He smiled and grabbed hold of Rain's hand, running a calloused finger along his knuckles. “Okay.”

They stayed at the dock for what might’ve been the rest of the night. Rain eventually laid back down, nuzzling his head onto Swiss’ lap for some form of comfort, a hand finding its way into his curls and scratching at his scalp. He breathed in that earthy amber smell that always followed the ghoul, his whole body finally relaxing. They talked for a while like that, an occasional slap to a thigh or arm accompanied by a laugh or a, “hey,” when something raunchy was said.

At some point Rain’s eyes started to get heavy, his words becoming mumbled and disoriented. Swiss kept talking though, not expecting any more real responses besides an occasional, “uh-huh, mmm.” He paused his story of being chased by Sunshine, casting his eyes down at the water ghoul when he realized the hums were replaced by soft breathing. He let himself indulge in the silence of the night, relishing in the tranquility that followed Rain in his sleep.

When the moon was high in the sky, Swiss began to detangle himself from Rain, getting a grumpy noise of protest in return. He laughed as he went to pick the water ghoul up, any protest gone as he buried his face into the crook of his neck, his tail idly swishing under him. Returning to their den, he made his way carefully to his own room, happy with himself as he kept the door cracked open. He slipped off his shoes and deposited the sleeping ghoul onto the bed, shuffling in to join with a blanket thrown onto both of them. He stared at Rain as he felt himself doze off, a finger going to caress his soft features as his eyes finally closed.

When Rain woke the next morning, a crack of sunlight pouring through the curtains, he couldn’t help but feel a relief wash over him as his mind was calmed. He blinked up at the multi ghoul next to him, drooling onto their shared pillow, a hand wrapped around Rain’s waist. He smiled, giddy, and nuzzled himself further into Swiss. Maybe he really did know, and maybe he knew the effect he had on Rain.

[conscious-naivete]

Cons!!!! pal!!! what is the short story about a girl who was swallowed by an open sky :O I would love to read it!! :D

ur lucky i was digging thru stuff recently and knew exactly where this book was, bc i had to dig it out of the boxes in the basement!

the story was The Empty Place from Strange and Eerie Stories by Pat Hancock. i haven’t read this in years, i rmbred it slightly wrong, but i’ve scanned it in below the cut for ya

Mom pointed to the large hawk soaring above the cottage. “Look, Kit. Isn’t it beautiful?"

Kit glanced skyward.

"So what?" she said sullenly. "It's just a bird." She turned her back and began to walk away.

"Kit? Where are you going?"

"Nowhere." Kit kept walking.

"Hold on, Kit. It's nearly lunch time. I want you to stay close to the cottage for now."

Kit took two more steps, then stopped as her little brother, Eugene, dashed out of the bushes beside the cottage. He came straight at her, arms outstretched.

"Hey, Kit, look what I found."

Carefully, he uncupped his hands. But not carefully enough. A bumpy brown toad leapt out just as Kit bent down to look.

"You brat," she hissed, jumping back.

"But, Kit, I never did it on purpose. Come on. Help me catch it again, will you?"

"You wish. Catch your own stupid toads--and keep them far away from me." Kit turned on her heel and stomped away.

"You're no fun anymore," Eugene yelled as he headed back behind the cottage, hot on the trail of the escaping amphibian.

His words pierced Kit with a guilt that nearly stopped her in her tracks. She knew she was acting like a jerk, but this knowledge just made her angrier- -with herself and everybody else.

She hadn't asked to be included in the family's vacation at the cottage. In fact, she'd begged to stay behind in town, where she could watch TV, hang out with her friends and have some fun.

Kit kept walking. She wanted a space of her own, away from the rest of the family. She started to jog, then broke into a run.

"Kit, wait." she heard her mother call. Kit ignored her and kept running until she reached the cover of a nearby willow grove.

From her vantage point under the drooping branches, Kit watched her parents walk back to the picnic table and sit down. Eugene was already seated, getting a head start on the sandwiches.

"Guess who's missing from the happy holiday picture?" Kit muttered angrily. They're just fine, she thought. They can have lots of fun without me.

Turning away, she began to work her way through the willow branches. When she broke through to the other side of the grove, she took a deep breath and took off across the vast expanse of meadow that lay before her.

Kit ran and ran. She ran until her breathing was so harsh and shallow that she could run no more. She slowed to a jog, but finally had to stop. Gasping, she bent over, hands on her knees, and tried to catch her breath.

Gradually, the pounding in her chest lessened, and the pain in her side eased. She straightened up slowly and looked back the way she'd come. Far off, to the right, she could still see the dark outline of the woods ringing the lake, but she could barely pick out the cottage and the willow grove beside it.

Not far enough. I can still see it, Kit thought, and decided to keep going. "Until I don't have to see anyone or anything," she said aloud as she set off once more, this time at an easy jog.

She had no idea how long she'd been running when she started to pay attention to her surroundings again. The first thing she noticed was that the sun was no longer directly overhead. She could still feel its powerful rays on the back of her neck and shoulders, but it was definitely lower in the sky. Her lengthening shadow told her that.

Glancing down, she realized that the ground had changed, too. The soft meadow grasses were gone and, underfoot, dried weeds and withering wild strawberry plants crunched and crackled.

The sun's cooking you too, she mused, looking at the brown and red leaves clinging to a sandy patch of ground before her. Suddenly, a quick shadow streaked across her path. Kit turned and squinted over her shoulder into the sky.

Oh, it's you, she thought as she picked the large black hawk out of the sun's glare. Who invited you along? Go back to my mother. She's the bird lover, not me. Aloud she added, "This is my spot. Mine, you hear."

The realization that she had actually shouted these words left Kit feeling more than a little foolish.

Thank goodness no one is around to hear, she thought. But the words had struck a memory chord. Kit stopped walking and looked around again. Hey, maybe this really is my place, she thought, recalling the game she'd invented when she was little. She flopped onto the ground, thinking that she might finally be able to win it here.

Kit stretched out, her hands clasped under her neck, and began to move her eyes in every direction while keeping her head perfectly still.

"Nearly," she said, sitting up and yanking at a tall clump of chicory that had managed to survive the heat and sand. "Sorry, but you have to go." she announced. Then she lay back down and looked around again.

That's better, she thought. This place has definite possibilities. Then she saw the hawk again.

"Go away," she ordered. "This is my place. You're wrecking the game."

The hawk lingered briefly, suddenly swooped lower, then soared high and faded into the cloudless sky.

Finally, Kit thought. Nobody and nothing. I've finally found my empty place.

Her thoughts drifted back to the summer six years ago when she'd started her search for this place. That year, her family had spent their vacation at her uncle's farm. One day, lying on the roof of the cowshed with her cousins, Kit had found herself staring into an empty, clear blue sky. She had lain outside many times before flat on her back on the apartment balcony, in the wading pool at the park, and even in the schoolyard. But this time was different.

This time, nothing, absolutely nothing had broken her view of the sky-no birds, no branches, no awnings, not even a hydro pole or telephone line. Suddenly, she'd been overwhelmed by the vast emptiness.

This is fun, she'd thought. It's like being all alone in the middle of nowhere, even though I'm really not. It felt good, being in the empty place she'd just discovered.

Keeping her head still, she'd let her eyes wander to the left. Still nothing. Once again, all she could see was blue. When she'd looked to the right, though, a tall tree had intruded into the blueness. Then two crows had risen squawking from the garden, flying directly into view, and the spell had been broken.

But the excitement of that moment had lingered. Several times that summer, she'd searched for a place where she could lie down, look up and around and see nothing but sky. It became a kind of game for her. She'd flop down, cushion her head with her hands, and try out a new place. But, no matter where she tried out the view, something a tree or a bird or a single power line always got in the way.

There was no point even trying on cloudy days. She would not allow the smallest wisp of white to drift by. That was against the rules, rules she'd come up with after that time on the cowshed roof. Only the sun was allowed. She couldn't look right at it anyway, so it didn't count. But anything else would break the spell cast by the emptiness.

When her cousins began to tease her about Iying around all the time, just staring at the sky, she quickly learned to seek out her empty place only when she was alone. She came close sometimes, but she never did find it that summer.

When she returned to the city, thoughts of her summer quest faded. Once, in the winter, she had tried again at the park, after an unusually heavy snowfall. The sun was shining brightly and the park was blanketed in white. She lay down in the snow and looked all around but, try as she might, she could never eliminate the nearby highrises from the picture. No matter where she went in the park, she could still see at least one.

The next summer Kit gave up her search. She was lying with two of her friends on the teeter-tot-ters in the park. The three of them were just lying there saying nothing, staring up at the sky.

When she asked them if they ever tried to find a place where they could see absolutely nothing but the sky, they looked at her as if she had grown antennae. "You're nuts, Kit," one of them had said.

Embarrassed, Kit had vowed never to think about the stupid game again.

But here she was, two years later, absolutely spellbound because there was nothing, absolutely nothing, in sight. This is amazing, she thought Nothing and nobody. Just what I wanted. I wonder how long it will last.

Now that she knew it was possible to find such a place, a new rule began to take shape in her mind. Once I find it, I can't move until something invades it, she thought.

"But that won't take long," she added aloud. "Something always comes along."

Kit lay still, staring upward at the seamless blue canopy, waiting for that something— a plane, a cloud, a bee buzzing by. She waited and waited, but nothing intruded into her empty place.

"Amazing," she repeated softly, relishing the moment.

Then her neck began to itch. Bet I've got a sunburn, she found herself thinking. Hope Mom brought the Noxzema. Don't be silly. Mom always remembers to bring the Noxzema. And the sun block...

Mom always remembers the air mattress, too. And a brand new jigsaw puzzle. Always a new puzzle. Wonder how many pieces this one will have? And the new game? What'll it be? Balder-dash? I'll bet that's it. Have to wait to find out, though. It has to be a surprise...

KIt realized she was looking forward to finding out which games Mom had brought along. Okay, so maybe doing puzzles and playing games with the family isn't so bad, she thought. Maybe I won't be bored totally out of my mind.

Kit scanned the empty sky again. Her neck was getting stiff and she wanted to stand up and brush away the sand that was starting to make her skin itch. Okay, I've had enough. Time for something to break into the emptiness. Time to go home.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," she called.

Maybe I goofed. Maybe I can see something, she thought, and forced her eyes from side to side as far as they could go. But she'd picked her spot well. Without turning her head, she couldn't see past the sandy patch where she had flopped down.

How long have I been here? she wondered. A long time. Shouldn't have pulled out that plant. Then I could have seen it—and I could have got up. Maybe I'lI cheat. Turn my head a bit. I'm sure there was some tall grass just past the strawberry leaves. I remember that.

She checked the sky one last time. Empty.

That's it, then. Time's up, she decided, and turned her head to the side. No tall grass there. She turned the other way. There was nothing there either.

“That's weird." Kit said softly. I was sure it was there she thought. Oh well, I moved my head so the game's over anyway. I may as well get up.

Kit sat up and looked around. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Impossible, she thought, and scrambled to her feet.

She stared in disbelief. For as far as she could see, there was absolutely nothing, nothing but the occasional wild strawberry runner clinging to the dry brown ground. It was as if the spot had spread around her until it met the sky. The sweat trickling down her neck felt suddenly cold. It sent stiver up her spine.

For a long time, Kit stood transfixed. Then she began to turn slowly, desperately scanning the horizon for anything that would help her get her bearings. She became frantic, looking—and looking again--for a familiar landmark. All she could see was acres of sand meeting the endless blue of the empty sky.

Feeling dizzy, she stopped turning and looked up again. The sun still shone, but it was much lower in the sky. Still, it couldn't help her. She had no idea whether the cottage lay north, south, east or west.

She wanted to run again. But she didn't know which way to go. For the second time that day, Kit began to cry. Sobbing, she felt very lost and alone.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she began to notice the breeze brushing against her tears. Gentle at first, it grew stronger with each gust. Thick white clouds edged with gray began to roll in, gobbling up the blue. Kit's heart raced. She could smell the approaching storm. Run, her mind screamed. Run. Run. Run.

Kit started to run, then turned and began to run in the opposite direction. "Which way? Which way?" she yelled into the terrible emptiness. Despairing, she stopped again, choking back her sobs.

It was then that she saw it. It was only a speck at first, a pinpoint of black in one of the last remaining patches of blue. When it disappeared behind a cloud, Kit thought she'd imagined it. But, seconds later, it was back, soaring and diving, its widespread wings riding the wind. Closer and closer it came, until it was directly overhead. It hovered for a moment, suspended in space. Then, with a mighty flap of its wings, it veered sharply back into the wind, struggling to return the way it had come.

Suddenly Kit realized where it had come from-and she knew where it was going. The voice inside her head became a chorus. Run. Run. Run. Kit began to run again, this time after the hawk.

They were going home.

[beeloovedd]

id love to hear about phantom and his ocd

Hi I'm sorry this took me literal months to get too 🙏

Ive had this sitting unfinished in my drafts untill now so I hope this is ok 🫶

After show

Tw: dissociation, flinching, OCD

Phantom sighs softly with a smile as the song ends and everyone cheers

He walks back to put his guitar away to go bow and pick up things from fans

He puts the guitar down then picks it up and puts it down again

Then again

He bites his tounge then taps the guitar then taps it again, leaving a small smidge on the shiny black guitar

He smiles and runs back out just in time to bow

Hes between Sodo and Mountain with his hands in theirs

He bows then everyone cheers and claps and with a big smile on his face he throws a few picks and a few setlists into the crowd

Then the show finally ends and the lights begin to fade to black

Everyone runs Backstage cheering that they did good and talking about some of the things that happened on stage

Everyone goes to help pack up, get food or go back to the bus to change

Phantom goes right to the bus zoned out yet somehow (and thankfully) his legs know where to go, he feels bad that he's not helping but he can barely register anything in his mind right now

He walks into the bus and stands there for a second, long, tired blinks as he tries to get his mind back into reality enough to know what to do or say when everyone else comes back

He shivers and walks over to his bunk to get some clean clothes

A few seconds later Phantom flinches as Mountain comes out in some casual pants and a loose t-shirt holding his sweat drenched stage outfit

"good show today bug" Mountain says as he squeezes Phantom's shoulder gently as he walks by to put his clothes in the hamper in case they stop at a hotel

"you did good too" Phantom says with a tired smile

He hums quietly as walks into the bathroom and changes into something more comfortable

He gets dressed in a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants then goes to lay in his bunk with a quiet sigh

He hears Mountain leave to go help put away the equipment and ask Papa if they'll sleep in the bus or go to a hotel

He feels bad about not helping, maybe he should, it's rude if he doesn't

But before he even gets the chance to get up everyone comes in talking, laughing and joking with each other

Papa walks in last, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, papal paints smeared and his jacket draped over his arm with his old cup of coffee from earlier in his hand

The other ghouls either lay in their bunks, change, eat or are taking off their facepaint

Copia walks to go change into something more comfortable and slightly less sweaty once the restroom is free, but first

He looks over to phantom while putting his things down

"are you ok, Phantom?" Copia asks while looking at phantom with a small tired smile

Phantom nods and smiles back

"Yea, tired" phantom says as he lays back

Copia smiles and puts his hand on Phantom's arm

"We're going to a hotel tonight" copia says as he pats phantoms arm then leaves to go change

Eventually everyone gets settled, packing clothes, getting things for a shower and filling the hamper

Then they get to the hotel

Phantom gets his smaller suitcase and is one of the first ones in the hotel

They all check in and decide who's staying where

Cirrus, Cumulus and Aroura together

Dew, Rain and Mountain together

And Phantom, Swiss and Copia together

As soon as they get into their rooms Phantom practically faceplant on the bed

Swiss laughs and Copia chuckles

Swiss lays next to him and puts a hand on his back rubbing it soothingly

"you ok bug?" Swiss asks with a gentle smile

Phantom hums out a quiet

"mhm"

And nods

Swiss pulls him into his arms and phantom lays his head on Swiss's chest

Copia leaves to go shower and leaves the two ghouls alone

Phantom mutters something quietly and Swiss leans down to try and hear

"what was that?" He asks, placing a gentle kiss to the quint ghouls forehead

"Does your mind ever get too.....much?" Phantom asks, listing to Swiss's gentle heartbeat as he lays on his chest

Swiss smiles, concerned yet happy he's not bottling it up this time

"Yea sometimes it does" he says as he runs a hand through Phantoms hair

"But you know you can talk to us about it anytime right? We're all here for you bug" Swiss says caressing Phantom's cheek gently

"I know" Phantom says quietly

Swiss smiles and relaxed into the bed, the tiredness from today's show hitting him

He starts to drift in and out of sleep until Phantom speaks

"I love you" Phantom says, words slurring due to him drifting off to sleep as well

Swiss smiles and plays with his hair tiredly

"I love you too Phantom"

🫶

[thediamondarcher]

How are you?

good i think, I'm on my meds so i haven't had an anxiety attack or a compulsion in some time. my OCD is still existing obviously but it's very calm and tbh i haven't been this well in practically all my life if I'm being honest lol

[ghostdrinkssoup]

I like to refer to the specific bundle of neurodiversities possessing my brain as the “triple deluxe deal” aka ADHD, ASD and OCD 💖 girl power omg! the subscription lasts forever and will make your life worse!