Tea

Tommy doesn't like touch.

Wilbur came to realise this recently, after coming back from death.

No. Tommy doesn't like touch ANYMORE, he corrects himself as he notices that Tommy doesn't lean on anyone anymore. How he doesn't run up to Tubbo for a hug or how he will not pat Jack on the back with a "It's fine. You suck. Not everyone is a big man like me.". How he just looks sad when little Micheal wants to be picked up and starts trembling when someone get's too close, hand always on his sword.

Tommy hates touch.

But Wilbur wonders if that's true.

They broke into the pool area in Las Nevadas. Wilbur suggested it when they both couldn't sleep and were only boring their asses of sitting there and staring at the ceiling.

So here they were. Under watchful stars and in a city that had a party going on somewhere. Wilbur sitting at the edge of the pool, feet in the water and looking over Tommy who by the likes of it wanted to drown himself.

The blond was currently underwater hands and arms spread out like a starfish, slowly floating up and staying on top of the water for a quick moment before he repeated the procedure. Diving underwater and becoming a starfish. He looked oddly peaceful during it too.

"Why are you doing that?", he asked eventually after watching Tommy do it two more times and getting curious. Tommy never did that. The blond disliked water from what he remembered, always hissing like the gremlin he is when asked to take a bath. But then again, Wilbur missed a lot of Tommy's growth and forgot some parts of Ghostbur's life.

"Doing what?" Wilbur made wild gestures to the water to elaborate. "Ah." Tommy looked down sadly into the lit up pool.

Oh no...emotional stuff we don't do that, thought the brunette and was ready to backpaddle if it wasn't for the quiet " 'is nice" from the other.

"What?"

"It's nice. You know, it's everywhere. Kinda. Doesn't hurt me and I don't know. Just nice."

OK we will do the emotional stuff then. Fucking. Alright. Doesn't hurt. Everywhere.

Tommy. Hates. Touch.

Well that is a lie then. A miscalculation. A misinterpretation. Wilbur is a fool.

"Tommy come here. Sit. Sit fucking down. Out of the water"

"What. Why?

"Just do it come on. Here." He pats the place besides him.

He waits for Tommy to sit down. It was so awkward. It hadn't been this awkward before Wilbur died, before he went insane, before Tommy stopped receiving touch and finding comfort under the fucking water instead of in another living breathing being.

"OK bitch, I'm sitting what do you- "

"Can I hug you?"

"Wilbur what are you-"

"Can I hug you?"

"I-" Wilbur watched as the other started to tremble, bringing his arms up to hug himself or to protect himself. Fuck. Ok. He can do this.

He stood up and ignored the little flinch from Tommy. Went to get one of the big towels people used to lay down on to sunbath. Came back and started wrapping Tommy into it like a sushi, careful not to touch any skin. "I will not touch you directly or hurt you or anything just. Fuck. Can I hug you?"

If it were for different circumstances he would have coooed at the wide blue eyed stare he got from Tommy. Tommy, who looked so innocent staring from a towel and looking confused. Who's blond locks escaped the towel and were in his face. Who looked soft and vulnerable and not like a soldier but a tired kid.

"Sure?"

Good enough, thinks Wilbur and brings his arms up to slowly hold Tommy close. He is still tembeling and Wilbur makes sure to stand still and not to fucking move or else Tommy will bolt and the bonding time will be over and he will not be able to give his little brother the hug, he so desperately needed, or that he himself needed but no one was here to judge that.

And if Tommy moved at some point and nuzzled into Wilbur's chest and his clothes started to get wet, then it was because Tommy just splashed around in the pool and it had no connection to the quiete sobs that could be heard from him.

And if Wilbur joined in on the sobs and held his little brother closer then it was no one else's business but their own.

bust a move!

they're like married or something

Tfw your necklace has its own consciousness and tells you to kill your friends #juststonekeeperthings

Must Be Something In The Water - Smile 2 Alternate Ending/Continuation

Chapter 1

The screams were deafening. Loud enough to drown out the blaring ringing feedback from the microphone.

The very same microphone that was now grotesquely smashed into Skye Riley’s face, the entire right half covered in blood and other unidentifiable flesh.

As the puddle of blood continued to grow around the now completely still pop star, the entire crowd abruptly surged backwards, as if just beginning to come out of a trance.

And then the true panic began.

It was a free for all, and every single person in the auditorium was scrambling, dashing, and dragging their ways past each other and through the sea of terrified concert goers in an attempt to escape the horrifying scene that had played out before them.

Not everyone was darting for the exits, however. There were still several people (whether it be the morbidly curious, or the devastated family and friends of Skye) that had stayed behind and were now instead rushing towards the stage towards the dead pop singer.

Elizabeth rushed forwards, her daughter’s name in her mouth as she screamed, immediately hopping over the small divider fence and immediately moving to climb up onto the stage where her child had been standing only moments ago. Back when all of her blood was still inside her body.

Elizabeth tore through the small crowd of security guards, police officers, a few concerned concert goers, backup dancers and a few friends of Skye’s.

“Move!!! Jesus MOVE!!” She screamed at them, her voice breaking as she approached her daughter’s still form.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the crowd parted enough that Elizabeth could rush through, and was immediately taken aback once she reached her.

Skye’s face (smeared with still-warm blood) was drawn in a tight smile, her one remaining eye completely empty.

Elizabeth froze, feeling as though her heart had just been shattered, ripped apart into tiny pieces, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Before she could stop herself, she keeled over and vomited on the now bloodstained stage.

A strong, tough figure rushed to her side, kneeling beside her as the crowd closed once again, pushing Elizabeth to the outskirts. Several people were frantically calling 911, requesting for aid and medical attention.

Elizabeth knew better.

Her daughter, no matter how much she wanted her to be alive, was not there anymore.

She gagged again, and she felt a hand lightly touch her back, before a pair of arms tugged her to her feet and embraced her.

When had she started crying? She found she couldn’t tell.

And who was screaming like that?? Oh wait. That was also her.

Her hands found their way around the strong figure’s torso, hands latching onto the back of their shirt and squeezing.

The night moved like a blur.

One moment, there was a crowd on the stage, and she was in the middle of it, then she was sprinting out after a group of paramedics who were frantically trying to pack Skye’s wounds, injecting her with adrenaline, and performing CPR on her body. Elizabeth knew that it was a futile and hopeless attempt. Skye was gone, and she found that she could quite literally not process that thought.

The last thing she had said to her daughter was encouragement to smile. To get out there on the stage and have fun, relax, perform. Sing her heart out, and dance, and enjoy her life and her success.

A sudden realization dawned on Elizabeth as she was frantically climbing into the passenger seat of the escort vehicle.

Skye had begged her to not have to perform.

She had said she wasn’t ready. That she was scared and that she felt like she was going crazy.

And how did she react??

She had called her daughter a selfish spoiled brat.

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, another gut wrenching sob tearing its way from her throat as the van pulled away, quickly moving to catch up to the ambulance that carried her daughter.

“The sirens are still on,” the driver was saying in a panicked voice. “They only keep the lights and sirens on if there is a chance at survival. If they had declared her dead, the sirens would be off.”

“My baby…” she found herself sobbing, leaning into the arms of that same strong figure that she had held her moments ago on the stage. “My beautiful girl…” Glancing up with watery tear filled eyes, she found that it was Darius who was embracing her still.

She couldn’t make herself care enough to stop crying.

——•——-

A few yards away, within the ambulance that was still barreling its way through traffic on the way to the hospital, was a group of paramedics, all frantically trying to regain a pulse within the now flatlining pop star.

The woman on the table was small, much shorter than most, and inherently beautiful. All of them could see and knew it, but there was just something… off. About the way her face looked. Something about that horrible smile that had been stuck to the star’s face since she had struck herself with the microphone.

One paramedic clipped open the girl’s outfit, exposing the upper half of her chest. Another two were carefully and delicately removing the microphone from her face, and then trying to pack the wound full of antiseptic and gauze.

The third was preparing the defibrillators to shock life back into the lifeless girl.

“Hands off, everyone back!!!” The paramedic yelled, and immediately, everyone stepped away from her. “Clear!” He shouted, pressing the machines against her chest and causing her entire body to jolt with the electrical current. The flatline tone continued.

Everyone held their breath. This was it. If she didn’t regain a heartbeat after the third shock to the heart, she would be pronounced dead.

“Clear!!” The paramedic shouted once again, pressing the defibrillators back against her skin and causing her body to jump once again with the shock. The flatline droned on.

Two paramedics grabbed each others hands, squeezing them tightly.

“Come on now dammit!!” The paramedic shouted, charging the defibrillators one final time. “Clear!!” The man yelled, his voice brimming with desperation as he pressed the machines against her skin again. She convulsed once again, and the flatline continued.

Everyone went silent, everyone’s hearts heavy with the realization that there was no saving Skye Riley.

The famous pop star was dead. She was officially dead.

Everyone lowered their heads, two of the paramedics even allowing a few tears to stream down their cheeks.

“…Call it,” the lead paramedic said, and another looked down at his watch.

“Time of death: 7:24 pm, Octob-“

*beep.*

Everyone silenced immediately, all eyes flickering up to the heart monitor.

*beep.*

Another small beep echoed in the silent ambulance.

*beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.*

The machine let out a few small uneven beeps before finally regaining a rhythm once again, and slowly but surely picking up speed.

Every paramedic was silent before they all turned their eyes back towards each other, relief etched into all of their expressions.

“Oh Jesus Christ, it’s a miracle,” one of them mumbled with a soft laugh.

Nimona!

sometimes i wish i had facial hair

like sexy stubble or something that would be so cool

I’ve been enlightened to the wonders of Sally x Wilbur

A Breather

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