The Friendliest Ghost

Tia/PB || 30|| gender-fluid Poet. Writer. Certified cryptid. The people’s omegaverse princess. I follow back from my main @prettyboiiharringrove which is also my name ao3

[drowningintheshower]

Here’s the idea.

Omegaverse.

Alpha Jack Abbot and Omega Michael Robinavitch.

Set in medieval times.

Jack’s a knight who’s the personal body guard to Duke Montague Adamson and Michael’s his healer.

They see each other often and form a companionship. Jack looks out for Michael, Michael tends to his wounds personally.

They both know something’s there. Jack dreams of Michael and a life far gentler than he has any right to desire. Michael worries for Jack, he knows how those type of scars are create, knows what other knights say about his past.

But neither ever act on it.

Jack knows medicine will always be Michael’s first love and he’d rather run himself through with his own sword than take away the light from his eyes. Micheal knows he could never give up his work, and it would be cruel to give Jack any sort of hope that he might.

Still they are always found with one another. Most of the castle assumes they’re together.

Both men imagine they could be content like this forever. Jack’s made his peace with this. He always knew he’d never see heaven. Why should he hope that an angel would love him?

Then some upstart arrives and claims to be Adamson’s nephew. They’re in the process of verifying this claim when the duke falls gravely ill.

Michael stays up too many nights trying to find a way to save him. It’s no use.

What’s worse is this interloper is Adamson’s nephew and now inherits the title. First thing he does is strip Michael of his position and sends Jack off to some battle.

Michael still practices medicine in secret. Helping anyone who needs it, including fellow omegas who want to nullify mating bites.

Of course he’s caught.

It took longer than expected.

The nephew gives him an ultimatum. Become a mistress or go to the gallows.

Of course Michael picks the gallows.

In the mean time Jack’s making a name for himself. Brutal and vicious and more victorious than not. He rises through the ranks and catches the attention of Duke Underwood. After an unfortunate injury that takes part of his leg she offers him so land and a title.

He gracefully accepts and is speeding back to his former home to grab Michael and run.

He arrives just in time to see them walking him out.

He doesn’t remember what happened after that. Some people in the village swear the earth cracked open and one of Satan’s generals emerged. Michael says he went feral.

All Jack can attest to is when he came to they were far, far away and he was covered in blood. His mouth full of it. Micheal’s by his side, swallow faced and haggard but alive.

They make their way to the promised bit of land and Jack’s not at all surprised to see the village and surrounding area is in disarray. Duke Underwood is honorable enough, but she’s a pragmatist at heart and shrewd enough to have been able to defeat her alpha brothers for the title.

Jack can’t find it in himself to care. It was a place. It was relatively safe.

They get to work trying to restore the village and the ramshackle house that’s meant to be his.

He and Michael unofficially are mated, the only reason they don’t do it for real is because the Michael won’t be able to practice medicine and he’s the best doctor in 100 miles. Still the locals throw a humble but very sincere party and the one remaining priest officiates.

They have peace for a couple years before some knights from the capital come in to arrest Jack for assaulting a duke. Apparently that sniveling coward finally talked because someone dared to compliment Jack’s restoration of—a previously presumed dead—village.

He insists Michael stay because what of he’s needed there. And because Jack doesn’t want to subject him to watching him be executed. It’s a horror no one should feel.

At the capital Jack pleads his case, that he went mad protecting his mate.

This is a shock to everyone.

Of course they demand verification of this. Several castle staff come in to testify, all swearing that the two have been mated since time and memoriam.

The castle’s own archivist even shows a document Jack had no knowledge of. An oath of loyalty, something only a mate would do if the other went to war. It’s dated all the way back to the first time he was sent out under the Adamson banner. When Monteur was still alive. It was signed by Micheal.

For every time Jack went away to fight Micheal renewed this vow.

He cries on the stand.

He is sent back, cleared of charges because it’s obvious why he went mad, understandable even.

Michael there to greet him. There on the table is a paper. A vow. This one different. This one swearing enteral devotion.

Jack pleads for Michael to bite him. That he won’t ask the same of him. That he just needs to show his own love, his own impossible adoration.

Michael does. It is the closest Jack will ever get to heaven.

[splattergutz]

[sweatermuppet]

i think "oh my childhood doesn't even impact me that much" & then im Afraid To Sit in The Living Room

[afcroyjamie]

LETS GOOOOO

[romanticgumchewer]

imagine you are a sheep. Imagine you are the smartest sheep in the entire world and yet your understanding of the world is so small. Imagine you are the wisest sheep in the flock and you carry the memory of everyone who came before so everyone else can be happy. Imagine being a winter lamb and dying for your flock. Imagine you are a good shepherd so loved by his flock that your sheep would do anything, even defy who they are, in order to avenge you.

and then imagine you are a brett goldstein ram and you finally have a reason for bashing. Bet that felt so good.

[ngalitzine]

THE SHEEP DETECTIVES (2026) dir. Kyle Balda

[legallybrunettedotcom]

[inbabylontheywept]

Until death, all defeat is psychological.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

vibes

[puppydogwhitaker]

thinking about alpha parker bitching beta trinity….

(these brainworms are brought to you via @puppyjavadi)

trinity was a beta. she had a light, citrusy scent, little to no true nesting instincts, and a regular-degular vagina that didn’t produce copious amounts of slick.

parker treated her like an omega.

a beta’s weak nose couldn’t possibly pick up on all the alpha pheromones that were imbued in the hoodies parker gave her. it was purely for others to smell the claim on her. same with the aggressive scentings. it didn’t make her head fuzzy the way it would an omega’s, but the intent behind it was the same. ownership. complete and total ownership.

“tell me you’re mine,” parker told trinity. parker’s thumb rubbed at trinity’s clit while she continued her even, steady pace fucking in and out of her. “say it.”

“yours!” trinity easily acquiesced. “‘m yours.” she could barely slur it out. it was like the thoughts were being fucked out of her head. her insides felt syrupy and hot, like nothing she’d ever felt before.

trinity usually got wet for parker. how could she not? this time, however, she was dripping onto the comforter as soon as she was touched. the noises as their bodies met each other were thick and obscene.

parker groaned, overwhelmed with how trinity’s scent was throwing itself in waves across the room. the citrus warmed into a tingly caramel smell. parker just wanted to get her mouth on every part of her pretty little beta.

“getting so slick for me, baby.”

trinity wanted to say she didn’t get slick. she got wet! but she couldn’t talk coherently in between the whines and moans.

through the haze, trinity’s mind wanted one thing.

knot me, knot me, knot me.

she must’ve mumbled it, because parker chuckled and cooed in her ear, “you want my knot, honey?”

trinity nodded. “please, alpha,” she begged.

and parker couldn’t think clearly, feeling the hot, wet rush between trinity’s thighs, smelling a type of arousal that had never emanated from trinity before. her hindbrain knew before her conscious mind did. parker thoughtlessly murmured, “i know, omega. i know.”

[creekmotel]

[abigaillazaar]

WINTER LAMB The Sheep Detectives (2026), dir. Kyle Balda

[irispurpurea]

expectation: haha silly fun times movie about sheep solving a murder, hijinks and shenanigans ensue

reality: what if you and you alone carried the most painful memories of your community? what if only you knew the true shape of reality? what if you were cast out for no crime but the accident of your birth? what kind of life can we truly live if we don't know death? what is the point of grief? why must we remember painful things? well, because that is how you keep the ones you love alive even once they're gone. if we were to forget all things that challenge or disturb us, we would never leave our small worlds. we must carry the burden of memory together. we must cross the road from the meadow and we must not forget.

[katestewartt]

#SILLY SHEEP MOVIE GOT ME WITH EXPLORATION OF GRIEF

[frankenmouse]

It is so ridiculously easy to gain a reputation for being competent by just reading signs.

This is not metaphorical. I mean actual, literal pieces of paper/plastic/metal/whatever explicitly erected to inform the public.

“How did you know this was the right trail?” I read the sign.

“Wow, how did you know what that flower is?” There’s a SIGN.

“How did you know we needed to use the side door?” THERE IS A SIGN POSTED ON THE FRONT DOOR.

Just…why are we having such different experiences of the world? People can read. I KNOW they can read. There’s nothing wrong with their vision.

Just. READ. THE. GOD. DAMN. SIGN.

This also applies to:

Syllabi

Instructions

[black-quadrant]

y’all remind yourselves your account is your space. you’re not a performance. you’re not annoying by being yourself. if people aren’t into it they can leave. you’re not obligated to please anyone, especially at the cost of your personal expression. the worst thing you can do for your online enjoyment is to filter or censor yourself.

[wizardshark]

Listen I get it but you CANNOT use "sensory nightmare" as an excuse to avoid essential things. You HAVE to find a way to make it work, such as finding effective alternatives. But you can't just avoid it.

You need to eat some vegetables in your diet or you will become a lich.

You have to wear a life jacket or you will literally drown and die.

You need to be able to exist in public spaces with children.

You have to find a way.

[ladypaperwriterson]

"You simply cannot trust Louis, he's a completely unreliable narrator and every single thing he ever said should be put to question! It's so good that we finally have Lestat's version, which is obviously the only true one - so good to finally have a reliable narrator!"

The reliable narrator:

[alethialia]

I know he had a lot going on, but for Mr. Abandonment Issues, it probably felt good as fuck that Abbot relentlessly kept trying to reach him. Robby was a total dick to him and it didn't matter, Abbot did not care. In the moment it was, "He won't fuckin' leave me alone." But deeper than that? He won't leave.