#creepypasta fanfiction

[darlingdreadwrites]

Awkward

pairing: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

summary: You had planned to hang out in the woods on your day off, but the sound of Toby training reminds you of an awkward encounter. Confronting him leads to other things.

contains: a nervous toby, a little bit of a confession, toby's in loooooove, kissing

warnings: toby walks in on you half naked (encounter is under the RED DIVIDER!! skip it if you don't want to read it cuz it is kinda NSFW), awkward talks

wordcount: 1.5k

masterlist

a.n: needed to feed my toby fiends (i missed writing about him). also, for the EJ request, i am working on it, don't worry babes

The dark blades of grass tickled you through your long-sleeved shirt. You could smell the crisp autumn air as the cold kissed at your skin. Today wasn't the worst, you noted. You even had the right amount of sun. The orange-red leaves were cushioning your head, and these woods had never looked more beautiful. It was perfect. 

Thwack. Thwack.

It was perfect. 

You try to ignore the sound of Toby practicing his aim. You want peace and not be reminded of the awkward encounter you two shared. You shiver internally at the memory.

Having been tasked with another mission, you wanted to throw the biggest tantrum. It felt like you had just gotten back from one. As much as you might've enjoyed hunting, your body would get so sore. 

That’s why you were petulantly - and very slowly - getting dressed. You timed it; how long you should put an article of protective clothing to drag it out as much as possible. You just had no idea that this wasn't a solo mission for you. 

You were new. At least, new to Toby. He was used to the timely manner that Tim and Brian would respond when on a mission. That’s all he would remember until his eyes glazed over, leaving him as little more than a puppet to the Operator. He honestly thought you had forgotten about getting partnered with him and about your kill. He was right about one thing. That's why, unbeknownst to both of you, Toby was rounding the corner to barge into your room and yell at you like he used to be yelled at for taking too long.

Your bedroom door had swung open, and a heavy silence came afterward. You - being in the middle of putting your shirt on - had stopped to whip your head in the direction of the now-open door. If only your reflexes had the decency to let your shirt fall all the way.

Toby floundered, his mouth opening and closing dumbly. He didn't know why he couldn't - or why he even needed to - say anything. He could just close the door and not stare at you like he'd never seen a half-naked human body before. A very attractive half-naked human body that belonged to a very attractive human he had a massive crush on. 

He realized that now as the two of you stared at each other for a comically long time. His throat felt like it was the dryest it had ever been, and he worked to stop a heart attack from ensuing - and his dick from getting hard. But his eyes were struggling to stay glued to your face and not the way that your chest was on full display. He wanted to rush in so badly and squish his face against your - nope.

“Ooooh, fuh-fuck,” he whimpered. From embarrassment, you hoped. He squeaked out an apology before slamming the door shut.

Toby almost messed up the whole operation that day. You knew it had something to do with the incident, but neither of you wanted to address it at all. 

That was the whole reason Toby was throwing his hatchets like no tomorrow. You had to stop Tim from beating him into a bloody pulp. He said that if Toby liked his hatchets so much, he should learn to not fuck up his throws. He had no idea of what nightmare he had unleashed for anyone in the younger man’s vicinity. 

You try to shut out the repetitive sound of steel meeting wood. And the heavy, breathy grunts that came out of him, but you weren't going to get into that. As much as your brain screamed at you to ignore his presence altogether, a very loud, small part of you wanted to talk to him. You only recognized that as wanting to yell at him for being annoying. 

After a few more grueling seconds, you sit up. You internally hype yourself up to confront him as you stand up. You reach behind you to brush off any leaves or dirt that stuck to you. 

You'd only made it halfway to him when he heard the crunch of leaves. He knew it was you. Jesus, had he memorized the sound of you walking? How pathetic could he be? He contemplated scrambling in the opposite direction and leaving behind all his stuff for a moment. But when he saw your face come into view, he was stuck. Rooted, planted in his spot, and at your mercy. 

You offer a small, awkward smile before speaking up. “Could you –“

“I-is it the-the…” he trails off, glancing at the hatchets.

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Yeah, it’s the… it’s pretty loud.”

“My…my bad.”

“No, it’s – it’s fine, really, just… ya’know…”

Toby nods, grunting softly as he dislodges a hatchet from a very abused stump. He – pretends – to inspect it for a moment. “I have to-have to practice. I can’t hhhhelp how loud it-it is.”

You blink, taken aback by his defensiveness. “I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“I’m-I’m just sssayin’ that if it’s bo-bothering you, you cuh-can go back to the-the cabin,” he almost mumbles the last part when he sees the look on your face.

“Ooo-kay,” you turn to leave, not wanting to deal with this.

“Wait – wait!” Toby drops his hatchet and takes two big steps closer to you. “Ssssorry, that didn’t-didn’t come… out right.”

“No, I understood.”

“Then why ar-are you making thuh-that face.”

“What – “ you can feel your cheeks start to warm up. “What face, Toby?”

He points at you with a gloved finger, his right brow twitches. “That-that face.”

“I don’t make any face.”

“Yeah, you duh-do. Happens a lot-lot when you talk to mmme.”

Oh, you need to get out of here. Like, right now.

“Won’t look at you again, then.”

You go to leave again but get stopped by a hand on your arm. It’s warm – he’s warm – and your brain almost short-circuits because of it. It’s gentle, more than you thought he could be. You can feel the involuntary movements due to his tics, but you can tell he’s being careful with you.

“It’s not-not a bad th-thing, or whate-whatever,” he lets his arm fall to his side like he just realized what he’d done. “Just… nuh-notice it, ‘s all.”

“You’ve stared at me enough to notice that?” You scoff, intending to tease him, but your voice comes off a little shaky.

Toby doesn’t respond immediately – he just shifts a little to get closer to you. He doesn’t trust himself to speak because he knows he would’ve immediately said yes.

Yes, he stared at you enough to notice that. Yes, he actually, really liked your face. Yes, he’d thought about kissing your face many times. Yes, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sight of you when he opened your door.

But he couldn’t just say that. You always seemed annoyed, or tense, when he talked to you. And even then, you two didn’t talk a lot. Toby, not fond of being in the cabin for too long, was always outside. He noticed that you mostly stayed inside – preferring the comfort of your room. Part of him wanted to experience that with you. He hadn’t had any type of comfort in a while.

Toby realized that he must be freaking you out with how long he was staring, but – wow, when had your face gotten so close? Toby couldn’t believe that not only was he leaning in, but so were you. It seemed like an invisible magnet was pulling your faces closer until he could feel your breath on his face and smell your heavenly scent. A scent that he would only be blessed with every time you walked by. But now it wasn’t a fleeting aroma. No, it was so much stronger than he ever hoped it could be.

For a moment, all you could hear was the wind and the rustling of the trees in response to it. You couldn’t help but feel it all be stripped away. As if everything had disappeared, leaving just you, him, and this moment. You both paused before any contact could be made. Your eyes flickered up to Toby’s, and he did the same before your gaze fell back to his mouth. You always admired how pink they looked, so kissable. Oh, god, were you going to kiss him?

He steps a little closer – he’s inches away from you now – his head tilting slightly. His lips part, and it causes you to swallow involuntarily. Your brows pinch together, and you look back up at him. The sight has him yearning to grab your face and planting a long, bruising kiss to your lips.

You feel your pulse thrumming as he leans in to close that last inch. His lips press onto yours softly – almost tentative – and then his hand finds yours. The rough texture of his glove rubs against your skin as he pulls you closer. You can just feel how much he’s holding back – holding everything in his power to not brush his tongue against your bottom lip.

When you finally break apart, neither of you speaks. He smiles widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and he almost looks absolutely adorable. Until he opens his mouth, that is.

“I knew-knew you liiiiiked meee,” he sang, shimmying his shoulders a little.

You almost punched him.

But, in the end, kissing him again would satisfy the two of you way better.

[fattuccini-afraido]

Toby: There's no "I" in "team" but there is one in pizza.

Y/N: So, you're not going to share?

Toby: I'm not going to share.

[valentinesworld4ever]

Can you please write some soft Ticci Toby??? Like the reader insists on taking care of him for once

Care for me!

A/n; anon omg I LOVVVVEEEE this pls, also sorry if this isn't what you wanted 😭

Summary; toby never had someone to care for him, so when you come along and decide to do just that? Well one things for sure, you're never gonna get rid of him

Warnings!; general fluff, mentions of abuse, killing and wounds, Toby's bpd acting up especially towards the end

Toby didn't have much experience, he had obviously dated clockwork for a year or so but again but they both had their own issues meaning the two of them never had the time to comfort each other, their lack of experience and the trauma in which broke them up, but when you came into his life that changed? How could it not. To set the scene imagine this, Toby had just finished up from a mission, the person he killed putting up a tough fight leaving him scratched, cut and generally emotionally hurt, it was never easy to kill someone, but when they're fighting so much harder to stay alive? It really took it out of him.

But you, oh you, you were so kind, the newest to the mansion at the time, your soft gaze widening when seeing the tears well in his eyes, your soft hands grabbing his and asking him what was wrong? He liked you instantly, you didn't care to judge him for crying, you never judged him for asking for help cleaning his wounds and for that he truly knew you were someone he wanted to be around.

Toby after that moment never wanted much more from this friendship, not until at the dinner table your fingers intertwined with his, almost as if you knew he was beginning to panic, he knew he was whipped, his brown eyes staring into yours, and for a second the world stopped.

And toby again didn't expect this to continue, who would want to be his friend, to look after him, so he tried to put an end to this and make you NOT like him, but when he came home one night after being gone all week only to be met with your crying face, asking him where he had been and how you thought he was dead, he knew he just had to kiss you, and that's what he did, kissing you between his apologies, telling you how he'd never leave you again, and for a moment just a moment the world stopped again

[necroromantics]

How To Write ASPD / Psychopathy

half educational, half ramble. dedicated to the creepypasta fandom.

(check out my how-to-write bipolar + ticci toby here)

What is ASPD?

Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) is characterized by a disregard for others rights and feelings. It's a personality disorder, which means the mindsets and behaviours associated with this condition are deeply ingrained and maladaptive.

The current DSM-5 diagnostic criteria states that to be diagnosed with ASPD, a patient needs to have a long-term (occurring since at least age 15), consistent, and persistent history of three or more of the following:

failure to conform to social norms; repeatedly breaking rules/laws that may be grounds for arrest

deceitfulness; lying, tricking others for personal gain

impulsivity or a failure to plan ahead

irritability and aggression; fighting, hostility, outbursts

reckless disregard for the safety of self or others

irresponsibility; repeated failure to comply to work or financial obligations

lack of remorse; being indifferent to or rationalizing having mistreated or hurt others

ASPD, by definition, can only be diagnosed in people who are 18+. Minors cannot have ASPD due to treatment and intervention reasons. A minor who exhibits traits of ASPD will be diagnosed with Conduct Disorder.

At it's core, though it may seem like people with ASPD are just hostile and insensitive and rude, is a defense mechanism formed in childhood, typically in response to an abusive environment. Self-preservation and a "dog eat dog world" mindset are very common in those with ASPD. Everything is about doing what it takes to retain social dominance, control, and ultimately safety. Boredom and risk-taking is also very common in people with ASPD, and many people with this condition have never had proper, healthy influences in childhood to teach them proper manners, social norms, morals, or how to regulate their emotions and aggression.

It is a chronic condition that affects about 1-3% of the population. Its very prevalent in the prison population as well. ASPD not only causes a person to potentially cause harm to others, but is a condition that very negatively impacts the patients themselves.

(Note: The term "sociopathy" is typically used to refer to an extreme presentation of ASPD. "Psychopathy" may sometimes be seem as a very very extreme presentation of ASPD)

What is Psychopathy?

Psychopathy refers to a set of traits/issues that might be seen in patients. It is NOT a diagnosis. If psychopathic traits cause dysfunctional behaviour in an individual, they will most likely be diagnosed with ASPD.

Psychopathy is now most commonly used in research settings to use it as a term that describes certain patterns and behaviours. It is something professionals study, not diagnose.

The traits related to psychopathy are:

manipulative behaviour; superficial charm, persistent lying, deceiving others

grandiose sense of self

lack of remorse or guilt; lack of empathy, callousness, shallow emotional expressions

reckless lifestyle; need for stimulation, parasitic (constantly takes from others), lack of realistic long-term goals, impulsivity

antisocial behaviour; poor behavioural control, early behavioural problems, trouble with the law in youth

Not all psychopathic people fit the criteria for ASPD, not all are disordered by their traits, and not all people with ASPD are considered psychopathic. But there is a very big overlap.

Psychopathy is typically only recognized in a forensic or research setting. It is often wrongfully used in the media to describe people who are serial killers, abusive, or used to dehumanize others.

Personally, I believe that media and creators need to move away from the terms psychopath/sociopath. They have far too much negative connotation that only exists to demonize people who suffer with unconventional traits. If you want to write psychopathy correctly, do your research on what it looks like in its presentation, and just drop the label.

What are some harmful tropes with ASPD/Psychopathy in media?

ASPD and Psychopathy have been tossed around in many different settings as ways to cheaply create an evil villain, or a cold calculated monster, or a reckless criminal. There has been only one instance in my lifetime of watching hundreds of movies and shows that I have seen an accurate, humanizing portrayal of ASPD. (That show is House MD by the way, I highly recommend if you want to see good representation).

So what are some of the tropes to acknowledge and avoid?

1. Psychopathic serial killer

Have you seen American Psycho? Great movie. Don't do that. While the character Patrick Bateman is commonly associated with the terms "narcissist" and "psychopath", he also is a satirical character who is a very dramatized and exaggerated presentation of some psychopathic traits.

I will be honest. A lot of real-life serial killers do suffer from various mental health conditions, but correlation is not causation. In the Creepypasta fandom we are surrounded by different characters who are almost all serial killers, and people like to make things easy and just throw the label of "psychopath" onto them and call it realistic. This is very cheap, and very harmful.

If you want to write a psychopathic serial killer character, then acknowledge how harmful, fear-mongering, and dehumanizing this trope is towards people who actually suffer from these traits.

2. ASPD synonymous with abusive behaviour

ASPD is a disorder that does cause people to do and say things that will harm others in some way. Cluster B personality disorders are commonly seen as 'social disorders', as in they cause dis-order in interpersonal relationships, and in response to society. Borderline personality disorder (BPD) for example may cause somebody to threaten harm to themselves in response to percieved abandonment, or to have intense fights due to emotional dysregulation.

ASPD in particular may cause someone to be insensitive towards others problems, lack morality, be aggressive or hostile, put others down, or get into reckless situations. This is why they are disorders. Because they cause significant and serious problems in the persons life.

It is not pretty, and it's not fair, and yes, people with disorders may cause harm to others due to behaviours associated with their condition. But there is a difference between causing harm, and abusing another person.

Lying to someone is not inherently abusive. Being reckless is not inherently abusive. Being an insensitive asshole is not inherently abusive. To not understand the nuance and the complexity of these situations is to completely demonize and stigmatize a serious mental health condition. You don't call people with BPD abusive for their actions inherently, because you acknowledge they are hurting and only doing what they know to cope with this hurt. Of course it's unhealthy. That's what a disorder is. That does not make someone abusive by default. Anyone with any condition, even neurotypical people can be abusive.

3. Cold, emotionless robot

People with ASPD can and do feel emotion. People with psychopathic traits can and do feel emotion. They get sad, disappointed, disgusted, happy, excited, jealous, hurt, angry. There is nothing in the ASPD criteria that states anything about emotional presentation or experience.

In psychopathy, it is mentioned that there may be a shallow emotional expression. This may also be present in ASPD. This means that while a person will feel emotions, it is either beat down or brushed off, or completely repressed. The emotional repression may come from childhood abuse where they were punished for expressing emotions, or expressing emotions had caused them harm.

Lacking emotions/emotional expression is instead highly linked to Schizoid Personality Disorder, and is apart of the criteria for said disorder.

Media protraying people with ASPD/psychopathy as cold, emotionless, calculating robots is another trope used to dehumanize people with mental health issues. It's used to make people with ASPD seem evil or not having feelings that could be hurt. In reality, nearly everything a person with ASPD does, is their dysfunctional way of protecting themselves from being hurt.

People with ASPD may lack the emotional capacity for things such as empathy and remorse, though. Its common that they are unable to care for, or feel upset for others suffering. They may also be unable to feel guilt. This criteria is seen in about 51% of people with ASPD and is associated with more extreme presentations.

Do you headcanon anyone to have ASPD?

Yes, but I don't like to use the label on them. I do write a lot of antisocial mindsets into my headcanons for Ticci Toby, and I heavily write ASPD into my OC, Tobin.

For Toby, his presentation of ASPD comes in the form of rebellion, not understanding/following social norms, recklessness, and a strong desire for power, dominance, and control. I write this as his subconscious response to the trauma he faced in childhood. As a child Toby was constantly put down and made to feel small and powerless at the hands of his father. In order to make sure his father abused only him and not his mother and sister, Toby would act out and be a troublemaker. I think that he would have a lot of ASPD behaviours and views on the world.

For my OC Tobin, he's pretty similar in presentation in regards to power/control, and not following social norms. He is very prone to justifying and rationalizing his behaviours to the point he doesn't feel remorse for the harm he causes. Tobin grew up in a very unstable and abusive environment where, like Toby, he did what he needed to do to get by. He never learned proper morals, norms, regulation, etc. But Tobin does care about others. He takes care of his little sister, and loves his girlfriend, and is very protective. Tobin is still a complex human being with more to him than just being an antisocial insensitive prick.

How can I write a character with ASPD?

Do proper research. Not on Reddit, or Quora, or WebMD. I mean go find trusted, scholarly articles and read real scientific papers and studies on ASPD. Do research into how/why it forms, the mindsets, the symptoms and their presentation, the neuroscience even.

Humanize your characters. While it's fun to throw around a bunch of negative and toxic traits to a character you want people to see as 'bad', it's lazy character development. Give them good, positive traits as well. People are very complex, and nobody will fit in to the mold of good or bad. Make them human enough where someone wont look at your character with ASPD and assume everyone with ASPD are monsters.

But also, don't water down the disorder. ASPD does cause harm to the patient and the people in their life. I've seen it a lot where people will try to fight against stigmatization by completely glamorizing the disorder. "People with ASPD aren't inherently bad! They don't actually hurt others or act hostile or say insensitive things"... Yes we do. And it causes many problems. And that is why its a disorder.

Personally I don't like to throw the ASPD label onto my characters even if I do write them to have ASPD because I feel like it just boxes them in. If you write a character with ASPD, try doing it in a way where a professional would be able to tell they have ASPD without you even mentioning the label.

Remember that ASPD is COMPLEX. It varies vastly in its presentation, its a disorder that is life-consuming and the dysfunctional beliefs and behavioural patterns are deeply ingrained and consistent throughout many different areas in someones life. It's a label to describe preexisting issues. It's something that is highly associated with childhood trauma, and drug addiction, and general suffering for the person dealing with their own chaotic mind.

The biggest problem I see that frustrates me is the way people throw around the terms "psychopath" and "sociopath", especially when someone just wants to add a layer of edginess onto their character. Remember that you are dealing with a condition that real people suffer from every day. If you can't handle it respectfully, and if you would demonize someone with ASPD in real life for acting as your character does, just don't write it in. Keep the label separate. We don't need any more stigmatization and misinformation.

I know this was very long, but it's such a multifaceted and complex issue and I've seen it enough times in the fandom to be frustrated enough to write this. If you have any questions, want more advice or information, please feel free to ask away in my ask box 🔥

[strawberryflavoredvenum]

TicciJack fanfic. Light angst but a happy ending

Toby has trouble deciphering what's real sometimes. Jack is concerned for him.

Thank you @reddetur for the prompt! I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I have experienced hallucinations but I'm not schizophrenic. I do not have the experience to give a 100% accurate depiction of schizophrenia. Schizophrenia also isn't just hallucinations. I am studying psychology and mental disorders in college and care very deeply about not making creepypasta into stigmatizing mentally ill people. Sorry if setting a disclaimer seems excessive, I just care about it a lot.

.

.

.

Toby doesn't flinch much at shadows anymore.

There comes a point in someone's life where they see the same thing over and over again and it no longer affects them. Sure, certain hallucinations still get to him. The random touches or sudden loud noises. But not so much these ones. The shadowy figures that creep around in the corner of his vision. They never make any noise or touch him. Once he got used to it, they just became a nuisance. Well.. during the day at least.

The introduction of demons, killers, and paranormal entities into his life has made it a little harder to recognize whether something is real or not. Before everything happened, he could rely on other people's ideas of reality. That is, if he wasn't having an episode. Now that he lived in the mansion he couldn't tell himself that the ghosts, shadow people, insane psycho killers weren't real.

Something that keeps him at ease is the reaction of others. He can always look to the people around him to gage whether he should be worried or not. If no one else is looking at it then he shouldn't either. But that strategy can only go so far. It doesn't help when none of his peers are with him.

But honestly nothing could have prepared him for tonight. It's not like these things sprung up on him or anything. He could feel himself slowly getting worse. His motivation to care for himself plummeted and he became disorganized. Then came the intrusive thoughts and the increased hallucinations. He knew staying up all night wouldn't help but there was no way to fall asleep with everything going on. He was too paranoid and every time he got close to sleep, a loud sound would go off or he would feel like he was falling.

He was downstairs in the kitchen bar preparing his late night guilty pleasure. Four slices of bread with butter. He was looking out to the living room, watching all the figures and random colors dance around. He would be lying if he said he wasn't about to run back upstairs with his bread so the shadow people don't get him. His motions were slower, as if trying not to draw attention to himself. He felt like there was a spotlight on him. He could tell himself that nothing he's seeing was real. That they weren't even approaching him. Just walking around and watching. But nothing was going to convince his subconscious that he wasn't in danger.

He sandwiched the slices together and wrapped them in a paper towel to make transport easier and started walking to the stares when a figure came closer. He flinched but ignored it-That was until it fucking grabbed him. Toby let out a scream slightly too high pitched to be a man's and punched the figure in the jaw. He was met with a solid object that made a grunt and quickly backed up and grabbed their face.

Toby took a moment to step back and catch his breath before flicking the kitchen light on and seeing Jack. He was holding the side of his face and glaring at toby. "Jesus tobes I was just trying to see what you were doing. It's 2 in the fucking morning!" Toby caught his breath and looked a bit sheepishly at Jack. "......I thought you were someone else?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Who the hell would be down here that you would want to punch?"

Toby looked away. To the discarded slices of bread on the floor. He had dropped them when he sucker punched Jack. "No one in particular." Toby hoped that Jack would drop it. Jack wasn't stupid. Hallucinations are not uncommon in the mansion. He's even had them a time or two during sleepless nights or when missions went on for too long.

He sighed and helped toby pick up the remains of his food. "Out of all things you could have ventured out into the dark to grab, four slices of buttered bread was what you chose?" Jack questioned. Toby looked up at Jack. "Well what were YOU down here for?" Jack shrugged. "To smoke." He said, gesturing towards the front door.

Jack threw the bread away and shook his head. Half a loaf wasted. He returned to toby. Toby didn't look well. He looked tired but his eyes were wide open, looking into the distance. Jack took him by the shoulder and started leading him to his room. "C'mon. You don't need food, you need sleep. Staying up is only making things worse." Toby followed but looked conflicted. "Weren't you going to smoke?" Jack shrugged again. I lost the urge. My jaw hurts too much. He teased lightly. Toby looked away. "I didn't mean to." That was Toby's way of apologizing without actually saying sorry. Jack just nodded and kept walking.

They made it to Toby's cluttered room. It got like that when he let his mental health slip. Jack took it all in but made no reaction that toby could discern. He pushed toby into bed and firmly told him to lay down. Toby raised an eyebrow but was too exhausted to really care. He laid down and sighed.

"so what now?" Toby asked. Jack sat on the side of Toby's bed. "You sleep and I watch over you." Jack's tail had made its way to Toby's hip. The weight of it was comforting in a way. Toby gave a bit of mumbled words salad that Jack pretended to follow and had a few more bad moments before finally falling asleep.

Jack looked around Toby's room. It was hard to gage how Toby's doing sometimes. He never outright said anything. There was a look in his eye that he sometimes had but the biggest indicator of his well-being was his room. With nothing better to do, Jack started sorting through his friends stuff, putting things where they belong and putting his laundry downstairs.

Jack watched over him the rest of the night. He returned to his room just before sunrise so no one else would know he spent the night in Toby's room. Toby woke up sometime that afternoon. His body was sore from sleeping for so long but his head felt a bit less cluttered. It wasn't fixed but it was better than before he slept. He saw his clean room and blushed deeply. He couldn't believe he let Jack see him like that. Jack didn't actually mind Toby's mess at all. He was more concerned with helping his friend(crush).

[darkromanceenthusiast]

slender with reader whos easily startled?? so he doesnt even realize when he teleports to them it would be a problem..been on my mind

Pairing: Slenderman x reader

Contains: fluff, Slenderman is the eldritch horror we love, you think he cares or understands human emotion? That's cute.

Unfortunately for you… Slender doesn't care about his own proxies getting slaughtered, so I doubt he'd care if he startled you.

If anything he's glad because those precious seconds you spent gawking with your heart pounding gave him an opening to grip one of his tendrils around your waist.

Now you're dangling upside down with you're face 0.2 inches from his featureless one.

“You smell delicious when you're scared, Darling.”

If you faint that's fine, its easier on him.

Once he's sure you wont run away he will become less antagonistic with his teleportation, usually choosing to appear in front of you rather than jump scaring you from behind.

That is assuming you're let out without him.

I always think Slenderman would easily be one of the most possessive creeps due to the sheer amount of inside knowledge you'd have on the operator because Slender doesn't like letting you go too far from him.

There was absolutely a stretch of time he had you chained to his desk.

Masky, Hoodie, and Toby are all there actively trying to ignore their rising annoyance at the crying/terrified person their boss is currently trying to coax into his lap.

Masky would probably end up whacked upside the head with one of his tendrils because he made a comment about killing you.

Toby would low-key just feel bad for you but keeps it to himself.

Slenderman sometimes forgets about the whole “humans have basic needs” things y’know cause he's not human so imagine his surprise when you tell him you cannot in fact eat raw meat.

He also realizes how careful he has to be with those static headaches after he nearly gave you a brain bleed :(

If you're not a captive but rather one of his proxies you'd be one of the only one he gives a shit about.

Expect near constant jumpscares, your only warning is how silent the forest gets before he materializes.

He almost always puts you in those bullshit page posting duties and you know each time he's gonna try and blend into the trees until he catches you.

Honestly, it's probably his idea of a fun date.

Its even worse when his voice does the telepathy thing, so there's nothing anywhere and then you have a voice IN YOUR HEAD and you STILL CANT SEE ANYTHING.

He genuinely, deeply, adores your fear almost as much as he wants your love.

[crystalgastles]

Christmas with Jeff Abel (Jeff the killer)

Jeff was born on Christmas, meaning it’s his birthday as well as the holiday

He does not like Christmas, if you like Christmas he will happily celebrate with you since he doesn’t get to be domestic but he’s not thinking of it as a Christmas celebration especially because of the memories attached to it

You cannot make him watch a Christmas movie, the closest thing you can get him to watch is the third terrifier and even that is pushing it (he loves the grinch, make him watch the Jim Carrey version he will be glued to the tv)

He’s Floridian, he is not used to the cold despite living in Colorado for a few years. Depending on where you are depends on how cuddly he is

If it’s below fifty degrees good luck prying him off of you

“It’s fucking freezing don’t complain”

He loves the tiny lights, Christmas lights are his favorite part of Christmas, it feels like the world is glistening just for him

He will take you in his truck to look at all the lights, he and Louis used to do that as teenagers and will want to continue that tradition with his partner

He gets really emotional at manger scenes because his mom used to point them out to him as a child and say that the baby Jesus in the manger was him

Despite him saying he hates the holiday I find that the way he celebrates is warm and simple.

He will stick any extra money he has in the donation buckets with the people ringing the bells. It’s just something he’s always done

Get him something for his birthday and Christmas please, he only ever got combined gifts.

Spiked eggnog and hot chocolate, straight up whiskey and hot chocolate mix. He is an alcoholic

Will insist you don’t mention his birthday but mention it, get him a cake. Decorate the house with normal birthday decorations that have nothing to do with Christmas. He loves not feeling like he is ignored during his birthday even if he says different

“Doll, I told you it’s not a big deal, whyd you go and do all this for” and he’s trying so hard to not smile

Will lay with you on his truck bed and park in the middle of the street when it’s late enough to look at the lights they put up in the streets

His gifts are impeccable even though they are stolen, he remembers little details about people he loves so it’s easy to find thing’s special for them. Especially if you’re his partner

He likes cigarettes and alcohol, get him a cd he loves music.

Slow Dances with you to no music, just to hold you close because he’s cold constantly.

Kisses your nose when it gets red and flushed in the cold.

Love y’all 🦭

[nosyp]

Acquiescence

Warnings = Weird behaviour (what do u expect from a weird monster)

Pairing = Slenderman x reader

Summary = You find yourself being suffocated by another during your night walk around the forest. Slendy doesn't like that.

Word count = 314 words

A/N = Quick 314 words, not proofread, made in like a few mins omg i js wanted to write slendy.

Holy shitttt… someone is following you and you have no idea how to stop them. Slenderman always allowed you to do whatever as long as you came back at the end of the day but you had no idea how you were going to return now.

Fuck. Fuck. You could hear the footsteps behind you match your pace. When you went slow, they went slow and when you went faster, they would too. The sound of the leaves crunching that followed after yours was making it obvious there was another character in play.

“Can you stop following me?” you yell out, turning around rapidly just to be met with another person’s face. They were familiar, but you couldn’t quite figure out who it was.

“Aww… don’t you remember me?” they ask, but you have no clue who they were. They took a step closer towards you, but you didn’t move back. 

“Who are you…?” you interrogate with an apprehensive tone.

They let out a loud, disappointing sigh before looking back up at you to answer. “I’m [REDACTED]. Your friend from highschool? How could you not remember?”

Wait… what? You couldn’t catch their name, but from their tone, you knew they were nowhere near close to being friends with you. 

You just stood there— frozen. It was like your feet were stuck onto the ground and the soil grasped onto your legs so tightly. 

In a flash of a second— somehow— their hands were wrapped tightly around your throat, squeezing slightly.

“How could you, whore? We were the bestest of friends! I thought we had something,” their voice loudly remarked. Your vision was starting to blur, not allowing you to focus on them.

Then, the scene before you changed, and now it was them choking on the ground. You stood there, wide-eyed. It was Slenderman. He’s angry.

After, the world just turned black and faded.

[marsphobic11]

Distorted Daydreams.

Chapter 1: House Warming

•Summary: After leaving behind the fame and chaos of her grunge band “Dirtspine” a recent college graduate moves back to her quiet hometown, Nockfell, seeking solitude. Settling into her new two-story house, she expects a peaceful, uneventful life-until she meets her peculiar next-door neighbors. Among them is Larry Johnson, an old childhood friend she never expected to see again, along with his unique roommates.. Todd Morrison, Neil Douglas, Ashley who was a fan from her training days, and the mysterious, masked, Sal Fisher. A story of drugs, new beginnings, and the unexpected bonds that form in an instant, but why?

•Warnings: None, No established relationship.

•Word Count: 877

•A/N: I hope this is a good intro. First three chapters are slow, but I have to introduce everyone so please bare with me!

I am a recent college graduate and used to be a part of a band called Dirtspine. Although I rose to fame in a grunge band, and touched the hearts of many people who felt just like me. The happiness faded and so did our spark, still I never would've thought we'd become disbanded, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me positively. Due to the fame of the band and my newfound salary, I had no desire to stay in the spotlight, so I moved back to my hometown.

I now own a two-story, two-bedroom house in Nockfell, which I bought as soon as I had enough money for a down payment. From what I had seen so far, the neighbors seemed rather nice. In the house, next door lived three college boys—one with curly orange hair and glasses, another tall with a bit of a caffeine addiction, and a guy with long brown hair. Pretty peculiar neighbors, but so is everyone—so who am I to judge? However, the blue-haired guy that came to visit them stood out the most because there were so many unanswered questions. Was his hair naturally blue? Where was he from? Because he didn't seem to be local. And why did he wear that mask?

As I stared out the window, surrounded by brown cardboard boxes, I was suddenly pulled from my thoughts by a loud knock on the door and a faint voice complaining, "Why did you have to knock that loud?" Instantly, I ran to the door and opened it. Unfortunately, I was unaware of my horrible state—wearing black leggings, an oversized knit sweater that almost engulfed my figure, and horrible dark circles from staying up late setting up my drumset in my room.

The long-haired boy at the door held out his hand for a handshake, which I returned with my best fake smile.

"Hey, I'm Lar—"

He suddenly looked shocked, and so did I. As I gazed at him, recognition hit me like a wave. My childhood friend from years ago—the one I had grown up with when my parents could only afford the shitty apartments near my grandparents' house. It was Larry Johnson.

My eyes gleamed with happiness as I shook his hand again. "Larry! How have you been after all this time?"

His reaction mirrored mine as he grinned and said, "I've been awesome, dude! These are my roommates. I guess we're your new neighbors now." He then pointed to the house directly across the street.

I instantly responded, "Damn, what a coincidence that is..."

The blue-haired guy next to him seemed a bit concerned and asked, "Did we wake you up? You look tired."

Quickly, I replied, "Oh no! Just a late night with moving."

They weren't trying to invade my space, but the boxes stacked behind me looked as if they were ready to collapse. Noticing this, the ever-blunt Larry offered a hand to an old friend in obvious need.

"Man, that seems like a lot of boxes for one person..." He turned to his orange-haired friend, then looked back at me. "There are three strong men and a very smart, calculated fella who could help."

The blue-haired guy stepped in. "I'm sorry to butt into the conversation, but we wouldn't mind helping if you need it," he said, his eyes squinting in a way that indicated a smile.

"We can get to know each other better as well," the orange-haired man added with a friendly grin, while Larry nodded in agreement.

I hesitated for a moment, but it was a small town. If anything went wrong, I could run and get help pretty quickly. So, what was the harm?

"Sure thing, I'm (Y/N)."

They all smiled and introduced themselves as they stepped into the house. Their names were Todd Morrison, Neil Douglas, and Sal Fisher—all seniors in college, except for Larry, who "went wherever the wind took him," which currently meant working at a local guitar shop.

The time we spent unpacking was surprisingly enjoyable. It made me feel closer to them already. They seemed more like a family than just friends—more than I could say for myself.

By the time we finished, it was already dinner, and I still hadn't gone grocery shopping. But by some grace of fate, Todd suddenly spoke while placing a book on a shelf.

"I noticed you don't have any groceries, and it's getting dark. Would you like to eat at our house? We usually order pizza, but tonight I was planning on making some casserole."

I stood there blinking at the question. I had never really been invited somewhere just because someone genuinely wanted me there. Normally, it would be my sister's friends being forced to invite the sweet girl their parents felt sorry for.

Snapping back to reality, I quickly answered, "Yes, I'd love to come!"

And just like that, I found myself being led to the next-door house by four guys I had only just started speaking to.

[seas1mping]

Candy Pop Redesign

General info:

He/it

7'11

He's OLD ASS MAN

DILF TOO

FATHER OF TWO, COUNT 'EM, TWO CHILDREN

He also has 3 wives, Tengen Uzui type shit, and just like Tengen they're all bad as hell

I love Candy Pop I would love to infodump about him but if I'm conscious any longer I will fall asleep at my desk

Someone ask me about him I will YAP like a motherfucker

[ouellette]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63357088

new ticciwork wip just dropped

[darlingdreadwrites]

Healing Touches

paring: Ticci Toby x GN!Reader

Summary: You wake up and can tell that Toby is sick. He’s infuriatingly stubborn about it.

contains: fluff, sickfic, kissing, cuddling, sick toby, sassy toby

warnings: first fanfic i've ever posted (i apologize in advance), inaccurate portrayal of cipa if that's super important to you (he sweats), mention of making out, swear words, insults used affectionately

word count: 1k+

masterlist

a.n: finally decided to suck it up and post something. i was gonna post a stalker-y riddler fanfic first (i say "stalker-y" and he's literally watching you through your webcam LOL), but i'm just gonna do a fluffy one.

You stir from your slumber and your ears pick up on the deep exhale from the body holding you tightly from behind. You're warmer than how you usually wake up next to Toby. And sweatier. You stretch your back a bit to try and wiggle out of your hunched over position and feel as your shirt sticks to you stubbornly. Gross.

Pulling your outstretched hand from its laid-out position front of you, you use it to shield your eyes as you open them. It’s dark, of course, thanks to the black-out curtains, but it’s a habit you can’t put down. You blinked once, then again and try to wake yourself up enough to care what time it was. Why’d you wake up, anyway? And why were you sweating, most importantly. The scratchy clearing of your still-sleeping boyfriend’s throat seemed to make you suspicious.

You remove the hand pressed to your brow and rest it on top the forearm that tightly encircles your waist. The skin is warm and just a little clammy. Now, you’re no doctor, but you’re 50 percent sure Toby might be sick. You feel his body softly rumble as he lets out a phlegmy, wet cough. Maybe you were 90 percent sure. You rub his arm absentmindedly before grabbing a fistful of the blanket over your bodies. You toss it aside in hopes for cold air to cool both of your bodies. He doesn’t stir, thankfully, since he can’t feel the temperature change.

You rack your brain and try to think of any earlier hints of this sudden ailment until your thoughts stray to other topics. You didn’t even notice that you’d been staring, unblinking, at the wall in front of you until a groan broke the comfortable silence. You feel Toby’s lips against your shoulder blade in a lazy attempt at a kiss.

“Good-good morning,” he mumbles, and you return the sentiment. You wait a few seconds before you make your accusation, already anticipating the reaction.

You shift to your other side to face him, and he grunts in protest. Both of you settle into your new positions. He drapes an arm over your waist again, urging you to come closer. You only nudge his leg with yours since you’re not particularly fond of getting anymore of his sweat on you at the moment.

“How’d you get sick, Tobes?” You ask, half-sweetly, half-accusatory. “You’re always in layers.”

“M’not suh-sick,” he insists, his brows furrowing, and the muscle twitches ever so slightly.

“No?” You push back the hair that sticks to his forehead and press your lips onto his skin. Just to check the temperature, of course. And, Jesus, it was scorching. You could smell the slight tanginess of the sweat on his scalp.

“I don’t-don’t get sssssick.”

“You’re way hotter than usual.”

He snickers at that, “Thanks.”

You should’ve seen that coming, you sigh and suppress an eyeroll.

“I meant that you have a fever, dumbass,” you give him a deadpan expression, though his eyes stay closed.

“Nnnah,” he brushes you off and you can see his jaw clenching involuntarily when he shuts his mouth.

“You’re sick.”

“You’re suh-sick.”

“I might be. Cuz of you.”

Toby’s eyelashes flutter as he opens his eyes, his wide brown ones meet yours. He purses his lips, as if trying to gauge if he really was sick or not. Before he can say some other smartass comment, you lean forward to plant a kiss on his jaw. Your body aches in protest, but you raise yourself using your arm and trail more kisses up the side of his face. He exhales contently through his nose and smiles at your sudden affection. He hums in satisfaction when you finally decide to peck at his lips repeatedly. He closes his eyes and pushes his lips out into a pout as the kisses get slower and longer.

Settling back to rest your head against your pillow, your eyes flick over Toby, and you assess his state. His nose and cheeks are pinker than usual, and you can tell how flushed he is despite the dim lighting.

“D’you want me to get you water? Or make you some soup?” You offer and he opens his eyes only to roll them at you.

“I like you-like you here,” he says stubbornly.

“We can keep cuddling,” you chuckle and press the backs of your fingers against his heated cheek. “But I’m getting you some medicine later.”

“S’fine, I can’t ffffeel any...thing.”

“I don’t care, you could have the plague.”

“You’re dramatic,” he shot back, a sassy lilt in his voice.

“Can I help you?” You ask sarcastically. “Please?”

“Can we not-not just cuh-cuddle?” He uses the same tone you did. “I can’t fuh-feel being sick, so-so it doesn’t m-matter.”

“Toby,” you say dryly before repeating yourself and drawing out the syllables, “Toby.”

“O-kay, okay, Jesus.”

“Good,” you smile and scoot just a little closer to him. He gives you a goofy grin before opening his mouth and letting out a small, playful cough. You can still see the shit-eating grin on his face.

“You’re nasty,” you cringe and scrunch your nose. He lets out a giggle and playfully pinches at the skin of your waist. When you nudge his leg again just a little harder in response, he rubs the spot on your hip to soothe it, and you can feel his hand twitch against it.

“C…an we muh-make out?” He breaks through the wholesome moment, and you purse your lips into a thin line.

“Your breath fuckin’ reeks, my love,” you pause and a subtle smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “And you’re sick.”

Toby rolls over, mouth falling open to let out a quick, disbelieving chuckle. “I am-am not si-sick.”

Laughing, you lean over to be partially draped over his chest, propping yourself up on your side and giving him a gentle kiss. He slowly lowers his eyelids, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your cheek as both of you surround yourself in the blissful moment.

[fattuccini-afraido]

Tim: I can't handle this. I need a cigarette.

Y/N: I knew that you would so I came prepared. Nicotine patches!

Y/N: You just put one on your shoulder an- Oh, stuck it right on your face, huh?.

Tim, sighing: I want it as close to my brain as possible.

Y/N: That's unsettling. Well, I think I know how to fix the problem .

Tim: That's good. I love you so much.

Y/N: I love you, too.

Y/N: Wait, you're talking to the nicotine, aren't you?

Tim:

Tim: I can love two things.

[valentinesworld4ever]

Can i request x virus x very sweet and caring reader dating headcanons???

x virus with a sweet/caring s/o!

a/n; well of course, I love Cody so much I'm so glad I'm getting requests for him

Warnings; mentions of neglect, abuse, again suggestive if you squint

Definitely not used to it

He would definitely be a little freaked and or weirded out at first

Didn't believe any of it

Thought you were making fun of him Everytime you flirted with him before you got together

Lowkey didn't like you

It took one of the other proxies being like "yo you realize they're hitting on you??" For him to be like "oh?"

Definitely flirted back afterwards

He's horrible at it

After you began dating it took him a month to get used to

"Oh you wanna cuddle me right now? But I'm working?"

Bless his soul

be patient with him he's never done this before!

Gets sick and then is shocked when you look after him

Like aren't you scared you'll get sick?

"Oh your being nice..strange.."

He loves the attention though

Brags to EVERYONE

Toby can't stand to hear it anymore

Definitely gets overwhelmed sometimes though, like he's never had this affection in his life? Why is someone showing him this affection now?

Definitely returns it though

Loves hickeys, shows them off constantly if you give him one

"that's not a bruise on my neck btw it's a hickey"

Has no experience

He's kissed someone once

He makes up with it in enthusiasm

Like I mentioned in a past post about him he loves manhandling you

After fights he'll latch his arms to you crying begging you not to hate him

He gets jealous when you're nice to other people though, I mean what if you leave him for them ☹️

Tries his best to be just as affectionate

[astro09-13]

First Encounters [Short Story]

Toby slumped against the row of lockers, his breath uneven, his body hung but not from pain. JC stood over him, shaking out his fist with a smirk. A small circle of students loitered nearby, some watching, some pretending not to see. "You’re like a punching bag, Ticci Toby. Don’t even flinch." JC laughed, but it was cut short. "Hey!" A sharp, clear voice rang through the hallway. She marched up, her ponytail bouncing, fury in her blue eyes. "What the hell are you doing, JC?" JC turned, his smirk faltering. "Relax, Chloe, it’s just—" "Just what? Beating someone up for no reason?" She crossed her arms, voice edged with authority. "Get lost." JC scoffed but didn’t argue. With a final glance at Toby, he muttered, "Whatever," and stalked off. The crowd dispersed just as quickly as if nothing had happened. Chloe turned to Toby, her anger melting into concern. "Are you okay?" She knelt down, offering a hand. Toby hesitated before taking it. His grip was uncertain, but she pulled him up with ease. He dusted himself off, his movements stiff. "I—uh—I'm f-fine." His voice hitched slightly, his stutter breaking up the words. Chloe frowned. "That was horrible. I had no idea JC was like that. I usually have cheer practice right now, but the schedule got swapped. If I’d known this was happening..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "I'm sorry." Toby blinked, startled by the sincerity in her voice. He wasn’t used to people apologizing on his behalf. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out a small travel-sized first aid kit. "Let me patch you up." Toby hesitated. "I—I don’t need it. I can’t f-feel it." Chloe paused, confused. "What do you mean?" "I have CIPA," he said, shifting awkwardly. Chloe blinked. "What's that?" He scratched at his arm, eyes flickering away. "It stands for c-congenital insensitivity to pain w-with anhidrosis. Basically... I can’t feel pain. Or temperature." Her brows furrowed. "Wait... at all?" Toby nodded. "I could break a bone and not even know. I have to be careful, or I could get really hurt without r-realizing it." Chloe took that in, her expression shifting to something unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she just nodded. "Okay. But just because you can’t feel it physically doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt in other ways." She motioned toward the seating area by the windows. "Come on, humor me." For some reason, he followed. As she wiped away some of the blood and placed a bright blue bandage over a cut on his forehead, Toby watched her in quiet fascination. She was gentle, her touch careful despite knowing he wouldn’t feel pain. His eyes darted from her perfectly painted rainbow nails to the various neon clips in her hair. "You don’t h-have to do this," he mumbled, settling his gaze on the dangly pink earrings that swayed every time she moved. "I want to," she said simply. Something unfamiliar settled in Toby’s chest. A warmth he couldn't quite place. When she finished, she leaned back, offering a small smile. "I'm Chloe, by the way." Toby hesitated before responding, his voice more assured. "Toby." "Nice to meet you, Toby." And for the first time in a long while, Toby felt like maybe—just maybe—someone actually meant it.

[A/N] im enjoying fleshing out all this on paper, er digital paper(?) i hope those of you that do end up reading these enjoy it too! I'm looking forward to elaborating on toby & chloe's friendship and time before all the slenderman stuff. def feel free to drop an ask if u want me to write something specific!

[sillyguystrawb]

Don't get your hopes up for a full story but I wrote this and absolutely needed to share it. This one's for all you Lyra Rogers fans, I love you.

TW: Death

A/N: Here's a short teaser of a creepypasta fanfic I want to write! I have no name for it yet aaaa idk I'll think of one. If I even continue this story lmfaoo anyway enjoy!

(Creepypasta Fanfiction Title Here)

. . .

“You’ve been gone a long time, human.”

“I know.”

“How long has it been, exactly?”

“Almost 14 years.”

“Your body has decayed by now, beyond even my assistance.”

“There’s no hope for going back, never was.”

“Bold assumption to make.”

“Nobody wakes from the dead.”

“Nobody you’re aware of, until now.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s time for you to wake up.”

. . .

A chill ran up the woman’s spine, the cold snow beneath her body crunching as she sat up. She looked around, standing on her feet with a stumble, shivering and hugging her arms close to her chest. She was in a graveyard. The tombs around her had fresh snow, the pathway between rows of graves lit softly with garden lamps. She turned around to look at the grave she’d awoken above.

“Lyra Rogers. A daughter, a sister, a friend. 1985 - 2011.”

Her own grave stood almost indistinguishable from the others in its row, with the exception of the words alone to identify it. Lyra stared at it, wondering what the funeral had been like. Had her mother been able to go, with her grief? Had her father even wanted to? Had Toby been able to move on since? A crunch of the snow outside the graveyard alerted Lyra, and she ran over to the entrance and made her way toward it, to see a few young adults talking over cigarettes and a bottle of god knows what. She waved at the group and shouted.

“Hey, you guys!” She needed help. Her long sleeve shirt was torn in odd places, her jeans were just as beat, and all her clothing was covered in blood. Her own blood, she knew that much. The crash that killed her in the first place had done enough damage to destroy her body, she wouldn’t think they’d even consider an open casket funeral. So how was she even here?

The group of people didn’t even acknowledge her, and Lyra ran towards them, but still nobody looked. Nobody batted an eye. When Lyra reached out to touch the shoulder of the man closest to her, her hand only slipped through his body like it didn’t exist. The blonde woman’s eyes widened, and she looked behind her at the snow. No tracks, not even a dent in the snow where her feet had been. It was like she didn’t exist.

It didn’t take much longer for Lyra to give up on the group of people and walk down the street to a forested park, where she sat on a bench to think. The night was cold, she was cold, and her chattering teeth and shivering body didn’t help much to ease the freezing temperatures in her chest. The wind pushed against her as if she were real, a cruel joke considering living things couldn’t feel her it seemed, but the wind had the ability to make her colder. She turned her face away from the gust, and her eyes set on a circular graffiti mark, with an X in the middle. It was carved small into the bench, but not small enough to miss.

Lyra reached out to touch the mark, to feel it’s indent in the wood. But just as her fingers brushed onto it her vision went dark, stomach flipped, and mind went dizzy. Spinning and flipping like a rollercoaster and seasickness all in one, finally opening her eyes to a dirt path only very lightly covered with snow, and trees surrounding her like a fortress. The dizziness escaped her after about a minute, and she stood up, walking down the path in hopes of finding some kind of shelter. The questions formed in her mind, each one breeding new questions with no foreseeable answer as she walked nervously, shivering down the path.

After turning corners and making guesses as to which way to go, she eventually saw a light up ahead, a single flickering lantern on a porch connected to a very old, very large mansion. Fire meant warmth, and as Lyra sprinted over to the porch a man came into view sitting behind the lantern. She slowed to a walk as she got closer, stepping next to the first step of the porch and standing before the man and his lantern. He smoked a cigarette, a light tan jacket covering a plaid shirt, looking off into the distance.

“Never seen you before, you new here?” The man spoke, finally looking at Lyra. His calm, nonchalant expression and the way he gestured for her to sit next to the lantern felt strange. Not bad, but strange, how could he see her when the others hadn’t been able to? Why wasn’t he freaking out over the amount of blood on her clothes? Lyra sat next to the lantern, leaning close to it for warmth.

“You look cold and confused, how did you get here?” Lyra didn’t look at him, trying to calm her chattering teeth and shivering hands on the small fire. The man hesitated before sighing deeply.

“Not much of a talker. Or too in shock, that happens too.” He stood up slowly, and picked up the lantern, walking over to and pushing the front door open with a loud creak of the hinges. “Come on in, it’s a lot warmer here and I don’t feel like freezing you to death.”

“Th-thank you..” Lyra stuttered, following him inside. The wave of warmth that hit her stung at first, the temperature difference shocking her body slightly as he put out the lantern and lead her down hallways and into an open-plan room, one side with a kitchen and bar, the other side with what looked like a conference table. “Sit wherever you want, I’ll grab you a drink.” The man went into the kitchen portion of the odd room and grabbed two mugs, fixing Lyra up hot chocolate which he put on the counter for her before making himself a black coffee.

“Coffee hm? Isn’t it like.. Late?” Lyra spoke softly, nervously as she picked up the hot chocolate. The man put out his cigarette on an ashtray at the bar and chuckled at her remark.

“It’s 2am, but that hasn’t stopped me before.” Lyra smiled as she sipped her drink, and watched the man sit in front of the ashtray at the bar to drink his coffee.

“Thank you, again. What’s your name?” The blonde woman smiled warmly at the guy, who nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

“Tim. People here call me nicknames, but I prefer Tim.” Lyra sat at the bar next to him and her head tilted slightly. She was warming up for sure, the mansion seemed pretty warm for such an old building.

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Lyra.” Tim’s eyebrows raised. He seemed surprised, like he’d expected anything except that. He chugged his coffee and turned to face her properly. He looked hard into her eyes for a moment, searching for an answer she didn’t know the question to. He finally outstretched his hand which she took, and they shook. His hand was calloused, but warm. Rough skin, but gentle touch.

“There are others that live here?” Lyra finally asked, to which Tim nodded. Lyra hummed before asking another question, tentatively, avoiding eye contact. “How can you see me? The others they.. couldn't.”

Tim’s reaction made her snap her head to look directly at him, as he laughed. “You’re not the first ghost I’ve ever seen, Lyra.” A few seconds went by, the man was smiling slightly, and Lyra took another sip of her hot cocoa.

“How..” She started to ask, before pausing in utter confusion. The blood didn’t faze him. The sight of a ghost didn’t faze him. The fact she came out of nowhere didn’t faze him.

“You’ll understand in time, it’s complicated. But everyone who comes here did so on purpose whether they knew it or not.” Tim’s answer stuck to her like a porcupine quill. He stood up again, and washed his cup, placing it in a drying rack. “Finish your drink, I have something to show you. Someone, more accurately.”

Lyra didn’t want to bombard Tim with questions, even though they were filling her to the brim, so instead she finished her hot chocolate and stood up. He beckoned for her to follow as he walked down a short hallway, and knocked on the last door on the left. On it, a sign reading “Do Not Disturb, I’m Sleeping.”

Tim pounded on the door hard, and yelled at the person inside. “Open up, you have a visitor!”

A familiar voice rang out from inside, clearly annoyed with Tim’s aggressive knock. “Tell them t-to leave me alone.”

“You’re not gonna want this one to leave you alone.” Tim replied, and a young man opened the door, glaring at Tim before setting eyes on Lyra. His face dropped from annoyance, and landed hard on disbelief. His hand twitched, and his eyes watered.

“Toby?” Lyra asked softly, looking into her brother’s pale face. “You look like shit.”

Toby only latched onto her, tears immediately falling from his eyes into the cloth on her shoulder as she held him close, barely paying mind to her surprise that she could touch him. He whimpered and wept, but there was joy under it all. After all that time, she had been dead and buried for almost 14 years. And now she was back, at 2 in the morning, New Year’s day.