#Being ignored or ghosted but to see them being online and not responding back for nearly a week

[redrobin-detective]

One thing that infuriates me about modern life is, for how terminally online everyone is, people are terrible at answering messages. I communicate primarily through texts, show love through ‘thinking of you’ messages, ask important time sensitive questions over the phone. I don’t need answers back right away but when days past without response it passes rude into disheartening. Nothing infuriates me more than following up in person on a text I sent a week before and getting ‘oh lol sorry forgot’

[meejijis]

I can’t do friendships if there’s no communication

[unboundprompts]

Hi!! Could you write some dialogue prompts for a ghost character revealing themselves to a mortal after giving them many signs? I’m struggling a bit with this and I haven’t been able to find anything online ☹️ the mortal in my story is a teenager, if that helps. Btw, I love the prompts you come up with!!

Prompts for a Ghost Revealing Themselves to a Mortal

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

He was tired of not being noticed. Not being acknowledged. He had left this mortal girl so many signs. So many taps and nudges that hinted at his presence. But she was so unbelievably unaware that it was making his head hurt.

"Oh my God, how many times are you going to ignore your drink falling off the counter? Surely, after the fifth time you have to think something else is going on?"

The mortal was paralyzed by fear. His whole body was rigid, staring at the intruder who was sheepishly smiling at him. When he finally mustered up the courage to say something, he gawked out, "How did you get in my house?"

She wanted them to know she was here, but she was so worried about revealing herself. What happened after they knew of her presence? Wouldn't they be terrified of her?

Enough was enough. The ghost stepped into the room, shoulders back and chin up. "Don't freak out," they said, announcing themself and putting their hands up non-threateningly. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You're not a ghost," she responded, shaking her head in utter disbelief. "There's no way you're a ghost. Ghosts aren’t real."

"Okay, can you at least pretend to care when I leave you messages? You had to have noticed that the mirror read 'hello' in the shower steam. Or your pens were lined up to spell 'hi'? Like, come on. At least give me something."

"This goes against ghost rules probably, but I'm tired of you ignoring me." The ghost smiled calmly, offering the mortal a wave. "Hi. I'm [NAME]. I have been haunting you-- and doing a poor job at it, it seems. Please don't be afraid."

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[moviestarmartini]

where she goes. — brahim díaz x reader.

tranquilita tu siempre te roba el show / una perversa le vo'a dar dembow / si se pone en cuatro i go where she goes.

summary: (based on this request) you slept with brahim full knowing he only did it to get over his ex. when he comes asking for more you decide to ignore him and disappear, full of pride. too bad he knows where to find you.

wc: 2.6k

warnings: yet again basic sentences in spanish (some i translated), nsfw (18+), stubborn mfs, alcohol consumption, prideful mfs, unprotected sex but what's new (not endorsing it!!!!), p in v, fingering, dom!brahim, he's a bit mean here whoops, spanking (nothing too extreme i promise), praise, aftercare, he's a lil shit here.

A/N: i stalled for a second but i'm so happy how this turned out !! thank you reina @thelvsickgirl for the request mwah mwah i hope you like it 🤍

now playing... where she goes by bad bunny

You stared at the messages in disbelief. You knew very well you were just a rebound, and though it was very well the best fuck of your life, you doubted if that was the case for him too. It was just your ego controlling your every thought, embarrassed you were the second option for him to come back to every time he found himself lonely. After not long consideration, you decided to listen to your pride and ignore the messages. 

Brahim stared back at the blue gray check marks, noticing how you went online on and off but no typing. There was no true intention to reply, thus meaning you didn’t want to respond, and you wanted him to know that. The same sense of pride invaded the two of you. ‘Fine. If she can ignore me, I can ignore her back. Game on.’ and he ignored you ignoring the messages, chest puffed with toxic dignity. 

But it wasn’t easy, not as much as he’d imagined. Each time he closed his eyes to rest, the ghost of your body haunted him, and he yearned to have your tits smothering his face once again as you bounced up and down the length of his cock. When he passed by the living room the carpet was still soaked in a stain remover from the red wine you spilled that night, the same one that had gotten you tipsy and stained your blouse, prompting you to remove it. 

And then, as the situation escalated, he replayed it in the same exact way in his mind until he tore himself away from the thought and moved on. Moved on to the thought of what you were up to; if you were seeing someone else, someone that had your voice stuck in the back of your throat like he did. 

Even some considerable time later, he just gave into the urges, the need to see your ass bouncing against his pelvis when he ordered you to get on all fours just to ram you from behind. He knew you well enough to know you were going to be at that club that night, so he sat and waited patiently, being a wingman to his own friends as he waited upon your arrival. 

And God, it did not disappoint. 

You sauntered in as if you walked into your own living room, the act was flawless as you stole gazes and forced them to look at you. But Brahim couldn’t help but smirk when he noticed you were only looking back at him. He watched as you hurriedly excused yourself from your group of friends and trotted over with those stiletto heels, sitting in the empty chair next to him. 

“Stalking me now, aren’t we?” You muttered, calling the bartender over. You couldn’t even bother as Brahim raised his hand to catch his attention first. 

“Un espresso martini para la señorita; lo agregas a mi cuenta.” ‘A espresso martini for the lady; add it to my tab’ The corner of your lip twitched as he knew exactly what you wanted. That also came true as he placed his hand on your knee, caressing a scar from the time you rolled down a hill when you were six.

“When are you giving me another chance, huh?” He inched closer, searching for your eyes. “I came all this way…” He thanked the bartender with a nod, giving you enough space to sip on your drink. “I surrender, okay?” 

You laughed, not even knowing what type of war you found yourselves in. “Surrender to what? ¿Qué está pasando por esa cabecita tuya, Brahimi?” You hummed disinterestedly, taking a long sip before placing the glass down. But there wasn’t any type of humor in Brahim’s eyes, not even with the nickname. He leaned in closer, nose brushing against yours. 

He seemed to straighten up and almost fix his attitude towards you, clearing his throat and brushing his hair back. “Can we… talk somewhere more private? My car, maybe?” He offered, eyes full of regret. 

You convinced yourself for the past month or so you weren’t going to give in so easily. You knew it was just sex, all his compliments and excuses were the pathway straight into his bed, or his couch, or the kitchen counter. But there you were, gulping down the last of your drink before getting dragged out of there, hurriedly texting your friends.

You sat in his car, the air thick as the engine roared awake. “What was it that you wanted to talk about?” You turned to him, still playing hard to get. The act dissolved the second he crashed his lips in yours furiously. “Ay princesa…” He sighed against your lips, his hands messing up your hair. “I want to feel that pussy again.” 

The nod you gave him was enough for the man next to you behind the wheel to break almost seven traffic laws on his way back to the apartment, and you squirmed on your seat, extremely turned on. 

The walk to the elevator was fuzzy, but as soon as you got inside, he almost slammed you against the wall with the rough push, subsequently having his lips take yours. It was sloppy, his lips and surrounding areas tinting in your lipstick, hands exploring under your dress to the point you wondered if he’d gotten you naked entirely. 

He was hungry, insatiable almost. When you reached his floor, the door wasn’t even closed, and you believed he knew how tightly you were wrapped around his finger. You stumbled inside to reach his living room couch, the same place where it all began a few weeks ago. 

You sat in his lap, legs to either side of his body. His hands forced you to arch your back, clothes chests against each other.  “Take off that dress. Keep the heels,” He ordered, pulling your hands away and letting you stand. He wanted a show, and you gave him just that. Your eyes didn’t leave his as you unzipped the little black item, letting it slowly slip down your body and pool at your feet. You brushed your hair to the side, giving him those eyes that chanted ‘slut me out!’ over and over again. 

“Who’s been seeing you in those?” He pointed with his nose to the lacy items that dressed your body under the regular items. He parted his legs, his growing boner becoming more evident.

“You know I wear these to feel pretty.” You replied with equal sass, and he tutted, leaning back. “What?” He saw right through you, and that was only part of it, not the entirety. With no other reply he patted his lap, inviting you to sit in it again. 

You knew better than to disagree, and as soon as you placed your legs on either side of his body, he captured your lips in his. The kiss was frenzied, he grabbed the plush of your ass and kneaded it. The groping made you grind on his lap, the excuse of a piece of fabric rubbing against his clothed boner. 

Brahim broke the kiss, leaving you wanting more. But he kept you away, holding you tenderly by your jaw, but still squishing your cheeks a little. “Don’t lie to me, mamita,” He cooed, voice dripping with sweetness before a smack filled the air, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Who’s been seeing you in that lingerie?” 

“No one, I swear!” You whined, writhing under another spank to your ass. “I kept wearing it in case I ran into you. I never got the courage to get on with someone else.” You heard a small laugh come from him, and sweet pecks soon placed at your chest. 

“Was that so hard to admit?” Brahim brushed your hair back with the palm of his hand, almost petting you. “Too bad you were just a lil’ too stubborn to text me back, eh amor?” His nose brushed against your neck, now depositing the sweetest kisses down its length. His hands played with the clasp of your bra, and it brought small giggles to your slips that mixed in with the moans. 

But the giggles didn’t last long as his hands cupped your breasts, massaging and squeezing them. “Fuck, I missed these,” He groaned, his lips applying sucktion on your shoulder. Surprised, your hands brushed the short strands in the back of his neck before tangling into the longer ones at the top. 

“Eres mía, ¿oíste?” Once his hands left your breasts, his fingers brushed against the newly formed mark. You nodded, breath hitching when his fingertips descended down your torso, hand stuffing inside your panties. He hummed in satisfaction at your wetness, grazing lightly at your clit. His eyes dissected the way you could barely stay straight, sinking further into his clothed thighs. “That’s good, isn’t it?” 

But the way he stared at you also meant he wanted a vocal answer, and with a trembling voice you reassured him, “So good, I swear,” His movements were painfully slow, until he moved his hand further down to tease your entrance. You nodded in consent, feeling two digits push inside. But there he was again moving slowly, taking his sweet time. 

“I’m sorry, is that not enough?” It was as if he was making fun of your moans turning into whining between low chuckles. “Ride them. C’mon.” The situation itself already seemed bizarre, how you ran into him when you most wished you did, only for him to have you completely under his control. You didn’t question him, taking the free pass and allowing yourself to get off, hips rolling on the digits he pumped inside you. You threw your head back, moving upwards and back down again continuously, your slick soon gathering in his palm. 

The moment he curled his fingers to hook against that ragged spot,  heat rose up your body, stomach tickling. Your movements became frantic, eyes glassy as you began to crave that release… only for him to remove his hand from under you, leaving you speechless. He licked his fingers clean with such care, big puppy eyes looking up at you. 

“Cum on my cock, please,” He guided your hand to squeeze the clothed bulge, shivering under your touch. You didn’t waste any time undoing the item, and he helped you out by sliding it— along with his underwear— to rest at his lower thighs. You licked your lips, watching the pink tip leak pre-cum, but decided on kissing him first, hand undoing the buttons of his black shirt. 

But there wasn’t any time to fully remove the item as he rubbed his hard cock against your entrance, knocking the air out of your lungs. “Vamos, princesa.” He encouraged you to sink down the length, his other hand caressing your side. You looked up

at him, only to find his pair of eyes looking back fueled with passion. 

That was enough motivation to check he was correctly lined up before sinking down. A groan in unison burst through the four walls, the grip of hands settling on your sides tightening. You hid your face in his neck, getting used to the stretch. Your bare chest against his own, and for a second you swore you could feel his heartbeat. 

It didn’t take long for you to start bouncing up and down his length, wanting to finish off the job. You were going to grant his wish, the fluids already rolling down to soak the couch a little. He groaned, feeling that peculiar pulsing of your walls, his hands maintaining a hard grip on your waist. 

“Don’t give up on me now, you’ve been doing so great.” Brahim praised, noticing how the build up had thrown off your rhythm. “Let me help.” He urged, positioning your bodies before he thrusted upwards. It was fast and fierce, your moans hitting a higher decibel as he tipped you off towards your orgasm. 

But he didn’t stop, he barely slowed down to give you time to recover before going back to that relentless pace, your head dropping and resting against his shoulder blade. “Mírame” He demanded, his hungry eyes meeting your infatuated ones before he pulled you into a kiss, stopping his thrusts while fully inside you. 

A sloppy makeout, tongues tangled, teeth clashing lightly every once in a while. His cock filled every crevice, his hands explored every inch while you finally removed the button up fully. Without even giving you a warning he switched, and you were under him. “La más bella de todo Madrid, eh my love?” He cooed, hands running down your sides as he took every inch displayed in front of him. 

You couldn’t help but blush, scoffing a little. “Ponte en cuatro,” He asked so nicely you couldn’t decline, hearing how he took off his bottoms, giving you space to get on your hands and knees. Then you could feel him behind you again, giving your ass a light smack before he leaned down to kiss one of your buttcheeks. 

A loud crack followed, and you gasped, looking back at him. “¿Enserio Brahim? This is the second pair! You can’t break things you didn’t pay for.” He tore the lacy thong to shreds easily, ripping it off your body. He only smiled sweetly, blowing you a kiss accompanied by a wink before he was back inside you, thrusting as if his life depended on it. The loud moans and groans— almost pornographic— filled the space once more. Your back arched as your arms gave out, the second release hitting you like a train. 

Brahim couldn’t help but admire your figure as he hit it from the back, a small smile sneaking in from behind his parted lips. He leaned down and circled his arm around your hip to press two fingers on your perked clit, already stimulated enough. Your thighs shook, breath getting stuck in your throat. He had never been a selfish lover, and you knew he wanted you to cum again at the same time he filled you up to the brim. 

“Fuck— fuck, that’s it, one more baby,” He praised as you came undone under him, your legs giving you. He pounded you into the cushions, kissing the back of your shoulder blades. The squeeze your pussy gave him was more than enough to tip him over the edge, glorified chants of your name overshadowed your whimpers. 

In no time he had you cradled in his arms, holding you close against his chest. “Stay the night with me, please,” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you agreed between half lidded eyes. 

You still left the following morning before he could wake up, knowing this was something still casual. He was still trying to get over his ex, and you were the closest person he could do that with; your convictions haven’t changed, even when he spent all night spooning you with his face buried in your neck. 

“You’ve got something waiting on your desk,” One of your coworkers announced as you clocked in on Monday, the others giggling. Curious, you walked slowly to your space to find a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a black box with a pink satin bow. 

You smiled at your coworkers innocently, sitting down to check what was inside the box. Your ears burned as your eyes fell upon the brand new lacy underwear. You closed the box without making much fuss to not attract any attention, checking the note resting on the outside. 

‘ picked them myself so i can break them in peace. 

see you friday, princesa. 

— yours, BD. ‘ 

[outoutdamnspark]

*rises from my grave*

So I've been, uh. Pretty absent online recently, huh?

(mental health discussion below the cut)

I think I've alluded to it before, but I have manic-depressive bipolar disorder - specifically type 2, which, for me, means my mood swings take longer to kick in, but it also means they can last for months.

I hit a really bad depressive episode recently. Like, to the point where my meds had to be adjusted. And it sneaked up on me, too; I thought I had just hit burnout, and didn't recognize the low for what it was.

I finally crawled out of it near the end of February, and I'm currently trying to settle back into a sense of normalcy. My attention span is still a little wack, and the time blindness is Real(tm), so I'm having trouble realizing how many days have gone by at any given point - so if you've messaged me or tagged me in something and I haven't responded, please please please know I'm not purposefully ignoring you. I just have no concept of time anymore. T.T

I'm absolute shit at being able to maintain friendships because of this, and I hate it so, so much.

I do the same thing with posts, too. I do see (most of) the stuff all y'all gorgeous people post, but I tend to save them as drafts with the intent of making a queue later because I just... don't have the mental energy to interact with posts sometimes? I can't properly explain it...

But yeah. This is getting kinda long.

I'm still trying to write, and I'm trying to reach back out to people I've accidentally ghosted (again, I am so, so sorry), I'll just be a little slow for a bit still. Requests are currently being worked on, and I hope to get some of them out this weekend~

I love you guys. Thank you for sticking with me. <3

~Isaac💥

[finalfridayss]

PSA: Apples / Apples1488 -- Art trade ghosting

WHO: Apples (toyhou.se) / Apples1844 (Discord)

WHAT: Ghosted art trade

WHEN: June-August 2024

WHERE: Discord and toyhou.se

Note: Due to the fact that Apples has no listed pronouns, I will use they/them within this PSA.

toyhou.se bulletin about the situation: https://toyhou.se/~bulletins/2071937.psa-applesapples1844-art-trade-ghoster

---

In late June 2024, I sent an ad asking for art trades in The Drawing Pad discord server. Several people responded to this ad, one of which was Apples.

We started talking about which OCs we wanted to draw, and I sent my OCs over. They also sent me their characters.

On July 4th, I started drawing their OC, Talus. I got it finished the next day and Apples promised to send a WIP soon.

I then waited until the 23rd to ask about it. This discord DM did not get a response.

On July 30th, I sent them another DM, which also did not get a reply. Although their Discord status was set to invisible, I could tell they were online as they had changed their icon within this timeframe.

Frustrated, I reached out to them via their toyhou.se profile through DM on August 2nd. They are extremely active on toyhou.se, so I assumed I had a better chance of getting a response from them here. They opened my message but did not reply, evidenced by the greyed out subject line in my outbox. Whenever a toyhou.se DM is opened, the title turns grey.

Now feeling like I had been being ignored, I sent them a final DM on August 4th, saying that if I did not see a WIP or finished piece within 2 weeks, I was going to assume they were abandoning their part of the trade. I asked for a reply back from them, to which I recieved none. Again, the message in the outbox was greyed out, implying Apples had simply read it and ignored it.

I talked to the moderators of the server we met on, The Drawing Pad. After reviewing the screenshots I sent of our conversation, the moderator agreed that I was being ghosted ans banned Apples from the server for such.

It is also worth noting that Apples has been consistently been uploading personal artwork, artwork for other people and adoptables throughout July and even on August 2nd.

I am now writing this public PSA in the hopes it spurs Apples to talk to me and deliver their end. I don’t like dragging things out publicly but I feel I have no other choice, as Apples has consistently ignored all attempts at communication otherwise. I wanted to give them another chance to deliver proof they’re working on their part, but they did not reply. I am taking this as an indication that they are not willing to uphold their end of the trade. I feel very frustrated considering they have no problem doing artwork for themselves or other people, but have consistently and repeatedly ignored me.

If any users see this art piece in their gallery, they did not have my permission to post it. This is the art piece I delivered as part of our trade. If you see it, please report it to toyhou.se directly through this link.

https://toyhou.se/~tickets/create/user/472395

[moonieshinesims]

Generation One - Chapter Twenty Eight

River should be hearing back about her application soon...! However, because of some interesting news that Cassandra has received from her brother, she is leaving school for the semester (possibly longer). Bella is preparing the new recruits for their induction in a week, and on top of all this, River gets a strange offer.

"I'm sorry you didn't hear it from me." Cassandra sighed, sitting next to River. "People here like to gossip apparently. But yes. I know the semester just got started, but I'll be finishing it up online. My brother just gave me some big news recently... And I can't just ignore it."

"Is it something you can talk about?"

"...Not yet." Cassandra shook her head, "But if this all works out, you'll hear it straight from me, okay?"

"Okay." River nodded, respecting her right to privacy.

"They're having a going away party for me this weekend. Will you be there?"

"Of course! I wouldn't miss it for anything!"

That night...

A couple hours later...

The next morning, Fig regaled River with tales of her abduction.

Cassandra turned towards the two of you and pretended not to be listening, but eavesdropped on the entire conversation.

Hopefully she's enjoying this more than I am... River thought to herself. She'd experienced run-ins with gang members, human traffickers, vampires, and potentially ghosts, but so far had been lucky enough to never have a run-in with an alien. She wasn't sure if Fig was right about her experience from the night before, or if she just had a really weird nightmare (as she was prone to do).

"Oh, right! I am super hungry... I'll see ya later Bella!"

Bella smiled as Fig walked away. While the others will remember her rants about alien abductions, she herself won't remember it, and therefore the others will just chalk it up to bad dreams and an overactive imagination.

Bella had her own well-being to think about after all. She couldn't have someone like Fig outing her to everybody.

A few days later the weekend happened and it was time to say goodbye to Cassandra.

Before she left, Cassandra pulled Bella to the side...

"Don't think I'm not onto you and your kind..." The usually demure and kind Cassandra glared, venom in her eyes, aimed at Bella.

"Oh dear," Bella smiled coyly, "What are you talking about?"

"First you abduct my mother, then you take her name... Then you even take Fig to toy with her?"

"Oh please, as if anyone would believe you..." Bella rolled her eyes. "I'm living a perfectly normal life here, I've done nothing wrong and there's no way you can prove otherwise."

"Oh, I will though." Cassandra said through gritted teeth.

Before Bella had a chance to respond, Cassandra turned around and left... Leaving Bella to think about what she just said...

A few nights later, which had been about a week since River sent in her application to the Arakawa Family Internship, Ako appeared in her room.

"I've got news!" He boomed.

"SHHHH!" River pointed to the bed beside hers, "Fig is sleeping!" She whispered.

"So? She won't wake up! I've got good news! But I'm gonna need you to give me some blood first before I tell you..."

"Oh, calm down. The quicker we do this, the quicker I get to the news."

"Ugh, fine. Do the thing so it doesn't hurt as bad..."

Ako nodded and pulled River in front of him.

Suddenly Fig rolled over and sat up, catching the two of them in the act.

"Oh..." Fig stared at the two of them sleepily. "I... didn't realize you had that kind of relationship. Maybe next time don't do that while I'm in the room?"

Fig laid back down and covered herself back up.

Ako rolled his eyes. He didn't realize that Fig knew him by name. He tossed River back in her bed. She was passing out, so he would have to give her the good news later.

[cinnamonest]

Since people actually liked it here's the continuation of the modern Xiao camgirl!darling post I cut from the original, as promised, most if it's under a cut. Here’s the original post. I didn’t think people would actually like the camgirl concept so I thought I was rambling too much and cut this part out lol but here it is now!

Tws: derogatory language/female slurs, mentions of reader being a cheater, reader is promiscuous, murder, incel-y mentality (our modern boy would be a 4chan user, look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong) and mentions of upsetting realistic things, this one's darker than the first part. If you're bothered by other modern stuff for being too realistic best avoid this too probably, involuntary pornography ---------- Coming up on one year since you gained your most loyal subscriber, you get a rather... Unsettling request. He has something he would like this month, in fact, he adds a few hundred to the regular amount (he's been saving up just for this) and asks for just the answer to one simple question. What's your name?

Your real name, he clarifies. He doesn't need a last name, nothing like that. It would just... Make him feel closer to you. He avoids using the term "anniversary," even though that's what comes to mind. He also doesn't tell you that he already knows, that this is just a test of your honesty. For someone who's so cautious, you would think you would think to give a fake name whenever you go to coffee shops for them to yell out, or change it on the packages you get. You hesitate. And it would be easy to give him a fake one, yet, you don't really think about it too much, you kinda think about that as an afterthought, what you should have done, but your very real name is typed out and sent before you really process it, and you feel a sort of unease, but it's already sent. No big deal. He can't do much with just your first name, right? If your name is common, you feel pretty safe, but even if it's a rarer one, surely there are other people with it, right? He's happy though. Kinda surprised, really, that you didn't lie to him. Maybe you trust him?

You're not stupid, you know something is wrong, you're becoming paranoid. And you connect the weird feeling to him, bc he goes radio silence for several days leading up to finally taking you. This dude who used to respond to any messages you sent within 10 seconds suddenly... It's like he disappeared? He hasn't responded to anything you send him ever since you said your name. You send him messages saying you haven't heard from him in a while and you're worried... The way you word it makes it sound like you're worried about him, but you both know that's not what you really mean. You're hesitant and suspicious of every guy you meet. You buy pepper spray and start carrying some around, you nearly spray a poor guy who you thought was trailing you, turns out he just lives in your building. He makes note of it. He watched you buy it, and is quick to realize you always hold it in the same hand. That must be your dominant hand, that's an important mental note for the future, since you're more likely to try to attack him with that hand. He'll remember. He has a note in his phone with information like that. Height, weight, birthday, social security number, parents' names, school she graduated from. All in little bullet points. He adds dominant hand to the list. He's not worried at all really. Already watched you struggle to carry packages he could lift with one hand, your strength doesn't cross his mind as a threat. At first he just doesn't know what to say, and that's why he stops responding, he feels too awkward but... He starts to enjoy the weird feeling of power the whole situation is giving him. You're worried, you're constantly paranoid, and it's because of him. Now you finally understand the same feeling you inflict on him, how you consume his thoughts every waking moment of every day. It used to irritate him that you held so much power over him, while he meant nothing to you. Now, the tables have turned. You're forced to have him constantly in your mind, whether you like it or not, just like you are in his. It's giving you what you deserve. It gives him a feeling of significance. He matters, even if it's not in a good way. And he keeps telling himself that once he's all you have, he'll matter even more. He's smart enough to realize that if you're paranoid, you might have mentioned him by username to someone else, so to ensure he knows what to do from this point, he has to sneak into your apartment at night as you sleep. It's so unbearably tempting, you have no idea -- you're right there and so vulnerable. He has to hold himself back because he knows that if he so much as touched you, he couldn't hold back. But it's torture, standing there so close, watching your chest rise and fall as he fiddles with the phone. Even when he unlocks it with your thumb, he tries to hold the phone from an angle to do so, even if the skin of his hand grazes yours, it would be too much. You have a lot of contacts across your messages and a bunch of different apps. You have one guy in your online chat you've exchanged far more messages with than anyone else! Hundreds upon hundreds of messages, and huge paypal cash drops, who the hell is -- oh, wait, that's him. Nevermind. But, to his pleasant surprise, he's the only one of your... customers that you regularly talk to, the rest just have a few paypal notifications or clarifications on your policies, but no actual conversations like you have with him. Of course, that's literally part of your deal, he's literally paying for it, but it makes him happy nonetheless. But as he goes through your personal messages, he finds that you are... in no shortage of options. Like, holy shit. It was kind of expected. You *are* really pretty, that's how you have so many followers after all, but this is a lot. So many contacts named some variation of "DO NOT ANSWER!!!" or "creepy guy that forced me to give him my number at the club", etc etc. Plenty of unsaved numbers texting you to never get a response. You've ghosted enough dudes to make your place haunted. It's... kinda awful, really. It also kinda hurts his heart a bit more than he expected. You have so, so, so many options, even without the cam thing, he's more insignificant than he even realized. ...Well, for now, at least. He'll be significant to you soon enough. And then you seem to have a sort of "boyfriend of the month" deal going on, aside from that. Plenty of male-name contacts whose last exchange is a "don't talk to me again!" message from you, plenty of messages corresponding to the same time as those to your girl friends about how you can't find a good guy and every relationship ends badly. How unfortunate. See, it's because you choose bad guys. You probably go for dicks and not.... well, he can't exactly pull the "nice guys like me" mentality, he doesn't delude himself into thinking he is one. He's lucid enough to realize that most nice guys would not be sneaking into your house and standing over your sleeping body to stalk your phone as they make plans to kidnap you. He knows he would probably fall under the classification of a creepy guy. He's just too far gone to care. Still, he would be so much better to you, he tells himself, not a cheater or a player like you complain about. To say he resents those kinds of guys -- ones that can do the unthinkable and actually talk to girls, let alone successfully, only to be assholes, and yet girls like you still go for them -- is an understatement. You're basically just a slut, you probably ignore all the guys that would be nice to you, just like all those internet forums he reads talk about. Typical.

Well, those forums also make fun of guys like him who pay for girls like you, but he can't blame them. It *is* kinda pathetic. There is one dude you talk to, though, now. Current boyfriend of the month, from the looks of it. You have a little heart emoji next to the name. He knows it's kinda pathetic that something so simple and insignificant sets him off, but it does, makes him pout and grind his teeth and curl his other hand into a fist. It's so unfair. Some dude you barely know gets to fuck you, and you haven't even known him nearly as long as you've known him! He doubts this dude -- hell, any of your boyfriends -- has put in the same amount of money that he has into you. They fuck you practically for free. And that, unfortunately for you, only solidifies his decision. If you're fucking some dude for a month because they buy you dinner every now and then, if we're going by that scale, then you owe him quite a good deal of pussy. Any hesitancy or guilt he had about the whole thing is gone. And he's a little mad. Keeps grumbling to himself that you're just a loose whore, fucking so many people and putting yourself out there on the internet. He wonders if they even know about what you do. Probably not, you probably don't tell them. Yeah, that sounds like what you'd do. Really, you're kinda lucky that someone like him is so willing to commit to you, since you are a slut. You don't deserve it, but he loves you anyway. And you'll probably have the nerve to be ungrateful for it too. Sigh. On the bright side, by some miracle, it would appear that you have not told any real-life people about him, you haven't sent out any hey if I disappear you should probably look into this creep type of messages. But he can't afford to have you doing so in between now and when you move in with him, so, he decides he has to act within the next 24 hours. While he's here, though, he decides to do a quick sweep of your place. Makes note of what snacks and drinks you like, what brand of toothpaste and shampoo and the like you use, so he can buy some for you. Maybe you'll adjust better if you have some of your favorite things. And then, after days of silence, he sends you a message, says it's fine, his internet went out for a few days. He means it to reassure you, but somehow it makes you feel more uneasy. He has everything planned out, or so he thinks. But you deviate from your usual schedule. When you leave work or class, you don't go home, you go somewhere else, first. How strange. Maybe picking up groceries? He follows from a distance. No, looks like you're going out to eat...? Maybe you're meeting friends or family or -- no that's a guy. Fuck. You must have planned this just earlier today, since there were no messages on your phone. It makes a bitter feeling rise in his gut. He hates that he can't get close enough to listen to your conversation. Well, he hates the whole thing, sits there and seethes the whole time. Watches you through the windows in the parking lot, thankfully you chose to sit outside. Feels his eye twitch and his hand clench every time you smile and laugh. It takes way too long. The fact that you split the bill feels like a punch to the stomach too. Shouldn't you be used to taking guys' money? Oh, and what's this...? This guy isn't the picture on boyfriend-of-the-month's contact. Well, well, well. You really are a whore. See, it's a very good thing he's taking you off the market. You're probably a reckless heartbreaker too. He's doing all the other men of the world a favor by taking on such a burden as you. And it makes him feel far more justified in keeping you locked away, since he has every reason to believe, now, that you'd run off and fuck someone else if given the chance. Halfway through, the guy briefly gets up and runs to the bathroom or something. While he's gone, he sees your face fall a bit. And then he sees you look around. You turn your head from one side to the other. Your eyes scan the area. You shuffle uncomfortably and you bite your lip and your eyebrows furrow. You're scared. You feel like -- no, you know you're being watched and it scares you. That makes him a little happy, for some reason. He wouldn't be sure what to do if you went home with the guy, but thankfully you don't. No big deal, this was just a bump in the road, he still beats you back to your building and he still goes through with the original plan. Even better, now that it's even darker outside. If anything, now he's got extra aggression and testosterone in his blood, running over the events in his head and going through some... very forceful and violent fantasies. The message he sent had you uneasy, and it's also how you immediately know what's going on when it does finally happen. You keep telling yourself you're being unnecessarily paranoid, that it's nothing, maybe that guy actually got his life together or got a girlfriend or something. Things like... What you fear, don't happen in real life, that's stuff that only happens in movies and stuff. You keep calling it that or it in your head. That won't happen to you. It's not going to happen. The series of events that play out in your head, scenarios you try to push out of your mind. Sure, in the movies it always takes place in the stairwell, but that's fiction, so you go up the apartment stairwell as always. You're not gonna let a bunch of B-grade old films scare you. And it's always some dude standing and waiting, but that nice young boy that you've never seen before is just leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone, he only glances up for a second as you pass by, he's not a threat, you're being paranoid. You flash a smile and a little wave as you walk by, he doesn't return either, just looks back down at his phone. See? This guy doesn't even care, you're being paranoid for nothing, you tell yourself. But as you make the turn to go up the next set of stairs you hear the click of a phone being put on the lockscreen, a few metallic footsteps ringing out in the open hall and echoing, coming up right behind you, but for that split second you expect a tap on the shoulder, maybe he has a question, it's not like movies, it's not like movies, you're not gonna get a cloth shoved over your face and--- Well, it's not exactly like the movies. You were prepared, but it all happens in one motion - one hand grabs the hand with the spray and twists it, making you drop it, the other wraps some material over your mouth. You were prepared enough that you don't gasp in surprise, you hold your breath and thrash, but it doesn't make any difference, you wiggle and writhe for a few moments but can't even begin to break free, eventually succumb to the lack of oxygen and take a deep breath. It takes a few seconds to settle in, it's not so immediate. You instinctively panic and thrash again, but he has a complete iron grip. The dizziness takes a second to set in. He huffs a bit in frustration and says stop moving, it's fine. It's definitely not, but it occurs to you that that's not something a kidnapper looking for any potential vulnerable girl says. It's a poor attempt at comfort. It's someone specifically looking for you. And if that wasn't enough, he says your name. Your very real name. Maybe it was a mistake to tell him after all. But the worst part of it all is that there's not a single doubt in your mind, even in your panic you have the realization, it's definitely him and this is literally exactly what you were afraid of. And it's the last thing that goes through your head. And once he's got you out cold he just takes a sigh of relief. He may have been very neutral faced to you, but in reality he was incredibly nervous. He hasn't exactly made or used chloroform before, our boy is operating on YouTube tutorials here. He's got adrenaline pumping through his veins and carries you with his arms trembling. He's on autopilot carrying you out, but his mind is also consumed by holy fuck I'm touching her she smells so nice she's so warm her face is so close I'm actually touching her-- you get the idea. He feels bad about taping your hands and feet together and putting you in the trunk of his car, kinda. It feels too much like what a really bad person would do to a girl they didn't care about, like he's a trafficker or a murderer or a criminal or something, but that's not true at all. Sure, he's still mad at you for being a whore and all that, but it feels improper, he just has no choice. It's late at night, but he can't risk getting pulled or being at a stoplight and someone seeing an unconscious girl in his backseat, so, trunk it is. But once he's home, to his tiny little downtown apartment (he'll probably be able to move into a better place soon, since he's not paying you tons of money anymore), he takes a quick check to make sure the coast is clear, and drags you out, up the stairs, all the way into his apartment, sets you down on the bed, where you'll be staying. He even washed the sheets and cleaned the place up a bit for your arrival. You probably would not like to see what this place looked like before the five trash bags worth of cleaning was done. He'll probably be more motivated in the future, though, since now he won't be so depressed all the time. And then the adrenaline of the fear of being seen is over, and that's when it sets in that this is real. It's very, very hard to hold back. You're real, in the flesh, he can reach out and touch you with his hands! It feels like a dream. And he realizes he can take this opportunity to do things he would be far, far too embarrassed to do when you're awake. He takes a few minutes to do just that, cautiously reaches out to poke your face, and then run a hand down your neck, your skin is so soft! Your hair smells so nice, he lays down beside you and runs his fingers over it. Puts hands on your body and just lays there in awe of the fact that you're real. He's pretty certain he's never actually touched a human female before now. Everything about you feels soft. Weirdly feminine, which is something very foreign and confusing to him. And he kinda uh... Loses it. Goes buckwild with just taking in every aspect of you. Again, since you're unconscious he can be gross and entirely shameless about it. Peels your clothes off and runs his hands and mouth over every inch of flesh, takes the tape off your lips and presses his tongue into your limp mouth until he's forced to let go to breathe, fingers you and tonguefucks you and sucks on your nipples and your neck. Lays pressed against you and just breathes in your scent. It takes every ounce of self control he has not to fuck you already. But he does jerk off a few times. That way he'll last longer, so it's a win-win. And then... you twitch. Tape goes back over your mouth. And then, you twitch again. And this time, you make a little "mm!" under the tape, you start trembling and he sees you try to pull your hands apart. You whimper. It sounds scared and distressed. He feels kinda bad, but it also makes him hard, and that outweighs any guilt by far. Besides, it's what you deserve after what you did earlier. You tortured him mentally, it's only fair. On the good side of things, you suppose, you don't have to worry about the usual fears one would have over such a situation - you're fairly certain he's not going to kill you, nor sell you. In fact, the bed you wake up on is pretty soft. You're naked and the tape is uncomfortable, but... At least he was considerate enough to give you a blanket. He does care about you, after all. First thing he says is asking if you're awake. Can you hear me? You hesitate a moment, and then you nod. He's a bit new to this whole abduction thing. He wants to make sure he didn't pull a muscle or something with the tape. So... Do you hurt anywhere? Does your head hurt? Oh, right, the tape. He's not stupid either. You have to promise you're not going to scream. In fact, he's angry enough about earlier that he gets a bit meaner than he originally told himself he'd be. If you scream, I'll make you regret it. Understand? You nod, so he takes it off, holding it close in preparation in case you were lying, but you don't actually answer him, you're silent again for a minute, then just ask a question of your own. You're that guy, right? He's silent for a few seconds, there's no need for any clarification. Finally just says yeah. You just breathe again. Silently. Finally you summon the courage to ask him what he wants with you. And why are you doing this to me? And his answer is fairly simple. What do you think? You don't say anything for a minute, and neither does he. He's not good with words, and you don't really have ones for this situation. It occurs to you that offering to pay him to let you go is probably not the solution. After all, this is the guy that's dumped unimaginable amounts of money onto you, you couldn't even come close to paying him back. You figure maybe, after he gets what he wants... well, you get the courage to ask.  Is there anything... that I can do o-or... anything that will make you... are you gonna let me go, after you....? And the answer is, again, simple, but the one you did not want to hear. No. He's a blunt boy, so he doesn't beat around the bush, but he doesn't torment you by keeping anything from you. In fact, he's already rehearsed this speech a few hundred times in his head. He just wanted to make sure he's very clear so there's no misunderstanding, and while he likes some discomfort in a vengeful sort of way, he doesn't want you to be too freaked out to where you have a panic attack. He says he's just going to... keep you here. He has the things you'll need. He got your purse with your keys, so he'll even run to your apartment after this to go get some of your stuff. You don't need to tell him which number, he adds, he already knows which apartment you're in. He needs you here, he says. And he makes sure to add that it's your fault. If you were never out there selling yourself in the first place, this never would have happened. If you're good, he can make things a bit better for you. But you need to go ahead and accept that you're going to be staying and that no amount of begging or offers is going to convince him to let you go. He can be nice to you, he promises. A better boyfriend than the others. You just have to be a good girlfriend -- you know, obedient and sweet and do what he says. Just like you always were when you talked to him. Just keep being sweet like that and doing the things he tells you to do. You would argue that the terms boyfriend and girlfriend are not appropriate descriptors of the sort of relationship he's creating, but you keep that thought to yourself. Instead, you ask, How long are you going to keep me here? Which is a dumb question, since he's pretty sure he already made that clear. Forever. -----

There's a double homicide in the area. Takes place on the same night, and the same diameter of knife is used, so police believe maybe the two incidents are connected. Especially because they do have something in common, one girl. She was romantically involved with both of them. The girl in question's apartment has been vacated, very suddenly, and the girl has disappeared without a trace, taking things with her from the looks of it, so police believe she may be responsible, but other than that, they have no leads. A few weeks later, a video circulates all over the internet. Some famous camgirl finally started making porn, apparently. Just one video, but the description (which was totally written by her, it has to be since it's written in first person right?) says something about how she decided to quit camming, so this video marks the end of her career. She got into a relationship, so she says in the description, so she has to quit. It's roleplay porn, apparently, she's doing a good job at the acting. All tied up and gagged and getting fucked by some big-dicked guy holding the camera. He's silent, but she's making a ton of noise, cums several times. Really good acting, the fear and desperation in her eyes looks so real. Talk about going out with a bang. It gets a lot of likes. Tons of comments about how sad people are she's quitting. And of course, a lot of comments say, what a lucky guy.

[honeyvocalhwang]

Autumn Daze | 3racha

Pairing: 3racha x gn!reader 

Genre: Fluff & Friendship 

Synopsis: You challenge Changbin, and Jisung to a haunted house after they boast about its fakeness in order to test exactly how tough they are. Chan gets swept up in the storm as an innocent bystander. 

Warnings: Halloween Themes, Haunted Houses & other affiliates such as but not limited to fake blood, ghosts, serial killers, butchers, vampires, clowns, skeletons, witches, etc. 

Word Count: 3.3K

A/N: Happy Halloween :) 

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previous - autumn daze masterlist - main masterlist 

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“I’m bored.” 

“You’re always bored,” You mumbled without taking your eyes off your phone screen. 

Changbin looked up at you from his sleeping position on the living room floor. He squinted his eyes, glaring at the fact that you found more entertainment from your phone instead of him. He could hear the audio playing whatever video you were watching which only made him more desperate to distract you. Changbin was a needy man, and he needed your full attention. He rolled over, slapping his hollow stomach, “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” You repositioned yourself to snuggle further into the couch. When your feet accidentally hit Jisung, who sat on the other side of the couch, you muttered a quick apology. Dissatisfied with your response, Changbin let out a plethora of whiny noises to which you drowned out by hitting the volume up button multiple times. Conveniently, a funny moment from the video caused you to let out a quick giggle which further provoked Changbin. 

“I’m hungry!” Changbin groaned and shouted, now rolling on both sides, “I’m so hungry, because I’m sensitive!”

Jisung interjected your reply, annoyed with Changbin’s whines which happened to interrupt his online shopping, “Then go eat something!”

“I’m not hungry for food,” Changbin pouted, powering his phone to look at the time. 

Deciding to entertain him, Jisung responded, “What are you hungry for then?”

Changbin smirked mischievously, “Adventure.”

Jisung scoffed, ready to give a retort before your snorting laughter filled the room. The pair looked over to you, wondering what exactly you were watching that was so funny. If Jisung wasn’t interested in what you were watching before, he definitely was now. It wasn’t until you felt their eyes burning into you when you decided to address their lingering stares, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jisung pocketed his phone and took a firm grip of your legs to pull you closer towards him. You squealed as your body slouched from your new position. Once positioned to his liking, Jisung craned his neck to look at your screen to which you tilted further away from him. At best, he only caught the reflecting glare your screen casted from a nearly light fixture. Still curious, Jisung sat back, allowing you to somewhat relax, “What are you watching? I want to laugh too.”

You glanced at the paused video and back to him, “You won’t find it funny.”

“How do you know that? What if I like that stuff?” He pushed, really wanting to know. 

“I just do,” You countered, “You’re only interested in documentaries about nature and whatnot. I see you watching them all the time.” 

“Well,” Jisung struggled to find an argument to win you over, knowing that you were right in every way, “I want to watch something new from time to time. Ever thought about that?” 

“Nope,” Your straight faced seriousness irked Jisung. 

When you resumed your video, Jisung’s pout intensified. If ignoring a needy Changbin was bad enough, dealing with a needy Jisung was even worse. Being the kid that he was, Jisung resorted to tickling you. His hand hadn’t even reached out to you, yet you shrunk back in defense. You screeched, unsuccessfully jumping away from him. Jisung caught you in his arms as his fingers pressed into your side. You let out another ugly screech, “Stop, Jisung! That tickles! Changbin, help!”

Your desperate pleas were promptly ignored as Jisung continued his assault on you. Fortunately, a particular twist of your body allowed your swift escape. Using this freedom, you threw yourself off the couch and onto Changbin, “Help me! Please?”

Changbin crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back to relax, topping it off with whistling a tune to solidify his nonchalance. You pouted, grabbing an arm and shaking him -- although he didn’t budge in the slightest -- to prove your point. 

From the corner of your eye, Jisung moved, causing you to squeal and jump over Changbin to use as a human shield. Changbin groaned at the aching on his abdomen thanks to your knees. When you peeked over Changbin’s bicep, your stomach dropped upon realizing that you were not Jisung’s target but rather your unlocked phone. You dropped your forehead on Changbin’s muscles, knowing you wouldn’t be able to steal your phone back, especially when you’ve only barely escaped Jisung’s wrath the first time. 

Chuckling evilly, Jisung played the video, “What’s this? A haunted house?”

You sighed, crawling over a groaning Changbin again and seating yourself back on the couch, “Yes, a haunted house.”

“You’re watching a haunted house? Like just the house? Empty?” Jisung looked at you puzzled, “You’re right, that does sound unfunny.” 

“No, dingus,” You snatched your phone back, “I’m watching an idol group go through a haunted house. Their mission is to find the hidden key that unlocks the door to escape. At the same time, there’s a killer clown, ghost lady, and mask man that tries to catch them before they find the key.” 

“Oh, so it’s like a very scary escape room?” 

“Well, yeah, pretty much,” You pondered, “And, I can’t believe you thought I was watching an empty house. Who even does that?”

With his eyes still closed, Changbin scoffed, “That’s so fake. Those flimsy idols just pretend to be scared.”

“Not everything is fake, Changbin,” You glared, offended that he called your idols flimsy. So what if he had colossal biceps compared to your idols. Changbin’s muscle mass and handsome face could never make you love him the way they did. Ult groups just had that kind of power. 

“But, you can obviously tell that some parts are scripted,” Jisung stated, “And, guys dressed in costumes aren’t that scary.”

You scoffed, “So, you’re Mr. Tough Guy then? Too cool to get scared?” 

“Exactly. Haunted houses aren’t scary,” Changbin stated to which Jiusng hummed in agreement. 

Honestly, you would’ve dropped the subject, not caring to inflate their egos anymore; however, you just couldn’t let them walk away with insulting your idols. And so, you proposed, “Let’s go then. Let’s go to a haunted house.”

_________

“Wait, so let me get this straight. Jisung stole your phone and found out you were watching idols do a haunted escape house to which he and Changbin complained about the fakeness. So instead of letting it go like any normal person would, you challenged them to go to a haunted house in order to prove them wrong?” 

You nodded, “Exactly.”

“And, how exactly did I get dragged into this? I don’t recall being in this argument,” Chan furrowed his brows, “I thought we were coming here for fun.” 

You gestured towards the theme park around you, “This is fun, Chan. I just have a point to prove in the meantime.”

“But, I never bragged about making it through a haunted house,” Chan briefly turned his head around, making sure Changbin and Jisung weren’t lost in the park. Once they were accounted for, he called them to make sure they followed closely. 

You patted his shoulder, “You are the control sample.”

“Me?”

You hummed, “Yes, you. I can’t be both the observer and the participants in my own experiment.”

“Experiment? I thought it was a challenge,” Chan really couldn’t understand why they were being forced to go through a haunted house just for your satisfaction. 

“Just do it, please?” You latched onto his elbow, putting on your best puppy face. 

Knowing your intentions, Chan immediately looked away. Chan had great self control; however, your power of innocence was greater than his. Much to Chan’s dismay and your advantage, Changbin and Jisung got distracted with a side attraction, allowing you the perfect chance to persuade Chan while you all were stopped. Turning to face him, you pouted with shimmering eyes, “I’ll buy you food.”

Chan squinted, “What kind?”

“Any kind,” You waited patiently for an answer, knowing that if you pushed too fast then Chan would ultimately reject your request. By the time Changbin and Jisung caught up to where you were, Chan still hadn’t given you an answer. Changbin was the first to speak up, “Why are we stopping?”

Chan’s eyes connected with Changbin’s before shifting over towards the haunted house, “Let’s go inside.”

Jisung’s groan of protest met your happy squeals. Still holding onto Chan, you dragged him up the small hill to get in the line. Chan tried pulling you back, yelling at you to slow down before you and him would fall. When everyone finally made it into the line, the wait of anticipation nearly killed you, “I wish this would go faster.”

“What is this place?” Changbin looked around his surroundings, trying to get a good picture of the scenery. The haunted house was perched upon a small hill, slightly overlooking the rest of the theme park. With nightfall, only the colorfully illuminated rides and dull lit street lamps were visible from their point of view. Beyond the confines of the park remained completely sunken in a sea of black abyss. 

Chan being the tallest -- albeit only by a few centimeters -- did his best to peer over the line up of visitors. Luckily, his 20/20 vision made up for the lost height, “It’s called The Chateau.”

“That sounds so dumb,” Jisung chimed with Changbin agreeing. You almost scoffed at their complaints until your eye caught Jisung’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as if swallowing in nervousness. You did a double take, eyes burning on Jisung’s neck as if the action would repeat itself. You hoped that it did, confirming your suspicion that Jisung’s front was breaking down. You smirked, confident that Jisung would be the first to break his resolve. 

Already knowing you’ve won, you focused your energy on teasing him, “You sound dumb.” 

“Quit bickering! The line is moving up,” Chan guided you forward, allowing you to see how big the haunted house actually was. 

“Why are we even here?” Changbin huffed like he was brought here against his will. Technically, he wasn’t wrong, but you always remembered to remind him that he willinging came for the rides and good time. Sometimes, choosing the lesser of the two evils wasn’t always the better option. 

Chan hadn’t answered, not wanting to be caught in the middle of their debate more than he already was. With his silence and your smirk, Jisung clicked two and two together, “Wait, don't tell me this is for Y/N’s challenge, right? I thought you were just kidding!”

Deciding to tease him, you stuck your tongue out, “Why? You scared now? You can admit it, I won’t judge.”

“You wish,” Jisung avoided eye contact, which delighted you tenfold, “Were you in on this?”

Chan coughed uncomfortably, letting out a drawn out hum to think of an excuse; however, you promptly provided an answer for him, “Your dear friend here traded your dignities for the price of a meal.”

Changbin and Jisung looked offended, ready to complain. Chan quickly added, “An expensive meal. I’ll make sure y’all are there with me, okay? Think about it. Food is food.”

Unsurprisingly, Chan’s point was enough for the boys to agree with him, letting him off the hook immediately. The closer the group moved towards The Chateau, Changbin groaned from the sight of the done up actors regulating the entrance, “This is going to be so boring. I already know it. Look at their clothes!”

“Don’t say mean things, Changbin,” Chan scolded, resulting in a big pout in response. You snickered at Changbin as you peered over towards the actors. Indeed, their clothes were very apparent in their cheap quality; however, whoever was on their makeup team was heavily skilled. Overall, their general appearance wasn’t enough for you to discredit their acting. 

Deciding to rile up the obvious liar in the group, you exclaimed, “Hey, what's that in the window?”

Chan questioned, not noticing your intentions, “That window? There’s nothing in it?” 

“No, I swear I saw something,” You turned to Jisung, “You saw it, right?”

Jisung gulped nervously. Thinking back he really didn’t see anything, but your dedication made him think otherwise. Suddenly, his memory of the window became clouded by various entities that occupied the window. An icy cold shock froze his body the more his imagination ran wild. With a shaky voice, Jisung lamely tried laughing off his uneasiness, “I didn't see anything.”

You saw right through his facade, laughing, “Are you already getting scared? What happened to this stuff being fake, huh?”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

You were robbed of your retort as Chan announced, “Hey, look. We’re up next.” 

__________

“And, remember no running or touching the actors. Be safe -- if you're able to make it to the end!” The werewolf gestured for your group to enter The Chateau. You thanked him, taking the lead into The Chateau. 

“Let’s go, Slow-Pokes,” You exclaimed excitedly. You took bold skipping-like steps through the door, not caring if the others were following. Pushing yourself through the heavy black curtains, you let out a breath of astonishment. 

Hanging from the ceiling draped long tattered silks, blocking your route. The contrast of the red tinted lights had you squinting as you stood by the entrance, calculating which path was best to take in order to avoid the high pitched screams that could be heard from the other end of the hall. You slowly used your arms to brush away the hanging silks from your view as you continued on the route. Suddenly, to your right, a bloody vampire jumped through the barred window, making a grab for your group.

“Ew, you’re drooli-”

“I’ll throw garlic!” Jisung screamed in horror from directly behind you, causing you to flinch since you hadn’t detected his presence. His body contorted abnormally as he lunged away from the vampire. Your eyes bulged as Jisung gave your right arm a death grip. What scared you more was Jisung grabbing you, not the funny-looking vampire.

“You’re so cute when you’re scared,” Chan giggled with squinty eyes, covering his amusement with both of his hands. Meanwhile, Changbin, with his hands in his pockets, scoffed and continued on ahead of the group, “Let’s hurry and get this over with already. I’m dying for a milkshake.” 

Now leading the group, Changbin entered the next room that was structured like a kitchen. Resembling something more along the lines of a slaughterhouse, various cuts of pig meat hung from the ceiling. The slaughterhouse was seemingly normal despite the accompanying body bags which sent a chill down your spine, especially when the body bags jerked and seized. A particular body bag bumped you from your path, sending you deeper into the sea of bloodied masses. 

Adorned with streaks of dried blood, Changbin followed the path through the body bags and prime ribs. Without a warning, a horrific butcher dressed in an apron covered hazmat suit slammed the pantry door open on Changbin’s right. With the rev of the butcher’s chainsaw, Changbin’s engine also revved aiding in his very prompt and efficient escape. Changbin ran into a few body bags, nearly taking them out from how fast he was moving. 

With Jisung still clinging to your arm, you watched as Chan pointed to Changbin with a hysterical laugh, “Oh my gosh, stop! My stomach hurts.” 

Chan hunched over in pure joy, “I’m going to pee, this is too funny! You were totally right to do this, Y/N!”

Jisung, completely oblivious to Chan’s laughter turned with his face buried in your back, “Stay away! Stay away! I’m going to hurt you!” 

Taking you as a sudden human shield, he pushed you quickly into the next room. It was a kind of sitting room furnished with fancy Victorian chairs. Sitting like a King on a throne with his legs crossed, Changbin retorted, “Who’s the slow poke now?”

Getting up from the seat, Changbin rejoined the group. You turned to him, “Don’t even pretend you weren’t scared.” 

“You were running for dear life,” you teased, sticking out your tongue and shaking off Jisung’s clinginess. 

“What’s that?” Chan asked loudly. Each member turned to look at where he pointed. Jisung, being the last to gather his thoughts, turned to look behind him.

“What’s wha-” Jisung started. From under where Changbin had been sitting, came a raggedy hand that grabbed Jisung’s foot. Without any thought, our little squirrel became a gazelle and leaped several feet into the air. With that momentum, Jisung ran like a cheetah to the next door. 

“Hey! No running! Get back here!” You yelled over to him. 

Shaking his head and glancing at the hand, Changbin sighed before following Jisung into the next room while carrying his pride and attitude, “It’s an automated hand.” 

“You think they’re gonna make it out?” Chan beamed with happiness. With a grin, you hooked your arm around his, dragging him along, “Not without us, no.”

Entering the ballroom, you quickly shielded your eyes from the strobe lights. On and off in intervals of a few seconds, you could only make out shapes and objects every so often.

“I’ll punch you, I swear I will,” you heard Changbin’s voice cry out. With the eerie strobe lighting, you could see a group of ballerinas with long black hair approaching. 

“Changbin? Jisung? Where are you?” you called out. With the dancers surrounding you, you resulted in a sort of awkward dance with the zombie ballerinas. 

Unbeknownst to everyone else, Chan quite enjoyed the strobe lighting, reminding him of raves and EDM. With his fingers in a rock-on gesture, he started head banging to the interesting rock version of Halloween music. 

“If you can hear us, follow our voice! I think I see the exit!” You directed.

“Help! Help! Something’s touching me!” Jisung cried out in a panicked voice. With the change in his tone, you started to feel bad for this poor baby. Maybe he had enough fun for today. 

“Jisung?” You moved around the dancing zombie ladies, “Dang it. Chan, where’d you go? Hello? Anyone?”

With a small yelp, you felt a strong tug on your left arm. With Jisung on his back, Changbin grabbed onto your left sleeve for emotional support. “Go, go, go! We got to go now!”

With that, Changbin started dragging you in the direction of the exit. You held your stance still looking for Chan, “What are we running from -- is that a serial killer!?” 

With his famous machete, jangling keychains, and custodian suit, Mr. Jangles emerged from nowhere to greet his next victims. With both men practically on your back now, you all screamed at the top of your lungs, “Run!” 

With no weapons in hand, all three of you decided to run around the ballroom in circles, being chased by Mr. Jangles. Changbin waved his phone with the flashlight on, “I'm going to hurt you if you get any closer, you hear me?” 

Turning to look at you, he cried out, “You’re next once we get out of here, Y/N!”

You laughed at Changbin waving his camera light around and Jisung, who had resorted to pulling his beanie over his eyes, “You can try, scaredy-cats!” 

While trying to recover from your laughing fit and playing cat and mouse with Mr. Jangles you finally found the door, “There’s the exit!”

Without needing any more direction, Jisung uncovered his eyes properly and grabbed both of you and Changbin. While being practically carried by him, you wondered how Jisung was strong enough to carry both of you. With the approaching jangle of keychains, Jisung screamed all the way to the door. Rather than opening the door nicely like the event people would have liked it, all three of you busted down the poor prop door. 

Hyperventilating and sick with laughter, all three of you collapsed onto the grass to catch your breaths. You smiled warmly at the two men and reached to give a group hug. You really loved being with these guys. “Wait, did we leave Chan in there?”

__________

previous - autumn daze masterlist - main masterlist 

[lovecolibri]

Maybe it's because i still try to have some kind of hope in this show, but the fact that they cut the eddie/lucy scene where as ak said she told him she didn't want to replace him, but maybe the 118 is just growing and that our dear kristen saying they don't know if they can keep ak make me think that maybe she won't coming back, ofc they can't say omg everyone hates her because we mad a big mistake

Yeah, when the episode ended and they had cut her scene with Eddie (add it to the list of specific moments she mentioned that never made it to screen), I started to have a tiny bit of hope. I'm not holding my breath because they may be banking on the fact that since they cut most of her stuff the GA may forget about the kiss for the most part by season 6, and that the "joking" scene in the truck would shut down the idea of BL (for now) so people online would go back to defending her as "bi-besties" with Buck. Just like the did with Tay Kay. And oh look! It's happening, exactly as predicted. So they absolutely could be working on a soft revamp for the character. 🤷🏻‍♀️

However, they do have solid evidence most especially and most recently with Tay Kay that this approach doesn't work. The GA was ambivalent mostly about her coming back in season 4 and a lot of fandom took her obviously terribly treatment of Buck to mean they wouldn't get together. (Which is why I am so baffled that people think the show "made it clear" that BL were incompatible so we shouldn't worry. Like, have you seen Tay Kay? She called him "needy" right after we learned his painful backstory and even though it never made sense for him to want her after 2x06 it certainly didn't stop them from dragging BT out for a whole fucking season. ANYWAY) But come 5a when everyone saw Buck being miserable with her and how she ignored him and his light was just so dim, people starting singing a different tune. And then she was there all the time taking up screentime and then we got Ghost Stories and the GA officially got fed up with her. I think we were ALL looking forward to a fun, lighthearted episode (which we STILL never got the whole season) and to see all that stuff get cut so we could watch the most pointless procedural show about NOT first responding? To watch her half of the investigation which ended up having NO bearing on what Lou did, or how the case turned out? It was incredibly disappointing and the GA was done. The show continuing to drag it out for the whole rest of the season didn’t help either and I doubt they’d be able to bring her back though KR making sure to show them ending amicably after Buck was was so upset sure was...a choice 🙄

But in L’s case, she started out badly and never recovered for the GA after all the push for her in the interviews instead of talking about the actual main characters, and then the kiss. And we got a break for Boston, but 5x13 was so awkward and cringey and we saw her doing things we’d normally see Buck do on a call and after 5a being so light on things actually happening for the mains, people were tired of them not getting the focus. Then we had 5x14 and the whole high-rise save debacle which even the GA noticed was a WEIRD storyline to have for someone with so many more years of experience than Buck, instead of going to Ravi who has been a delightful and loved addition to the recurring character line-up. We just got to see him and Buck working together in 5x13 and making the save through good planning, so him making the save out of luck and then worrying that he might mess up and someone could die would be a natural thing for a probie to go through and Buck helping him through it would be a very full circle moment from 1x02. We also got her insulting Chim, insulting marriage to a group of mostly married people and someone who desperately wants to be (in another call that would have flowed better with someone like Chim or Ravi around), and all her otherwise superfluous moments. 

So while the cynical part of me who is trying to quash any hope so I’m not disappointed and angry when she’s not fucking gone even though she never should have existed says to brace for impact, there IS a part of me that says the numbers are loud and they have precedence for knowing how this turns out and they can’t afford to do it again. Losing 1.5 million viewers and .6 key demo over the 2 seasons KR has been mostly at the helm is still a lot even if they’re not in the danger zone (though airing up against sitcoms helps). Plus two of the most hated characters ever on the show being her creations, and having to entirely cut a whole storyline because a 2 minute scene got SUCH backlash, and everyone dragging the finale as being incredibly lackluster and overly full of emergencies instead of showing us the main character’s storylines wrapping up, especially May’s after all the focus on her not being sure what to do in May Day, and Eddie’s after his arc is one of the only things that got consistently positive reactions from fans for all of 5b, and season 5 generally being criticized for poor planning/pacing issues/mains doing nothing, it’s a LOT of bad all at once and a lot laid at the feet of the showrunner. Which Tim picked and Tim signs off on decisions from, so he’d be in the hot seat too. 

I’m just going to spend this hiatus manifesting some good changes and season 2/3 vibes coming back around for season 6, and all our mains getting the focus and screentime and storylines they deserve. We saw some incredible work from Ryan, Kenny, and Aisha especially this season and I hope the overwhelmingly positive and “it’s about time” reactions will result in more for them in the coming season, and for the love of all that is holy can we please get Oliver something to do outside of having to simper after KR’s self-insert women? The man is literally begging.

[omegasmileyface]

Not in the Job Description

heres a silly lil Danny Phantom concept based entirely off a half-awake sleep-vision that made me laugh :) my subconscious brain is a genius at coming up with things that make just enough sense to be worth writing

summary: Danny's job at a local restaurant is surprisingly fulfilling, even after being crowned Ghost King. Speaking of that job, however, there are some intricacies to it that are hard to keep in mind during everyday life.

warnings: descriptions of nausea and mild sickness

words: 2180

AO3 link

===

Honestly, life was going pretty well at the moment for Danny Fenton. He wasn't even worried that it was a false security or a calm before a storm, because this kind of semi-serenity had been going on for more than a year. It was a long-term stability brought about by adaptation and putting in effort to get help and accommodation. Jazz would be proud!

Sometime at the beginning of Junior year, the Observants had chased him down and crowned him High Ghost King (much to the chagrin of both involved parties). It certainly added responsibility to Danny's plate, along with some new sensations and a series of crises (what didn't these days?), but a little political discussion with some of the more powerful ghosts ended with Danny deciding that, at least at the moment, the position didn't require him to do much more than he normally did. More ghosts would seek him out for help and he would do his best, and some "paperwork" (though there was very little paper involved and it was a lot of talking and oaths and rituals and such) happened about monthly. Otherwise, though, the Zone didn't need much more help than that, having survived off an absent King for centuries. Well, and the ambient purpose of the King as a sort of core for the Zone, but Danny didn't have to put in time or conscious effort for that.

Eventually that settled into normalcy, and Danny was back to worrying about the balance of schoolwork, self-care, and fighting. He still hadn't given up on the prospect of someday becoming an astronaut, and he was determined to have the grades for it. Don't get him wrong, he'd gotten way better about that! He'd formed a practiced, if not entirely stable, system that kept his grades at a solid B- / C+, while getting a solid 5-ish hours of sleep most nights and not bottling things up too much. It was about halfway through Junior year that he realized, with some help from his friends, that his ghosts fights were honestly pretty civil, at least against the regulars. Civil enough that he knew they had some respect for him, and was willing to risk asking for help. So a few weeks and awkward but not bad conversations later, and he had agreements with almost all his regular "foes" not to cause trouble within Amity from 11pm to 7am, 3pm on weekdays. It was more than half the day off-limits on school days, and plenty of ghosts made up for it to a degree by making themselves more common during the "permitted" hours, but it greatly increased Danny's well-being and school performance anyway. "Rivals" like Skulker and Technus had enough respect for Danny and his Lair to abide, and plenty even cared that he was taking care of himself, even between frequent sparring. Maybe a few were really just in fear of his new crown, but he chose to cautiously pretend that wasn't a possibility.

After graduation — he made Senior year with all As and Bs! — Danny's parents had encouraged him to get a part-time job over the summer. He had been interning at FentonWorks (paid! His parents might not be the most attentive but they certainly weren't unfair) since he had accidentally revealed himself a few years back, and they had been thrilled to hear that he still intended to go into NASA if possible, and had done whatever they could to help. They recommended the job because, as good as a paid scientific internship was on a resume, it would help to have a variety of activity and the opportunity to get recommendations from employers who weren't liable to nepotism. After searching local businesses, Danny found a small sandwich shop founded by a middle-aged couple who had moved in and set up shop just before the ghost attacks began. Being close to the school but not far from the commercial sector and offering small portable food (no one wants to sit down for a meal when a spirit could come crashing through the window at any moment), the place got good enough business to pay the employees a proper living wage. Better yet, they were allowed to take home unsold food! Not to mention the owners were both very kind women who held smiling conversation with employees and customers alike. Danny was more than lucky to land such a nice job, even if it meant he had to get up at 7 five days a week.

All this is to say that it wasn't as surprising as it could have been that he was having a slow and pleasant day at work.

Both the owners were out for the day on some sort of vacation, so today it was just Danny and a short teenager named Casey manning the place. Most of their orders recently had been online due to an explosion causing road work near the restaurant and it was mid-morning, leaving work slow enough that they could afford to just have the two until lunch shift started. Danny was on cashier duty today, but unless the door bell sounded, he was helping Casey in the kitchen.

"Aw, man, we're almost out of tomatoes."

"Really?" Casey looked up to the shelf Danny was inspecting and indeed saw only 3 tomatoes. "Huh, guess they didn't restock yesterday. Well, we probably shouldn't risk needing more before the day's out, do you want me to go get more?"

Danny shook his head. "Nah, I can go. I think I could use the fresh air." He said that a lot, especially as an excuse when his ghost sense went off, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. He never had liked being confined.

Casey checked the monitor to see if they'd gotten any new online orders. Since there was a grocery store just a block away, any time someone needed a quick restock they tended to just walk.

They looked up to see Danny already had his jacket on and was looking them in the eye. "Would you take over my position until I come back?"

"Of course. Ten minutes?"

With a nod and a smile, Danny was out the back door.

===

After a moment of habitually wiping down the counters, Casey went up to the register in case a customer appeared.

It was even quieter than before for a few minutes, so they busied themself with mini restocks and organization. They were in the middle of stacking some paper coffee cups when they started to feel dizzy. There had been this subtle pressure on their chest since Danny left, which they figured was anxiety for working the restaurant alone for the first time, and now it had solidified into a warm nausea that flared whenever they exhaled.

With the disinterested panic that came from having strange things happen for years, they wondered if they had missed their medication this morning. A quick glance at their phone, however, showed the notification for it checked off.

Putting the phone back away, Casey noticed the tips of their fingers were somewhat translucent. Alright then, it was definitely something to do with ghosts. Great! Just excellent. The panic was less disinterested this time.

They weren't familiar with any sort of ghost illness that made humans translucent, so they definitely needed to call someone to make sure nothing bad happened. It would be best to call the Fentons' public number so they could go over and get looked over by then. In the meantime, they should call Danny and ask him to hurry back. He shouldn't be much longer anyway.

Casey didn't even get the chance to act on their plan, however, before a short humanoid ghost appeared in the dining area. They didn't look to be up to anything, but Casey reached for the emergency ectoblaster beneath the register anyway. The nausea was getting worse, along with a new chill, and they couldn't be sure this new ghost wasn't somehow causing whatever they were going through.

The ghost looked at them with an expression that was almost desperate. "Ah! Kind human, thank you for your time." The ghost... bowed? "I am Eurusid, from the Spoken Channels. There has been a dispute which damaged public meeting grounds in the center of the Channels, and both groups refuse to allow the damage to be repaired except by the other group."

Casey's eyes narrowed. It was becoming difficult to stand with the dizziness, and if not the ghost himself, then whatever he was saying was probably a hallucination. They didn't even think about responding beyond a detached "what".

It was then that Danny re-entered the back door with the new tomatoes. Good thing, too. At least with another person there, Casey could confirm whether they were hallucinating.

===

Placing down the grocery bag and shrugging off his jacket in one motion, a skill only gained by years of laziness efficiency, Danny called toward the register. "Back!"

Once he caught sight of the teen, however, all casualness shed itself from his body and he rushed over to hold them. "Man, Casey, you feeling alright? You look really pale." The realization that their form was slightly translucent, despite the firm human heartbeat beneath, was drowned out by him finally noticing the ghost standing a few feet away. The reaction of his ghost sense had been so minor that he had ignored it.

He was surprised to see that he recognized the specter's face, marred as it may have been from worry and confusion aimed directly at Casey. "Eurusid? What's going on?"

As the ghost, still confused but unwilling to act impolitely, gathered his bearings and began to bow toward him, Danny's coworker shuddered under his hands, regaining his full attention. He thought back through the day's events for hints as to the situation, before swearing, cutting off whatever Eurusid was about to say.

Danny backed up and said, voice as clear as he could, "I recall my position."

Casey's reaction was immediate, a gasp of air like they had been kept from breathing and a return of their skin's human opacity. Danny rushed back over and put his hand on their back to steady them as their eyes narrowed and went slightly unfocused.

Figures, doesn't it? One of the many intricacies that had come up at his coronation Junior year that just hadn't come up enough to keep at the front of his mind. One of the defenses of the High Ghost Crown was the ability of the King to temporarily give their duty to someone else. As long as that person accepts, during a specified time they substitute for the King in dealing with political matters, as well as taking over as much as their ability allowed of the King's function to process the energy of the Realms.

Danny had no idea that this ability could be activated with words as vague as "take over my position", let alone that it could be used with a human. That potential had never come up during the ceremony, so for all he knew, a full ghost in his position couldn't substitute with a human. A human certainly shouldn't be able to take over any part of the energy processing, though maybe in Amity Park the average person processed enough environmental ectoplasmic energy to make it possible. Regardless of residence, though, it could not be good for Casey's body, which had no Core to properly process energy and had no human equivalent except perhaps a small emotional center in the brain, to even attempt to filter and manage some of the inherent energy of a dimension.

Their skin was still clammy and their coordination was shot. Ancients, if this is what an accidental substitution did to a human, Danny would have to word things very carefully when asking for help in the future.

"King Phantom?" Danny looked up to see that Eurusid was still floating there awkwardly. Right. He had two people here to help.

"Sorry, Eurusid. One moment, I'll be right with you." He turned back to his coworker, who looked confused and less lucid than ideal, but probably still lucid enough to realize this ghost had just called him "King Phantom". Well, he'd deal with that once it came to it. "Here, Casey, let's get you some water." He helped them walk back into the kitchen and sat them down on a bench by the back door. There was a chair in the register area, but they probably didn't want to feel exposed to the dining area like that, even with nobody but the ghost there.

Once handed the water, Casey sighed and eagerly drank from it, eyes closed. Danny rubbed his hand on their back a bit and promised to be back shortly before walking back out to meet Eurusid. Whatever he was here about was probably worth immediate attention but Danny was sure there'd be at least a solid minute of apologies on both sides before the matter was addressed. Hopefully both the Spoken Channels and Casey would be alright before the next shift came in.

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 12

[see all chapters]

Read on: [ffn] / [ao3]

---

The alarm was blaring.

Danny recognized the noise immediately. But his eyes were still slow to open, his arms were slow to turn off the offending sound, and his brain was slow to recognize that the white ceiling above him was just his bedroom ceiling.

His body was numb. Nothing felt real.

He grabbed his phone off his nightstand and unlocked it. The screen was too bright, but he didn’t care. He’d been through worse. What was a little eye strain to him, really?

There were text messages, but Danny ignored them. The government likely already read them first, so if they were important, Danny would probably have woken up back in his cell rather than his cozy bed.

Ghosts like Danny didn’t get to have comfort. He was unpredictable. Dangerous.

“You’re a feral beast.” Operative O’s deep voice rained down on him. “You need to be trained.”

Danny opened the Twitter app only to be faced with a crushing amount of notifications and his name on the top of the trending list.

He should have felt nervous. Anxiety should have gripped his stomach. But...it didn’t.

He felt nothing.

Numb.

He clicked on his name and scrolled through the tweets. As he suspected, that damn video of him at the PHP littered his screen.

Protests have begun to break out near the health clinic Phantom is attending. [image]

I don’t understand, why doesn’t he just fly into the building or something? Can he not fly?

Is phantom over?

It’s so gross how people feel the need to harass a teenager trying to recover from trauma.

imagine being a teen trying to get emergency mental help and then THAT walks into ur class 

What the fuck did the government do to him? 

He was numb.

Nobody knew what really happened in there, and Danny wanted so badly to keep it that way. And the worst part was, he thought that if he just forgot about it, tried to move past it, then it would all go away. And no one would ever know.

Except Vlad did find out. Somehow, Vlad had managed to get a hold of classified government files about Danny, and if what he had implied was true, then he had learned everything. 

And if Vlad knew, then…

No. He wasn’t going to think about it. 

Danny knew from the moment he’d stupidly revealed himself that his life was not his own anymore. He knew that he was going to be nothing but a government possession from that moment till the day he died.

He didn’t deserve to get upset over this.

He pulled up a blank tweet and started typing. His movements were robotic. Stilted. But one slip-up, just one reason for the public to get suspicious, and Danny knew that some seedy corner of the internet would pounce on the opportunity to dig deeper into Danny’s life than he was comfortable with.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Thank you everyone for the support. I’m back home with my family and am healing.

Before he could question what he was doing, his finger was already pressing send on the tweet. He watched as almost immediately, notifications popped up in his inbox. 

But he didn’t open his notifications, he didn’t look at the replies. Instead, he closed the app and shut his phone off.

He didn’t care anymore.

Maddie knocked on the door and asked him a question, and he responded with the right answer for her to leave. He got up and started his new morning routine of sitting in the shower for ten minutes, getting dressed, brushing his teeth, and heading downstairs for breakfast before leaving for six hours of mandatory therapy.

He stared out the window, watching the morning traffic pass by him. He couldn’t remember if he shampooed his hair or if he just sat under the scalding water. But it was fine. He was just a government-issued robot now. Whatever.

There were people lining the highway when Danny pulled into the PHP center. They were shouting different things, holding different signs, their cameras armed and ready as soon as the GAV came into view. The police were there, making sure no one escaped into the parking lot, and there were therapists waiting outside.

They didn’t know. They had no idea what Danny had gone through, why he was there.

And it didn’t matter. Not to them, not to Danny, not to the police or the news stations filming the scene or to the government or Vlad or anyone else. 

Danny wasn’t in charge of his life anymore. 

He was only here because the government had decided he could stay free. 

For now.

The therapists escorted him into the building. Danny felt hollow. Sick.

No, he was fine.

Maddie hugged him, told him to have a good day, that she’d be back to bring him to more therapy after, and Danny nodded. At least, he thought he remembered to nod. He might not have, though.

There was a window in the lobby. A white van was parked along the street.

The APC news van.

Jazz was right. Danny was just being paranoid about the white van outside of their house before. He was so stupid. 

Even if it wasn’t a news van, what would it matter? He didn’t control his life, what would he care if they finished him off in some back alley? What would it matter if they snuck him into their van and held him captive for the rest of his life in some damp containment cell?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Danny spaced out for the morning meeting. He couldn’t remember if he managed to read off his paper for the other teens. His voice wasn’t working today. His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything was numb.

They had art therapy today, run by a tall, lanky man with sandy hair and a clean-shaven face. He told the group to paint what they were feeling today, to channel their emotions onto their blank sheets of paper.

But Danny felt nothing. He had nothing to give.

He must have stared at his paper for too long, because the therapist tried to talk to him, ask him if he was alright, if he was having trouble with the exercise.

Danny didn’t respond, instead choosing to pick up the green paint and squeeze some of it directly onto his paper, rules be damned. It was too dark, so he grabbed the white paint and smeared it into the green. The color still wasn’t right, but Danny didn’t know enough about art to make it right, so he just kept spreading green across his paper. A dash of yellow, then some white, more green.

Time was up. His paper was green. 

“Good job, Danny. What do you think?” the therapist asked.

Danny stared at the paper, studying the streaks of yellow within the brush strokes. “It’s not the right shade of ectoplasm.”

The day continued with more emotion-managing lessons and group activities but Danny didn’t care and nobody could understand that. He was done with this, he was tired, it didn’t matter.

It was lunchtime, and Danny had no appetite. It felt like he had just eaten breakfast. His stomach was still full, but he had a sandwich sitting in front of him that he needed to eat or else they would tell his parents.

Danny held the sandwich between his fingers. It looked like sandpaper.

He didn’t want to eat it.

The therapist was looking at him. She was probably talking to him too, asking him questions about his day. But Danny ignored her. After all, didn’t he need to eat this lunch? How could he possibly eat and talk at the same time?

The teens were talking around him, but Danny blocked them all out too.

They were noisy.

It was like they weren’t even there.

Danny wasn’t human. He didn’t care. 

But you do care. 

He didn’t.

He was numb. 

Eat up like a good little dog. 

I’m not a dog.

Something inside him snapped, and he yanked on his cold core, channeling all his energy to his fingertips. His fingers tingled out of the tangible field, and the sandwich fell to the table.

“Whoa!” The blonde girl jumped, her eyes trained on Danny’s transparent skin.

“Danny?” 

There was an audience. Danny had forgotten about them. His core faltered, and the power faded from his fingertips. 

He should have felt embarrassed by this emotional display. He should have felt horrified that he’d allowed himself to act so inhuman and disgusting in front of these innocent bystanders.

But he was still numb.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was bored.”

“That was sick!” the brunette boy chimed in. “You can do that on command?”

“Usually.” Danny’s gaze flickered over to the therapist, who was giving him a strange look. He turned his attention back to the fallen sandwich. 

Maybe he would get kicked out of the program for this. For being too dangerous. That would probably be for the better. Then he could go free into the world. No more schedule, no more therapy, no more dissecting his emotions or talking about his trauma. 

Who cared about his trauma, anyway? Certainly not him.

“So you still have your ghost powers, then?” the blonde girl asked. “People were saying online that you lost them. The government took them or whatever.”

Danny brought his hand up to his face, willing his fingers to fade to invisibility. “They’re locked. But...I...they’re there. I’ll get them back.”

He would get them back. He needed them. 

Especially now.

Which was how he found himself sitting quietly outside his mother’s door. Waiting. He should have knocked probably, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He didn’t know why, he knew he should just go back to his room, go to sleep, stop bothering his parents about this, but he needed his core back.

His mom would understand. She was a ghost biology expert, right? She would get why he needed his core back now.

He raised his fist to knock, but he must have already knocked before because the door opened, revealing his mother dressed in teal pajamas on the other side. 

“Danny?” She frowned, her brows pulling cautiously above her eyes. “What are you doing up, sweetie? Everything alright?”

“I, uh—” His voice was scratchy. He broke eye contact, staring down at his lap. “My—my core.”

“Something wrong?”

He licked his lips, his mouth dry. “I need it back.”

“Sweetheart,” she said in a patient tone. “We talked about this.”

“No. you talked.”

She sighed. “Danny, it’s nearly eleven. Can’t this wait till morning?”

“No. No. I need it.”

“I told you, hun, your core and body need time to heal properly first before we make any drastic changes to your physiology. Just give it a few more weeks, alright?”

“Weeks?” Danny’s voice rose in alarm. 

“I promise it’ll be all worth it.”

Static rang in his ears, and a steel claw clutched at his stomach.

His mom didn’t understand. Why would she? She was human. Humans would never get it. She didn’t understand. 

“No, I can’t…”

“Danny, you need to trust me. Your body needs to rest.”

“You don’t understand.”

She regarded him for a moment before opening her door fully. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk, then. You can tell me why this is so important to you.”

Danny peered inside the door, at the surprisingly average-looking bedroom before him. He could go in, tell his mother just how wrong he felt cut off from his core, how he was being blackmailed by Vlad, how there was a distinct record of every detail of what the Guys in White had done to him, how he had never felt so defenseless, so vulnerable in his life.

But he wouldn’t, and he knew he couldn’t. There was no way he could put it all into words. He was a ghost, she was a human. He couldn’t explain this to her.

Skulker and Vlad may have forced his revelation, but they gave him more secrets than he could ever have dreamt of handling.

Danny turned away. “It’s fine. Good night.”

“Hun…”

“Night, Mom.”

There was a tense silence before Maddie finally relented. “I love you, Danny.”

“You too,” he said reflexively. The words tasted sour on his tongue.

She didn’t understand. If she truly loved him, she would give him his core back right now, but she didn’t.

No, he was just being paranoid. This was just his Obsession talking. He didn’t need his core, he was just as much human as he was ghost. So what if he had to be a little more human for the next few weeks? Isn’t that what he’d always wanted?

To just be a regular human?

Maybe that was what his mother wanted. Maybe that was why she was postponing removing the chip. Maybe she was too afraid to see her son as a monster. A ghost. 

But that was crazy. She loved him.

She was telling the truth. 

His parents accepted him.

---

“You seem quiet today.”

Danny leaned back against the sofa, his arms crossed and his eyes looking anywhere but at the blonde figure sitting before him. The stress ball sat untouched on the table next to him.

He didn’t feel like doing therapy today. He didn’t want to talk. 

His mom was human, his therapist was human. No one was going to get it.

“What’s on your mind, Danny?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He was fine. There was nothing to talk about. Even if there were things to talk about—and there weren’t, this was all just his Obsession going haywire—it wouldn’t matter anyway because he was defenseless and the government was going to kidnap him again. It was only a matter of time.

“You finished your first week with the PHP group today, right? How has that been going?”

“Fine.”

“Can you tell me about some of the activities you’ve been doing?”

“I don’t know.”

She sat there for a moment, as if giving him time to elaborate. But Danny wasn’t going to elaborate. He didn’t feel like talking today. 

He looked out the window. The leaves had changed color, the ripe greens fading to yellows, oranges, and reds. In another few weeks, the ground would be littered with fallen leaves.

Summer had barely just begun when he was dragged from his house, drugged, and locked away. And yet, even though his entire world had come to a halt, time still moved on.

The clatter of the therapist’s clipboard falling on a side table jolted Danny out of his musing. He flinched, his eyes snapping over to see the therapist rising from her chair. 

She stretched her arms behind her back and walked over to the closet. “You know what? It’s been a long day. Wanna play a game?”

“Um...are we allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not.” She grabbed a box out of the closet and placed it down in the center of the room.

Danny peered at it in confusion. “Jenga? Of—of all the games out there, you’re really gonna make me...make me get on the floor for Jenga?” 

“Oh, come on, it’s fun.”

“You must throw some wild parties,” he remarked, rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he slid off the couch and slowly scooched himself towards the middle of the room. As long as he didn’t have to explain why he was two seconds away from ripping his own core out of his chest, he would go along with whatever game she threw at him.

The therapist carefully tipped the box upside down, sliding the lid up to reveal a tower of multi-colored wooden tiles jigsawed together.

“So here’s our marvelous tower,” she said. “You can reach that alright?”

“Yeah.”

“So normal Jenga rules. We switch off trying to remove a piece without causing the tower to collapse. Except, for this game, after you remove a piece, you’re going to pick a card from this stack—” She pointed to a deck of large cards set up next to the Jenga tower. “—and then answer the question on the card that’s the same color. So if I take a purple tile out, I’ll answer the purple question on the card. Got it?”

Danny glanced between the cards and his therapist’s eager face. He was fairly certain Jenga never involved a set of cards before.

Maybe he’d forgotten the rules. It wouldn’t have been the first time his brain had betrayed him. “Am I being quizzed?”

“Don’t worry.” She pushed up the sleeves of her blue cardigan. “They’re just basic therapy questions. Nothing too bad.”

No. This was a trick, wasn’t it? To get him to talk?

He wasn’t going to fall for it. “I thought we weren’t—weren’t doing that...today.” 

“The questions aren’t too deep. Honestly, I mostly just use this game as an icebreaker for new clients. But Jenga’s pretty fun all the same.”

He must have still looked too suspicious, because she threw him an easy smile and went, “Here, I’ll go first.” She carefully nudged a green tile out of the stack and drew a card. “Okay, so the green question on here says, ‘Describe yourself in three words.’ Well, I’d say I’m kind, I think I’m rather nerdy, and I’m a bit of a cat lady.”

That...wasn’t so bad. Maybe this would be an easy game. 

He doubted any of the questions asked him about his core. Maybe he could loosen up a bit, go along with this icebreaker game, if only for an hour before sinking back into his internal panic. 

“Cat lady?” he tried.

She chuckled. “I’m surprised that’s never come up! I have two at home.”

Right, his therapist had a life outside of therapy. Outside of his problems.

But it wasn’t like he knew her name. At this point, it was just too embarrassing to ask. Maybe she had told him that she had cats, and he just couldn’t remember. Maybe he would forget it again tomorrow.

Whatever. It was fine. He couldn’t care about things he didn’t remember. “Uh…” Danny pushed a purple tile out of the tower. “So I just pick up a—um, a card?”

“Yup, and read the purple question.”

Danny looked down at his card and rolled his eyes. “Oh, figures. ‘If you had superpowers, what would they be?’ Well, I’m dead. Does being dead count?”

She laughed, her voice light and airy. “Of all the questions, huh? Okay, let’s modify this a bit. If you could only keep one of your powers, which would you take?”

“Probably intangibility,” Danny said, his lack of hesitation surprising him.

“Oh? Why?”

“Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck. Where the chip was. “It’s the most useful, isn’t it? I can just...you know...I have no physical stuff in my way. I can just phase through any—anything I need. Or—no. Almost anything.”

Not shields. Those could still trap him.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to pry further, just offering him a kind nod and a “that makes sense” before pushing out another Jenga tile. “Blue! Alright, my question is, ‘What is your favorite feature about yourself?’ Hmm...that’s a bit tough, isn’t it? But I think my favorite thing about myself is my hair. When I was a teen, I used to straighten my hair, but then when I got to college, I stopped doing that and just let it be. Now I quite like my curly hair. Okay, your turn!”

“Okay.” Danny leaned over and pushed a red tile out of the tower. “Okay...my quest—question is…‘What is your biggest hope for your future?’ Oh...”

He did want to be an astronaut. But that was before, when he was still human. And then he was caught between thousands of volts of ecto-electricity and that future vanished right before his eyes.

What did he want to do with his life? What did he hope would happen?

He wanted his core back. He couldn’t let himself be so vulnerable for much longer. His chest felt like it was tearing itself apart, he needed to—

Breathe. And answer the question.

What did he hope for his future?

“I don’t know. My future’s kinda...ruined, isn’t it?”

“Try to think on a smaller scale.”

“I…” Danny ran a hand through his hair. He wanted his core back, he wanted to be Phantom, he wanted to protect Amity Park. But he couldn’t say that. It made him sound too ghostly. Too inhuman.

Humans didn’t have these kinds of otherworldly desires. She would think he was a freak if he told her. She wouldn’t know how to react.

“I want to finish PT.”

“That’s a good goal to have.”

“Your turn.”

Humming, she nudged a tile out of the Jenga tower and flipped over a card. “Okay, my question is, ‘What is something you were worried about when you were younger?’ Let me think…oh, here’s one. When I was young, my older sister moved out to live with her boyfriend. It was really scary because I had never lived without her, but we kept in touch and everything turned out okay.”

“I haven’t either. Lived away from Jazz I mean. Like—like for real. But she’s going to college next—next semester. I think she, uh...deferred a semester.”

“And you know, it’s common to feel worried about a sibling moving out. Periods of transition in life can be the most stressful for us, but it’s important to recognize that things will be okay.”

Danny looked down at the carpet. “I guess.”

Some days it felt like Jazz was the only one truly on his side. He was a lab rat, too well known and too hated to ever have a future, forever condemned to a vicious cycle of evading people like the Guys in White and Vlad for the rest of his life. Jazz was leaving him in a few months, his friends would follow in a few years, and in the end, Danny would be alone.

But he was fine with that. He’d accepted it. It was just his life now, there was nothing to say about it.

“It’s my turn, isn’t it?”

“Yup! Go right ahead.”

Danny removed another tile. “‘How do you think others view you and why?’” He paused, throwing the therapist a bitter look. “This is rigged.”

“Not rigged, that’s just a very lucky pick.”

“Lucky to who?” Danny groaned. 

What was with the universe finding new ways to torment him?

“Humor me,” the therapist said patiently.

Danny glared at his card, tapping his fingers against the edge. It wasn’t like the public opinion of him was exactly a secret, but it still hurt. Constantly. Like some scab he kept telling himself to ignore, but ignoring it was impossible because the public would never leave him alone.

“Not good,” Danny muttered. “People hate me.”

“Being in the public eye is very stressful for anyone, but to be unique in your way adds on an entirely different layer. People are afraid of the things they don’t understand, and that makes them forget that at the end of the day, you’re still a person.”

“Yeah.” Danny’s eyes were trained on the colorful tower before him, which was starting to blur as the prickling behind his eyes increased. He ducked his head and blinked, hoping to save face before it was too late. 

“That doesn’t mean everyone feels this way, though. But sometimes it can feel that way to you because the ones who are the most afraid, the most hateful, are the loudest voices in the crowd. But remember, Danny, you won that court case for a reason. You have more people on your side than you think.”

“I won it for now, you mean. I don’t...I don’t think…” His voice failed, and he pressed his fingernails into his palms. He took a few shaky breaths. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Danny. Why don’t we talk about the case for a minute?”

Tucker’s words echoed in his head, how it was televised. How millions of people all around the globe probably tuned in for it, or watched streams online, each person with their own opinion of him.

But he didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“No,” he said. “Can we—can we just continue the game?”

“If you’re not ready to talk about it, then that’s okay. Thank you for letting me know.”

“It’s your turn.”

“Alright.” She pushed a block out of the tower. “So...alright, my question is, ‘What memory do you treasure the most?’ To that, I think fishing with my dad as a child. He was a big support for me when I was growing up, and I really valued our times fishing together as important bonding moments for us.”

Danny nodded politely, trying his best to not appear like he was counting down the seconds until therapy was over.

He could feel his emotions building inside him, threatening to topple the carefully constructed dam guarding his secrets. This was such a simple game, these were such simple questions, so why did he feel like he was failing?

He pushed out a Jenga tile—a red tile—from the tower and grabbed a card, scanning the questions until he found the red one.

What are you afraid of?

The words echoed back to him, and he pushed the card away. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to read those words or hear her voice because saying the question would mean he would have to talk and he only agreed to this stupid game to get out of talking.

There was so much he was afraid of that he had no right to be afraid of. Because he deserved this. Getting revealed was his fault, he was being reckless. He deserved all of it.

The experiments with the Guys in White. The pain, the way his skin was torn apart. How they threw him in a vat of ectoplasm the next day to heal, and how the ectoplasm entering his lungs made him feel like he was drowning because even though ghosts didn’t need to breathe, he still used those organs reflexively as Phantom. But he was in too much pain and his brain was too hazy to fight back. He could only sink into the darkness.

The red bag. The way it tasted, smelled, how it haunted him every day and how he revisited those moments every night in his dreams. How he would wake up each day and the drawer on his nightstand would be shimmering in the morning sun, as if tempting him to open it up, grab the bottle inside, let it help just for one day. It can take the edge off, he can be functional. Who cares if he’s cheating? It’s just for a day...

The public. The people. Their judgments, their words. How he was, on a molecular level, so vastly different from them. How he could never be the same. He would never have a normal life, he could never have a normal job, a normal family, normal friendships, ever again. There would always be something there, something alien between them.

Even between him and his best friends. There was just something... different ever since the portal accident. It had brought them closer together, sure, but in other ways it had also driven an invisible wedge between them. Because Danny would always have his powers, he would always be a half ghost, and there would always be things now that Sam and Tucker would never understand. 

How much would change now? Now that he was in the public eye, now that he’d gone through government torture? Now that his brain didn’t work the same?

And his core. His humanity. Why were his parents so apprehensive about it?

What are you afraid of?

Why wouldn’t his parents let him down into the lab? What were they hiding? They said his core was damaged, but it had been months since he was ripped open. His surgical damage had healed, his broken bones were back to normal, and even though his nerve endings in his chest and spine were still fried, they had been slowly mending themselves too.

Ectoplasm healed faster than human physiology. His core should have been fine by now.

What was the truth?

“They accept me,” Danny said automatically.

“Who does?”

Who accepted him?

Sam and Tucker did. 

His family…

Did they?

“I don’t know.”

“You have people in your corner, Danny. Your parents, your sister, your close friends. They all care about you. We’re all here for you, even if those loud voices in the public tell you otherwise.”

But if they cared...

“Then why won’t they let me have my core back?”

“Your core?”

“My powers. My ghostliness. Ectoplasm.” Danny let his eyes flair to emphasize his point.

If his therapist was scared of his otherworldly display, she didn’t show it. Instead, she continued to look at him with her neutral expression, free of the judgment he’d come to expect from people since the accident.

And for some reason he couldn’t explain, that irritated him. 

“You mean the inhibitor chip?” she asked.

“Yes. They told me it was because my core...it was damaged but—but it doesn’t make sense! It doesn’t...”

“Have you talked to them about this?”

Of course he had. They kept repeating that his core was damaged. And they were probably right—for a time, at the very least. But that was months ago. 

Why hadn’t they scanned his core recently? Shouldn’t they be happy to learn it was healed? Shouldn’t that make them relieved?

What were they afraid of?

What are you afraid of?

“Do you think it would be helpful if I talked to your mother about this?” asked the therapist. “As a way to introduce the topic? She likely doesn’t know how much it’s bothering you.”

But that didn’t make sense either because Danny brought his core up every day. His parents knew how much it was bothering him. They had to have known, right?

So why were they doing this to him?

What were they hiding?

What are you afraid of?

---

Danny tried to remember a time where walking from his living room to his kitchen didn’t require a list of steps to be taken beforehand—a time where he could just get up and walk. But those memories were far too distant now.

And besides, this was his reality now. A reality where something as simple as walking made his head spin.

He shouldn’t dwell on the memories of how easy it used to be for him, he shouldn’t have snapped at Jazz for getting a cup of water for him because he knew the glasses were too high to reach from his wheelchair, he shouldn’t allow this irrational anger to overtake him every time the creeping anxiety of his future as Amity Park’s ghost hero came into question.

He just needed to focus on where he was now. Curled up on his couch avoiding his parents.

Everything felt wrong this morning when he woke up. For a moment, he had managed to convince himself that he was just being paranoid. That it was just his damaged nerve endings freaking out as normal. That once he took his medication, his problems would go away. 

But they didn’t. He still felt wrong. His chest still felt wrong.

It was manifesting in other ways too. He couldn’t walk as long today at PT. His physical therapist told him it was just a bad day and that his body was probably just tired from his busy week. But Danny knew that wasn’t right.

It had nothing to do with him being tired. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t anxious.

His core was the problem. His parents were the problem.

He tried asking about his core again on the way home from PT, using conversation techniques he went over with his therapist at the end of their last appointment, but Maddie just brushed him off. Said they would talk about it later.

But then later came and...she didn’t.

Danny tried asking his father, but he brushed Danny off too. Said Danny needed to focus on healing first.

But how was he supposed to heal when he was missing half of himself?

He felt wrong. So wrong. His body was too bound by gravity, it was too empty, it wasn’t listening to him.

He pressed his palms into his forehead. His hands were clammy. Shaking. Speckles of cold touched them—or was that his tears? Was he crying? 

No.

He pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes. What was wrong with him? Why was he acting this way?

The government had him in a cage. They tormented him in ways he would rather die than live through again. But then it ended, and he was freed. He was allowed to go home, he could live his life as a legal person again. 

Except, he wasn’t free. Not at all. He was still trapped here in Amity, in his house, in his body. He had no control. Not over what he ate, when he slept, where he went, what he could say, what he could think. 

Half of him was still locked up tight with no hope of escape.

His water glass was empty. It would have been too embarrassing to ask someone to help him, but he was so thirsty and dehydrated and he just really needed this to work. He needed his body to respond to him. For one moment, please, just let his body respond.

Gripping the water cup in one hand and his walker in the other, he tried to stand, to walk over to the kitchen sink. But balancing everything was so difficult, his body was still fatigued from PT, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to do it but he just needed to try.

But he couldn’t do it in the end. The cup slipped out of his hand and tumbled onto the carpet, thankfully saved from shattering on impact by some last shred of luck the universe decided to pity him with.

And now Danny too was on the floor because he couldn’t bend down to pick the cup back up like a normal person, and he didn’t want to call for help, and he couldn’t use any of his powers, and he felt so trapped. So helpless. So vulnerable.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it was too stubborn and he was too useless.

A tear splattered against his hand, and he gripped the floor, his body trembling.

“Stop crying. Stop it.” he hissed. 

He was weak. 

Plasmius, once nearly his equal, had so severely overpowered him the other night. It was embarrassing. On the hierarchy of ghosts, where was he now? At the bottom with the blob ghosts?

But those ghosts could still fly. They could still turn intangible. Things that Danny couldn’t even do.

Hell, he was so weak that even the Box Ghost could defeat him now.

“Stop crying.”

He crawled back to the couch, the thought of getting water abandoned on the floor along with the last semblance of his dignity. Another tear fell from his cheek, and he desperately tried to ignore it, ignore his dry throat, ignore the pain in his chest, ignore his core and the Y-scar on his body and his new place in the ghost hierarchy as lower than dirt, ignore everything. Just focus on getting back to the couch. Shut down, go numb.

He was fine, he was okay.

He just needed to push through this. Just toughen up, quit whining. Life wasn’t fair. So what if he was now just a regular human? Hadn’t he been human for the first fourteen years of his life? He needed to suck it up.

Dragging himself back onto the safety of the couch cushions, he pulled one of Jazz’s throw blankets around his body and pressed a pillow into his face.

Never in his life had he been so tempted to scream, to curse, to finally let the last brick fall and allow hell to break loose. But his parents were in the basement, Jazz was upstairs, and he was fine. 

He was fine.

---

Huge thank you to tumblr user and writer @imekitty for proofreading this chapter. She’s amazing and I owe her my life.

And as always, thanks for reading!

---

<previous chapter / next chapter>

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

Valentine’s Day

words: 2868 universe: human au characters: virgil, roman, patton; mentions of remus, logan, janus pairings: romantic prinxiety, platonic moxiety, platonic DLAMPR, implied background romantic logicality warnings: none i can think of, just fluff on fluff on fluff a/n: happy late valentines day, everyone! i wanted to have this done on actual valentine’s day but executive dysfunction said no thank you. this fic is dedicated to my amazing girlfriend @katlikethesword. i still can’t believe how lucky i am to be your datemate, and i love you with all my heart. this is my first time writing a prinxiety fic this long, so i hope you like it <3

Virgil had never liked Valentine’s Day. As he often said, it was just another commercial holiday created for big corporations to take advantage of people’s relationships in order to make even more money. It was the same with holidays like Christmas and Halloween, but Valentine’s Day had always stood out to him as the worst of them all. He sometimes wondered if, deep down, he disliked this day in particular because he’d never had someone to spend it with.

That is, he didn’t, until he met Roman.

Virgil never would have guessed he’d fall for someone like Roman. The two had met through the internet, after joining a small Discord server for those who shared an interest in Steven Universe. The two held a sort of rivalry between them at first, arguing almost constantly to the point where the others would grow nervous when they noticed both of them online at once. They didn’t dislike one another, per se, but the fact that their opinions clashed a majority of the time led to conflict more often than not.

After some time— and convincing by the others— the two of them begrudgingly started to get along. Their arguments went from heated debates to playful bouts of banter. Virgil found himself growing fond of his eccentric friend, and began to see him as less annoying and self-absorbed. He instead grew to appreciate his sense of humor, and his eagerness to stand up for his beliefs, and his unrelenting loyalty to those he cared about.

Over time, Virgil’s feelings blossomed into something more than just platonic and he felt himself falling. It had terrified him at first— after all, he’d never had feelings like this toward anyone before. He finally came to terms with it after one fateful night, when a voice call lasted so long that the two of them had ended up falling asleep. After that, there was no turning back. After what felt like forever— in reality, a week— he finally opened up about his feelings, and somehow, by some miracle, Roman reciprocated them.

As a result, the two of them were now in a romantic relationship together. Virgil felt himself fall more and more in love every day. It was the simple things that made him special. Roman often sent him messages containing words of adoration and devotion, and he tagged his boyfriend in Tumblr posts that reminded him of their relationship, or of Virgil in general. Virgil had been hesitant to admit that he was in love with Roman, but he did so eventually. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

Not everything was this easy, though. Roman lived thousands of miles away, too far to come and visit unless he was travelling with his family, which was unlikely considering how unappealing his home state was as a vacation spot and how unlikely it was for his parents to plan a trip there. All they could do was pine hopelessly as they waited until they could finally see one another. It wasn’t uncommon for Virgil to lose himself in daydreams of the day they could finally see each other, when they could finally hold each other, when they could finally be together. Roman sometimes joked that he’d expect the pining to die down when they got together, only for it to double once they actually did, and Virgil couldn’t help but agree. It was hard being so far from the person he cared about. All he wanted was to see his love, to be by his side, to be in his arms, even if only for a little while. Was that really too much to ask?

__

When he woke up on February 14, the first thing Virgil did was grab his phone and open Discord to message Roman. When he did, he’d been expecting his boyfriend to have sent him something, anything, but there was nothing. Maybe he’s not awake yet. He hoped that was it. gerard-gay: hey. happy valentine’s day. i miss you. After he sent it, Virgil lay back down, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes again. He stayed like that for a few minutes before stumbling out of bed and changing out of his pajamas. He wasted little time in changing into a purple t-shirt, his favorite hoodie, and a pair of dark gray sweatpants. With that done, he headed into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, then dried it before taking out his makeup kit. He decided to go for a simple look today, complete with the black eyeshadow on his lower lid that he often wore. Satisfied, he left the bathroom and headed into the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed was that his parents weren’t sitting on the couch like they usually were. Panic surged through him as his eyes flitted around the room, looking for some kind of clue. His gaze fell on a bright pink sticky note on the counter. He came over to it and read it. We had to go pick something up. We’ll be home around 1pm. Love you! ~Mom and Dad Virgil sighed in relief. They hadn’t abandoned him after all. They could have told me beforehand, though. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. 8:49. Damnit, I got up too early. At least he had the house to himself for a while.

He made himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, got out his daily pills, and headed into the living room and set everything on the coffee table. He sat on the couch and turned on the TV, switching it to Netflix and putting on The Office. It wasn’t his favorite show, but it was better than eating in silence. As he ate his cereal, Virgil checked his notifications again. Nothing. He can’t still be asleep, can he? Even on the weekends, Roman was usually awake at around this time. He wasn’t ignoring him, was he?

Virgil soon finished his breakfast and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, swaddling it around himself. He stayed there for a while, occasionally having to venture out of his cozy cocoon to ensure Netflix that he was, in fact, still watching. As he watched, he kept an eye on his phone for any indication that Roman was alive and hadn’t grown bored of him.

Soon, he felt his phone buzz, and he nearly dropped it as he opened Discord to check the notification. To his disappointment, it wasn’t from Roman. It was instead from Patton, one of their mutual friends. happypappypatton: Happy palentine’s day!

Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. gerard-gay: happy palentine’s day pat

happypappypatton: How’s your day so far?

gerard-gay: could be better

happypappypatton: Oh no! Why? Did something happen?

gerard-gay: nothing happened gerard-gay: just kinda worried about roman

happypappypatton: Is he okay?

gerard-gay: idk gerard-gay: i messaged him earlier but he didn’t respond

happypappypatton: Oh no, I’m so sorry!

gerard-gay: it’s okay gerard-gay: at least my parents aren’t home gerard-gay: so i get the house to myself😎

happypappypatton: Can I call you and keep you company?

gerard-gay: nah that’s okay gerard-gay: i don’t wanna take time out of your day

happypappypatton: You’re not happypappypatton: Nobody should be alone on Valentine’s day happypappypatton: Pleeeeease??? I want to talk to you!

gerard-gay: okay

happypappypatton: Yay!!

Virgil laughed to himself as he clicked the phone icon. It didn’t even finish ringing once before Patton picked up.

“Hi Vee!”

“Hey, Pat.”

“How’ve you been?”

“In the ten seconds since you last talked to me?” He laughed. “Exactly the same.”

Patton giggled. “Good point.”

“What about you?”

“I’m doing great! You know I love Valentine’s day.”

“I know you do. You and your roommate are having that Palentine’s party this year, right?”

“Yup!”

“I wish I could come,” Virgil half-joked.

“I know, I wish you could too. Just hang in there, we’ve only got a year and a half ‘till you graduate.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m counting the days.”

“Me too,” Patton agreed with a soft laugh. “Has Roman gotten back to you yet?”

“Nope.”

“That’s really weird. I would have thought he’d have sent you a page-long message about how much he loves you and misses you.”

“I know, I thought so too.” He sighed. “Do you think he’s sick of me?”

“No, absolutely not. You know how much Roman cares about you. Besides, even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t just ignore your messages.”

“Yeah, I guess. It would be pretty out of character for him to just ghost me.”

“Ghost you? But it’s not Halloween, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Virgil groaned. “You couldn’t not make a dad joke, huh?”

“Sorry,” he giggled. “But you gotta admit, that was kinda funny.”

“Meh. It wasn’t your worst work.”

Patton laughed.

“Anyway.”

“Yeah, anyway…”

The two of them were quiet for a moment. “What about the others?” asked Virgil. “Have you talked to ‘em today?”

“Mhm! I DMed everyone earlier. I’m actually talking to ‘em right now.”

“Oh, cool. Are you…” he hesitated before finishing, “talking to Roman?”

“No, he’s the only one who hasn’t said anything. So on the off-chance he’s actually ignoring you, he’s ignoring me too.”

“Has anyone else said anything?”

“Nope. It’s weird, I asked them if they’d talked to him today after you told me he hadn’t been responding, and they all said no.”

“Even Remus?”

“Uh-huh. Apparently he hasn’t even seen him today.”

Virgil started bouncing his leg anxiously. “Okay, now I’m getting kinda scared. Do you think something happened to him?”

“I dunno. Maybe? But Remus would’ve said something about it, right?”

“Yeah, I’d think so.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Patton suggested. “I don’t wanna make you more anxious about this than you already are.”

“Thanks, Pat. How are the others? What are they up to?”

“They’re doing pretty good! Remus is working on a writing project, Janus is playing Stardew Valley, and Logan’s procrastinating on his schoolwork by scrolling Tumblr. Don’t worry, I already scolded him for it.”

Virgil laughed, the mention of Logan reminding him of something. “Ooh, speaking of Logan, are you gonna tell him today?”

“No, not today.”

Virgil was genuinely shocked. “Really? Why not?”

“C’mon, you know him. He sees Valentine’s Day as an excuse for big companies to make a boatload of money.”

“So? I think that too. What does that have to do with you not telling him?”

“It wouldn’t mean anything to tell him today. I don’t even know if I’m ready to tell him yet or not. Besides, he’s got a lot on his plate today, Valentine’s day or not.”

“I get that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so pushy. You tell him when you know you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Vee. You didn’t sound pushy, though. I definitely know how frustrating it can be when your friend’s been pining after someone for months on end but they still refuse to do anything about it.“

Virgil laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll stop complaining.”

“I’m not saying you have to. I did my fair share of complaining when y—” Patton stopped abruptly, and Virgil heard a faint voice coming from the other end. “Okay, just gimme a second,” Patton called out, clearly talking to someone else. “I’m so sorry, Vee, I gotta go. Emile promised a couple friends we’d meet them for lunch today and it completely slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay,” Virgil reassured him. “You go have fun, Pat. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. If I get really lonely I can always talk to the others.”

“Okay. Tell me if Roman gets back to you, ‘kay?”

“I will. I’ll talk to ya later.”

“Bye! Love you!”

“Love you too.” Virgil hung up the phone and got up, grabbing his dirty dishes and taking them into the kitchen to wash them. Once he finished, he glanced over at the clock, which read 10:37. Only about two and a half hours until Mom and Dad get home, he thought as he put the dishes away. He left the kitchen, checking his phone again as he headed toward his bedroom. Once again, Roman still hadn’t said anything. He’s definitely awake by now. Had he been right? Had something happened to him? He forced the thought away. He couldn’t let that bother him. Why was it so important, anyway? Today was just another day.

He reached his room and sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop and putting on his headphones. He then opened Spotify and put on the playlist he’d made for Roman the day after they’d gotten together, before switching over to Tumblr and scrolling through his dashboard. He could probably do the exact same thing in the living room, but he preferred the cozier, more familiar atmosphere of his bedroom. Peanut, his cat, climbed up onto his lap and curled up into a ball. Virgil smiled to himself and reached one hand down to scratch him behind the ear. Peanut purred, and Virgil’s smile widened.

He stayed there for a few hours, seeing what everyone on Tumblr was up to today. Every so often, he switched to Discord to see if Roman had replied to him yet, but no such luck. He did his best to ignore his growing worry, focusing instead on the computer in front of him and the cat on his lap. He could be busy today, he reminded himself. His world doesn’t revolve around you.

Soon enough, he heard the familiar rumble of the garage door, followed by the ca-CHUNK of the front door and the clip-clop-clip-clop of his parents’ footsteps. Virgil gently moved Peanut off his lap, which the pale ginger tabby didn’t seem to mind much. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom and Dad,” he told the cat. “You can come if ya want.” Peanut meowed in response, which made Virgil laugh. He knew his cat couldn’t understand him, but he still found it wildly amusing when he acted as if he did. He crouched down to pat his head a few times before leaving his bedroom and going into the living room. He smiled at his parents when he saw them. “Hey,” he greeted, giving a sort of half-wave.

“Hey, honey,” his mom greeted with a smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” added his dad.

“Yeah, you too.” He came over and hugged his parents.

“Have you eaten yet?” his dad wanted to know.

“I did,” he reassured him. “I had a bowl of cereal.”

This satisfied him. “Good.”

“What’ve you been up to?” asked his mom.

“Not much. I had breakfast, called Patton and then went to hang out with Peanut and scroll Tumblr for a bit. What about you guys? What exactly were you picking up?” He glanced around in search of a box or some kind of indication of a possible answer but found none.

“Actually,” answered his mom. “It was something for you.”

Virgil hadn’t expected that. “Oh! I-uh, cool. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” his dad told him with a laugh. “Go and see, it’s in the garage.”

“Okay.” He went into the laundry room, where the door to the garage was, with no idea what he was going to find in there. His parents rarely got him big presents, and when they did it was either for his birthday or for Christmas. He had no idea what to expect. He reached the door, turned the handle, and flicked on the lights.

Standing there was a teenage boy with a broad smile. He wore a red hoodie and a pair of ripped blue jeans, and his white sneakers were dirty and worn. Around his neck was a necklace with a gold-colored charm shaped like a crown. He spoke, his voice sounding to Virgil like the most beautiful of songs. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“ROMAN!” Virgil barreled into him, nearly knocking him over as he threw his arms around him. “Oh my God, you’re actually here. Like, right here. In my garage. How did you even manage to do this?”

“I have my ways.”

Virgil pulled back a little to smirk at him. “You’re just as insufferable in real life as you are online, huh?”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me and my insufferableness.”

“Unfortunately.” Virgil gave him a lopsided grin as an indication that he was joking, and an adoring smile crossed his boyfriend’s face. “Is this why you haven’t answered my message?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here. You actually are here, right? This isn’t some practical joke?”

“It’s not a joke. I wouldn’t do that to you. Well, maybe I would, but not on a day like today. Not on Valentine’s Day.”

The two were quiet for a few moments, just taking in one another’s presence. Virgil was pretty confident that he would willingly stay here forever if he could.

“Well, now that you’re here, what do you want to do first?” Virgil asked, finally breaking the silence.

Roman gave Virgil the playful smirk he’d only ever imagined before. “I think I have an idea.” He rested a hand on his cheek and leaned in, and Virgil felt his heart soar as he and Roman shared their long-awaited first kiss.

[blackwoolncrown]

The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it.  Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

[missmentelle]

Hope its alright to share a cringey situation! i knew a woman once that was constantly wondering why people stopped talking to her and it confused me at first cuz i had just met her and only just started becoming friends but it started to be all she talked about so i kept my distance and then asked her outright to give me some space with specific instructions, that she violated immediately! After repeating myself many times what i needed and her ignoring my boundaries i had to start blocking her. A YEAR later she still finds a new social media platform to reach out and ask why i stopped talking to her. I struggle with boundaries and this was the worst feeling ever. And recently it happened again where a person got way too close way too quick and wouldnt take a hint when i wouldnt answer their calls. They singled me out in a zoom graduation telling me to answer my phone. How do you deal with people that wont listen? Its just so embarrassing and it feels awful to say no so many times.... like my boundaries dont matter to them... which is why i stay running and the cycle continues! Hope you dont mind the rant you reblogged something similar and i dont know what the words are for this situation

I actually don’t think this is cringey at all - I think this is an important life skill. 

Sooner or later, everyone has to deal with someone who comes on way too strong, doesn’t take hints, and generally makes it clear that they’re way more interested in you than you are in them. This can happen with friends, coworkers, romantic prospects, neighbours - pretty much anyone in your life. Sometimes, you can manage the situation by keeping the person at arm’s length and giving gentle reminders about boundaries whenever they start to push it. But sometimes, people push and push and push no matter how firm you are and how many reminders you give - and sometimes, this person’s refusal to back down can start to negatively affect your mental health or other relationships in your life. 

The first thing you need to remember is that someone else’s refusal to take a hint is not your fault. Having someone disrupt a big event like a graduation to ask why you aren’t taking their calls is definitely embarrassing, but you aren’t the one who should feel embarrassed by that - they are the ones who crossed a line by confronting you in public to try to bully you into answering their calls, and they are the one who should feel embarrassed about that happening. 

For what it’s worth, I have also been in this situation before, several times in my life. In high school, one of my classmates decided that we were “best friends”, even though I had no real interest in being more than just high school acquaintances. She religiously tracked when I was online to see if I was “ignoring her” (I was), she called my house so much that my parents got annoyed, and she had a tendency to show up at my house unannounced to “hang out”, even at 7am on a Saturday. In grad school, I matched with someone on a dating app who quickly became obsessed with me and couldn’t take a hint that I wasn’t interested - he created multiple social media accounts to harass me and sent messages saying he was going to show up at my campus to try to find me. Those were deeply unpleasant experiences for me; I felt like the “bad guy” for not returning their affection, and trying to explain to other people that “someone is completely obsessed with me” made me feel kind of self-centered, even though it was objectively true. It sucks. 

I know that saying “no” to someone over and over again feels awful. I hate saying no to people, even at my own detriment - but sometimes, that’s what you need to do. You are not a bad person for putting your foot down when someone else is refusing to listen to you and is intruding on your life. You’ve already done everything that I would recommend you do in this situation - you started out nice, you reminded this person of your boundaries, you politely asked for space, you gave specific instructions for future interactions - and this person is not responding. You have done what you could, and it’s time to take a firmer stance here. You aren’t a bad person for having boundaries and wanting them to be respected - this person has had several chances to correct their behaviour, and they have chosen not to take them. That’s on them. 

At this point, I think it’s okay for you to be frank with this person. Tell them straight up that you don’t want any kind of relationship with them and that you would like them to leave you alone. If that’s too direct for you, tell them that their behaviour is rude and that you are starting to feel harassed. I know that it’s hard to be that firm with someone, but sometimes this is what another person needs to hear - they need to be told, straight-up, that you’ve had enough of this and you’re done. Is it possible that the other person will see you as an asshole? Yes, in all likelihood, they probably will. But it’s important that you not take that personally - it is not your fault that this person’s repeated actions ended in predictable consequences for them. You are not a bad person because someone else is upset that they were called on their bad behaviour. 

And if the person still isn’t taking the hint, sometimes the only option you have left is to cut them off entirely. Block their number, delete them from social media, and don’t respond to their attempts to get in contact with you. Being able to get in touch with someone is a privilege, not an absolute right, and when someone abuses that privilege, sometimes they lose it entirely. You aren’t ghosting the person - ghosting is when you duck out of someone’s life without even telling them what they’ve done wrong. You’ve told this person what they’re doing wrong, repeatedly, and it’s okay to take away their opportunity to keep doing it.

Having to get stern with an eager person who can’t take a hint is tough. Rejecting people is hard, and most of us hate doing it. But sometimes... you just have to. You aren’t obligated to give someone an 18th or 19th chance to respect your boundaries, and you don’t have to have a relationship with someone just because they really, really, really want you to. You have a right to decide who you want to be close to, and you should never feel bad about having to be frank with someone who is otherwise completely unwilling to respect your wishes.  Best of luck to you, MM

[specterchasing-a]

I'll Stick With Being Human || Milo & Eddie

TIMING: 2015

LOCATION: White Crest High School

PARTIES: @wickedmilo​ & @specterchasing​

SUMMARY: Milo and Eddie wind up together in detention... again. Eddie talks about believing in vampires, but Milo’s not buying it.

Realistically, Milo knew smoking during the detention he was being given for smoking wasn’t a very smart idea. But he wasn’t good at making smart decisions, and where was the fun in following the rules? If he was in trouble for smoking on school grounds, then what did he really have to lose by smoking on school grounds? A genuine question, one he was confident he knew the answer to. Besides, he had a lookout this time. A friend he had met on multiple occasions during his after school adventures. It seemed they both had a habit of getting caught out, but clearly their punishments were doing nothing to deter them. Every now and then another student would join them, people would come and go. But Eddie seemed to be a constant, and he was grateful for that fact. Pushing the window open as far as he possibly could, he knew from experience they probably had ten minutes before a member of staff returned to check on them, so he sparked up, glancing back towards Eddie who was peering through the glass in the doorway. 

“You can’t be fucking serious.” He muttered, in response to his company's previous statement. They had shared many conversations about ghosts and ghouls, Eddie being a very avid believer in the supernatural. He was more than willing to humour him, especially given how well it managed to pass the time. But vampires? Vampires might be pushing it. He exhaled a breath of smoke, laughing easily as he pulled a nearby desk towards where he was standing. Clambering to sit on it, the height didn’t give him much of an advantage, but it allowed him to better direct the smoke outside. “What, you think they sparkle?” He teased. He couldn’t say he knew very much about ‘vampiric’ lore, beyond what he saw in modern mainstream media. No doubt he was about to learn an awful lot, but he was never going to walk away with the same level of conviction. How could he? “Don’t you think if vampires existed, people would have figured that shit out by now? Hey- keep watching the hall, dude! If I get another detention because of you, I’m taking you down with me. You know that, right?” 

Eddie never learned how to keep his mouth shut. Teachers issued warnings, but he couldn’t resist the urge to give voice to whatever thoughts he deemed important enough. More often than not, his chatty nature landed him in hot water, not that he minded. With Milo around, detention wasn’t all that bad. With most of his fellow students, Eddie understood the importance of keeping his cards to his chest. If he mentioned ghosts or other such creatures to them, it was more than likely that he’d wind up ridiculed—or worse. That wasn’t the case with Milo. Sure, he liked to tease Eddie about his theories but mostly he just listened. Eddie appreciated that about him.

As soon as Milo offered his rebuttal, Eddie rolled his eyes. The scent of smoke stung his nostrils, inspiring a grimace to form. “Ease up, Summers. If you get caught, it’ll be thanks to that stench, not me,” he warned, but quickly directed his gaze toward the hallway to be safe. As far as he could tell, the coast was clear. Eddie’s arms folded over his chest as he leaned against an unoccupied desk. “The whole point is that people already know about vampires—just not, y’know, everyone. And, no, they don’t sparkle… probably.” Admittedly, Eddie didn’t know enough about vampires to relay any facts with unshakable conviction, but that didn’t dissuade him from his belief. 

“But, if you look at an obscene number of deaths in White Crest dating all the way back to the 1700s, you’ll notice a pretty obvious pattern of neck punctures and exsanguination. You can’t tell me that doesn’t seem pretty fuckin’ weird to you.” Eddie eyed him pointedly as if daring him to argue. “I’m right about this, I know I am. I just… have to figure out how to prove it conclusively, is all.”

Milo pointedly exhaled a breath of smoke, blowing it towards the open window before turning to watch as it was pulled outside by a barely existent breeze. “A smell doesn’t prove anything.” He countered. “So long as they don’t see me smoking, it isn’t like they can do shit.” That probably wasn’t true, but he would much rather believe it was. “The whole point is sooo not that people already know about vampires,” he laughed, allowing himself to be drawn back into the conversation. He often liked to tease Eddie about his beliefs, though it was all in good nature. There was no harm in the way he saw the world, and if he was being entirely honest, more often than not, he was genuinely interested to hear more. He wasn’t the type of person to admit that, so he continued their discussions with playful jabs, and questions intended to catch out his friend. As far as he could tell, Eddie didn’t mind. 

“Probably?” He raised his eyebrows, his eyes shining as he took another hasty drag from his cigarette. “Look, every small town has weird deaths. Come on, I mean small towns are already fucking weird. No matter where you go there’s some urban legend, or cryptid living in the woods. It’s just shit people made up to entertain themselves before tv became a thing.” Pausing to think for a moment, he wasn’t sure how to explain the puncture wounds. Then again, he had never seen proof or done any research. For all he knew, Eddie’s information was biased. “What about the vampires in Victorian London? You know those creepy stories of people climbing out of their graves? I read an article about that once, the vampire even made the papers, but everything had a logical explanation. Stuff wasn’t exactly reliable back then. People were confirmed dead all the time when they were just… I don’t know, taking a nap or something. And you think animals don’t go for the neck sometimes? Or people don’t get carried away with their kinks?” He grinned, watching to see if Eddie became flustered, or took the comment in his stride.

At the mention of kink-related deaths, Eddie let out a huff of laughter. “What a way to go,” he mused with a smirk, trying to ignore how warm his cheeks suddenly felt. With how sex-obsessed boys his age were, Eddie quickly learned the importance of seeming comfortable discussing the subject. Still, he much preferred talking about vampires; he understood them better.

“Look, I’m not saying that mundane reasons for puncture wounds don’t exist, y’know, they do, but what if that’s not always the case?” Eddie’s shoulders raised along with his eyebrows. “Not to sound completely unhinged, but maybe—just maybe—Vampires don’t want people to know about them and, over the years, they’ve been covering up the truth with logical explanations. They’re immortal, they’ve got plenty of free time to do so.” 

Eddie glanced back at the hallway to make sure Milo remained unspotted, quickly returning his attention to him when all was clear. “And who’s to say that logical explanations and the supernatural can’t coexist? The same result can occur even with vastly different triggers. If we hold on too tightly to what we understand, we’ll never find out how massive and diverse the world really is.” 

Milo laughed, smoke unfurling on his breath. “I’m sure there are worse ways.” He pointed out, tapping ash onto the window ledge before sweeping it away with his hand. He could see the faint blush on Eddie’s face, but did nothing to draw attention to it. He was more than satisfied by his answer, and making him feel self conscious would be far more malicious than a few playful comments about sex. “I mean, even if the puncture wounds aren’t coming from something mundane, I’m just saying it’s a bit of a stretch to assume mythological creature, you know?” Laughing again, he took one final drag of his cigarette before killing it and throwing it outside. It would only land on the grassy bank two floors below, nobody was ever going to notice. “It’s too late,” he teased. “You sound unhinged, but that’s why I like you.”��

Sliding off of the desk, he made a point of dragging it back to where it previously had been, deciding to wait before closing the window so that the smell of smoke had longer to dissipate. “You know, I get it. If I was a vampire I wouldn’t exactly want people to know.” He admitted, thinking about it very briefly before continuing. “But don’t you think like, with technology and shit like Twilight, people might start to notice if vampires were actually out there?” Grinning easily as his friend began to talk in his usual way, passion lacing his tone as he fought to sound reasonable and profound, he took a seat back at his allocated desk. He couldn’t hide the affection he felt, and couldn’t deny the fact that Eddie did sound reasonable, and profound. But he wasn’t about to give in so easily. “What’s the scientific explanation for Edward sparkling? That’s the real fucking question here.” 

At the mention of his theory being a stretch, Eddie responded with an indifferent shrug. “To reach the truth, sometimes a little stretching is necessary.” He thought about his ability to see and hear ghosts, how no reasonable explanation for that existed. It seemed a little far fetched to think of himself as an anomaly. Others had to be out there. 

“You sound unhinged, but that’s why I like you.” Eddie blinked in surprise at Milo’s comment, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Careful, or I’ll take that as a greenlight to unload my even weirder theories.” He liked Milo, too. On a few occasions in the past, he thought about asking if they could hang-out outside of detention, but could never muster up the courage to go through with it. Regardless, he had no trouble considering him a friend.

“I mean, people have,” Eddie replied enthusiastically. “If you look online, there’s plenty of people discussing the existence of vampires and there’s no way they’re all bullshitting.” As soon as Milo sat down, Eddie took a trip to the desk next to his and seated himself. His knees tucked under the metal bar connecting the chair to the flat surface of the desk so that his attention was solely on his fellow delinquent. “There’s even talk of slayers; people born to hunt vampires. Just because the media refuses to cover something, doesn’t mean it’s not out there.”

When the conversation circled back to Edward Cullen, Eddie laughed. “Who’s to say? Maybe vampires just have a thing for glitter. But, in reality, they probably don’t get a chance to sparkle for too long before they burst into flames.” He went quiet for a moment, deep thought furrowing his brow. “Y’know, I read a lot about supernatural beings and, with some, I can’t help but think how cool it would be to be like them, but vampires? Mostly, I feel bad for them.”

“I don’t know if scientists would agree with that logic.” Milo teased. “But every YA author out there is screaming. You should write a book.” Laughing easily at the mention of wilder, and weirder theories, he wasn’t surprised Eddie had them. And he would be lying if he said he wasn’t secretly interested in hearing more. But instead, he matched his friends grin, tilting lazily back in his chair. “We can save those for double detention, they sound like they might take more than an hour to get through.” 

Raising his eyebrows, at his friend’s following comment, he shot him a pointedly skeptical look. “You have been on the internet, right? Are you sure these aren’t just people trying to will their fantasies into existence? Do you know how many girls cry themselves to sleep because they aren’t about to marry a vampire who sparkles in the sun?” Turning slightly as Eddie took the seat beside him, he picked up the pen he had abandoned to smoke, tapping it absentmindedly against his desk. “Wait, so Van Helsing is also out there?” He was feigning disbelief again, making out he didn’t genuinely want to know, but he had a feeling Eddie recognised that. They had spent far too much time together now for him to buy into the disinterested act. “I’ve never actually heard anyone talk about slayers before.” He admitted. “Not in the context of like, conspiracy theories.” 

His eyes shining as the conversation inevitably circled back to Edward, it felt good to make Eddie smile. Regardless of why they were both in detention, it wasn’t exactly a great way to spend an hour of your time afterschool. Eddie made it bearable for him, and he liked to think he did the same in return. “Burst into flames like an explosion? Or is it not that dramatic? I like the idea of being incredibly extra. If you’re gonna go, why not do it in a burst of fucking flames.” His smile faltering as the joking began to ease up, there weren’t many things he considered during their conversations about the supernatural. He listened, he laughed, he encouraged. But this was interesting, why would anybody take sympathy for a creature that was historically supposed to be bloodthirsty, and out of control? What lore did Eddie know? “You do?” He asked curiously. “Why? They get to live forever, and have cool powers, right? Doesn’t sound so awful to me.” 

Eddie had very little interest in fiction, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream of one day knowing enough about the supernatural to write books. Most people would disregard them, but he hoped that some would take him seriously. “I’ll make sure to get into even more trouble than usual,” Eddie promised, not that it took much effort from him.

“Yeah, I know it’s not always smart to believe what you read on forums, but some of these people really sound like they know a thing or two.” Eddie needed some of the claims to be genuine. If they weren’t, it meant everything he knew was built on lies. 

When Milo feigned disbelief, Eddie responded with raised brows and pursed lips, still unable to completely erase his grin. “Yeah, they’re like, total badasses who do everything they can to keep vampires off the streets. They’re basically superheroes.” But, no matter how much Eddie wanted to root for slayers, he couldn’t find it in himself to want all vampires to die. Most of them didn’t ask to be creatures of the night, it seemed wrong to paint them all as villains.

“Your guess is as good as mine but, now that you mention it, I hope there’s some flair.” Eddie should have hated detention, but Milo actually gave him a reason to look forward to it. They didn’t have a lot in common, but they kept each other entertained. Eddie didn’t know many people who made him laugh like Milo did, it was nice. 

“I dunno,” Eddie said when the laughter died down. “If you ask me, the whole immortality thing sounds like a raw deal. They’re destined to outlive everything they love. And then there’s the whole needing to drink blood to survive—what if they don’t wanna hurt anybody? But, y’know, they have to or they die slowly and painfully. No more sunlight, no more normal life, just shadows and blood. I don’t think there’s a superpower out there that would make a life like that worth it, do you?”

“I feel like you don’t need any help with getting into trouble,” Milo pointed out. “But then neither do I so I guess I’ll see you same time next week?” Humming quietly in response, he smirked at Eddie, unable to help himself. “You said that, not me.” There was no harm in checking out forums, of course. And it seemed to make his friend incredibly happy, but he wasn’t about to ruin their dynamic by being supportive. “Anyone can sound like they know a thing or two, I could probably convince you I’m a doctor with all the useless knowledge my parents have forced on me over the years. But please don’t let me anywhere near medical equipment, you know? I’m a liability.” Laughing at the idea of slayers being superheroes, he had only ever seen one trashy Van Helsing movie, but his mind decided to conjure the image of its serious, angsty protagonist proudly wearing a bright red cape. “Maybe don’t tell the slayers that, they probably have better fashion sense...” 

Clicking his pen so that he could doodle on the desk as he listened, he found himself drawing a stick figure with fangs. He was tempted to surround the figure in flames, but the thought made him feel a little guilty. Maybe he had been spending too much time with Eddie. “I feel like if there was flair, the viral videos would be endless.” He pointed out. “If we’re really going with vampires being legit it’s probably quiet, and highkey depressing.” A frown creasing his brow as he added a cape to his miniature vampire, he began to colour it black, needing to make it clear it wasn’t a tacky superhero rendition. “If they stick with other vampires then maybe the immortality isn’t so bad.” He murmured thoughtfully. “But yeah, I guess maybe the other stuff doesn’t sound so great. I think I’ll stick with being Human. Can’t come to detention if I have to avoid the sunlight, and then who’s going to keep you company?”

Eddie grinned broadly at the mention of seeing Milo again the following week. It felt nice to have a schedule involving arranged meet-ups, even if they were obligated to be there. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he mused. Milo launched into a short speech about the importance of credible sources and, as much as Eddie hated to admit it, he made a fair point. “Okay, yeah, you’re not wrong, but I’m not giving them permission to remove my appendix. I’m just reading what they have to say about Vampires, so I’m probably safe unless a creature of the night decides to give me a graded pop quiz on their species,” he explained with laughter bubbling beneath his words. “Maybe, but I kinda hope they don’t. They already have superpowers, why would they need to top things off by being fashionable? That’d just be unfair.”

Eddie’s gaze landed on Milo’s doodle, the sight prolonging his grin. If it had been drawn on paper rather than a desk, he would’ve liked to have kept it. “Yeah, I think humanity’s the way to go,” he agreed as he finally looked back to his friend. “I look forward to wasting my mortality with you by spending it in detention.” Maybe next time he’d see about making plans beyond school property.