#it's on facebook for all to see (if they care to read of course)

[prettiedup]

prettiest thing ୨ৎ

prettiest thing pt2 ୨ৎ

you and onyankopon rarely argue. you’re his good girl, you never had a remark or debated with anything he said. he would never tell you anything to hurt you or put you in harm's way which is why you allowed him to be the provider and the thinker of the relationship while you just had to be pretty and spend his money. it’s a dynamic that the both of you liked and preferred. another reason why the dynamic works so well is because onyankopon is naturally dominant, he tends to take over situations without even trying. that goes for both his personal and business life.

you hated when those moments of tranquility between the two of you got interrupted from emotions and overthinking. both you and onyankopon are very secure people, there’s no qualms about attractiveness and if your personalities matched up. but, at the end of day you’re human. and with onyankopon being your first ever serious boyfriend, you sometimes doubted yourself and even worse; him and the relationship. you couldn’t help it! you really couldn’t, you tried to remind yourself that onyankopon has never given you a reason to doubt him but your overthinking didn’t care.

your bottom lip pokes out as your glossy eyes reread the map. onyankopon’s location is nowhere to be found and your man always shares his location with you. most of the time, the roles were reversed and he was very stern about you sharing your location with him 24/7. you couldn’t understand why he’d suddenly stop sharing it with you. your heart thumps heavily in your chest as you instantly start thinking about the worst.

“when’s the last time y’all talked?” zinnia asks. she sits beside you, a look of irritation etched onto her face.

you sniffle as you think back to the last time you talked to onyankopon. he had been driving you home after a long day of running errands. they were more so his errands than yours but you just wanted to be around him so you begged him to let you come with. the day has started off great. the two of you laughed, rapped and sung songs together, the vibes were just right. it was nearing night when onyankopon had gone inside the wingstop to order the two of you food as a completion of the day. while he was inside the restaurant, you were on his phone; scrolling on his facebook. you always claimed his facebook is way more interesting than yours which is why you lurked on people’s accounts through his. as you were reading facebook drama in a very messy comment section, onyankopon’s phone suddenly gets a notification from instagram.

‘you’re welcome handsome’. almost instantly, your hands begin to shake as you press the notification tab. you watch, breathless, as messages pop up from onyankopon and the mystery woman. onyankopon had posted a video of himself on his story. of course he looked good, your man always does. he’s an attractive guy so you had prepared yourself from the beginning to witness women texting and complimenting him. which is fine, but you would've never thought he’d disrespect you by responding back. with a shaky finger, you scrolled to the beginning of the message thread which wasn’t very far.

‘you so fine omggg’ which is something you’ve seen many girls telling him. your eyes focus on what the man had said back,

‘lol preciate it ma 💗’ you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or cry. ma? a heart? you couldn’t understand why he decided to respond to her in the first place. taking an uneven breath, you locked his phone and threw it down into the cupholder. tears form in your eyes as you stare out of the window, watching as cars of various sizes and colors zoom past the parked car. so many thoughts were racing through your head, you’ve never felt so much betrayal in your life. you sniffle as a few spare tears roll down your face.

when onyankopon returns with two wingstop bags and a holder that had two large cups sitting in it, he’s all smiles. his gold grills glint under the streetlight. he opens the door and sees right away that your attitude has completely changed. he can’t stop the confused expression from forming on his face. he sets the cups into the cupholders and the wingstop bag onto your lap. he doesn’t pull off right away. instead, he sits there for a few moments trying to wreck his brain on what could have possibly gone wrong in the span of about ten minutes.

“what’s wrong, mama?” he asks, cautiously.

you don’t respond, vocally. instead of using your words you just twist your body towards the door and tilt your head completely towards the window. you were so upset with him, just hearing his voice caused you to grow ten times more upset. your sniffles fill the quiet car while onyankopon waits for you to reply to him.

he raises an eyebrow as he comes to the realization that you’re not going to respond to him. “you don’t hear me talkin’ to you?” you were being disrespectful right now and this isn’t like you. he attempts to give you leeway because you have never behaved in such a way before. “talk to me, baby..” he pleads.

and god, when his voice deepens like that and he sounds so needy一you have to remind yourself to stay mad at him. you let out a loud sigh when you decide to look at him.

onyankopon’s heart almost skips a beat when the two of you finally make eye contact and he sees that your eyes are bloodshot red and there are stray tears still threatening to spill. he asks in a tone that shakes, “why you cryin’, mama?”

“c-cause you’re fucking disrespectful.” you cry out. the dam that was straining to hold up broke just by you looking at him.

onyankopon looks at you with wide eyes. he’s never once disrespected you. he’s never called you out of your name, mocked you, spoke condescendingly to you. you two have barely been together for an entire year and he had already gifted you everything and more. he tries to not be offended by your accusation.

“how am i disrespectful?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“how are you not? why the fuck ar-” you’re cut off from onyankopon kissing his teeth.

“stop cursin’, deadass. you can explain yourself without cursin’ like a damn sailor.” his tone doesn't make room for discussion.

you roll your eyes at his statement. onyankopon has always been firm when it comes to your habit of cursing, he always says ‘pretty girls don’t curse’ and tries to catch you every time you let a curse word slip out. right now, you didn’t have the time or patience for his lecturing.

but still, you rephrased yourself. “why are you replying to girls on instagram?” you ask in the most composed manner you can manage.

onyankopon gives you a confused mean mug, “what girls?”

you breath roughly through your nose. “you know what girls, onyankopon.”

onyankopon sighs, “i genuinely don’t, mama.”

you felt like crying from annoyance, why did he feel like now was the time to play? “look on instagram.”

ony grabs his phone and opens instagram. he sees that you had already opened his most recent chat. he reread the messages and viewed the account and quickly realized why you were upset. he stays quiet because he genuinely had no explanation on why he decided to respond to her. of course, he didn’t see her as attractive or anything. he had eyes for you and only you, no other woman could get in between that.

sighing, he set his phone down. he bit down on his lip as he tried to gather the words to tell you. he didn’t compliment her back or completely indulge in her, all he said was that he appreciated the compliment. he didn’t see what was wrong with that.

“look, i know-” he cut himself off as he continued to struggle.

“look at you, fucking struggling to talk cause you know you fucked up.” you spat the words out angrily. your pretty glossy lips are frowned up and onyankopon didn’t like that one bit.

“stop cursin.” he muttered.

“i’m fucking grown, nigga. just like you chose to respond to that bitch, i choose to curse whenever the fuck i want.” you were talking recklessly because you were mad. on an average day, those ugly words would never be spewing from your pretty mouth. also, you would never be talking to your man like this.

“bro chill with yo fuckin’ mouth!” onyankopon ‘s tone rises by a lot. there’s a pointed look in his eyes as he tries to put you in your place.

“me chill? you chill, nigga! fucking disrespectful ass! texting bitches back and calling them ma and shit.. fuck you, nigga!” your voice cracks at the end of your sentence. you weren’t crying out of sadness, you were crying out of anger. truthfully, you wanted to swing off on him but you’ve never thrown a punch in your life and onyankopon would probably choke you the fuck out.

“’m not puttin’ up wit’ dis shit.” onyankopon grumbles. he presses the start button and his car roars to life. “ain’t never called you out yo’ name. ain’t never did shit to hurt you, man. i try to give you the damn world.” your eyes widen when you hear onyankopon’s voice crack throughout his rant, you throw a quick glance at him and have to fight the surprised look on your face when you see his pretty brown eyes glossed over.

you can’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth. “texting other girls and calling them ma is giving me the world?” you chuckle sarcastically. “there’s no telling how many girls you entertain behind my back.”

onyankopon shakes his head while listening to you accuse him. “you can go through my entire fuckin’ phone right now and you ain’t gon’ find shit besides that. i ain’t talk to no other girls since i’ve been knowin’ you.”

“i can’t trust anything you say anymore.” you mutter.

“really? i’ve told you shit about me that i ain’t told no one else. shit about my childhood, about my life, how i became me ‘nd now you can’t trust me..” he lets out a breath that resembles a chuckle while shaking his head. “you’re my world, you’re my fresh breath of air from the streets, ‘nd now the reason why i’m going so hard. pickin’ up new clients, ‘nd putting my life at risk so i can buy you shit ‘nd now you’re sayin’ you can’t trust me anymore. alright, bro.”

you don’t say anything, you only turn your head and look out of the passenger seat window for the remainder of the drive.

onyankopon puts the car in park once he arrives in your driveway. you’re quick to hop out grabbing only your purse. you skim the driveway and realize that your parents aren’t home which you’re grateful for. you don’t have time to be bombarded with questions. while you’re unlocking the front door, you could hear onyankopon’s feet traveling behind you. you almost felt bad for leaving him to carry the bags and cups alone but in the moment of anger, you couldn’t care less if he needed help or not.

you open the door wide enough so that the two of you could step in. you kick your shoes off by the front door while he walks into the dining room and sets the food onto the table. the silence between the two of you is tense, you’ve never been so quiet around him and vice versa.

“‘mma go.” onyankopon suddenly says while looking down at his phone. he’s tapping furiously and his eyebrows are clenched in a way that shows annoyance.

“what? what about our food?” you ask with a frown. you go to stand in front of him. his towering height causes butterflies in your stomach whenever you stand near him.

“eat it or somethin’. i don’t care what you do with it.” he shrugs, finally looking away from his phone. you almost want to cry again. you’ve never heard onyankopon be so disinterested with you. he’s usually always so soft and understanding when he’s around you, so to hear him talk to you like you’re some stranger off the street; more than you'd want to admit, hurts your feelings.

“okay..” you sigh, obviously defeated.

usually, when he’s leaving out he’d litter your face and lips with kisses while telling you he’d be back. but this time he only gives you a brief side hug. “i’ll see you around, _.” your heart absolutely hurts when he uses your government name. when you hear the front door slam shut and the loud cranking from his car, you instantly burst into tears.

“three days ago.” you tell zinnia as your sudden flashback leaves your head. just thinking about what happens causes your eyes to go glossy. you’ve been crying ever since he left you standing in your dining room.

“after that incident?” zinnia asks, nosily.

“i messaged him an hour later.” you tell her. “i-i told him i loved him.. and he.. he just left me on read.” your shoulders shake as you clutch your face, you were so tired of crying but you didn’t know what else to do.

“awe, boo..” zinnia says sympathetically. she quickly clutches you into a hug. the smell of her perfume fills your nostrils as you cry onto her.

“i.. should’ve never said anything.. i should’ve j-just pretended i didn’t see it.” you say through sniffles. regret has been lingering on your heart a lot lately. you’ve been filled with should've, could’ve, and would’ves. your life has consisted of moping around the house and crying in bed.

onyankopon wasn’t exactly giving you the reassurance you desperately needed at the moment and it was causing you to absolutely spiral. you just wished he would at least text you a simple ‘i’m not mad at you’ or something of that sort. you’re aware of the type of lifestyle he lives on a day to day basis, you’re always making sure to pray for him asking for him to be protected as he gets his money in the only way he knows how. and for his location to suddenly go off has you on the absolute edge.

“nah, snookie.” the childhood nickname has you momentarily cringing. “you did the right thing by speakin’ up, boo. you seen bullshit so you spoke on it. what he did was that.. uhm.. what they call it…” she pauses and seems to be deep in thought. “ohh! that manipulation shit.”

you instantly sit up from her arms. “nah, zinnia ‘m not getting manipulated.” your soft voice has a defensive edge to it. “he just felt some type of way ‘cause he does so much for me and i called him out of his name and stuff.” you defend onyankopon way too quickly for someone that ghosted you.

zinnia gives you a look that you can’t exactly read. “whatever you say, boo.” she says. it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you from the way she shakes her while saying it.

“can you just..” you sigh out, the way you were feeling over onyankopon was a feeling you have never felt in your life before. it felt as if your heart was tearing into two pieces and no matter how much you tried to take your mind off of him and the situation, it still replays in your head. “can we cuddle?”

“awe, snooks, of course, boo.” she makes quick work of ashing her blunt and shuffling the two of you so that she could hold you comfortably.

the two of you lay there, silently. your head is adjusted onto her chest, the sound of her heart thumping fills your ears as you lose yourself to your thoughts. so many what ifs are running through your head. your overthinking is almost suffocating you in a way. as you lay there, thinking of the worst you try to rationalize and also think of the good. that was a habit you tended to do. you always tried to see the good in people and every situation. because of your optimism, you were often taken advantage of.

you didn’t purposely upset onyankopon. you felt hurt and as a result you felt the need to hurt. if you had known that bringing up the message, you would have never brought it up. you would rather suffer and not speak on it than to fully stop speaking to onyankopon. it was different, going from spending all your time with someone to not talking for three days straight. this being your first ever serious relationship, you didn’t know what to do. you weren’t sure if you were supposed to blow up his phone or give him time to cool off. all you want is to speak with him and hear his voice, to get reassurance that he’s well and alive, to hear him admit that he isn't angry with you.

you don’t realize it but you somehow doze off in zinnia’s embrace. your soft snores fill her ears and she coos out a soft “awee” while rubbing your back. with her being the older cousin and you not having any siblings, she felt as if it is her duty to help you get through your first heartbreak. she’s been through your shoes many times before; overthinking, crying, getting upset, getting manipulated, she’s gone through it all. as much as she wants to just shake your shoulders and scream for you to gain some sense, she won’t. she has to allow you to maneuver through life with firsthand experience, that includes getting your heartbroken.

she’s known onyankopon for many years, since middle school to be exact. she witnessed the man mature and adopt his doggish ways. to her, you’re too naive for ony. since you’re an only child your parents tended to shield you away from just about everything during your childhood and teen years. their overbearingness has rubbed off on you giving you this innocent curious nature. of course, you get upset and curse but every threat you give off is empty. she knows onyankopon, and she knows that he likes girls like you. girls who are easy to manipulate and have access to. she regrets deeply advising you to come to the party with her. if she would’ve let you stay home, you would’ve never met him.

you’re suddenly awakened by a phone buzzing. you yawn and stretch, your eyes dart to your window and you could see the light from the moon peeking through your opened blinds. you rub your eyes and stretch once more before looking at zinnia’s phone that’s ringing on your nightstand. you reach over her and grab it, once you see that it’s sasha you press the answer button.

“hello?” your voice is scratchy from the hours you went without water.

“snookie?” she asks. by her tone you could tell she’s upset and that causes you to fully wake up. an angry sasha is a scary sasha.

“hi, sash. it’s me.”

“hey, boo. where’s zinnia?” she seems impatient, her words are rushed out.

“beside me, sleeping.” your eyes do a once over on zinnia who’s drooling onto your pillow. her chest heaves while heavy breaths escape through her nose.

“yeah, no. wake her up for me.”

“sash, you kno-” you’re cut off by sasha’s loud sighing into the phone.

“snookie, boo, just listen to me. wake zinnia up and put her on the phone.” she says.

without another word, your hand lands onto her side and you begin shaking zinnia awake. after a minute of repeating her name and shaking her, she finally wakes up. a mean mug is immediately on her face as she rises up from her sleeping position. she stretches, letting out a loud dramatic moan.

“whatchu shaking me for?” her tone is hostile. zinnia absolutely hates being woken up which is why you were hesitant from the beginning.

“sasha wants you.” you hand her her phone, watching as she rolls her eyes before speaking up.

“girl, what you want?” her full lips are pulled into a frown as she listens to whatever sasha says. “wait, who’s story?” she asks while opening instagram. she types on her keyboard for a few seconds and then stops. she goes quiet as she watches whatever sasha told her to watch. you could hear multiple voices and the sound of loud music coming from her phone, you curiously lean over to see and that’s when zinnia quickly tilts her phone. she ignores the confused look you throw to her.

“bro.. ’m gonna fuckin’ kill dis nigga.” zinnia says after a few moments of silence. she puts the phone back up to her ear, her hazel eyes dart to you a few times and then they look away. “brooo, we’re about to throw something cute on. come scoop.” at those words, you’re entirely intrigued. you mouth at her ‘what’ and she only shakes her head and ignores you. “yeah, i thought i saw connie’s baldheaded ass in the background. ‘mma get his ass too.”

once zinnia says her goodbyes, she hangs up and lets out a heavy breath. “snookie, y’know i love you right?” she asks, suddenly.

“yeah. i love you too.” you giggle nervously.

“‘nd i just want you to know you don’t need a nigga for shit as long as i’m livin’ and breathin’.” she continues.

“i hear you.” you reply.

“what ‘m about to show you, you gotta practice me you’re not gonna cry.” she negotiates.

“you know ‘m a crybaby!” you groan with a smile. “i promise you i’ll try to not cry.”

she deems that good enough because she’s hesitantly showing you her phone.some might think you’re being dramatic if they were to hear you say you physically felt your heart break. and you could understand, heartbreak is a literary term and not literal one. however, you were experiencing a heartache at that exact moment. gasping was all you could do as your breathing became trapped in your chest. because you couldn't, you didn't cry. in total shock, you were motionless. you could feel zinnia’s arms wrap around you but it’s almost like a barrier was completely stopping her from touching you, or that’s what it felt like anyway.

your eyes rewatch the screen for what felt like the 100th time. your ony is right there, but so is a woman. she’s bent over in front of him, her ass is pressed against his pelvis. she’s shaking her ass to the beat of the song that’s playing and onyankopon’s hands are clutching her wide hips while she twerks. they both have a big smile on their faces while people in the background hype them. you watch in horror as onyankopon brings a hand up only to quickly bring it down onto her ass. as the video comes to an end, the camera darts to connie who’s obviously drunk, hyping them up the most. he’s pouring a half full bottle of hennessy into onyankopon’s mouth while screaming absolute nonsense out.

“we’re going to get dressed and we’re going to that party. we’re gonna whoop onyankopon, that bitch, and connie’s ass.” zinnia says. her tone is serious and the glare in her eyes tell you that she means every word she’s saying.

“there’s no point, zinnia.” you shrug as tears race down your face. “he’s single, he can do whatever he wants.”

zinnia gives you a look of confusion and irritation. “girl, to hell with that. y’all get into one big augment and now he’s moving like this. we’re not letting this shit slide, bro.” her tone excludes any kind of debate.

it doesn’t feel like you’re there physically when zinnia urges you into the bathroom to clean yourself up a little. you’re zoned out the entire time while brushing your teeth and applying light makeup. your eyes stay glossed over but tears don’t fall. your legs shake like jelly, you feel weak; emotionally and physically. you didn’t know where to go from here. all you wanted at the moment was for ony to come over and hold you while kissing your head and promising you everything would be alright like he usually does. the person that hurt you is the person you’re craving the most.

zinnia is sympathetic the entire time the two of you get dressed. you didn’t want to go confront ony, honestly. you just wanted to lay in bed and rot away. the thought of being in an outside setting at this current moment seemed draining. what would you even say to him? there isn’t even anything to say to him.

everything moves too fast and sasha pulls up in front of your house sooner than you wanted her to. an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you look over your outfit. a pink spaghetti strap sleeveless dress hugs your figure, loudly emphasizing every curve you have. you couldn’t even feel pretty if you wanted to, your mind goes back to the woman that was twerking on ony and your heart quivers. the way he grabbed her hips, the same way he did that one night where he had you chanting his name like a prayer. you let out a breath and quickly look away from the mirror.

zinnia leads you through the living room where your mother is sitting in the living room watching judge judy in a nightgown she's had since you were born. meanwhile, your father sits exactly beside her, playing pool on his phone. “ohh, where y’all going?” your mother asks.

you can’t find it in you to talk and zinnia seems to quickly catch on to that. “we’re gonna go pop at this party right quick.” she tells her.

your mother’s eyes dart from your head to your toes. her eyes go back to your face and she can instantly tell something isn’t right with her daughter. she decides she’ll wait until it’s just the two of you to comment on it. “y’all be safe ‘nd stay together. if one has to go to the bathroom, the other follows in tow.” your mother lectures.

you both agree to her words and walk out of the house. you could feel her eyes burning a hole into your back but you refuse to turn around. if you were to break down crying, she would immediately forbid you from going out tonight. that’s one of the difficult parts of being an only child. your parents sometimes get too overbearing without even meaning to. privacy is something you just started getting once you turned 18. you still remember the way your mother almost fainted when the two of you were having girl talk and you had admitted that you and ony had sex for the first time. you still haven’t forgiven her for running back to your father and telling her, he had given you the cold shoulder for two weeks. as much as your parents could be a handful, their intentions were never bad. you’re their only child so they tend to shield you a bit too much because of that.

when you enter the backseat of sash’s pink wrapped dodge charger, the smell of weed immediately hits your nose. your nose scrunches in reflex. you absolutely despise the smell of weed, it’s too strong for your liking.

“wassup, bitches!” sasha greets the two of you. sexyy red plays lowly, she had gotten those overdramatic speakers installed so the bass was almost overpowering.

“pass the blunt, hoe.” zinnia rolls her eyes.

“hi, sasha.” you greet with a slight smile that almost hurts to put on your face.

“you okay, bookie?” she tilts all the way in her seat so that she could make eye contact with you. her almost cracks seeing the redness in your eyes. “we gon’ get shit straight. trust. when i see connie and ony ‘m punching them dead in their shit.”

zinnia quickly agrees as she lights the blunt up. you let out a soft laugh, “y’all there’s no reason to get violent.”

she inhales for a few seconds before letting out a large cloud of smoke. “yeah, okay.” she says sarcastically.

sasha pulls off, the song f my baby dad and instantly sasha turns the music up. both her and zinnia begin screaming the lyrics.

“my nigga actin’ up so you know ‘m finna pop it!” zinnia screams to no one in particular.

“y’all,” sasha turns the music down once she gets to a red light, “me and connie had our first pregnancy scare some weeks ago.”

both you and zinnia shook your heads at her words. you truthfully were surprised that sasha wasn’t on her second child with connie, from the extreme stories she told the two of you about her love life, it’s only a wonder that she isn’t carrying.

“girl! why you shaking your head?! a lil’ birdie told me that ony had to buy your lil ass a plan b!” sasha looks at you through the rearview mirror.

your eyes immediately dart towards zinnia, she’s the only person you disclosed that information to. zinnia quickly turns the music up, pretending she didn’t hear sasha’s accusation.

when sasha parks near the house that’s throwing the party, you feel so afraid that you immediately want to throw up. you were doing good not crying but reality seems to settle in and you realize you’re actually about to confront ony. a lump forms in your throat that you struggle to swallow down. you’re looking out of the window, at the house. you’re so caught up in your head that you don’t realize both zinnia and sasha are looking at you in worry.

you’ve been anxious since a child. you’re the ‘come with me’ friend. it’s something you hated. there’s been numerous times you’ve wished and prayed that anxiety didn’t control your life. you struggled extremely with confrontation. maybe that’s why you and ony got along so well. you never questioned him or any of that sort. you prefer to sit back and watch rather than being in the spotlight, being perceived. that goes for family, friends, and strangers. you weren’t even tearing up from what ony did, while that did have a part in your tears, you were more so dreading the thought of speaking up to him.

“you okay, snookie?” zinnia asks, worriedly.

you inhale sharply, “y-yeah. can we just.. get this over with, please?”

they both share a glance before agreeing. the three of you exit the car, the sounds of purses, bracelets and y’all’s slide sandals sync as you walk towards the house.

“we’re so bad.” sasha sighs while looking over the three of you to make sure you all looked good.

once you enter the house, you’re immediately blinded by flashing lights. the air is hot and humid as numerous people rub against each other. loud speakers blast rap music and you could faintly hear people rapping along with the rapper. alcohol, weed, and sweat fills your nose making you internally gag. this is the second party you’ve ever came to and you want to leave right away. sasha grabs zinnia’s hand, and zinnia grabs your hand. sasha leads you three to the kitchen that’s only filled with a few people. out of the corner of your eye, you could see a couple sloppily making out against the refrigerator.

“here.” sasha hands you a small glass that is filled with something clear. “take a shot or two and loosen up.”

following her instructions, you take two shots straight. bile rises and you have to swallow it causing you to gag. you feel your body shiver as you attempt to digest the alcohol. you take a gulp from the red bull that zinnia gives you, trying to ease the burning sensation in your throat.

“they’re all in the livin’ room, i seen them all huddled up and shit.” sasha comments while holding a cup in her hand.

“les go.” zinnia doesn’t waste any time making her way over to them.

you follow the girls along with legs that feel like jelly. the closer you come to the group, the faster your heart beats inside your chest. when you're just a few steps away, the scent of weed hits you powerfully.

“ohhh!” connie screams once he sees the three of you walk up. “we got zinnia in da housseeeeeee! ohhh shitttt! y’all don’ got itty bitty’s ass to get out of daaa houseeee! whaaaatttt! oh, ‘nd sasha is here too.. i guesssss.” connie is obviously intoxicated as he slurs over his words.

immediately, the rest of the guys' heads snap in y'all's direction. you somehow hear armin let out a “oh lord” once he sees the expressions on sasha and zinnia’s faces.

“connie shut that shit up, boy! what that hell are you screaming for?!” sasha wastes no time grabbing connie by his shirt.

“unhand me you beast!” connie screams dramatically.

sasha rolls her eyes at connie’s antics. her eyes dart from face to face until they land on ony, who’s sitting there manspreading. there’s an uninterested look on his face as he views your trio before his eyes locate onto you and you only. eye contact that you haven’t held in three days. that lazy head tilt and seeing his full lips pressed straight, you have to force yourself to look elsewhere. you refuse to get sucked into his hypnotizing eyes once again.

“you. stand up, i wanna fight.” she tells ony.

ony looks at her boredly, his eyes are glossed and lidded. “sasha, gone somewhere, man.” “beat her ass, ony. ‘m too scared t’do it.” connie says from his grasp in sasha’s hand.

ony's eyes dart over to you. there's a look on his face that makes your knees almost buckle. your heart speeds up in your chest and you can tell from the shift in the atmosphere that something is about to pop off.

[ladykailitha]

So I saw this on Facebook and thought it would make a great Steddie fic.

Now the jewelry screams Eddie, but I think that this is bouncer Eddie and drunk Stevie, having been broken up with for the hundredth time and just wanting to get blackout drunk.

Modern AU. Robin is off visiting family when this happens and strictly forbade him from going out. But Steve is out of ice cream and fucks to give so he goes out.

He gets steadily more wasted as the night goes on. He's not even flirting with the hot bartender Chrissy. Which she thinks should feel insulted by, but just really feels sorry for him.

He's a weepy drunk and it's not long afterwards that she cuts him off before he scares off her tips.

She calls over one of their bouncers to get this guy out from under her bar.

Eddie lopes over and picks him up.

They try to get ahold of some of his other friends but they aren't answering, which considering it's well after midnight, Eddie really doesn't blame them for.

But he has a hot mess on his hands and no place to stash him. So he talks to his boss who lets him off early to take care of Steve. Who is definitely NOT sober enough to tell him his address and because he's been kicked out by his girlfriend his wallet really doesn't help (he had been staying at Robin's).

So Eddie takes him home and of course about half way up the stairs to his apartment, Steve empties his stomach EVERYWHERE. All over Eddie's boots, the stairs, but most importantly all over himself.

He manages to make it to his apartment and carefully strips him down to his underwear and socks, removing everything including some small jewelry. He throws the clothes in the washer and then sets about cleaning up any vomit that might still be on the guy and tucks him into bed.

Then he goes about cleaning the vomit up from the hall, he cleans his boots and sets them to dry on the balcony.

Then Eddie starts preparing for the this poor guy's inevitable hangover. Painkillers and water on the nightstand, phone plugged in with a spare charger he had. Wallet and keys next the jewelry in the drawer.

He puts some warm clothes in the top drawer of the dresser, towels on the toilet seat, and making sure there is coffee ready to be brewed for the guy when he wakes up.

Then he goes to sleep himself and wakes up to find the guy still out cold and he has to go to his day job. He feeds Dio his breakfast and takes him out to do his business, but when he comes back and still the guy hasn't woken up. So he types up the note and sets it on the nightstand over top of the guy's phone and heads out.

Two hours later, Steve wakes up to find the worst hangover he's ever had and that includes to the time Robin and Steve decided to do a drinking tour of the world and didn't know you were supposed to spit out after tasting.

He also almost naked and is really freaking out, hoping he didn't have some one night stand because Robin would murder him a second time, after killing him for going out when she told him not to.

Then he sees the note and his heart melts a little at being taken care of then immediately kicks up to 100mph when he realizes who his rescuer is.

The hot bouncer he flirted with the get in the club in the first place.

Shit, shit, shit.

He really needs to leave and needs all of his stuff before he can do that so he reads the note again and re-reads the last paragraph again and again.

Shower, Netflix and doggo? Hmm...

He doesn't work today, that's why he went out drinking in the first place. He could call an Uber to meet him at the main street in the note...

Or...

He could spend the day in comfort and security for once in his life.

He takes the second option and has a lovely time with Dio and messaging Robin.

She's still going to murder him but she's glad he's safe.

Then the owner of said apartment shows up and Steve is really glad he stayed.

They order in and get to know each other a bit more and when he finally gets back to his car and home, he's got a name and a number with the possibility of a date.

Robin absolutely hates his luck. Even more so when she meets Eddie because he's perfect for Steve.

It becomes her funny story at their wedding two years later.

[screechingsandwichtriumph]

Platonic yandere avengers x reader x romantic yandere peter parker

Idek how to begin this so beware unlucky readers

Summary: you are an idol ,you are an avenger. How can they not be slightly a little bit protective of you

Warnings: yandere themes , stalking, obsession, fighting, blood , I think this is it

Also this will include(I'm sorry I didn't exactly do the like main six or whatever) Tony , Steve , Bucky , Clint , Natasha , Wanda , Peter

This is longer than I expected and I kinda don't like it but here it is in its full glory<3

When you joined the team , they blamed their protectiveness over you to your personality

I mean you are so cute and look so innocent , how can they not want to protect you ?

Tony had totally not hacked into every single account that you own / have owned in your life and he absolutely hasn't researcher your dad's Facebook to find childhood pictures of you. And he surely didn't print those out and handed then around in the team. Also expect to be spoilt rotten. Complained once about a stain on your favorite jacket? Have three more of the exact same just in case

Steve claimed to need specifically your help to understand how to operate anything mechanical ad expect to have a lot of movie marathons. He will read you before you sleep even though you are not a child anymore because ' he just liked when he is reading out loud'

Bucky would be the type of person to dig in deep in your life. He wouldn't stalk you specifically. That is tasked to someone else. No . He would stalk Al your friends and all your exes and highschool teachers.ad if he had to he would accidentally make some of them he consider bad influences disappear

Clint along with Natasha are your stalkers

Clint will always be hidden close by in case you need help with something (like , idk someone dead?) and my man could literally enter your home , casually look around a bit , stare at your decorations , and be out without you even realizing he was never there

Natasha on the other hand isn't so subtle. You could easily spot her on the other end of the street wearing sunglasses and staring at you intensely. Once you were in a bookstore admiring some books and stationary that you did not buy and the next day they were at your door with a little note that said ' saw them and they reminded me of you - Natasha ' as if you hadn't seen her looking at you. It isn't even that she is stupid . She just doesn't care

Wanda practically lived at your head at this point knowing things about you , you were barely aware of. Like , what do you mean you can't remember that one time you went snowboarding and fell? What do you mean how she knows that story and that you never told her? Of course you did silly!

Peter now was clearly in live with you and the first to meet you and get obsessed over you. When after some time he went to Tony and told him about his feelings , Tony supported his feelings to the max since this could be beneficial for all of them. Peter would never leave , they trusted him and he could keep you close.

Now you seem like a soft baby that needs protection from everyone ands that's mainly due to the way you present yourself and act. You have the most bubbly soft personality and everyone loves that

Being an idol , and an avenger was a dream come true for you , so when you had a big show and gave to them tickets to come see you they of course came( Tony almost bought all tha tickets so it could be only you but Steve stopped him)

Heating a music so fitting to your aesthetic it was like they fell in love (platonically and romantically for Peter) all over again. You are just so sweet and cute

Then a day came where an attack happened in new York and all of you jumped to action. They had no time to stop you from going to battle or even think about doing it really. The only think they could do was act.

Now , your powers were so incredibly powerful that they never thought you would have to fight face to face with someone. But they were terrible wrong

Once the fight was over they all spotted you on the corner of a building with bloody fists and a small trail of blood staining your pretty pink costume. A fan of yours was there asking you to take a picture . You kindly smiled at the camera revealing a set of bloody teeth.

Your fan seemed super excited at that and almost yelled out in joy. You bid her goodbye and went towards the group of your shocked friends

They all just stared at you in an unusually bloody shape , that somehow seemed fitting (?)

Later on they were shown a video of you with a bunch of people , that you were brutally fighting with . They were all left to shreds when you left your head held high.( Peter was even more into you after that)

Asks are always open<3

[separatist-apologist]

Guilty As Sin

Summary: Rhys has been watching Feyre Archeron for a long time. Thinking about what he'd do if he ever had her. How he'd keep her.

And now he has her.

TW: Dubious consent, blood kink, knife play

Read On AO3

-

It would be, perhaps, Rhysand’s greatest triumph to kill Tamlin Rosewood. After all, Tamlin had set him down this path so many years before—when they’d been teenagers, two boys from questionable, if not wealthy homes, looking for something to make them feel alive. Tamlin had asked Rhys if he wanted to see something cool, and then let him watch as Tamlin sliced apart a local vagrant. It should have been horrifying. Disgusting.

And yet Rhysand had found the whole thing fascinating. More fascinating still was how easy it was to claim his first kill. Rhysand needed a moral code to keep himself in line, to keep from just jamming a blade into every person who passed him on the street. Tamlin had suggested it, too, perhaps recognizing Rhys’ propensity for violence. Or maybe he knew all too well how enjoyable snuffing out life was. How close to God it made Rhys feel.

Pick those that can fight back.

People who’ve wasted their life.

Do the world a  favor.

Of course they’d eventually turn on each other. How long before two serial killers realized the world might be better off without at least one of them? It had been a cat and mouse game ever since, trying to catch the other unaware and going to ground when they failed. Tamlin had come close a couple times while Rhys had mostly just watched.

Waited.

Bided his time until Tamlin genuinely believed himself to be a god. That Rhys was so afraid of him he wouldn’t dare. Tamlin had let his guard down just enough to find himself a girlfriend he apparently liked. And she, Rhys decided, was going to be how he finally killed Tamlin. Collateral in their feud, he told himself. After all, any woman dumb enough to fall for Tamlin wasn’t worth much. 

He’d looked her up—Feyre Archeron. Her profile picture on facebook was an artbrush, but she’d helpfully listed every job she’d ever had since high school—and there had been many. Rhys ran them all down until he got to the art studio she taught at and, because he liked a little drama in his life, signed him up for one of her intro classes. 

He had been unaware he would be the only adult in said class until a wave of bouncy, giggly children had stormed through the doors, taking seats at easels while their parents vanished. He could have slipped out—he’d meant to, he swore it. But Feyre Archeron had come waltzing in wearing a baby blue sweater, sleeves rolled to her elbows, the hem hanging just beneath her ass, and oh. Rhys stayed in his chair, if only to admire the curve of her hips in those cotton soft leggings.

She didn’t seem like Tamlin’s usual type. There was a softness to her features, a constellation of freckles dotted across her nose alongside a splatter of violet ink in those cerulean eyes, that made Rhys certain she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her full mouth curved into an easy smile, gaze settling on him.

“Did you mean to sign up for this?” she asked him, eliciting another round of giggles from the children. There was no malice to her words, playful and sweet. He wanted to put his hands on her. Was she corruptible? Oh, how Rhys wanted to find out. His plans reshaped themselves as they looked at the other, though Feyre didn’t know it. Killing her wasn’t an option, not anymore. No. He’d take her for himself, stripping Tamlin of everything he cared about before finally spilling his blood. And he’d start with perfect, pretty Feyre Archeron.

Rhys offered her a lazy smile, running a hand through his ebony hair. “My skill level is comparable, I’m certain.”

“I guess we’ll see,” she replied, her delight evident. Rhys felt her amusement reflected in his own body. When was the last time anyone had charmed him by sight alone? Nevermind how funny he found her, watching as she interacted with each student with the kind of unending patience he could only dream of. It begged the question—what did Tamlin want with her? He knew Tamlin, and of all the virtues Tamlin might claim to have, patience certainly wasn’t one of them.

He had a famously vicious temper. 

Did Feyre know her boyfriend was a serial killer? Did Tamlin know his girlfriend taught school children in her spare time? What would be more abhorrent to who? Rhys never managed to untangle that, just like he never managed to make his brush strokes half as nice as the eight year old beside him. Rhys lingered, waiting until the kids were gone and Feyre was cleaning up to say something to her.

“I’m not some kind of weirdo, I hope you know,” he began, drawing a pretty laugh from prettier lips. 

“No? I might have thought so if I hadn’t seen how abysmal you are with a brush. I teach preschoolers on Tuesdays. You might be better suited in that class.”

“You wound me, Ms. Archeron,” he replied, one hand pressed to his chest. “You didn’t like my house?”

“Oh, was that what it is?” she asked, squinting at his muddied colors on the paper. “I thought you were painting me a stormy sky.”

“I’ll paint whatever you tell me to,” Rhys quipped, noting how her cheeks flushed. No ring on her finger—god, but how incredible to seduce her out from under Tamlin’s nose. For Tamlin not to realize he was losing everything to his old nemesis. How long before Tamlin learned of Rhysand’s treachery? Rhysand was a patient man. It was one of his better qualities, few as they were.

He’d send Tamlin a wedding invitation inked in blood, fuck his new wife, and then, as a gift to her, bring her Tamlin’s still beating heart.

Wife? That was a weird thought.

Rhys cleared his head. He was merely excited at the prospect of punishing Tamlin—that was all. Feyre was beautiful, but hardly wife material. Besides, the kind of woman who spent her time teaching children to color within the lines didn’t want to get shackled to the likes of him. Not long-term, at any rate. Rhys had dated plenty of women, all of whom woke up one morning deeply unsettled and certain they were making a mistake. He couldn’t blame them—he would make an awful husband. 

A good lay, though? He could give her that. 

“Watch yourself Rhysand.”

“Come, now,” he said, rising from the little metal stool he’d been sitting on. She was so much smaller than him—lithe and lovely, so breakable in a way that made him want to be careful rather than rough. “Only my enemies call me Rhysand.”

“Fine. Watch yourself Rhys. I’ll think you’re flirting if you’re not careful,” Feyre said, twisting that thick, golden brown hair off her face with a paintbrush. Something within him stirred at the sight of wispy tendrils framing her face, fingers twitching with the urge to brush them from her cheekbones. 

“Careful isn’t how anyone who knows me would describe me. Besides…maybe I am flirting.”

This was the part where she told him she had a boyfriend. Rhys waited, catching the flicker of indecision streak over her features. He could practically hear her rationalizing it in her mind—there was no harm in a little flirting.

Oh, Tamlin. Rhys cocked his head. How far could he take this before she broke? If he could just get his hands into those tight leggings of hers, she’d forget all about that blonde haired bastard. C’mon, Rhys urged.

His silent plea fell on deaf ears. Too good for the likes of him, Feyre said, “Well, if you were flirting, I’d have to tell you that I have a boyfriend.”

“Lucky him,” Rhys replied, gut twisting despite his easy expression. “I know when I’ve been beat. See you around Feyre.”

And then he left, still smiling to himself as he went. She had no idea, of course. 

But Rhys would be seeing her very soon.

– 

Feyre stared down at the meal, ruined again. Behind her, Tamlin practically seethed with unseen anger. She could feel him working to leash his temper, to resist the urge to tell her I told you so.

I told you you’re a terrible cook.

“I’ll order dinner,” Tamlin said, ignoring the way Feyre blinked back tears. Bracing the ledge of the sink, she stared out the open window into the dark. She was trying—didn’t that matter? It wasn’t that badly burned, besides. They could have eaten around it. Feyre wished Tamlin would sit down, tell her it looked good, and eat it. Was that so much to ask? 

Apparently, given the heavy, long-suffering sigh from the man behind her. “You don’t need to try so hard, Feyre. You have me.”

“It’s—” She choked back the urge to scream that it wasn’t about impressing him. It was about care, about showing him that she loved him in some tangible way. Doing something for him so that he, in turn, might do something for her. Might do or say something that made her feel seen and safe. 

It had been a year of the stretching silence and the long sighs. Of not technically doing anything that would cause her to break up with her, all while giving off an air of not liking her very much. Well—that wasn’t fair. When the lights were out and they were in bed, Tamlin was very attentive. Detached, somehow—he never wanted her to look him in the eye—but he knew every place to touch and tease to make her writhe. And that was too often enough to convince her it was better to stay and hope whatever was bothering him faded and he went back to the love sick fool she’d first fallen in love with.

It didn’t help that Rhysand—Rhys—was still lodged firmly in her brain three days post meeting him. He’d been…well…he’d been beautiful. And charming. And funny, too. Endearing, even, as the kids teased him for his poor paint work. And when he’d said he was flirting, well…Feyre had imagined sending Tamlin a quick text message.

This is over. Don’t call me again. 

Throwing away a year on a man with a roguish smile seemed like a call for help. Still, he’d been on her mind, unshakable as her relationship with Tamlin stagnated like pond water. He ordered food without consulting her, ate it silently, all the while staring at his phone. He worked for a security firm and spent so much time watching the cameras, tracking people with a single-minded devotion she wished he’d focus on her.

“I’m going out,” he told her abruptly, only after Feyre had changed into a tiny slip of a nightdress, thinking she’d feel better if they at least had sex. His pine green gaze slid down her body without a hint of interest or appreciation. Just an acknowledgement that she had nearly every inch of her skin out for him before looking back to her face. “You can wait up, if you want.” How romantic, she wanted to scream. She felt utterly pathetic, a neglected housewife married for twenty years while her husband had an affair. Only Tamlin’s affair was with his job and Feyre would never come first. 

Say nothing, she ordered herself. And yet her traitorous lips said, “Couldn’t it wait another night?”

He regarded her without emotion. “It can’t. Get some sleep, Feyre. I’ll be in later.” Tamlin turned without a look back, swiping his car keys thrown haphazardly on the dresser, and strode from the room. Feyre didn’t, listening to the sound of the soft snick of the closing door and the sound of tires pulling away from the curb.

What was more pathetic, she wondered as she padded into the kitchen for a drink for water? Staying up late to seduce him, thus allowing him to have everything he wanted without doing any work at all, or staying with him when she was so miserable in the first place? Was this love?

Feyre didn’t get a chance to answer any of those questions. 

There, in the hall, stood a tall, muscular…man? They certainly seemed masculine, with broad shoulders that tapered into a rather nice waist beneath that high necked sweater. Matching black pants and a belt would have made him look rather nice, had he not been holding a massive, jagged knife in one gloved hand.

The ghost face mask obscuring his features didn’t help, either. Feyre didn’t move, heart hammering against her ribs. Scream. Run. Do something.

“There you are,” a deep, rich voice spoke from beneath the mask, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Don’t hurt me,” Feyre whispered, rooted in place as he made his way towards her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, drinking in the heady smell of his cologne and that horrible knife glinting beneath the artificial lights beaming overhead. 

With his free hand, he reached toward her and to her credit, Feyre didn’t flinch. She merely stood utterly still as he brushed his knuckles over her cheekbone before sliding his gloved thumb over her lip.

“Hurt you? Darling, I’m here to rescue you.”

Her brain couldn’t make sense of those dark words dripping with the promise of…the promise of what? Feyre tried a step backward, tripping over her own nervous feet to fall to the ground. The man lunged and she braced herself for the pain of his blade, for blood and misery before finally death. But all she found was fingers around her body, hoisting her into the air.

She flailed, heel connecting with his jaw. He swore and the two fell to the ground gracelessly a second time, him tearing her nightdress to keep her pinned beneath him.

“I do so like you like this,” he all but growled as she tried to yank that mask off his face. If she was going to kill her, she deserved to look him in the eyes. His fingers curled around her wrists, subduing her quickly—easily, before gathering both in one big, broad hand. The other came over her mouth and nose, cutting off her ability to breathe.

“Don’t fight me,” he whispered as she kicked out her legs from beneath him. Why was this happening? She was going to die. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

A tear slid down her cheek. How could he say that as he was suffocating her with his hand? She  continued to writhe, for all the good it did her, her screaming mind drowning out the words her attacker was saying. Lungs burning, desperately trying to gasp for air, Feyre couldn’t control her limbs. She felt herself getting dizzy, choking on her own pooling spit.

“I’m not going to kill you,” her attacker said, his voice far away. “Stop fighting me and I’ll remove my hand.” Her body went limp as she complied immediately, willing to do anything if it meant she could breathe again. And true to his word, her attacker removed his hand, letting her take a gasping, sobbing breath of air. 

“Good girl,” he praised softly, caressing her cheek a second time. “If you do everything I say, no one has to get hurt. Can you stand?”

“No,” Feyre said, eyes closed as she focused only on the sensation of air in her body. She wasn’t going to help him abduct her, besides. Not that it mattered. He had her wrists bound before he picked her back up like she was weightless to him, walking her toward her front door with ease.

“My boyfriend has cameras on the door,” she said, unsure if she was warning this man or helping him. “He’s going to see you.”

A chuckle rumbled from his broad chest. “Oh, I am well aware. Your boyfriend is too busy hunting tonight to check…and by the time he does, you and I will be long gone.”

The cool night air was like a caress against her clammy skin. Feyre saw the car—sleek and dark—parked so brazenly in the drive. 

“The police will find you,” she warned, deciding for a little boldness despite her swimming head and desperate desire to fall asleep.

“That would require Tamlin to call them…and he won’t. No, my darling—this is personal and you’re simply caught up in the middle of it. Now—can I trust you to behave in my back seat, or do you need to go in the trunk? I don’t want to put you back there…but I will.”

“What do you mean?” Feyre demanded, mind swimming.

“I mean, I don’t want to die on the road—”

“About hunting,” she interrupted, looking up at that ghostface mask. “About Tamlin not calling the police.”

Her attacker seemed to hesitate, muscles going taut beneath her. “I had a whole presentation planned. Why spoil it?”

“Tell me.”

“Your boyfriend is a killer—just like me. He taught me, in fact—or rather, we taught each other. He can’t involve the police without risking himself so he won’t.”

“Am I bait?”

“Oh, Feyre darling, you are so much more than that. For now, you’re merely my guest. Now—can I trust you in the car?”

Ferye closed her eyes. If she wanted to survive, she’d have to be careful. She had the thought just as her attacker laid her in the back of his car. She panicked, seeing him hovering over her, and immediately kicked him in the throat. He stumbled back as Feyre filled her lungs with air and screamed. She didn’t yell help—but screamed at the top of her lungs hoping a neighbor would come out.

“Fucking shit,” the kidnapper groaned, lunging forward. With her wrists bound, Feyre couldn’t do much, especially when he picked her back up. “Go ahead. Scream as loud as you want—-” She screamed directly against his ear, causing him to jerk back a step. He didn’t speak, merely popped his trunk and dumped her unceremoniously inside.

“Remember I tried,” he said before slamming it shut. Feyre immediately started looking for the little hatch that would open it, pulling it with her teeth.

The masked man was waiting, arms crossed over his chest. “Why must you make this difficult?”

“I hate you,” she bit back, heart racing in her throat. He only sighed before producing masking tape. After a moment, she found it pressed over her eyes and mouth before he bound her ankles, too.

“Open my trunk and roll out,” he dared her, the sound of his voice somehow more terrifying than the sight of him. “See how far that gets you.”

He slammed the trunk again, leaving Feyre alone in the dark. She screamed against the tape, trying to break it until her wrists were raw. He’d begun driving, the music faint through the fabric of the backseats. Would it have been smarter to pretend to be his friend? To lull him into a false sense of security? Feyre had never been particularly patient. In fact, she was spontaneous to a fault, acting without thinking and hoping it all worked out. Of course, that was for school assignments and ghosting friends—never because she’d been kidnapped.

Think, Feyre. 

She couldn’t, though. Not beyond her immediate problem, which was the tape over her mouth and eyes. If she could just get it off, Feyre thought she’d be able to think more clearly. Figure out a plan and execute it. She rubbed until her wrists ached and her head pounded, but at no point did she manage to do anything but chafe her skin, exhaling for air roughly through her nose. 

Eventually, the car came to a stop, the music cutting off abruptly. Lost to the dark, Feyre went limp as the sound of shoes on gravel flooded her senses. A moment later, cold air rushed into the trunk as hands lifted her in the air.

“You’re a terrible actress,” her captor murmured, his amusement plain. “I’m going to unbind you when we get inside. Are you listening to me? Nod your head.” Feyre did.

She heard the sound of numbers being keyed into a pad followed by the smell of warm cedar, drowning out the unmistakable scent of snow. Feyre was set on something soft—a sofa, before the tape was peeled off her eyes, and then her mouth. She was in a cabin, she realized. Well decorated and comfortable—and likely remote. Had he taken her up into the Illyrian Mountains?

“People will be looking for me—”

“No they won’t,” he replied smoothly, reaching for the edge of his mask. He was showing her his face? Feyre panicked—the only reason he’d do that was if he didn’t intend for her to tell anyone. She almost begged him not to, but a second later he’d peeled it back, revealing…well. Not what she’d imagined.

He was handsome, the asshole. Dark hair paired with eyes so blue they seemed violet were the first things she noticed. He was staring down at her, his sensual lips curled into a smile. The sharpness of his jaw and his high cheekbones gave him an almost aristocratic air, and his warm, brown skin was utterly unblemished and smooth. 

She’d been imagining him as some ugly man. This was worse, somehow. If he was caught, he’d have prison groupies. People would wonder if he’d really done anything horrible at all given how lovely he was to look at. That charming smile certainly didn’t help. 

"I remember you," she said. "From the art studio."

Rhys grinned. 

“Let me explain to you how things are going to work between us,” he began, running a hand through his thick hair. “There is nowhere for you to run, and if you try, you’re likely to plummet to your death or freeze before I find you. No one is looking for you. Repeat that as often as you need to. Tamlin will make all your excuses. He’s not going to rescue you. Until I’m done, you are at my mercy.”

“Are you going to kill me?” she asked, wishing she could curl herself into a small ball. 

He chuckled. “No, Feyre. I’m not going to kill you. I think we might get along perfectly well so long as you don’t do anything foolish.”

Like running away. The look on his face told her he expected her to. She didn’t have shoes, was dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She wouldn’t get far, but maybe he was lying. Maybe he banked on her fear to keep her compliant. 

He made a show of pulling a pocket knife from his pants and freeing her, frowning at her raw, bruised wrists. Feyre drew them against her chest, looking up at him warily. “What now?” He shrugged. “I don’t care what you do, so long as you remain within these walls.”

Fat chance of that. But Feyre nodded, hoping she looked properly scared. The cabin itself was small, and filled with cameras. He’d see her. Fine. He had to sleep at some point—he couldn’t be monitoring her all day, every day.

It was a bit of a stretch to call it a cabin given the home had two floors. It was remote, though, and seemed to function mostly off the grid, and had a rather nice kitchen she doubted he knew how to use. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a den he seemed to work out of—she wasn’t sure, given he didn’t open that door and merely gestured to it with a casual, don’t go in there.

Maybe it was where he tortured his victims. 

Feyre was given a room down the hall from him, devoid of a lock. “Look up,” he murmured, chin gutting toward the camera. “Wave to Tamlin.”

Feyre glanced up, unsure which of them she hated more. “He can see me?”

“He’ll see this,” Rhys murmured, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s easy enough to send it to him.”

“You could get back at him without involving me,” she heard herself say, wondering if that made her a traitor. This had nothing to do with her, and Feyre felt as if she was being punished unfairly for whatever was going on between Rhys and Tamlin. 

He shrugged. “Consider this a rescue.”

A rescue? Feyre was going to kill him. Maybe he saw it, because he nodded toward the twin bed shoved in the corner. “There’s some clothes in the closet you can use—”

“Who did they belong to?” she demanded, heart leaping in her throat.

“My cousin,” he replied, eyes narrowed. As if he were offended she might suggest there’d been another captive in the room. Feyre didn’t want to think about that—it made her panic all over again. 

Rhys left after a few more self satisfied words around how he’d find her if she tried to escape so not to bother. Feyre wasn’t listening, already thinking about escaping through the window. Was it locked? Her bedroom door wasn’t, which felt like a test. Was he hoping she’d try and escape? 

Feyre sat on the edge of that bed and talked herself into her plan. Ignoring that it was cold and isolated and that she was woefully unprepared, Feyre instead thought about Rhys.

He wasn’t a god. He was only a man. He might have cameras on her, might have her watched, but he couldn’t search miles and miles of forest. The only advantage he had, supposedly, was that he knew she was missing before anyone else did. Feyre had grown up running through the backwoods and something about the slick way Rhys had his hair shoved off his stupid, too-perfect, face, told her he could not boast the same.

Feyre found booties in the back of the closet, and a million pairs of leggings hanging in the closet besides sweaters that were far too big for her frame. They’d double as a blanket, she decided as she pulled it all on. 

He was probably watching her. Feyre turned toward the camera and the blinking red light and offered her middle finger before throwing open that window. 

“For fucks sake!” Rhys’s voice called from somewhere inside the cabin. Feyre scrambled out the window, toppling feet over head into the frigid snow. Rhys’s fingers skimmed her ankle, attempting to drag her back inside. 

Scrambling to her feet as he came right out behind her in that stupid mask, Feyre realized it was a lot harder to run in snow than she’d expected. She had a head start on him for a solid ten seconds before he slammed into her, taking them both back to the ground. Rhys was made of solid muscle and was heavy. 

His bare hand wrapped around her throat, arching her neck upward until his lips touched her ear. “I told you not to,” he said as she writhed beneath him, desperately trying to get out from under him. 

“I don’t care what you say!” Feyre screamed. Rhys grabbed her arms, holding them in one broad hand as he restrained her thoroughly.

“You will—” he began, but Feyre head butted him, earning a furious curse in her ear. He half fell to his side, losing his grip on her wrists, which gave her time to scramble back to her feet. Rhys was just behind, grabbing her around her middle before hauling her up on his shoulder.

Feyre screamed, and though Rhys stumbled, he didn’t drop her like she’d hoped he would. 

“Scream all you want,” Rhys roared in response, as if he needed to make his point. “No one can hear you!”

“Tamlin is going—”

“He’s not coming!” Rhys interrupted, his fury finally scaring her. She hadn’t been frightened before—not truly. But right then, draped over Rhys’s shoulder while he wore that mask in the dark, his voice dripping with condemnation, Feyre was frightened. He sounded irate, dragging her back into that cabin with sure steps.

He didn’t take her back to that same room. Instead, Rhys dropped her into a different one—one that looked distinctly lived in. One that belonged to him, she realized. Feyre attempted to scramble up but Rhys was consistently faster. He had one leg, and then the other bound to the posts at the end of the footboard.

He sat on the bed beside her, laptop resting on his thigh. He pulled that mask up over his face, tossing it to the bed beside her. 

“Look for yourself,” Rhys snarled, shoving the open messages on the screen in front of her face. “Look and see how much he loves you.”

There were a slew of messages between them, and yet Feyre’s eyes snagged only on one.

Kill her then. 

She waited to see if she’d cry, but nothing came. “You’re lying.”

“He’s not coming for you,” Rhys informed her, eyes bouncing over her face as if he were searching for something. “This is between us, and you’ve become collateral.”

“Then why don’t you kill me?” Feyre snapped, yanking at her ankles trapped in the leather cuffs. They were bondage cuffs, she realized, rather than handcuffs. 

“Why would I kill you?” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “Tamlin might not be mounting some heroic rescue, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t view you as his. His little toy to play with until he gets tired of her…” Rhys murmured, sliding the side of his finger along her neck. “I’m not supposed to touch.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”

“I asked you not to leave,” he continued, ignoring her plea as his fingers made their way down her shoulder. “Left the door open so you knew you could move freely through the house. You’re so desperate to get back to him, but I know what he does to pretty little things like you. Where they end up. How their families mourn.”

“Stop,” she whispered, unsure which terrified her more—his touch, or the threat of what Tamlin might eventually do.

Rhys caught her wrist, binding it over her head before Feyre’s mind could catch up with his actions. She was wholly restrained and he was holding a knife as he walked around the bed. 

“You’re still bait,” he murmured, one hand sliding over a wooden bedpost. “He can see us right now, you know. He’s watching, hoping I’ll kill you before you tell me something you shouldn’t.”

“He doesn’t tell me anything,” she whispered, trying in vain to wriggle away. 

“If you didn’t know anything, he wouldn’t have responded at all. He’s slipped up—you know something,” Rhys declared, running the sharp edge of his blade across her leggings. The fabric snagged, ripping neatly from ankle to waistband.

“I swear I don’t,” she protested as cool air caressed over her now exposed thighs. He wasn’t done as he ruined that oversized blue sweater, too, leaving her in nothing but the shredded remains of fabric. Violet eyes swept over her now naked form and rather than sadistic amusement, Feyre swore she saw unguarded desire staring back at her.

“You do,” Rhys murmured, pausing between her legs. She tried to hide herself from view, but she was restricted by the restraints. “You just don’t remember.”

“How is this supposed to help?”

“Who said anything about helping?” Rhys questioned, tossing his knife beside his mask. The weapon left a small impression atop the black duvet, sharp end pointing toward her ribcage as if to warn her not to try anything.

Feyre pulled against her restraints, for all the good it did her. “Then what are you doing?”

���I’ve been watching you for a long time,” Rhys told her without moving. He did, however, gesture behind him to a wall half hidden in shadow. There, hanging in a gold frame, hung a familiar work of art. Her first ever painting sold—it was a moody seascape Tamlin had accused of being cliche. She’d been brand new, and yet talented enough to be accepted into a showing where an anonymous buyer had overpaid for it.

Feyre still had that first check tucked away in a desk drawer, and when she felt overwhelmed or dejected, she’d pull it out to look at. That same buyer had purchased something from every collection she’d done, always paying far more than she was asking. 

“That was you?”

“I have an eye for beautiful things you know,” he informed her, his gaze a brand against her skin. 

“You’re jealous?”

“Desperately,” he replied without irony. “It’s always been like that between us. He has everything I want.”

“Rhys,” she whispered, unable to look at him anymore. She wanted to tell him not to do this, and didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was afraid. 

“He’s watching,” Rhys told her, glancing over his shoulder. “Keeps hacking into my system to see what you’re doing. Will you smile for him, Feyre? Let him think you’re happy?”

“Just let me go,” she pleaded as her captor slid to his knees between her legs. “I won’t say anything.”

“I can’t,” he murmured, lips ghosting over sensitive skin. “I want to keep you.”

Alive, was the unspoken word between them. Did he realize that was a low bar? A bar already set in hell, so far beneath his feet there ought to be no trouble clearing it. And yet…Feyre turned her head as he kissed up his leg, stomach tight from anxiety. 

“Like this?”

He shrugged. “I’d untie you, but I think you’d kill me with your bare hands if I did.”

“I think you’d like it,” she shot back, squirming when she felt his warm breath tease between her legs. 

“I’m hard just thinking about it,” he agreed with a grin. 

His tongue slid up the center of her pussy before Feyre could think of a good comeback. She yelped, trying—and failing—to escape the feeling. It had been too long since someone had done this for her, which was how Feyre explained the bolt of lust racing through her. He didn’t stop, eyes pinned to her face to see if she liked what he was doing.

Feyre was resolved not to react. Men always tired of this act after a minute or two, doubly so when they weren’t being catered to on their back, but instead forced to kneel. It was easy, at least in the beginning, to ignore his tongue teasing her clit. She thought about how cold the snow had been when she’d fallen out the window and reminded herself he’d shoved her in a trunk. That he was a killer, too, and toying with her boyfriend.

Or ex-boyfriend. Feyre wasn’t really sure what they were anymore. She supposed they were over, given he’d told Rhys to kill her. Feyre’s eyes slid to the camera in the corner of the room and somehow, she could feel him watching. Could feel his anger, too—as if this were all her fault. As if she’d kidnapped herself, tied herself up, and was now being forced into pleasure, too.

Are you happy now? Feyre wanted to scream it. 

“Eyes on me,” Rhys growled, forcing her to look back down at him. How long had it been, anyway? Her body hummed at the loss of contact, proving that though she was trying not to feel anything, she couldn’t block him out entirely.

“You’re wasting your time,” she whispered.

“All my time belongs to you now,” was his frustrating reply. He returned his tongue back to her pussy and this time, though she tried, Feyre couldn’t refocus on anything but his touch. It was all wrong—his mask lay on the bed, the knife still pointed toward her, inches away from her exposed skin.

For all she knew, he was lying to her and would kill her when he finished.

“Please stop,” she whispered, pulling on her restraints.

“Come, then,” he said in response, his voice muffled. 

Feyre didn’t want to come. For a while, she writhed against her restraints until he physically pinned her to the bed, holding her still so he could continue his slow torture. Feyre thought he liked when she fought him—that he wanted to bring her under submission. She held herself back, whimpering from the effort as she counted in her head. 

“Do you need a distraction?” Rhys murmured when he heard her reciting the ingredients to a recipe. “Something to turn off that meddling brain of yours?”

“No,” she gasped, but he was on his feet, hands undoing his dark trousers. “I don’t need—I’m fine, I’ll finish—”

“I know you will,” he replied, pulling his long, thick cock from his pants. Feyre couldn’t not look at it as Rhys moved around the bed, extending his restraints so he could reposition her. Feyre fought him, slapping Rhys hard in the face when he undid her arms. He grunted but didn’t react other than to sigh, his frustration plain. With the longer rope, he could tie her hands to the bedposts without overextending her arms while her head now hung off the edge of the bed.

“I won’t,” she informed him.

“You will,” Rhys replied, pinching her nose when she pressed her lips together. As he waited for her to take a breath, he rubbed his cock over her cheek while his other hand slid across her breasts to play with her nipples.

Feyre tried—oh, how she tried—but in the end, she had to take a gasping breath of air. He pushed the head of his cock between her teeth, not caring when sensitive flesh scraped roughly against the jagged edges. The hand that had once pinched her nose now held her throat, squeezing just enough to warn her not to try and bite. 

She did anyway.

“Don’t do that again,” he warned, taking his knife and resting it on her stomach. Feyre didn’t believe he’d use it until he took the hilt and began using the smooth silver to tease against her clit.

She couldn’t argue with him, mouth filled with his cock. She widened her jaw to take a breath as he angled his hips, pushing himself further until he was backed up against her throat. Feyre gagged lightly, praying he wouldn’t keep going. 

She didn’t want to throw up.

Clearly neither did Rhys. Groaning softly, he whispered, “You suck so well.”

She wasn’t doing anything, really—Rhys moved his hips, setting the pace so he could fuck her mouth. Feyre screamed around him when she felt him push the hilt of the knife into her body so he, too, could fuck her with it. He’d been right about one thing—sucking his cock kept her focused on what was happening between her legs. She could think of nothing else, her mind torn between the air coming into her lungs and what Rhys was currently doing with his mouth. 

With his legs spread, he’d returned to licking her clit, focused wholly on that and nothing else. How did he not cut himself on the blade, she wondered as she tried to wriggle the knife out of her pussy.

It didn’t work. Whatever he was doing, he was skilled. Feyre was reacting, her body tightening around the hilt of the blade thanks to the skill of his tongue. Rhys groaned when she sucked in more air than she’d meant to, lips forming a seal around his shaft.

“Just like that baby,” he moaned before picking up his pace. She was going to come and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Feyre tried, eyes leaking from the cock bruising her throat as saliva dripped down her neck. He was going to come, too.

Quick, she realized with some relief. He was timing himself with her, well aware she was close to completion. At least he wouldn’t draw it out? Or he had something else planned. Feyre didn’t know.

Didn’t want to know.

Didn’t want to admit that this was the best she’d felt in a long, long time. How fucked up was it that she hadn’t been able to get off for months, and now, tied up and forced, she was careening toward the sort of pleasure that threatened to unmake her. Was this how stockholm syndrome worked? Her body, flooded with pleasure, began to think that maybe it wasn’t so bad to be stuck here with him.

“Keep sucking,” Rhys moaned again, his hips losing some of their controlled rhythm. Maybe it was better to just get it over with. Feyre sucked around him, though she refused to move her head and help him.

Rhys licked faster, moving in precise circles until her hips began to roll into him, chasing the inevitable. Feyre clenched, finding purchase on the hilt of the blade. Rhys rubbed it just against the perfect spot, his tongue unwavering and Feyre was undone. She screamed around his cock, body bowing off the bed and directly into his mouth. She heard him curse though she didn’t care, half ruined from the pleasure now ribboning through her. Feyre was a star, white hot as it erupted over a silent sky.

She’d forgotten, just for a second, he still had his cock buried in her throat. With a twitching jerk, Rhys came into her throat, his come spilling out the sides of her mouth to join the mess of spit pooling along her collarbone. 

Panting, he pulled himself out of her to show her the knife coated in her own release and dripping with blood. His blood, she realized with alarm, noting the gash sliced over his palm.

“I got too excited,” he breathed, wiping it over her naked breasts. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“Untie me,” she whispered, tugging against the restraints. “Please, untie me—”

Despite his injured hand, Rhys was quick about it, undoing her hands first, and then her feet. She’d told herself she was going to hit him for what had just happened, but instead Feyre merely sat up while he stepped out, half naked from the waist down, only to return with a warm rag he used to wipe up the mess of come and blood. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he whispered into her hair, pulling her against his chest. 

Feyre looked up at him, unsure if she believed him. “Tamlin told you to.”

“I wouldn’t kill my worst enemy to satisfy him.”

She swallowed. “And…if I wanted to kill him?”

Rhys grinned. “Say less, pretty baby. Say less.”

[easybrainrot34]

🖼️Lil Benedict Bridgerton Headcanons🖼️

These r random as perusal lol. I am truly a ✨slut✨ for this man. So here r some random Modern!AU takes that I can see happening. Hope yall enjoy. All r fluff and crack.. Also if anyone wants it I could do ✨spicy version✨let me know! Part 2 is here! Also also sorry this took me so long, i had such bad writers block lol. E N J O Y!!

Ps, my ask and request r open :)

🎨 I feel like Ben is a very "anti-toxic masculinity" kinda man. He has and will call out his brothers if he sees some shady suss shit. He had MANY talks with Anthony about not having to always be all macho macho man. I genuinely think Ben is the only one (besides Kate of course) that can get Anthony about his feelings. I also feel like he takes great care in making sure Colin and Gregory don't grow up thinking feelings = weakness.

🎨 His favorite flowers are poppies, peonies, and carnations to paint. Like he loves the little details in these flowers. When you found this out, you surprised him with a big beautiful bouquet of peonies and poppies, and he nearly cried. A week later he hung up an original painting over your bed. (omg this is so cute)

🎨 As we know our sweet Ben is a man of culture, so I feel like this man has seasonal tickets to some form of the arts. Whether it be the ballet, opera, plays, or musicals, this man loves it all. He also has a ticket plug (litterly like a w33d dealer)

🎨 We all know he can handle his liquor, but i feel like modern! Ben would be a liiiitttllle bit of a st0ner if not complete supporter of all legalization of it. I mean come on the man got h!gh in the show and painted a beautiful painting so I feel like he definitely uses it when he has art block.

🎨 He only has Facebook, Instagram, and a Vsco. Vsco and Insta purely for work. I feel like this is something Ben and Luke (Ben’s actor) have in common. I feel like he would appreciate having little to no social media presence. He has the “if i want you to know whats going on I’ll just tell you” mentality. Not in a pretentious way though, he isn’t a complete hater (although he doesn’t get influencers at all) he just likes his privacy.

🎨 He definitely leans more to the minimal style when it comes to his home decore. He loves color and nicknacks, but it’s more of just things that are more sentimental and not just cute.

🎨 Millennial coded humor. That’s it. It’s almost a little unsettling.

🎨 He is very well read. Not on the level of Eloise, but he definitely can hold himself in a debate. He definitely has a home library with the classics.

🎨 He loves a sappy romance movies / romcoms. Oh my god it’s his guilty pleasure. I’m talking cried at the end of the Notebook, wants to recreate at some point the parachute scene from Pearl Harbor (iykyk), lost his breath when rose enters the ball room at the end in Titanic, etc etc etc. 

🎨 He has fucking chapsticks everywhere. In every drawer, three of his messenger bag at all times, to a nightstand, every little nook and cranny basically. Has a deep hatred for cracked lips, and something tells me his lips can crack easily. 

[ineffable-rohese]

My spouse and I were discussing Aziraphale & Crowley over dinner the other night, as one does, and I was reminded that in the early days of Facebook there was a feature where you had a virtual pinboard, like the cork board next to your dorm room white board, and you could find all sorts of "pins" to put on it. The idea was your friends could visit your "wall" and see the things you were in to, as well as your status.

I definitely remembered being so excited to find Good Omens pins in the collection. "Gayer Than a Tree Full of Monkeys on Nitrous Oxide" was my favorite, of course.

I was, at the time, around 2005 or 2006, just a little bit obsessed with the book, and had been for years at that point. I'd only convinced a couple people to read it, all of whom thought it was enjoyable, but that was it. I felt a bit alone, but I also didn't imagine that fandom existed for books. (The existence of that FB pin should have clued me in, but it did not.)

Fast forward about 15 years, and the show came out, and I loved it. And still I didn't manage to find anyone who loved it like I did.

In the past year, I have been so overjoyed to find my people, to have someone to join with in tears and elation, in the nail biting waiting for renewal. And I'd been looking forward to the excitement of production news and poster releases and wild speculation and silly in-jokes and then madness of DT&MS press tours and finally the conclusion to the story we've loved for so long.

And then the news about NG broke, and it was like all of our hearts broke at once. And yeah, maybe the last season was still coming, but it felt tainted now. And people started pulling away, understandably, and I still had my people (and thank Someone for them, for real) but it got real quiet for a bit. And the stories and and art started trickling back as we all figured out how we wanted to engaging meaningfully in someone that was no longer purely joyful.

Then the pause and people freaking out and other people rejoicing and a slim thread of hope. Could they do it? Would Amazon put in the work to extract NG from the production? Is this story worth the effort to people who care more about profit than anything else?

It's looking like yes, as of October 15, 2024. And I love that the person who is renewing our hope is not an actor or a director or one of the "big name" credits. It's Mickey Ralph, who obviously loves this story as much as we do. Whose team hand wrote, in full, all of Aziraphale's mail. And recreated a destroyed antique sink that literally no one would notice. And painted the walls "va-va-voom" yellow. And named every puppet in the magic shop. And brought so much depth and love and life into the show, and made it real.

This story has always been about love. Love for friends, and family, and the people you are told you should hate, and the world, and humanity.

My dearest wish is that we can continue to celebrate that love together.

[wirewitchviolet]

It is absolutely ridiculous that I have no way to contact people I care about in 2023.

So I got up today, and saw a big announcement about a certain particularly large company in the games industry did an absolutely massive round of layoffs despite an amazingly good year. You know, as they do. As it so happens, this is a company that, last I checked, employs several people I consider to be pretty good friends, and I feel compelled to toss them a quick message asking if that affected them, ask if poke around on their behalf for freelance work or slap a project of my own real quick they can collaborate on, or whatever.

And it's suddenly sinking in to me that I can't actually do that.

Tabletop game work is writing work, and that means 90% of the networking for most of the past decade or so happened over Twitter. Someone announces they're working on a thing, you message them, e-mails get traded to formally send stuff around. I was on there until I wasn't, so normally, that'd be where I'd be doing my checking in. But that of course is off the table. And like, I don't even have read-access to the site to check if anyone's announcing anything there.

Well, we've traded e-mails, right? We absolutely have. Back when everyone I'm worried about was at this other company, which let this same pile of people I care about and then some go several years ago now. So... those e-mails are no longer valid.

Well, what else is there? Oh right, the one friend has a discord server. It's been super dead for years now since he stopped doing the big weekly social thing it was there for, but it's still - oh, no. It's actually closed out. Same with the one for this freelance artist in that same general orbit... and oh Discord redid usernames and forced everyone to pick new ones. Damn.

Well, there's tumblr here, maybe? Like, there isn't really practically any direct messaging on here but... no, no wait, none of them have posted anything on here since bad policies drove a bunch of people out years back.

There's Facebook? But no, I don't have an account, they're all real legal name focused, and for personal security reasons, I never actually use my legal name anywhere even if I could make one (see, they also insist my name "sounds fake" over at Facebook). Well surely I can just find people's personal websites and send an e-mail but... no, people just don't have personal e-mails anymore, and spam got so bad decades ago now that I can't remember the last time I saw ANYONE post a personal e-mail address anywhere visible. Used to be phonebooks, but I don't think they really adapted to everyone just having a cellphone, and even if they did, they're a local thing.

So yeah. I've got nothing here. Uh... on the off chance anyone's reading this who I'm concerned about, hey, I hope you're OK? I'm still at least periodically checking the e-mails you last used to send things to me? Feel free to reach out and let me know how things are going?

But yeah this just sucks.

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Hi! Given your experience working with marine mammals and intelligent views on cetacean captivity, I wanted to ponder the following. Here in the Netherlands is a cetacean (mostly porpoise) rescue organisation. After years of having no facilities, and having a 100% kill policy unless a porpoise could be returned straight away, they finally have a gorgeous rescue facility again.

Recently they announced the facility would be getting an outdoor expansion, featuring habitats emulating the Wadden Sea ecosystem. Providing both education about its inhabitants, as well as a place for late-stage rehab porpoises to spend their last weeks before release outside, in a larger habitat. And, in case an animal is non-releasable, provide an adequate space to hold them for while while next steps are being assessed.

The response was overwhelmingly negative. Most of their following is cetacean-smitten, but completely anti-cap (of the emotional, uninformed type). They all bristled at the idea that perhaps a few sharks and seals would be kept there "and then you'd be no better than a zoo!" (which is of course the worst thing to be). But mostly: the amount of people saying they would honestly rather see a non-releasable porpoise killed, because death is preferable to spending a single day in captivity ("because that is what I would want"), is frankly staggering. What do you say to these people??? A rescue facility is getting a beautiful outdoor expansion - GREAT! How can someone claim to love the animals so much when they would rather see them dead than in a situation that makes them personally uncomfortable? It just boggles my mind and frustrates me to no end.

Tl;dr: people want rescued porpoises dead because they might end up in captivity, and have you found an appropriate response to this ridiculous line of thinking?

Wow that's really amazing that the Netherlands is stepping up like that! It sounds like a great option for rehab and also to provide much needed education about porpoises to the public.

Honestly my response to those people is pretty much what you said: "Why do you want to see these animals dead just because it makes you personally unhappy to see them in human care?"

I think it's important to call out these comments as what they are: advocating for the death of animals. It's not noble, it's people projecting their own guilt complexes (of something they have no control) over onto animals.

And that is what a lot of anti captivity propaganda relies on - shame and guilt. That's what I remember when I was starting to allow myself to learn more about SeaWorld after being so convinced by Blackfish for a long time. I felt a hollow shame feeling in my chest as if being curious about how killer whales are trained was somehow wrong or bad.

Activist marketing (especially The Dolphin Project and anything from Naomi Rose, Lori Marino and Ingrid Visser) is about making you feel bad for even considering going to marine parks or learning more about cetaceans in human care. As if it would genuinely make a difference on things like Taiji or improve the lives of the animals in any way (it won't and it looks like it's only making things worse at this point)

A lot of these activists have massive egos and savior complexes that are fed by this sort of marketing. As if their snarky comment on Facebook is going to make a difference.

At the end of the day, they're people that have to make zero personal sacrifice (going to a marine park is not a hard thing to do for them) to feel a sense of moral superiority. And that's very reinforcing and feels good.

If you calmly give them the facts about cetacean welfare in human care and tell them exactly what they're advocating for (death or poor welfare)- it may not change their mind (because that's not how our brains work) but it may convince the people reading the comment thread.

[filmofhybe]

Hi, requests are open right? Can I request what type of fanboys enha would be for idol!reader?

type of fanboys enhypen would be for idol reader

pairing : ot7! x reader genre : fan x Idol , fluff 400-500 words per member warning : none

a/n: first request in ages!! Keep them coming in would mean a lot! Icl this kinda turned into a send off / fansign typa thing so I hope you don’t mind and enjoy!!

> masterlist of my other works

© filmofhybe on tumblr — do not copy , translate or share.

정원 jungwon

this guy is your biggest fan he just doesn’t show it

unlike your other fans, he’s really respectful which makes you remember him

and he’s cute and somehow always wins a video call or fansign with you

folds everytime you call his nickname that you gave him

“y/nnie can I give you something?”

“of course wonnie!”

hands you the cutest beaded jewelry and plushie ever

“oh my gosh thank you so much wonnie!!”

Would let you win in a hand wrestling contest

he would freak out when he sees you wearing the jewelry he gave you

He would also freak out when he sees you posting the plushies he gave you

Will post about it on weverse and you would thank him in the comments.

Goes even crazier after that

You both are like best friends 😭

He’s fr famous among your fandom

yk how some ppl in some fandom are so well known they get verified on twitter

Yea that’s him 🤭

#dedicationfr

희 승 heeseung

That fan that would cover all your songs (and the successful ones)

Gets shit tons of views on your covers

which you would notice his videos and talk about how talented he is on weverse

Bro freaked out

Probably be posting about it on all his social media for the rest of his life (even facebook)

“YALL SHE NOTICED ME!!”

“Watch me brag about this for the rest of my life”

Would thank you so much for the compliments when he goes to ur fansigns

“Aww no worries heeseung! Your covers are always my favorite! I listen to them everyday! I even subscribed to your channel as well!”

Are you meeting heeseung or is heeseung meeting you rn?

“What’s your dream y/nnie?”

“My dream is to collab with you!”

Luckiest fan on earth honestly cuz you both did a collab a year later

#successfulfanbehavior

박종성 Park Jeongseong

THE ONE WHOSE RICH AND GO CRAZY !!

buy like 40 albums at once just to win a fansign with you😭

AND he would buy like 5 of your concert tickets

Doesn’t matter if your going aboard for your concert

Watch him be there and in the VIP sections as well

Man he really doesn’t care if he spend all his health insurance on you

All he cares is that he sees you and your happy

Always catch him during send offs

You both have the chaotic yet causal talks ever

“Omg jay your here again?”

“Yup! Got another ticket to see you!”

“Your crazy for spending so much!”

“Is worth it when it comes to you.”

would buy you the craziest gifts ever

Branded bags, games , jewelry , plushies etc

Would 100% send you a food truck for good luck during your MV filming or comebacks

You would thank him on weverse cuz you knew is him who would do these type of crazy things

What he’s doing is all of your fanboys biggest dream

#thecrazyrichfan

심재윤 Sim Jaeyun

You can’t tell me he ain’t those funny ass twitter stans

#y/nselfieday 😝

“STOP WHY SHE ATE THIS COMEBACK UP SM?”

Would fight those antis on twitter

“You can’t even talk cuz your face be lopsided and elongated lmao.” - jake

“And what about you? Stop using Google translate for your Korean captions🙄” - anti.

“sis I’m Korean?!”

He will make edits of you and I don’t make the rules on that

“my fav stage of y/n but make it my edit for her xoxo!!”

Would go Borderline excited when he got tickets to your concert

ALWAYS POSTING THE SEND OFF VIDEOS OF YOU

“Y/N TOUCHED MY POLAROID CAMERA IMMA CRY NOW.”

“guys y/n mf knows my twitter. Imma die.”

gets embarrassed when you tell him you know him through his funny tweets and you secretly reads it for positivity

Man could die peacefully after that

#sillybillytwitterstan

성훈 Sunghoon

Another really respectful fan but he’s so shy when it comes to fanboying

More the quiet ones but he would be spotted so easy because of how beautiful he is

Please he stood out the most during your send off

Icl when you saw him you thought you were dreaming a cute fan boy?!?

When you walked over do him his heart stopped. Like omg YOUR MORE GORGEOUS IRL?!

“hi y/n~ can you sign my album please?”

“Of course what’s your name?”

“Sung-sunghoon.”

“Such a cute name for a cute boy!”

Bro your such a flirt💀

He couldn’t handle it and all he did with mumble thank you

“You want a picture as well?”

All he could do was nod and you took a picture of you both tgt

Posted on his social about it and everyone was saying how pretty you both looked

Which made him less shy the next time he saw you

“Omg sunghoon! Hi how are you?”

“I’m good how bout you y/n?”

“I’m good! Glad your less shy now! I was so excited to meet you!!l

He’s the pretty, handsome shy fanboys and will always be😝

#shybuthandsomefanboy

선우 Sunoo

THOSE REALLY HYPER FANS

And those fans who has a shop dedicated to their idols

I mean your kinda hyper so like I get why he would love you

Another chaotic twitter stan but make it weverse

Would pay for your me membership everytime

You would never see him without those little membership tags next to his name on weverse

He would be those fans to say “I love you” mid way while your speaking on stage

You would always react to them with a laugh cuz you find it really funny and cute

His cuteness really captures your attention and he would go insane after you mention about him on your weverse live

“I saw this fanboy during send off, he had pink hair and cute cheeks. Really high pitched voice and he gave me this cute plushie keyring that looks like me. So thank you whoever you are!!”

Knew it was him cuz he was the only fanboy in the crowd with pink hair and was the one who got you that keyring

Would 100% start gifting you clothes for the keyring and you would post about it from time to time

You secretly supports sunoo’s little keyring business after he started selling the one and only y/n keyring

#hypercutiesellerfan

にしむら りき Nishimura Riki

Trend setter fan and secretly hyper fan

We all know how good niki is at dancing so when you drop a new song he danced to it with his own choreography that has gone viral.

LIKE VIRAL VIRAL

and every fam girl of yours was like “omg y/n has a cute fanboy!!” “y/n needs to see this.”

And you did see it and posted about it on weverse as well as Instagram

“Look at him!! He’s so talented!! Time to recreate!!”

NIKI WAS IN HIS PREDEBUT ERA FR LMAO

kicking his feet under the blankets cuz he just got noticed by his idol

Would go insane when you did his dance

Man got to see his dance live as well cuz you performed it during your concert

During send off you can easily tell it was niki in the crowd

“Your the creator of my dance niki right? Your so talented!!”

Are you meeting niki or Is niki meeting you? 2.0

“Haha thank you so much! You did so well as well!!”

You continue to do covers of his dance which makes him go feral everytime

Post about it on insta but behind the screen he’s like :

“She’s about to hire me to be her Choreographer” -niki

“Stop the delusion.” - heeseung

“Watch me.” - niki

Bro predicted his future cuz now half of the your dance is created by him

#trendsetterfan

taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @skepvids @amymyli @in-somnias-world @okjaeminn @nonotwice1 @thinkmyg @blubbfsh

Please comment or reblog to be on the perm taglist :)

[ghostb0ii]

Captain Price pure headcanons!!

I don't care what anyone thinks he does this

He's always taking care of everyone in the task force like a true dad, will watch over them, bring snacks in his secret pockets just in case ghost or soap get grumpy and will scold anyone who starts a fight.

will post Facebook updates during missions " We are all in one piece " adding photos and definitely making dad jokes on them too.

will secretly play candy crush and when he can't pass a level he asks Laswell for help.

Will have seated chart every time they drive somewhere because he know if he doesn't ghost will make someone cry for sitting to close.

he has ghost sit in the front, Gaz and soap sit together so they can giggle and joke around and Konig will sit alone in the back just chilling.

will sit outside smoking his cigar and either simon or soap will come out to just hangout to watch the night and chat with him.

Loves to fish will get sunburnt like a mf so he wears a lot of sunscreen and of course his hat.

Love's to read, will often fall asleep reading books while he lays in bed.

Overprotective as fuck, so he can be very hard on everyone only because he wants what's best for them. Hi! i hope everyone likes my headcanons and honestly I might never write any NSFW on price because i see him as a father figure so I'm sorry to disappoint anyone, but these are my headcanons i might make more for all the characters. :) ! Also sorry for taking so long with the Fanfics i'm making sure they're perfect! Thanks for all the patience and love!

[brxkxnhxxrtsclxb]

i wanted to make a list with tips for those who have recently discovered monster high and love the dolls and wanna partake in the hobby in starting a collection 🖤

for starters: i wanna say you do not need to watch the show / media attached to it if you don’t want to or don’t have the time. you can still enjoy the dolls cuz at the end of the day, they’re dolls and you can do whatever you want with them :3 they’re for play so create your own lore and enjoy it however you please 🖤 also, if the show wasn’t for you, that doesn’t make you less of a fan. you can still enjoy the dolls and hobby 🖤

also: MONSTER HIGH IS FOR EVERYONE !! it doesn’t matter if you’re male, female, nonbinary, straight or queer, you can partake in this hobby !!

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to start, find the dolls / characters that interest you most

whether you want to collect only dolls of one character or multiple of any and every character, it’s up to you to decide :3 it’s okay. there’s no right or wrong way of collecting. narrowing down the dolls you like best helps to get started. you wanna be sure your first doll(s) is special and really speaks to you 🖤

if you like several dolls and are undecided on certain ones, feel free to wait it out and see how you feel about them in a few days, a week, a month or however long you need

sometimes it’s best to wait and contemplate so you don’t end up regretting a purchase. of course if you do, or loved the doll at first but then changed your mind, it’s okay. you can always sell the doll later. you might be holding onto someone’s grail there !!

if you find you like a doll that has been available for a while but can’t decide between that one and a newer doll, go for the older one (this is specifically for G3 since that’s what we currently have widely available)

dolls have a shelf life of about a year. eventually lines start being phased out (currently SS3 is slowly being phased out) and we have no idea how much they’ll go for in the resell market (see SS1 and SS2 draculaura)

if you wanna collect G1 dolls, check out ebay, mercari, facebook marketplace and your local thrift stores. you never know what you may find and sometimes there’s good deals !!

when it comes to G1 dolls, you have to play the long game and have LOTS of patience. many of these dolls go for hundreds and that’s not okay imo. you don’t have to dump these amounts of money on them, especially since bills and other necessities gotta get covered first !! again, patience is key !! eventually you’ll score your grails

speaking of secondhand market, be careful and make sure you read the descriptions and ask questions. don’t be afraid to do so

unfortunately there have been a surge of scammers flooding the MH community. these are easy to spot. they will either use someone else’s photos for the listing, have zero reviews or refuse to answer questions and provide more pictures. sometimes it’s a combination of all. also know they’re not entirely honest about the condition of the dolls. some will not say they’re a smoke friendly home. please ask questions !! also, request them to add a photo with their username written on a paper to add to the listing to further verify they do in fact have the doll

do not purchase from scalpers

i know, kind of contradictory to say check the secondhand market and then say do not buy from scalpers. of course, it’s your money and you can do what you please with it, but if you can, try not to buy from them. it’s the reason they keep bulk buying the entire stock leaving fans without a chance at grabbing a doll they love and why they keep pricing what they price. if people stop buying from them, they’ll have no choice, but to lower their prices cuz no one is buying them and they don’t wanna sit with a stock of dolls they obviously do not want. so if you can help it, try not to buy from them. as stated before, it’s about patience and good deals do show up. also, wait from buying collector dolls on the aftermarket. the hype needs to first die down before they are lowered in price (happened with bride of chucky, creature from the black lagoon and addams family skullectors)

watch out when shopping online from walmart or / and amazon. sometimes other sellers will list a doll (G3) for an inflated price while they’re currently available in major retailers

you do not need every single doll

only buy the dolls you love. i know it can be devastating to love a doll and see everyone hating it, but don’t let that deter you !! with everyone sharing their personal collections and mattel pumping out dolls so frequently, it can be overwhelming and think you must have every doll. that’s simply not true. don’t feel bad for missing out on collector drops you weren’t fully in love with. and if you don’t really love a doll, it’s okay to opt out if you feel it’s the best choice. it’s also okay to purchase and sell later if you truly didn’t like the doll after receiving it

check for sales

i’m not sure about other countries but in the US, retailers will have sales and many dolls end up on sale. amazon does this too. check frequently. you never know when a doll you want may be on sale !!

check the community (get involved if you feel comfy enough to do so)

i encourage to check reddit, instagram, twitter and other forms of social media to keep up with doll news and leaks. it’s also a great place to make friends, ask questions and help each other out when drops happen. if you make good friends with someone, we can also use each other as proxy services if we live in different countries and grab each other certain exclusive dolls we have no access to :3 some dolls / lines don’t make it to certain countries

it’s okay to take breaks

mattel pumps out dolls frequently and the market can be so saturated, it’s overwhelming. it’s completely fine to feel that way and to take breaks when needed🖤

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these are all the tips i can think of at the top of my head

collections are personal and there’s no right or wrong way of doing it. whether you’re an in-box or out-of-box collector, the most important thing is to HAVE FUN !!

i hope this was helpful !! enjoy your collection and welcome to the community!!

anyone can feel free to add any other tips they have to help a new collector out 🖤

[themultifandomgal]

Hi I really love your work and was thinking if you could write a jay halstead x read where he’s sleeping and she’s supposed to be sleeping but instead she’s playing on her phone and then it dies so she starts to cry cuz she’s on her week and he wakes up fines the whole thing adorable and gives her his phone if’s that’s not something you can do I understand but thank you

Jay Halstead- Can’t Sleep

Thank you for the request. I hope you like it!

Periods suck. Not only do I have horrendous cramps, but I can't sleep because of them. I look over at my husband, Jay, who is fast asleep, slightly snoring. He's basically bragging that he's asleep and I'm not, but he works hard so I want to let him sleep. Luckily my job means I can choose my hours and I can work from home. I pick up my phone from the bedside table and first check Facebook, boring, Twitter, boring, Instagram, nope nothing on there. Sighing I go on to the internet and start looking at clothes, shoes, bags, anything really.

In no time at all I end up with over $100 worth of clothes in my basket, oops.

After spending to much money, I go onto my word app to continue writing my book. I'm half way through a chapter when my phone dies

"No" I whisper "no" I groan throwing my head back. Tears prick my eyes. I know I have auto save on but I was on a role and I'm still not tired. I sniffle as I try to stay quiet, but Jay starts to stir

"Baby? What's wrong?" he voice rough from just waking up

"It's stupid" I pout as Jay sits up

"Never stupid, talk to me"

"Well I can't sleep, my tummy hurts and now my phones died. I was half way through the 6th chapter and I was on a roll now I can't finish it. My charger is downstairs and I can't be bothered to get out of bed" I cry. I hear Jay chuckle a little then I feel a kiss placed against my forehead

"Your adorable you know"

"So I'm cute because I'm in pain and I might have lost my work"

"No of course that's not my your cute. Here" Jay leans over to his bedside table then hands me his phone "use mine. Log on to your word account and carry on writing"

"But...."

"No buts. I'm not working tomorrow so I won't need it"

"You know your the best husband a woman could dream of"

"And your the best wife. Let's dry those tears shall we" the tears start to fall again not because of my phone dying, but because of how sweet and caring Jay is. I take his phone and download the app I need and log in. Yes, my work saved!

Jay lays back down in bed and placing a hand on my tummy, rubbing it slightly to help ease my cramps

"I hate periods" I mutter

"I know. I'll pop out tomorrow and get you some pain killers and some ice cream"

"Thank you. I love you Jay"

"I love you too"

Only 10 minutes later Jays hand stops rubbing my tummy and his small snores started again. He's fast asleep. I look down at him and smile before continuing my book.

The time is now 3am and I start to feel sleepy. Placing Jays phone down on my side table I snuggle down into the bed and in Jays arms. He shifts a little letting me get comfortable before he places an arm over me, him now being the big spoon. I fall asleep immediately.

The following morning I wake up to an empty bed, it’s still warm though so Jay must have only just woken up. I slowly get out of bed groaning as my period pains already start to hurt. I look at the bedside table and see that both my phone and Jays phone have gone. I make my way down stairs and see Jay sat on the couch on his phone

“Morning baby”

“Morning” I yawn sitting next to him still feeling rather sleepy

“I put your phone on charge and I got the hot water bottle out ready for when you woke up. I’ll run and get some pain killers in a bit

“How did I get so lucky?” Ask generally wondering how a man like Jay exists

“How far did you get with your book?”

“I finished chapter 6 and planned chapter 7”

“I’m proud of you, you know” Jay pulls me into him and we sit like this for a while. Just holding on to one another, feeling nothing but complete love.

[loversj0y]

id meet you where the spirit meets the bones

inspired by @lillylvjy's ghost au! go give it a read and give lilly some love!!

wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: death, lots of talks about death, reader cries a few times, nightmares, reader nearly dies, stalking, body horror, slightly suggestive stuff (wilbur is flirty af)

word count: 13k. i am not sorry

note: this has not been edited/beta read at all. also i know jack shit about ghosts tbh aside from the light pagan/spirit work i used to do so. dont take any of the ghostly advice here seriously its all for spooky vibes and ambiance. also if anyone can notice the red flags i include at a Specific Section i will give u a smooch, title taken from ivy by taylor swift

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng, @core-queen

You didn’t believe in ghosts. You weren't strong in this opinion, it was just a matter of not believing everything you saw on the internet. You never had any personal experiences with ghosts yourself, so you had no reason to actually believe in them. 

While this didn’t mean a lot, it did mean that the house everyone avoided on the corner was about to be yours. 

You knew the stories and the warnings:

Be careful! You know they say those boys haunt those walls!

It was brutal what happened here, are you sure it’s safe? 

Good luck! They say those who move in there either leave dead or never leave! 

Honestly, it didn’t deter you. A brutal murder of two brothers in the 90s should have scared you. However, you went in for a showing, and the place seemed perfectly fine. It was the cheapest place you could buy, and you couldn’t stand having a landlord anymore. Ghosts are miles better than landlords, at least they live in the place and don’t just act like they do. 

You took the deal. The move in process was pretty easy, too. You borrowed a work friend’s truck, and you and her brought in some of your heavier furniture (your old mattress, the couch you bought on Facebook, the TV you got from a friend who couldn’t take it with him), and the rest of the boxes you and her just piled into the living room. You thanked her, paying her for her help as well, and then it was just you, standing in your new, box-filled living room. 

You took a deep breath as you looked around, almost stunned by the stillness of the room. You’d never actually lived on your own before, always some family or roommate with you, so it was… almost uncomfortable to see an empty room with no sound. 

The silence was broken after a moment, though, your phone ringing loudly from the kitchen counter. You walked over and answered, starting to unpack as you spoke on the phone. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie, how’s the move going?” It was your mum, voice kind and welcoming. 

“It’s good, mum,” you chuckled, opening up your first box of kitchenware, “Working on boxes now.”

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” You could hear her smile through the phone. “The place is nice?”

“Yeah, the house is really nice,” you carefully shifted some pots into the back of the cabinet, “it’s an older house, but it’s lovely. The backyard is really pretty too, I think you’d love it. Really peaceful.”

“Oh, love, not to be rude, but I don’t imagine I’ll be coming there anytime soon.”

“I know, I know, you don’t like the drive.”

“Well, yes, but…” you could hear the apprehension in her voice, “sweetie, you’ve heard about this… place you’re living in, of course. I’m not sure how safe it is.” 

You chuckled, standing up fully and leaning against the kitchen counter, “Never took you for a believer in ghosts, mum.” 

The air felt a bit tense around you. 

“Well, when you’re my age, sweetheart, you’d rather not test your luck.” 

That brought a laugh out of you, “Mum, you don’t look a day over thirty.” You smiled, looking around the house a bit. “Besides, have you even heard the full story?”

“I’ve heard about the brutal murder part, but I suppose not much else.” 

“It was two boys,” you sighed softly, “Eighteen and twenty-six. If ghosts are even real, I don’t imagine they’d want to cause much trouble. If anything, they’d probably be scared.” 

A rattling sound came from your left, causing you to falter in your words. You walked to see the source of the noise, quickly noticing a few of the pots still in the box had shifted, presumably having fallen over.

You continued speaking easily, “I mean, god, mum, imagine dying and being forced to live in the place you were killed while seeing tens of people move into your home. I’d be confused and scared too.”

“I suppose,” you heard your mother reply, and it felt like some of the tension left the room. “Either way, just promise me, you’ll be safe? If anything seems amiss, I can call my sister-“

“Oh, god, mum, Aunt Cate couldn’t tell a ghost from a sock, I’d rather not have her in here spewing her Catholic bullshit.”

Your mother laughed, and it made some of the homesickness fade a bit, “Fair enough, dearie. Listen, I’ve got to run, but call me tomorrow, please?”

“I will, mum. I love you.”

“Love you too, dear.” 

The line hung up, and you sighed softly, hanging your head for a moment. It felt too quiet already. You opened up Spotify, choosing some random playlist and continuing your work with unpacking. You played some soft indie music, gentle but upbeat guitar flowing from your phone's speaker as you finished unpacking your kitchen. You started working on the living room items, small knick knacks and photos being arranged carefully. 

As you cleaned, the playlist took a bit of a wild turn. Instead of the soft plucking of a guitar, the next song starts, and you’re immediately stunned by the sound of some electronic-sounding music. You walked over to your phone which — you didn’t remember leaving it unlocked — was playing a song called “Able Sisters”. From Animal Crossing. Very odd choice. It wasn’t bad though, so you pretty much just shrugged it off, going back to unpacking. 

Nothing else weird really occurred that night, and you wouldn’t even consider the music thing that weird. It just was technology being weird. You ordered food, sitting cross-legged on the couch and watching a movie while you ate. After you ate, you cleaned up after yourself and became acutely aware of how you felt far more Adult than you ever had before. You sat back down and relaxed for the first time all day. You were curled into the side of the couch, and to your surprise, you actually didn’t feel very alone. You figured by now you’d be going through your contacts, calling anyone just to feel like there was another person with you. It wasn’t long before you’d fallen asleep, and if you woke up with a blanket around you that certainly hadn’t been near you the night before, you didn’t notice. 

You finished your move-in process with little hassle. By the end of the week, you were pretty much completely moved in, save for a few boxes that you had to bring up to the attic. You began to understand why people thought the house was creepy, especially with the amount of creaks and noises you’d hear throughout the day, but given the age of the house, it didn’t bother you. 

You carried the boxes upstairs, opening the door to the attic and stacking them up in the corner. You looked around at the attic, smiling softly. There were signs that the attic was lived in, and it was actually kind of nice to see. There were a few things that had been left behind from past owners, and you walked around, taking a look at some of the items. There were a few boxes with things like old clothes, and from looking at them, it hit you that these weren’t any items that had been left behind, but rather the items left behind by the two dead boys’ family. It sent a shiver down your back, but it made you more sad than scared. You went back to one of your boxes, pulling out an old candle and a spare box of matches. There was a small table in the corner of the room, and you set the candle down, lighting it. 

Even though you didn’t think there was anyone here, you still spoke outloud, “it’s not much, but I hope it’s something.”

You went back to looking through some of their items, trying to find anything that seemed important to add to the corner table. It relieved you to see that most of the items were non-sentimental items. There were no photos or family heirlooms that had been left behind, just normal items. You did find some smaller objects that you could add to the small table, though, like a red beanie and two CDs. You walked around the small attic a bit more, smiling at an acoustic guitar you found stashed behind some of the boxes. You were shocked by the lack of dust, but it was even more shocking that the guitar was in tune. You didn’t know how to play much except for a few simple chords, so it was at least nice to know there was one up here.

The next object you found was also hidden. It was stashed in the very corner, hidden in a small crevice between paneling in the wall. It was a small compass. You held it up to the light, gently trying to clean some debris off of it. The weird thing happened when you turned the compass over, noticing a small engraving on the back. Before you could read it, though, the compass flew out of your hand, hitting the wall before rolling back into the crevice that you’d found it. 

Okay. Definitely weird. You felt your opinion of whether or not ghosts existed being swayed. 

“Okay,” you said, backing up a bit, “Sorry. I won’t touch it again.”

You spoke simply. If ghosts were real, you still did believe that they’d probably be more scared than anything, especially if someone was touching their things. And there wasn’t a problem until you’d touched the compass, so you figured that must’ve been something important. If it was something important, you didn’t want to mess with it. It wasn’t yours, point-blank. So, instead, you went back to cleaning up the attic, sorting through boxes and neatly arranging them, and adding small things you’d find to the table in the corner. By the time you finished it was nearly dinner, so you carefully put out the candle (not wanting it to be burning unsupervised) and went downstairs to make dinner.

The few days past that went by with pretty much no weirdness. You truly weren’t sure what to believe now. You almost thought yourself crazy, but it was probably just a side effect of not having left the house since you’d moved in. You had work today, though. It was your first day back, and for whatever reason, you felt nervous. You definitely seemed it too. You nearly burnt your breakfast, cursing and fretting around the kitchen, a slight shake to your hands. You chose an outfit for the day, setting it on the bed. You rushed to take a shower, leaving the bathroom humid and steamy. You got dressed and finished making yourself look presentable before making some coffee to bring with you to work. You kept fretting with your hair and fidgeting. You walked back to the bathroom, trying to double check your hair. The mirror was still fogged up, causing you to groan. 

Instead, though, you felt your brain short-circuit as you leaned back and words started slowly appearing on the foggy of the mirror. 

‘Don’t worry. You look amazing.’

A blush rose to your cheeks as you took a moment to process. 

Ghosts?

Yeah. Ghosts.

Nice one, though, at the very least. You weren’t exactly going to scream and run when the compliment did actually help relax you a bit. 

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, focusing on the matter at hand a bit more. 

“Can you write your name, if you don’t mind? I’d like to know who I’m living with.” The question felt a bit risky, especially since this was the first time you’d gotten proper confirmation that he existed. 

‘Wilbur. And the other one is Tommy.’

You nodded, “Well, thank you, Wilbur.” You thought for a moment before your phone alarm went off, letting you know you had to leave for work. You cursed, sighing, “Okay, I have to go, but I’d like to talk more when I get back. Is that possible?”

You awaited a response, and you got one after a moment. 

‘:)’

Okay. That’s good. At least you think it is. 

You nodded, pulling your bag up on your shoulder before walking to the door. You paused at the door, turning back,

“Bye, Wilbur. Bye, Tommy. I’ll be home later!” you spoke out into the empty room, hoping they were there to hear it, before rushing out the door to work. 

Work was uneventful for the most part. A few coworkers asked about your new place, asking if you’d heard any ghosts or creepy things. You decided to lie, telling them that you hadn’t experienced anything. The last thing you’d wanted was people somehow confirming the existence of ghosts and either considering you crazy or trying to make a spectacle of the boys. It was bad enough that they weren’t allowed to move on in the afterlife, you didn’t want to make things worse for them. 

You did spend quite a bit of your freetime at work looking things up about ghosts, however. Most of the stuff you found was pretty fake from the looks of it, but honestly, up until you’d moved in, you never even thought about if ghosts were real or not. You found a lot of potentially good information too, though, about pendulums and spirit boards and how to make them at home. 

When you got home, you opened the door slowly, humming as you walked in, “Hi, Tommy. Hi, Wilbur. I’m home.” There was a smile on your face. You didn’t get much of a response, not that you were really expecting one, but there was a knocking that let you know you were at least heard.

You went to your room, grabbing an old necklace. It was a simple necklace, a thin silver chain and a small guitar pendant. You also grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper. After a moment, you had an idea as well, printing out a morse code guide. You sat down in front of your coffee table, writing out a circle with ‘Yes’, ‘No’, and ‘Maybe’ written along opposite sides of the circle. You also put the morse code sheet next to you, sighing softly. Okay, communing with the dead. This is nothing. Sure. You can do this.

“So, if you’re ready, and want to communicate, can you move the pendant to yes?” You asked outloud, holding up your necklace over the circle. After a moment, the pendant started swinging to ‘yes’, and you took a slow breath.

“Okay, so for yes and no, we can use this. If you want to elaborate, you can knock with the morse code here, and I can work it out. Does that work?”

Once again, the pendant swung to yes. 

You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Who am I talking to right now? Is this Wilbur? Or Tommy?”

You got no response from the pendant. Instead, you heard knocking on the table, and you started scribing the knocking.

‘-... --- - ....’

You looked down at the sheet. ‘Both’. 

You nodded, thinking for a moment, “Is it okay that I’m here?”

The pendant swung to ‘yes’, and you let out a soft breath of relief. 

“Are you guys okay? I mean, it-it’s probably scary being stuck as ghosts and such, so…”

There was a long pause before you got any response. 

‘.. / .- -- / -. --- - / ... -.-. .- .-. . -.. / .. / .- -- / .- / -... .. --. / -- .- -.’

‘I AM NOT SCARED I AM A BIG MAN’ 

Before you could even respond, there was more knocking.

‘... --- .-. .-. -.-- --..-- / - .... .- - / .-- .- ... / - --- -- -- -.-- .-.-.- / .-- . .----. .-. . / --- -.- .- -.-- / - .... --- ..- --. .... --..-- / ..-. --- .-. / - .... . / -- --- ... - / .--. .- .-. - .-.-.-’

‘sorry, that was Tommy. We're okay though, for the most part.’

You chuckled softly, “That’s good to hear. Sorry, Tommy, I didn’t mean any offense.”

‘.. - .----. ... / ..-. .. -. . .-.-.- / -.. --- -. .----. - / - --- ..- -.-. .... / -- -.-- / -.-. --- -- .--. .- ... ... / .- --. .- .. -. --..-- / - .... --- ..- --. .... .-.-.-’

‘IT'S FINE. DON'T TOUCH MY COMPASS AGAIN, THOUGH.’

“Oh, of course,” you hummed, “if you want, I can set up an area in the attic for you guys to keep more private things. Two areas, actually, so you guys have your own space. Does that work?”

The pendant swung to ‘Yes’ incredibly fast, and you chuckled. 

“Alright, good to hear, then. Speaking of, is there anything you guys want me to do differently? Or maybe that you want me to stop doing?”

There was another long pause.

‘-. --- .. ... .’

‘Noise.’

“Noise?”

‘.-- . .----. .-. . / -- --- .-. . / ... . -. ... .. - .. ...- . / - --- / .-.. --- ..- -.. / -. --- .. ... . ... / -. --- .-- .-.-.-’

‘We’re more sensitive to loud noises now.’

You nodded, “Okay. When I put on the TV or music, just knock and I can turn it down. Or, if you’re able to, you can turn it down yourself. I’m not sure what I can do about my alarm, though… I need them loud to wake up.”

‘.-- . / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-- .- -.- . / -.-- --- ..-’

‘WE COULD WAKE YOU’

“You could?”

‘.. / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -.. --- / -. --- - / .-.. . - / - --- -- -- -.-- / .-- .- -.- . / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.- / .... . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -... .-. . .- -.- / ... --- -- . - .... .. -. --. .-.-.-’

‘I could. Do not let Tommy wake you. He will break something.’

You giggled a bit, nodding, “Alright. Sure. I don’t have work tomorrow, so we can test it out, and if not, we can see what else we could do.”

The pendant swung to ‘Yes’, and you hummed happily. 

“Alright, if that’s everything, then I’m going to make dinner. But, if you need to get my attention, just knock three times. Or if you have a better way, you can do that too, but still. This is your home before it was mine, and I want to make it be comfortable for you both. You guys are more just like… my ghost roommates. Okay?”

The pendant swung to ‘yes’ once again before you gently set it down. 

You stood, going to the kitchen before speaking again, “Oh, and if you want to use anything that’s in the living room, feel free. I don’t mind. If it’s something in my room, just ask first.”

You turned on some music as you started cooking, keeping it low for their sake. You were in your element when you cooked, finding comfort in the motions as you thought about today. Ghosts were real. It was not something you could be indifferent to anymore. Ghosts are real, and not just that, you also lived with two of them. It was actually nice, though. You didn’t feel alone, at least. 

You hummed to yourself as you cooked, leaning up on your tiptoes to try and grab a plate from one of the top shelves. You struggled, nearly dropping the plate before it carefully was lifted, seeming to float down from the shelf. Even if you couldn’t see the ghost, you could feel how close he was to you as he gently set the plate down on the counter.

“Thank you,” you spoke softly, cheeks tinted pink. You smiled, once again feeling relieved by the fact that you weren’t alone. In a house known for being scary, you’d never felt safer. 

You finished the rest of dinner with ease, taking a plate and walking back to the living room. When you walked back in, you noticed something interesting. The seat on the far left of the couch, while still empty, had your Rubix cube floating, turning occasionally. You chuckled softly, sitting to the far right to eat your dinner. You looked back at the Rubix cube, trying to figure out which one was playing with it.

“Is there anyway for me to tell the difference between you both? Since I can’t see you?”

The Rubix cube paused in it’s movements, and for a moment, you almost wondered if you scared them off. 

After a moment, the pendant you had been using earlier lifted, and you watched as the necklace floated to presumably be placed around a neck. 

‘.-- .. .-.. -... ..- .-.’

You looked down at the paper. ‘Wilbur.’

You nodded, understanding quickly. “Hold on, I’ll get one for you, Tommy.” You set the plate down, hurrying back to your room and grabbing another old necklace. This one was simpler, a thin black chord with a small silver dog-tag on it. 

You walked back in, moving towards the Rubix cube, “Here, Tommy.” 

You felt a cold tingle on your hand as the necklace lifted, slowly being arranged around his neck as well. To you, it was just two floating necklaces. However, it gave you enough distinction that you could at least tell who was who.

You smiled, sitting back down to finish eating. You turned on a movie, though you didn’t pay too much attention. You were incredibly aware of the two ghosts sitting next to you. It was Wilbur sitting next to you and next to him was Tommy. It was almost weird how comfortable you felt with them here. Even if they’d been here the entire time, it was different now that there was actual confirmation that they were here. You didn’t know anything about ghosts. You felt completely out of your element. You knew that they could interact with the environment, since they could pick stuff up and put things on, but you didn’t know what else they could do. Could they make noises? Could they become full-blow apparitions? As little as you knew, you felt worried about asking. It took a few days just for them to actually let you know they existed. The last thing you wanted to do was scare them away in their own home.

Could they even leave if they wanted to? People only ever spoke about them being here in the place they were killed. They probably wouldn’t even want to stay here if they had a choice. It made you upset to think about, the fact that they may not have a choice in this whatsoever. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to yell or cry or hug them because of it. 

You stood up and cleaned your plate, chewing on your lip while you did. You wished you could help them. If they wanted it. That was another thing you had to consider. Maybe they were happy here. You didn’t know, honestly, and you wanted to know. For now you wouldn’t ask, though. Maybe, hopefully, when you got closer with them. 

You walked back over to the couch, sitting back where you had been before. The TV had changed to some ghost show, and it almost made you laugh. You went to grab the remote, but knocking stopped you.

‘- .... .- - / .. ... / -. --- - / .-- .... .- - / .. - / .. ... / .-.. .. -.- . --..-- / - .... . ... . / ..-. ..- -.-. -.- .. -. / .-- .-. --- -. --. ..- -. …’

‘THAT IS NOT WHAT IS IT LIKE, THESE FUCKIN WRONGUNS,’

You snorted, chuckling a bit, “Yeah. Most of these ghost hunting shows are completely made up.” You looked, noting that it was Tommy who had moved. “They fake everything, so they can keep making money, Tommy. It’s stupid. They’ve probably caused more harm than anything else.”

‘- .... .- - .----. ... / -.. ..- -- -... .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- / ... .... --- ..- .-.. -.. / .--- ..- ... - / .- ... -.- / ..-. .. .-. ... - --..-- / .- - / .-.. . .- ... - / - --- / -... . / .... --- -. . ... - / .- -... --- ..- - / .. - .-.-.-.’

‘THAT’S DUMB. THEY SHOULD JUST ASK FIRST, AT LEAST BE HONEST ABOUT IT.’

You sighed, nodding, “I agree. I mean, if there are ghosts there, they’re probably just annoying them. Or even worse, they’re probably scaring them.”

You got no response to that, deciding instead to change the channel to something more lighthearted. 

You started getting tired, and you grabbed your blanket, pulling it over your legs. You spread it out as well, letting it cover both of the boys as well. You noticed and looked curiously as you could “see” their legs through the blanket. Obviously, it was just the outline of their – bodies? Ghost form? God, it was starting to confuse you a bit. You chuckled a bit when you noticed, though, smiling softly. At least you weren’t going completely crazy. 

You leaned back a bit, leaning your legs on the coffee table as you watched the TV. You felt the cushion behind you shift slightly, a cold and tingly feeling coming across your shoulders. You looked to your right, seeing Wilbur’s necklace shift a bit. Huh. Did he- was his arm around your shoulder?

You felt yourself flush a bit, leaning into the sensation. The tingling feeling went away slowly, and you felt yourself relaxing more and more. It didn’t take much longer before you fell asleep.

When you woke up, you were in your bed. You didn’t remember how you got there. What you did wake up to, though, was a gentle shaking and a chill on your arm. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with the sight of a floating necklace. You almost laughed out of absurdity, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Good morning to you too, Wilbur,” you chuckled, slowly sitting up. “Thanks for waking me.”

You stretched, and the only reply you got was a gentle knocking on your nightstand. There was no pattern or morse code used, just a few taps to let you know he was responding. 

You stood and got started with your morning, and you noted the soft sound of the necklace Wilbur wore as he followed you out to the living room. It was harder to spot Tommy. What wasn’t hard to spot was the girl sitting in your living room. 

“Uh… hello?” You asked, and the girl’s head whipped around to see you. 

“Oh! Sorry! Tommy let me in.” 

… What? “What? He did?”

She stood, walking over to you, outstretching her hand, “I’m Molly.”

You shook her hand, nodding, “Nice to meet you. Wait- I’m sorry- you know Tommy?”

She nodded quickly, and you noted a light blush on her face, “Yeah. I’ve been visiting this house for a long time, so I’ve known Wilbur and Tommy for a while. Tommy and I are really close.” 

You nodded slowly, “Right. Okay. I didn’t realize they had friends.”

“Tom and I are a bit closer than that,” she blushed darker, rubbing the back of her neck, “Wait, you know about them, too. And you’re staying here?” “Yeah. It’s their house, I’m just living in it,” you shrugged. “You and Tommy are… dating?”

“Essentially. Sorry about just coming in, he said you wouldn’t mind.” 

“It’s alright. I mean, bit of a scary way to wake up, to be honest, but if he trusts you, and you do this often, then I’m sure you mean no harm.”

She smiled, “I really don’t. I just liked giving them company at first, and then Tommy and I got closer, so…” the blush returned, and she leaned back into what you assumed were Tommy’s arms, now that you noticed his necklace behind her. 

“Alright. Cool. As long as you don’t break shit, I don’t mind.”

Molly nodded quickly, “of course! I usually can’t stay long anyways. I just like stopping by on my way to work or when I have a day off from classes.”

“Alright,” you nodded, walking to the kitchen, “well, if you ever want, I can clean up the spare room for you to stay in if you need it. Do you want any coffee?”

“I’m good, thank you, though.” Molly smiled, moving to sit back on the couch. Wilbur was still behind you as you started brewing coffee, and you could faintly feel his hand on your back. 

You grabbed a notepad, holding out a pen for Wilbur and whispering to him, “So, they’re dating?”

‘Yep. She’s really nice.’

You nodded, humming softly, “She seems so. Do you like her?”

‘Yeah. She’s good for Tommy. He would get pretty lonely when it was just me here and everyone else would leave due to us being here. Plus, it’s funny to watch him get flustered whenever she comes around.’

You chuckled, nodding. “Alright. I’m glad he has someone then. Are there others? Do you have anyone?”

‘There were others. We don’t know what happened to most of them since they all pretty much just stopped coming around. But if you’re asking if I’m single, darling, I’m very much available ;)’

You flushed, turning to grab your coffee, “I- I just meant if I should expect any other visitors or anything.” You took a sip as he replied.

‘Nope. Just her. And don’t get shy on me now, love. You’re too cute to hide your face from me.’

You choked on your coffee, face turning a beet red as you coughed. 

Molly ran in, looking at you with concern, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, giving her a meek thumbs up as you calmed down, “‘m fine.” You coughed a bit more, slowly taking in a breath.

Molly looked down at the notepad, grinning after a moment, “Ohh, I see. You’ve caught Wilbur’s attention, then?”

“Guess so,” you rubbed the back of your neck, a blush still resting on your cheeks.

“No wonder he seemed so happy when he talked about you.” She giggled, turning.

“Wait- talked about me? You can hear them?”

She turned back, looking a bit confused, “Uh, yeah. I’m actually shocked they haven’t spoken to you yet. Though, it took them a long while before they started talking back to me too, so I guess it makes sense.”

“So, they can speak then?”

She snorted, “Yeah. Of course they can. Do you- you don’t know much about ghosts, do you?” You shook your head slowly, “I didn’t even know if they were real before this.”

“Oh,” she hummed, “Well, as I’m sure you know now, they are very real. Tom and Wilbur and most ghosts are really cool. They’re just kind of doing their own thing. Some can be less than friendly, but don’t worry about them too much.”

You nodded as you listened, “How do you know so much about this?”

She shrugged, “I’ve been talking with ghosts since I was a kid.”

“Huh. Alright, well, you clearly know more about it than I do. Anything you can tell me, I’d be glad to hear.”

She thought for a moment, “Tommy’s favorite color is red. And Wilbur’s is teal,” she perked up, “Oh! And Tommy’s birthday is April 9th, and Wilbur’s is September 14th,” she smiled.  “It’s probably best if they tell you more about themselves, though.”

You nodded, “Right, well, thank you, though.”

She grinned, “Of course. Have fun with Wilbur,” she giggled, and it made your cheeks flush once again as she walked back out to the living room. 

You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter. Wilbur was still by you, and you watched as the pen lifted once more. 

‘Didn’t mean to make you choke. Sorry for taking your breath away ;)’

You snorted softly, “Oh, you very well meant it. But I don’t mind.”

‘Oh? Good to know then. I am glad you’re okay, though. Don’t need three ghosts in one place.’

For some reason, him wanting you to be okay made you flush more than any of his actual flirting.

A few weeks had gone by, and now, you had fallen into a comfortable routine. Wilbur was always ready to flirt, it seemed, whether it be through morse code, notes left around your house, or by using your phone to play romantic songs. It was really nice. Your week always followed a similar pace, you’d go to work on the weekdays, spend time with the boys when you got home, and Molly would come over on Saturday mornings and most of Sunday to hang out with you and Wilbur, but mostly Tommy. You learned more about her, learning that she was going to a University nearby, and that she’d moved to this town a few years back, where she quickly started visiting the boys after learning about the rumors of them in town. You learned more about Wilbur and Tommy too. Wilbur liked indie music and cats. Tommy liked songs that reminded him of being alive and video games, watching them and playing them if he could. You really enjoyed your routine, and you had grown to genuinely care about them.

The first time you hear Wilbur’s voice was an accident. It was late, about three A.M., and you couldn’t sleep. It was a weekend, thankfully, but you couldn’t stand just sitting there in the dark anymore. You got up, walking around the living room when you heard soft music playing. Curiously, you walked up towards the attic where the sound was coming from. You could make out the sounds of a guitar, and from outside the door, you could hear singing. And my god, it was beautiful. He had a soft voice, melodic but not too deep. After listening for a moment, you opened the door, searching for the sound.

While you didn’t see him, you saw the guitar perched up, so you knew it was Wilbur. You walked in slowly, as if treading on eggshells. 

“Your voice is really lovely,” you spoke softly, standing in front of the chair Wilbur was on. 

It was silent before you heard his actual speaking voice. 

“Darling, what are you doing up? It’s late.”

You took a deep breath upon hearing his voice properly for the first time. “Couldn’t sleep, and I heard music, so I got curious, I guess,” You sat down in front of him, “You’re speaking. I’m sorry if I wasn’t meant to hear you, I just…” you couldn’t really think up more of an explanation, shrugging.

“it’s alright. I was mostly just trying to spare you from hearing Tommy talk your ear off,” he chuckled, and if his singing wasn’t melodic enough, his laugh alone definitely was. 

You chuckled, smiling softly, “Well, I’ll make sure to be prepared for that in the morning.”

He chuckled once more, “Good. He’ll be wanting to say a lot now that he can.” He hummed softly, “do you want me to play for you? Since you can’t sleep?”

“That would be really nice,” you smiled, rubbing at your eyes a bit.

“Alright. Let’s go to your room then? It’s probably far more comfortable than sitting up here.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to disturb you too much or anything.”

He nodded, “I only came up here so I wouldn’t wake you. Come on,” you watched as the necklace and guitar lifted, signifying that he’d stood up. You and him walked back to your room quietly, and you laid back down once you got there. You felt the bed dip next you, and you saw the guitar shift into a playing position. He started playing, and you heard him start singing once again. His gentle sounds quickly lulled you into sleep.

And if you woke up feeling a bit colder than usual, and more specifically a cold spot where an arm would have wrapped around your waist, neither of you mentioned it. 

Tommy did talk your ear off that morning, excited to finally be able to talk to you, making comments about how “he’d wanted to talk to you weeks ago” and that “he’d only kept quiet because Wilbur said he had to.” Communication was a lot easier now that they felt comfortable speaking to you. There was a consequence to hearing them now, though. Wilbur’s flirting only got more bold. When you’d get ready for work, he’d always meet you outside your room with a smart comment about how “lucky those coworkers of yours are if they get to see you looking like that all day”. It was interesting, though, the little things you’d noticed about him. He was always more flirty during the daytime, but once it was night, he was more soft. You’d grown used to the chilled feeling that comes from his arms wrapping around you as he whispered about how glad he was that you’d stayed. 

He didn’t really sleep. Neither of them needed it, but you found that Tommy liked to, so you always kept the bed in the spare room neat for him. While Wilbur didn’t like to sleep, he was protective of you. It was a bit odd at first that he wanted to be with you when you’d slept, but you found a great deal of comfort in feeling the chill from him pressed against you while you slept. Especially on some nights like tonight. 

It wasn’t often you got nightmares anymore. They grew less frequent when Wilbur would hold you in your sleep, but he didn’t always do that every night. You didn’t know what he did when he wasn’t here with you, but you weren’t going to ask. He deserved his privacy, after all. Despite it, you did always miss the feeling of his arms around you. He wasn’t with you when you’d gone to bed. 

You woke up screaming. Within seconds, you were pressed against your headboard, head pressed in your hands while you sobbed and gasped for breath, thumb placed on your pulse point. Tommy actually arrived first, your door flinging open and his necklace swinging wildly. 

Before he had time to react, Wilbur was rushing in quickly behind him, going straight for you. You felt his arms wrap around you tightly, and the cold did a great deal to shock you out of the panic, leaving you just sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him, though it took you a second to process how he was positioned. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered softly, “you’re right here, you’re with us, it’s okay.” 

You leaned into his reassurance. Eventually, you felt more movement on the bed, and Tommy’s hand rested on your back gently as both boys helped you calm down. Your hands gripped onto the feeling of soft fabric that you couldn’t see. 

Wilbur continued to whisper reassurances and reminders that you were okay and that he wouldn’t let anything hurt you. When you stopped crying, Wilbur slowly helped you lay back down, never letting go of you for a second. He didn’t want you to think you were alone, even for a second. 

You were exhausted when he laid you down, still wrapped in his arms. Your eyes opened, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of a faded blue sweater through bleary, tear-stained eyes. You didn’t think about it too long, and instead you went to bed in Wilbur’s arms with Tommy next to you, falling asleep quickly from the exhaustion. 

(When you woke up, you basically had to wrestle to get out of bed between Wilbur holding you close and Tommy’s limbs strewn out over the two of you. But with a bit of wrangling, you chose to stay in bed and wouldn’t have changed it for the world.)

While your routine was good, there were still some rougher days. Work could go so well before things went wrong. Like today, when you’d fucked up an assignment and proceeded to get yelled at by your boss for about thirty minutes before hiding to cry in the bathroom. You calmed yourself down enough to at least look like you hadn’t cried, using some cold water to calm the redness down your face. You walked home slowly, opening the door, and you were quickly met with Wilbur’s voice chiming out from the living room.

“Welcome home, darling! How was work?”

You dropped your bag at the door, shrugging, “Eh. It was honestly quite shit. For now, I just want to relax a bit.”

He chuckled, “Well, I’ve got some ideas to help you relax.”

Instead of getting flustered, or having any major reaction, you just smiled flatly, sighing a bit. You could feel his concern, sighing again, “I’ll be fine, Wilbur. Just a bad day.”

You walked to your room, grabbing a notebook and a pencil case in the hopes that some drawing would calm you down. You walked back out to the living room, sitting on the couch next to Tommy, who was playing with your Rubix cube again. Wilbur walked over and stood in front of you, and you could feel his eyes on you as you set down your pencil case.

One of the more endearing habits that Tommy had was how he only liked his things near him. He always wanted his space to be the exact way he put things, and he would complain, loudly, if you moved things whatsoever. The most often way he complained? He would just smack things. Just completely push them out of his space and across the room.

And he did that now. You watched as you went to grab a pencil, and before you could, he smacked the pencil case across the room so hard it slammed against the wall before hitting the floor. 

“Tommy!” Wilbur chastised, but before he could actually get on his case, you burst out laughing.

Full, genuine laughing, your eyes closing . Your life was so bizarre already, what with the whole living with ghosts thing. And after an absolutely shitty day, one of them just smacked your entire pencil case against the wall just because it was slightly too close to him. It was bizarre and weird and absurd, but it was your life. 

You laughed until your ribs were tired. When your eyes opened again, still crinkled at the sides, you were met with a sight, to say the least.

You saw Wilbur. You saw him. He was looking back at you, face flushed and staring at you in awe. Holy shit.

“...Wilbur?”

He looked startled by the fact you made eye contact with him, and he struggled to find words. But god, he was gorgeous. Thick curly brown hair with beautiful brown eyes to match. He was tall, too, and he wore a faded blue sweater and plain black pants. 

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Tommy did, and you watched as, within seconds, he went from being completely invisible to… Tommy. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and he was wearing a white t-shirt with red sleeves, and a pair of cargo shorts. 

“Thank god, we don’t have to be invisible anymore. I was getting so tired of it, but of course Wilbur said we had to, didn’t want to risk scaring you off, as if you would be!” He barked out a laugh, and you chuckled as well, blinking a bit.

“I’m sorry, what? You- I can see you? And you can control that sort of stuff?”

Tommy snorted, “Of course you can see us. That’s kinda how ghosts work, innit?”

You gave them a closer look, noting that, although you could see them, they were still slightly translucent. “How the hell should I know how ghosts work? I’m not the ghost here!” 

You laughed, and Wilbur seemed to finally gain some sense of vocal ability, “We can control it, but our natural state is like this. Well, kind of. There’s a more… accurate form, but we don’t really show that to anyone. We’ve found that it usually scares people out, so we tend to wait.”

You nodded, “What is the more accurate form?”

Wilbur leaned forward, ruffling your hair, “Don’t worry about it.”

You pouted a bit but nodded regardless, “Okay. Well, as weird as it is, it’s also… really cool. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to see you guys.” You took Wilbur’s hand, inspecting it carefully. Other than the slight translucent nature of them, they just looked normal. A bit paler than they probably would have been alive, but still just completely normal. 

You let go of his hand, looking up at him, “Sorry, it’s just interesting.” Wilbur chuckled, and it was so different to actually see him laugh rather than just hearing it, “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, darling.”

You flushed lightly, and Wilbur took immediate notice, leaning in close to your face. 

“Are you going shy on me, darling?” His hand gently cupped your chin, “Do you just find me that attractive?” Your cheeks flamed up, and as you stuttered out a response, Tommy groaned, smacking Wilbur’s shoulder.

“Take your flirting shit out of here, dickhead.”

Wilbur scoffed, sitting next to you instead, “Hey, I put up with your shit attempts at flirting with Molly for months, I’m allowed to have my fun.”

“I am not shit at flirting! And even if I was, you’re the one who taught me, so that would mean you’re also shit!” Tommy exclaimed, putting the Rubix cube down. 

“You never listened to my instructions!”

“Because they were stupid”

You rolled your eyes as they continued to bicker, standing and walking towards your room. You waved a hand nonchalantly, “I’m going to take a bath. You guys just keep… doing whatever is it you do.” “Want my help in there, darling?” You flushed, flipping him off behind your back, “Unless you’re bringing me wine and leaving right after, I do not need your help.” 

You walked into the bathroom and got a warm bubble bath ready quickly, getting into the water and relaxing as the heat soothed your sore muscles. You played music from your phone softly, closing your eyes and letting the water alleviate your troubles from the day.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. You fixed the curtain to maintain your modesty, before humming out a soft, “Come in.”

Wilbur opened the door with a smug grin, a glass of wine in his hand. 

You laughed, “Jesus, I didn’t even think we had wine in the house.” “We do, it was just too high for you to reach.” He chuckled, walking over to hand you the glass. 

“Oh? And who put it up there then?” You took the glass, taking a sip.

“Hm, I wonder.” He chuckled, crouching down to be eye-level with you, “You feeling any better?”

You nodded softly, smiling, “Yeah. Just had a rough day, I guess.”

He sat down, nodding, “I figured. It took you longer to get home than usual, and you just seemed a bit down. I’m glad Tommy was able to make you laugh, even if the whole reveal thing wasn’t planned.”

You hummed, “It definitely was a shock. I do like being able to see you, even if I’m still just processing it. It’s easier to tell where you are.”

“Oh, I bet,” he laughed, “But sneaking up on you is half the fun.”

“For you,” you rolled your eyes, “I quite like being able to see my housemates. I’m almost offended, actually, that you hid such a pretty face from me for so long.”

It was an incredibly satisfying feeling to actually watch him get flustered, his cheeks turning pink while he looked away. 

He composed himself, clearing his throat, “Didn’t want to scare such a pretty person away is all. Especially such a kind one.”

You flushed, taking another sip of wine. “Well, I can definitely say I’m not scared.”

He smiled (a beautiful sight to see), reaching a hand up to gently play with your hair, “Good. For a moment there I thought you’d just bolt when you saw me.”

“Honestly,” you chuckled, leaning into his touch, “You guys having a form I can see is the least weird thing I’ve dealt with since I’ve moved in.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. We’ve just… grown to be a bit wary of showing ourselves to people. Molly was the most recent one, actually, and that was because she snuck in without us noticing. The first time someone moved in, we didn’t think to hide ourselves, and that’s what led to all the rumors and everything.”

You nodded, “Shitty exploitative people or people running for the hills?”

“We’ve had both,” he sighed.

“How do you guys know about all the rumors and stuff though? Did Molly tell you?”

He shook his head, “We can’t leave the house most days, but there are a few exceptions. We can leave on Halloween, and the anniversary of our deaths. Or if we possess someone.”

“Wha- okay, you can not just say that like it’s a casual thing. You can possess people?”

He chuckled, looking coy, “Yeah. We don’t do it often, only if we really need to or if we’re given permission.”

You nodded, “That’s respectful, I guess. When would you need to?”

He shrugged, “We’ve done it to protect people. There was a kid living in here with the last family, and he nearly drowned, so I had to possess his father to save him. The only problem is that, usually when we do it, people move out right after. But if we can stop another person from dying here, we’ll jump at the opportunity.”

“That makes sense,” you hummed softly, “Must feel weird to get possessed.”

He hummed, “I’ve heard it is. Tommy’s possessed Molly before so they could go on like pseudo-dates. She said you’re still aware of everything, you just can’t move your body yourself. She and Tommy were able to talk in her head, though so it’s not as scary as you’d think, as long as you know it’s happening. There are some side effects for a short while afterwards though.”

“Like?”

“She said that she felt freezing cold for a while after. She had a few bruises as well, but that could’ve easily just been from Tommy remembering how to manuver an actual body. That’s another thing, if you do it for too long, you kind of forget how to move your own body, so she had to sit to keep herself from falling.”

You nodded, humming, “that’s not too bad.”

“Well, yeah. That’s with permission, though. Most of the people we’ve possessed without permission haven’t exactly stuck around long enough for us to ask how they feel afterwards.”

You leaned your head on the edge of the tub, going silent as you thought. “We could do that one day, if you want.”

“What?” He stopped his hand, eyebrows pinching together. 

“Yeah, like Molly and Tommy do. That way you can go outside a bit more and do stuff that you can’t do anymore.” 

He grinned softly, “Is this your way of asking me on a date?”

You groaned, and he immediately laughed at your reaction. “I’m trying to be nice, dumbass.”

“I know, I know. But man it is so much more fun to flirt with you when you can actually see me. You get flustered so much easier.” “Maybe I’m not used to seeing cute boys flirt with me.”

He frowned slightly, and it quickly dissolved into a grin, “Well, you’ll get used to it soon enough because I definitely don’t plan on stopping. Unless it makes you uncomfortable.”

You smiled gently, “It doesn’t. I would’ve asked you to stop a long time ago if it actually made me uncomfortable.”

“Good. Because I am going to be so much worse about it now that I can flirt physically with you.”

“Oh, god.”

“I’ll make it good for you. Don’t stress.”

You chuckled, taking another sip, “I’m not stressed, more concerned about how I’ll ever be able to deal with a cute guy flirting with me all the time.”

“Well, I’ll take good care of you, obviously.”

You smiled, biting your lip softly, “Thanks, Wilbur.” 

He smiled, running his hand through your hair once more. “Of course, darling. What do you want for dinner? I can start making it while you finish up here.”

You sighed softly, “I have no clue honestly.”

“So surprise you?”

You grinned softly, “Yeah. Just please don’t burn down the house. I like living here with you guys.”

“Alright, so don’t let Tommy into the kitchen, got it.”

You laughed, and he gave you that look again, the same one he was giving you when you saw his face for the first time. 

“I guess so.” You hummed softly. 

“Alright, well, I’ll go get started,” He stood, and he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your forehead gently before walking out. 

It took your brain a moment to catch up before you felt yourself blushing deeply once more. It was a new but definitely welcome sensation, the feeling of his lips on your forehead left a gentle chill. You bit down a smile, but even if you really tried, you wouldn’t have been able to hide the gentle grin. You took a final sip of your wine, setting the glass down and letting yourself sink into the water.

You got out of the bath and got dressed, taking your glass and walking out into the living room. You weren’t quite used to just being able to see them, almost feeling startled as you saw Tommy sitting on the couch playing on your old DS, and seeing Wilbur standing in the kitchen. 

You shook it off, walking to the kitchen and looking for the wine.

Wilbur looked over at you, smiling softly, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “How’s dinner coming along?”

“Good,” he smiled, walking over and wrapping his lanky arms around you while you poured yourself some more wine. You leaned into his grasp, smiling softly. 

“Yeah? House hasn’t burnt down, so that says something at least.”

He chuckled, wrapping you up tighter in his arms, “I still remember mostly what I’m doing. I used to cook for Tommy when our parents were working.”

“You haven’t spoken much about your parents.” You noted quietly. 

He sighed, leaning his head on you, “No. I haven’t. I try not to think about them too much.”

You nodded softly and didn’t ask further. Instead, you relaxed in his arms and drank your wine. He swayed a bit, and you chuckled, closing your eyes. 

“It’s still weird being able to see you.”

“Yeah? Like what you see.”

You chuckled, flushing, “Maybe. Is there a problem if I do?”

“The opposite, actually, darling. I think it’s absolutely lovely. But not as lovely as you.”

“Wilbur?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Something is very much burning on the stove.”

He quickly pulled away, rushing to the pot on the stove and taking it off the heat. 

“Oops,” he grinned at you sheepishly, “Sorry, love. You’re just so distracting.”

You flushed and rolled your eyes, “Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted you in the kitchen either.”

He scoffed, “I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. This was simply a method of cooking, I’m enfusing the food with smoky flavor.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes a bit, “You’re such a dork.”

When you looked back at him, he was giving you the biggest grin. He turned, grinning down at the counter as he worked on plating the food for you. He handed you the plate, gently kissing your head.

“I kept the burnt parts out of it.”

You blushed, smiling, “Thank you, Wilbur.”

“Of course, darling.” 

You started eating, and he watched you as you did, waiting for your reaction.

“Holy shit, Wilbur, this is fantastic.”

He threw his arms up, cheering, “Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you like it. It’s been a long time since I cooked.”

“It’s amazing, seriously, thank you.”

He smiled, wrapping his arms around you again, “It’s actually our mom’s recipe. She was the best cook, taught me everything I know.”

“Well, she taught you well.” You ate more, and Wilbur was absolutely beaming behind you.

The rest of the night was quite calm, just sitting with Tommy and Wilbur, watching videos and stuff. You got tired quite quickly, so the three of you retired to bed, Wilbur following you. You both got comfortable quickly, your head resting on his chest. His hand gently trailed up and down your back, and the sensation used to make you shiver, but now it just felt comforting. In the silence, you began thinking. 

“Wilbur?” You spoke softly.

“Hm?”

“You’re very touchy,” you stated plainly.

He chuckled, “That’s true.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I like the feeling. Reminds me of being alive, I guess.”

“How so?” You asked quietly.

“Well,” he took one hand, gently placing it on your cheek, “it warms me slightly, same way it cools you. So it becomes grounding, after a while. Especially when I start to comprehend the reality of the fact that I am a ghost, I can’t leave, and I don’t know if I’ll be like this forever or if one day I’ll just suddenly stop existing. It’s scary sometimes to think about the fact that, at one point, I was living, and I got killed, and now I am undead, and I don’t know why. I don’t know if one day, just by saying something, I’ll fade. You weren’t wrong when you said ghosts are probably scared of their own situation because we are. There’s no rulebook to being a ghost, and I remember, the first few years, I was just so aware of my own… mortality, if you can even call it that. And it was terrifying. Tommy and I mostly stayed in the attic at all times because we didn’t know if we’d fully move on just by walking out the door. So, when I touch you, it helps pull me out of that fear. Because I remember that being alive was just as terrifying because there is no rulebook to living either. And it’s grounding. If I could do it once before, I can do it again. You remind me of being alive. Because you’re the first person to look at me, even when you couldn’t see me, and have empathy before anything else. So touching you and being around you, it makes me feel something other than the usual dread and sadness, and I will cling to that as much as I can while I still have time with you.”

You leaned into his touch, shifting a bit to wrap an arm around him. You didn’t really have a response. It was the most vulnerable he’d ever been. 

You cuddled your head further into his chest, nodding softly, “If you ever need it, you know, i’m here for you. I don’t know much about ghosts or living, and I’d never given the things much thought before moving in here. But anything that can help you, I’m willing to help you with. Even if it means having you attached at my hip all day. You know better than anyone just how fragile life is. I could die tomorrow. So, we need to make the most out of what we have, I guess.”

He smiled, kissing the top of your head gently, “That’s all we can do. It’s what made life worth living, and it’s what makes being stuck like this worth it too. Just appreciating every moment, even if all we have is your living and my ghostly-ness.” He chuckled softly, and you did too.

You gently moved his hand from your cheek, solely so you could hold it. “Goodnight, Wilbur.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

You and Wilbur got closer seamlessly. You don’t know what made it so easy to talk with him or just be around him. Overtime, his flirting got bolder, but so did yours. You’d be lying to yourself if you were to say that you weren’t attracted to him. You absolutely were. You were just conflicted.

You didn’t know how human-ghost relationships worked. You knew they happened, obviously, Molly and Tommy were clear proof of it. But you didn’t really know how they worked. One person was dead, firstly, but there was also the concept that their spirit had a high chance of outliving you. You would grow older, but Wilbur would always be twenty-six. Unless you died, of course, but that would be a pretty major commitment to make, and it honestly made your head hurt to think about. Plus, that’s if Wilbur even would be okay with that which, based on the way he spoke about being dead, he wouldn’t be. The morals and mortality honestly gave you a headache. So you talked to the only other person who would possibly understand.

When Molly walked in that morning, you were quick to stop her from walking up to where Tommy would be.

“Molly! Can I talk to you for a moment?” “Uh, yeah, sure.”

You carefully pulled her into the backyard, sitting down on the concrete porch.

“I… have a few questions.” You spoke softly in case of any peeping ears.

“Oh?” She sat down next to you, “What about?”

You sighed, “You and Tommy’s relationship. How does it work?”

She chuckled, “What do you mean?”

“I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about like how a ghost-human relationship could work, and I just feel overwhelmed. I like Wilbur,” you admitted softly, blush rising to your cheeks, “But I keep thinking about how a relationship between me and him would work since it’s… unconventional.”

“Well, I’ve found your problem already,” she gave you a kind smile, “You think too much. With Tommy, we don’t think about it. We’re both aware of how weird it is, and how it probably won’t last forever, but we don’t mind. I mean, he and I have been dating for months, and I’ve never been able to tell anyone for obvious reasons. We just honestly don’t think about it. And maybe that’s not healthy, but it’s what’s right and what works for us right now. So that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, resting your head on your knee, “It doesn’t bother you? That you don’t know?”

“Honestly? No,” she shrugged, “It’s something about living in the moment, you know. Sometimes I think about it, but I know that there’s really nothing Tom and I can do anything about it. So, I just don’t think about it since I can’t find a solution.”

You nodded again, “Thanks, Molly.” She patted your shoulder, “Listen, if you want my advice, I say do it. Wilbur is absolutely head over heels for you. And even if he is blind to it, I can tell you are the same way about him. So, don’t think about it much, just do it. If it makes you both happy, then it’s worth it.”

You flushed, nodding, “I just have to figure out how. Thank you, Molly.”

“I have work off today, so I was probably going to let Tommy possess me so we can go for a walk, if you want some privacy,” she winked, standing and heading inside.

You sat there with nothing but the deep blush on your cheeks and the things she had told you. 

You were thankful for the later privacy, though, solely because you didn’t want Tommy there when you confessed. It was nerve-wracking enough without Tommy there to potentially make fun of you. 

After dinner, you and WIlbur were sitting on the couch like normal, but you couldn’t focus, too in your head about how to word everything perfectly and oh god, what if he says no. 

“Darling, are you okay?” Wilbur asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You nodded, biting your lip. You turned, facing him now, and gently taking his hand, “I want to… talk about something.”

“Oh?” he turned, holding your hand tightly, “What’s up?”

Fuck, you really should’ve practiced this before hand. “It’s just…” here goes nothing, “I like you, Wilbur. I’ve known for a bit now, I just didn’t really know what to say or if it would be good to even bring it up until I talked to Molly today, but, yeah. I like you. And, if you’ll take me, I’d- I’d like to be your partner.”

For the first time in your little speech, you looked up to him. And he, god, he looked ecstatic. He had a soft smile on his face, but you could see in his eyes just how overjoyed he was. 

“Darling, nothing would make me happier. I’d be a fool to not take you,” he squeezed your hand gently, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, and he brought a hand up, slowly guiding your lips together. The kiss was enchanting, and the sensation – a mix of cool and tingling – it reminded you of peppermint chapstick. You held onto his shoulder gently, kissing him back and putting just as much love into it as it gave you. 

You both pulled away quickly, solely due to the sound of the door opening. Both of your heads whipped towards the sound, watching as Molly-Tommy walked in, and after a moment, you watched Tommy’s spirit separate, and he carefully held onto Molly, so she wouldn’t fall. Once he looked over, both of you red-faced and looking like you were clearly caught, he raised his free arm up, cheering, “Holy shit! Wilbur finally got bitches!”

Your relationship with Wilbur was surprisingly easy. Not much actually changed between the two of you, aside from kissing and making out more. He slept in your bed more often, though he still had those nights when he would disappear to the attic. He also tended to be more generally affectionate rather than flirty, now that he knew it was okay to kiss you when he felt like it.

There was something not-house related that popped up recently though. You didn’t notice it for the first few days, but by the fourth day it was glaringly obvious. Every day that you would leave your house for work, you noticed a man, around mid-fourties, sitting on a bench across the street. He would follow your path to work, but he would never interact. It made you feel uneasy, though. You told a few of your coworkers, and they all agreed that it was weird, but you refrained from telling Wilbur and Tommy. You didn’t want any problems, you just mostly wanted to figure out why this guy kept watching you.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long to find out. On the second week of this occurring, he actually came up to you, holding a single flower out towards you.

When he spoke, it sounded as though he hadn’t spoken properly in about two years, and it sent a shiver down your spine, but none of his words were mean or harmful. 

“Hello. I’m sorry to bother you,” he handed you the flower, a red chrysanthemum, before continuing, “it’s just, well, I used to be friends with the boys who lived in that house. Not a lot of people move in there, so when I heard you did, I got a bit curious.”

You accepted the flower, somewhat shocked by the plainness of his statement, “Oh. I understand the curiosity, the house has quite a reputation. It’s a lovely place, though.”

He nodded, “I loved being in there. I’ve heard the reputation it has as well, but I wanted to ask, as the current owner, do you believe in any of it? I’m not quite sure I believe in these ghost stories.”

You chuckled softly. You had gotten used to lying about your ghostly boyfriend and roommates, “No, I don’t believe in any of it. However, if it keeps my payments low, I don’t mind.”

That brought a laugh out of him, and it eased your nerves a bit. “I get that. Sorry if I weirded you out at all, It’s just- not exactly easy to come up to people and ask if they believe in ghosts.”

“People do it all the time now, actually,” you hummed. It wasn’t uncommon, these days, for anyone who knew you lived there to ask those types of questions. “But you said you were friends with the boys?”

He nodded, “Yes. We were good friends for a long time. It was tragic what happened to them, but I am glad to hear that you haven’t had any problems. I always worried that their souls may not have been able to move on.”

You gave a soft smile, “Yeah, I worried the same when I moved in. I imagine it’d be quite scary to exist like that. But, no issues, really.”

“That’s good, then. The boys were so kind, too. William and Thomas, their names were.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, as if you didn’t know.

For the next week, every day, that man would walk with you to work, telling stories about the boys, and every day, he would bring you a red chrysanthemum. It was nice to hear about the boys when they were alive, even if it was a bit chilling to think about how they lived before knowing what would become of them.

One day, the man brought a whole bouquet of the red chrysanthemums, and you accepted them with a soft smile. As he told stories, he spoke in a bit of a far-away tone.

“I’ve always wanted to go back in, actually. To see where we all used to goof off. I think it would be a nice way to get closure, after all that’s happened. The guy who killed them, he was smart, really smart, but he never got caught, so their story never got closure. I never got closure. I’m not sure, I’ve just always thought that, just walking around and seeing their rooms, it would help.”

That brought a thought to your brain. This guy used to be their friend, and Wilbur said that they always wondered what happened to all the people who they never saw anymore. It would be a really nice surprise for them!

“Well, if you’d like, once I get off of work, I can let you in, let you walk around a bit?”

He grinned, “Really? Oh, that would be lovely. You get home around six usually, yes?”

You nodded softly, “Yeah.”

“Perfect! Oh, thank you so much, it would truly be the best thing to be able to see in there again. You don’t know how much you’ve truly done for me.”

When you got home, he was waiting at your front porch. You smiled softly at him, waving as you went to unlock the door. You opened the door slowly, to give the boys time to go invisible when they realized there was someone in the house.

“You can just take a seat on the couch, alright? I’m going to put my stuff away and then I’ll walk the place with you.”

He nodded, taking a seat and looking around. You walked to your room to put your bag away, but the moment you closed the door, you were met with the two ghosts, startling you backwards.

“Jesus, you guys scared me,” you whispered.

“What the fuck is going on right now?” Tommy whispered harshly.

Wilbur just looked angry, the silent type of angry that honestly put fear in you as well.

“What are you talking about? Him?”

“Of fucking course, we’re talking about him! Why is he here?” It was weird to hear Tommy sounding so quiet and panicked.

“He said he used to be your friend. I wanted to surprise you guys,” you smiled a bit, not yet understanding why they both looked so upset and fearful and angry.

“That dickhead was not our friend.” “What? Tommy, what are you on about?”

“Love, that’s the man who murdered us.” Wilbur spoke for the first time, anger clear in his voice.

You felt a chill go down your spine, straightening, “What?”

“The bastard pretended to be our friend, talking to us, bringing us shit like gifts and flowers,” you felt your entire body go cold as Tommy continued, “All so he could fucking murder us.”

“He’s been giving me flowers every day.” You noted simply, and the two of them both lost all the fear in their expressions, now just looking purely angry and protective. They shared a look before looking back at you. Wilbur placed a hand on your shoulder, gently despite the ferocity in his expression.

“Go back out there before he gets suspicious, but if he wants to go to the attic, do not walk in first, let him go first. You hear me?”

You nodded quickly, and Wilbur pulled you forward, kissing you passionately, “I won’t let him fucking touch you,” he growled out softly.

You kissed him back, slowly pulling out from Wilbur’s grasp and heading back out into the living room, a bit more stiff than before.

“You ready to look around?” You asked, trying to sound as normal as possible. He nodded, standing up. You and him walked upstairs to the boys’s rooms, and the entire time you could feel Wilbur and Tommy’s presence behind you.

You went to both of the boy’s old rooms, and he seemed completely normal, talking about all the times he’d seen the boys in here. After Wilbur’s room, he spoke up properly.

“Can we see the attic? The boys and I used to hang out there at night.”

You gulped softly and nodded, “Do you remember where it is?”

He smiled and nodded, “of course! I remember sneaking up there with them all the time.”

“Alright, lead the way then.” You gestured for him to lead the way, but he shook his head.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t, it’s your house after all.”

“No, really, I insist.”

He tilted his head, smiling, and this time it brought you waves of unease, “Is there something wrong?”

Fuck. There were two ways this could go. You could say yes, and he could just kill you right here. Or you could say no and deal with Wilbur’s anger later. 

You’d rather deal with Wilbur’s anger later.

“...No. Nothing’s wrong, um, follow me, I guess.” You started walking upstairs to the attic, and you practically hear Wilbur’s curses in your ear. 

You opened the door and walked in, and the man walked in behind you. Before either of you had a chance to react, the door slammed shut and locked, and you were pulled into the chair on the otherside of the room.

You watched Wilbur reappear, standing over you protectively. Tommy reappeared after, standing by the door. The man looked around wildly at the two of the them, stuttering.

“You- you said they weren’t real!” He looked at you angrily, and he started advancing towards you. 

Wilbur grabbed your hands, placing them on top of your eyes. “Do not open your eyes.” He ordered, and all you could do was hear for a few minutes as the sound of strange whispers filled the room. There was light coming from the center of the room that you could vaguely make out from behind your hands, and soon, there was the sound of the man screaming. The room felt heavy, as if every negative emotion you’d ever known was flowing into your body all at once.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help your curiosity as you peered between two fingers.

Tommy and Wilbur stood over the man as he sank into what appeared to be a portal into the floor. That wasn’t what really caught your attention, though. 

What caught your attention was Tommy and Wilbur’s appearances. This must’ve been the true form they mentioned, you realized. They looked nearly decrepit, Tommy’s stomach covered in blood, and his neck showing a long open wound. Wilbur wasn’t much better, a clear stab wound going straight through his chest. If you looked hard enough, you could see through it. His face had a long scratch going down the side, hitting through his eye. There was another stab wound on him, a clear chunk taken out of his arm. Both of their eyes were glowing, Wilbur’s a haunting cold blue, and Tommy’s a deep red. 

You gasped softly and quickly covered your eyes in full again.  No wonder they didn’t want you to see it. It was entirely haunting to see.

A few minutes later, Wilbur walked over and pulled your hands off of your eyes. The light, the portal, and the man were all gone. You had started crying at some point after seeing them like that, and Wilbur quickly pulled you into his arms. 

“It’s okay, he’s gone.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back soothingly. You sobbed against him, gently moving a hand to the center of his chest to make sure the wound wasn’t there anymore even if you’d already seen him looking normal.

He seemed to realize what you were doing pretty quickly, but he never let go of you or seemed upset in the slightest, “You saw, didn’t you?”

You nodded, another wave of sobs wracking your body.

He sighed softly, just holding you closer, “I’m sorry, darling. I never wanted you to see that. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered.

You didn’t respond, just sobbing against him and clinging onto him desperately. 

He helped you calm down, and after you got past the tears from processing their true forms, you had to come to terms with the stark reality that you would have absolutely been killed, the same way the boys had, if they weren’t there for you.

The house was mostly quiet the rest of the night, though Wilbur and Tommy were both clearly filled with a sense of relief. 

You asked Wilbur about it later as you rested on his chest in bed. “Are you and Tommy happy he’s gone?”

He hummed, looking down at you, “He’s not gone, per se. Just in his own personal hell. It felt good, but, if you’re wondering why we’re both relieved, that’s not why.”

He got better at reading you as you two grew closer, and this was clear evidence of it, “Then why?”

“We didn’t know if that would be it for us,” he sighed softly, “There’s always been this idea that ghosts stick around due to unfinished business. We don’t know if that’s true or not, but we always assumed, if it was, it was because he was still here. So, there was a chance that when we got rid of him, we both would’ve just ceased to exist, or moved on to the afterlife, whatever. We’re relieved that didn’t happen. Neither of us could stand leaving you and Molly like that, with no clue what happened to us.”

You nodded softly, “But, wouldn’t it have been nice? To move on?” 

“No,” he almost laughed, “Not without you.”

You held onto him tighter, nodding softly. “He would’ve killed me, if you two weren’t here.” You whispered.

He nodded, but he didn’t speak. 

“If we let him, maybe I would’ve been here with you guys forever, like you are now.”

He looked at you, horrified, “Darling, don’t start with that. There’s absolutely no way we could’ve been certain of that, and I don’t want this for you. I want you to live a full life, and I don’t even want to know what would’ve happened if he killed you and your spirit didn’t stay. It would’ve been devastating for both of us, Tommy too. So, please, don’t start with that. I’m glad you are alive.”

You nodded softly, and his arms tightened around you, “I owe you both my life regardless.” He chuckled lightly, leaning down and kissing you gently, “Darling, the only thing you owe us is your happiness. All I want is for you to be happy. Nothing else matters to me anymore.”

You smiled, kissing him back lovingly. 

“I love you, Wilbur.”

He smiled, eyes glowing the same blue, but lighter this time, as you exchanged your first ‘I love you’s. “I love you too, darling.”

[cardiamachina]

my god is this thing even on???

hello, you, who's still hanging around in this almost defunct page! sometimes i come around here after sighting a poem of mine out in the wild of twitter or facebook to see how my little poetry children are doing and i realize i never really expounded on where i went, which is my bad, lmao

well, to start, i am now a nurse in the intensive care unit! i looked back into my archives and realized that when i started writing poetry in this account, i was a NURSING STUDENT eleven years ago! life had expectedly lifed very hard, nursing as a baby nurse was hard, i took the icu course, and then we had that cursed thing happen 2020 ish. my brain chemistry changed a lot, and honestly so did the things i've been writing.

during the time i was away from this account, i was quite focused on long form fanfics. i wrote poetry here and there, but as you guys know with me, i write for people i love. i wrote space-related poetry for deancas, and wrote seventy years of sleep for stevebucky. which still blows my mind what kind of journey soft epilogue ended up embarking???? i leave and then i come back to all that - it was unreal, and thanks for that!

if you're wondering where i am nowadays, i'm kind of all over. i'm on twitter (@NikkaUrsula) and IG (@nikkaursula) for poetry stuff and my fandom twitter i'm gonna hide because i will simply embarrass myself lmao! yes, i am still writing poetry, and it's again about characters i love and people that make me feel things, so i guess i'm no different that where you found me eleven years ago.

i'll be in and out of this page cleaning some stuff up, and maybe updating the format so it's easier for you to read things when you find yourself wandering around my poetry tag. i may post some of my new stuff here too, if anyone's interested in all that.

before i go, i just want to say thanks for listening to what i have to say not only today, but yesterday, a month, a year, a decade ago. i have been writing for a long time, these little feelings that cocoon themselves into little words that escape me. they've traveled a long way to perch on your shoulder, my little monarch butterflies. now they're yours, too.

see you around,

nhixxie/nikka ursula

[viperfizz]

Some xaragaard headcannons i’ve written down over the course of like a few months…

- Ellegaard develops a habit of gently tracing her fingers along Xara’s facial/body scars whenever she’s anxious, bored, etc. Xara loves it and finds it relaxing

- I draw Ellie with moles all over her body so what about Xara trying (and succeeding) to kiss all of them

- Xara draws for Ellie sometimes, whether it’s a portrait or her favorite flower or something. Ellie keeps every single drawing in a little journal she can look through

- Xara doesn’t remember when her spawn day is, so Ellie makes one up for her on the spot

- “let’s kiss without touching and see who gives in first” Xara loses

- Xara’s had a few flings back in the institute that didn’t really impact her that much, but everything feels so different with Ellie in a good way that she gets very confused and asks Jesse wtf is going on and they’re just like “dude you’re so in love wtf”

- Ellegaard has only let 2 people ever call her Ellie; Magnus and Xara, and she wants to keep it that way until the end of time. (she only let Magnus slide bc his annoying ass wouldn’t care anyway)

- Ellie works on her redstone contraptions until the stupid o’clock hours and passes out halfway through. Xara takes her to bed and wipes off any redstone dust on her gloves/hands, and also any makeup she might have had on for the day

- Xara explaining to Ellie how she used to be an admin thinking she’ll be intimidated but Ellie is genuinely interested and lowkey falls in love with Xara more

- when Xara finds out Ellie’s favorite food is bread she learns how to make it for her :))

- Olivia is pretty much Xara and Ellie’s non-bio kid. Ellie first kinda took Olivia under her wing after the witherstorm arc and once Xara got to know Olivia better they just sort of shared custody of her from then on

- ^^^ the whole “idk go ask your mother” thing but it’s Olivia asking Xara and Ellie back and forth about something i love my parents :)

- these two are so old xara probably watches stupid videos on facebook or youtube full blast in the living room and ellie’s on the other side of the couch peacefully reading like :/

- they take care of each other during their low points. when ellie’s been working on a project all day and is too tired/sore, xara will run her a warm bath and put her clothes in the dryer so they’re nice and toasty. when xara has an episode of some kind whether it be depressive, anxious, or one of her injuries flaring up, ellie will sometimes lay on the couch/bed with her if she doesn’t wanna be alone and she’ll put on a movie and bring xara something to eat.

i love old women

[can-ya-guess-my-curent-obsession]

Could you pretty please write 2D with a super clingy s/o? If you do, thank you !!!

2D with an extremely clingy GN!S/O

Authors note: Of course I can write this for you anon :). Thank you for requesting and have a lovely day!

[Extra note: Sorry it kinda feels a bit short but I my brain can't come up with much else with out getting too far from the actual request.

Also my favorite Gif of 2d]

Requests: closed

Edited: Nopes

Pairing: 2D x GN!reader

Phase: unspesified

You two are just two peas in a pod ain't ya

like seriously, you to are perfect

I mean this dude's middle name is clingy

He just wants to be around you constantly

And apparently so do you

Though admittedly

2D's clinginess does have some limits and exceptions that might interfered with your clinginess

Like as much as he like cuddling, he isn't the type to want to be pressed up against you constantly

So if that's your kinda clingy than there's gonna need to be some boundaries set

Cuz at first Stu enjoys the long form contact but as the day goes on and he gets more sweaty and he becomes more aware of the sensations on his skin it can cause sensory over load for him and he might start bugging out

But that's only if you're shoved up right next to each other

Like he has no issue with prolonged extensive contact in the right setting, like cuddling in bed all day or layzing around on the couch with each other

He can do that it's all about environment

but like he could hold your hand for like 3 hours straight, cuz that kinda more casual touch is his jam

Also sorry but he doesn't check his phone

So like if your long distance for long time and you need to get your fix of 2D loving than good luck contacting him, the guy hardly goes on his phone, and when he does it's probably to play and mobile game when in the car

I don't see Stu putting notifications on either cuz he thinks there obnoxious, and he doesn't know how to silence individual apps

So like you could be spamming him and he'll just be sitting around probably playing video games

The only time he notices is when he goes to check the time on his phone and he just sees a wall of notifications from is S/O

<Hey Stu I missed you, how's tour been going?

<Stu?

<Hello? Stuart

<2D?

<Stuart please answer me, I miss yooooouuuuuu!

<Baby pleassseeeee-

<...

<Stuart Pot pick up the damn phone please

_Click here to see other 20+ messages from 'Love♡'_

Stuart stared at his phone for a moment before, texting back-

<hi

2D's texts are very lack luster :/

I dunno but he probably uses Facebook to video call you

Because I think he doesn't like voice calls, he likes to see a person's face as he talks to them, or at least his S/O's face

But when you call you call for hours, like it's insane.

Stuart really doesn't mind if you clingy Infront of the band, public, or hell even in an interview if your on one

He doesn't care about what others think about your relationship

Or about how people perceive the fact that your clingy to him

If asked about it, he's honestly kinda confused

He unabashedly participates is PDA with his partner if they're comfortable

I don't think he would care if you sat in his lap or he sat in your in public

He lacks the ability to read the room, so you could be as clingy as you wanted in public because he isn't able to pick up on the fact that it might bother other people

"What do you mean, annoying? It doesn't bother me at all."

"Inappropriate? How?"

"S/O, is it true that normal couples don't do this?"

The only people he may be a bit more aware around is his parents

But of course there are moments where 2D need some space

Like right before live performances I could see 2D wanting to be alone for bit to prepare himself before getting kiss from his S/O before he goes onto stage

Or during his worse migraines he definitely needs to be alone

During the lighter ones he has no problem you you being around in fact he'll probably cling to you

But when it's real bad, people usually tend to make it worse

And 2D might start getting agitated and maybe a bit agressive due to the pain he's in

"Of course we can hold hands luv"