"Holly fuck," Iris whispered, slapping a hand over their mouth to stop from making noise that would wake Sir. "You can't just pop up out of nowhere!" They whispered.
"Sorry about that, manifesting is a bit tricky- are you alright, dear?"
((I'M ADOPTING THEM ALL))
He nodded along sadly.
John tossed the stuffed turtle towards the pile in the corner. "What all can you do, exactly?"
"Please be quiet!" Iris whispered frantically, creeping into their room and motioning for the ghost to come.
"Please be quiet!" Iris whispered frantically, creeping into their room and motioning for the ghost to come.
"Oh, don't worry, only you and your friends can hear me." He said, following after him.
((I'M ADOPTING THEM ALL))
He nodded along sadly.
John tossed the stuffed turtle towards the pile in the corner. "What all can you do, exactly?"
"We're here for guidance, help the best we can as ghosts… that sort of thing." He explained.
Iris would not have any part of it. "This is a foster home and I don't care if only I can hear you, shush."
He nodded, silently falling into step next to him.
((I'M ADOPTING THEM ALL))
He nodded along sadly.
John tossed the stuffed turtle towards the pile in the corner. "What all can you do, exactly?"
"We're here for guidance, help the best we can as ghosts… that sort of thing." He explained.
John smiled wider still. "No, I mean, physically," he spoke. "Like.. Can you walk through walls? Read minds?" He sat on the sleeping bag.
He chuckled. "Yes, I can walk through walls. Can't quite read minds in the telepathic sense, but picking up on what people are thinking is a lot easier."
He chuckled. "Yes, I can walk through walls. Can't quite read minds in the telepathic sense, but picking up on what people are thinking is a lot easier."
"So you get a vibe?" John flicked on the christmas lights and fished some pokki from a hidden stash of snacks in a shoebox.
"Sort of." He said, sitting down.
He offered him a stick of the sweet. "Here, try. Have you had this before?"
"I can't eat. Thank you, though." He said, waving his hand.
He nodded, silently falling into step next to him.
"So, who are you?" Iris asked, reaching around in the dark for their glasses.
"I can't eat. Thank you, though." He said, waving his hand.
John dramatically turned the stick back to his own mouth to eat. "Did you know my middle name is Oliver?"
"I'm Elton John, darling!" He said, grinning.
"I can't eat. Thank you, though." He said, waving his hand.
John dramatically turned the stick back to his own mouth to eat. "Did you know my middle name is Oliver?"
"Oliver. Quite a nice name. I've know a lot of great Olivers."
"I'm Elton John, darling!" He said, grinning.
"Of course you are," Iris muttered, shaking their head and rubbing their temples as they grabbed their glasses, shoving them on their face.
"I can't eat. Thank you, though." He said, waving his hand.
John dramatically turned the stick back to his own mouth to eat. "Did you know my middle name is Oliver?"
"Oliver. Quite a nice name. I've know a lot of great Olivers."
He smiled softly. "I wish my first name was Oliver," John spoke.
Downstairs, the sound of a slammed front door sent a tremor through the beams of the house structure. John's face went white.
"I can't eat. Thank you, though." He said, waving his hand.
John dramatically turned the stick back to his own mouth to eat. "Did you know my middle name is Oliver?"
"Oliver. Quite a nice name. I've know a lot of great Olivers."
He smiled softly. "I wish my first name was Oliver," John spoke.
Downstairs, the sound of a slammed front door sent a tremor through the beams of the house structure. John's face went white.
"Do you need to get your brother?" He asked, standing.
((I'LL KILL THAT MOTHER FUCKER IF HE TOUCHES MY SON))
"I'm Elton John, darling!" He said, grinning.
"Of course you are," Iris muttered, shaking their head and rubbing their temples as they grabbed their glasses, shoving them on their face.
"And you are Iris, I presume?"
"Yes," John whispered. He tossed the candy aside and flew from the closet. John's little brother scrambled up the stairs and into John's room.
"Kaykay, you okay?"
"Yeah," the seven-year-old whimpered.
XD i love your passion for my smol boi CW )
Billy stepped out, watching quietly.
John ushered his brother to the closet. He locmed his bedroom door– though it was apparent by the tear in the side that it had been kicked open several times before. He grabbed his headphones–noise cancelling– and retreated into their safe cove.
Billy walked carefully down the stairs, deciding to keep an eye out.
Jonathan's father, a man with dusty ginger hair– the giver of Jonathan's wild curls– stumbled to the kitchen counter, visibly drunk.
"Don't do anything, don't do anything…" He muttered, watching closely.
The man tossed his car keys on the dining table, "Grace!" He yelled. Grace was the name of John's poor mother. The woman who would repeatedly put herself in harm's way rather than witness her children be beat.
