#@ghosthunthq

[frenchcirce]

My contribution to the twins’ birthday! A fluffy little thing, as usual :)

Can be also read on AO3

[willtart]

My piece for the “Familiar Keepsakes” zine organized by @ghosthunthq !!!!

This zine turned out SO GOOD and it would be great if you could check it out! My piece is featured along with some wonderful (and adorable) written pieces and other talented artists, and it was such a pleasure to be involved!

[eyeliner-vampire]

Happy birthday Eugene and Oliver~

[ciao-poveglia]

Did I just order wayyyyy too much tea? Maybe. But how am I going to get through the @ghosthunthq Ghost Hunt prompt exchange and finishing the Deittman Files TTRPG without it? (Don’t even get me started on storing this... I think I need a new tea cupboard.)  I’m fairly certain I’ve come across Cynthia S. elsewhere in the Ghost Hunt fandom, but I can’t be sure! If you’re seeing this, I can’t wait to try all of the flavors! Quarantine has depleted my massive tea collection, so I stumbled across this at the perfect time!

I wonder what flavor would embody Ciao Poveglia? I daresay something smoky. 

[radiowrites]

Peace

When Oliver approached the man's appearance from a researcher’s eye, it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance.

A Ghost Hunt Fanfiction One Shot by RaisedonRadio. 1600 words, post-canon.

First published in the Ghost Hunt Zine “Familiar Keepsakes”. Check out @ghosthunthq for more GH fandom content!

Read on: AO3 / FF.net / Below the cut!

Oliver pulled at his shirt collar as he followed the nurse. Nursing homes were always too warm, and he should have mentioned that to Mai when she was picking out an outfit—or, better yet, dress himself occasionally. The long hallway was dimly lit, the fluorescent bulbs overhead on their last leg without anyone who cared to change them. It made the pale green walls sickly. Disinfectant permeated the place, and he knew he would smell artificially clean when he left.

Despite the shortcomings of the place, the nurses were kind and had been awaiting his arrival. The nurse stopped in front of him and let him into a room.  She nodded to the woman sitting in the corner and to the propped up figure in one of the beds, and closed the door behind her. The far bed was empty. Judging by the energy of the room, Oliver assumed it had not been that way for long.

He nodded to the woman. She was black haired and in her late forties or early fifties. She inclined her head, and Oliver approached the figure in the bed.

The man there had his arms crossed, his thin lips set in an even thinner line. He stared at the far wall, resolute.

“Hello,” Oliver said, “Mr. Griffith.”

The man sniffed. Or scoffed. Whatever the sound was, it had no polite connotations.

“If you’re trying to sell me something,” Mr. Griffith said, “I ain’t got no money. And I’m not interested in converting to any religion, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I am not here for either of those things,” Oliver said. “Thank you Alice,” he added as he took a chair the woman offered, and sat down next to the bed. Mr. Griffith pulled back slightly, as if he wanted to put more distance between them.

“How do you know each other?” Mr Griffith said in a demanding tone.

“My wife met Alice on an online message board,” Oliver said. “She was doing some unrelated research, and came across this board meant for families seeking information on adopted out children.”

Alice had told Mai she was the youngest sister of the family, and very interested in her family tree, especially the gaps in her brother Jeffrey’s family.

This information dawned over Mr. Griffith’s face. “Busybody,” he muttered. “What you’d say your name was again?”

The man in front of him wasn’t exactly old, by today’s standards—early sixties, perhaps. But he was torn up inside by disease and guilt and anger. It was intriguing how often illness and emotions seemed to coincide.

The man’s hair was graying, but there was remnants of a rich brown. When Oliver approached Mr. Griffith’s appearance from a researcher’s eye, it wasn’t hard to see the resemblance in the line of the jaw, the shape of the eyes, the assured frame and stature—if he wasn’t slumped in a bed.

Oliver hadn’t given his name, but he let it slide. “Oliver Davis. I’m not sure what you called me before my adoption.”

So many years had passed, it shouldn’t have been so easy to recall the man who had walked out on them multiple times. Oliver remembered how he had assumed his father would return that one last time, how he wouldn’t really just leave them with their mother’s body, would he?

Behind Oliver, Alice sniffed, and it was a sound of compassion, of someone holding back tears when she would have had no ability to help them at the time. She had barely been in her teens. And she hadn’t known, she had sobbed to Mai over the phone. Jeffrey had told his parents and siblings that his wife had ran away with the kids. It had been after his diagnosis last year he had confessed to his wife’s sudden death and him leaving two children behind. In today’s media, someone would have found him. Back then, it was easy to just disappear.

Alice had posted on the internet in both English and Japanese. She wasn’t fluent in the latter but did her best, wanting another angle because of her mother’s heritage, as well as Jeffrey’s late wife. She had a strained relationship with her brother, she had told Oliver. She hadn’t really known why she was seeking the information—to comfort, or to hurt?

Oliver had always assumed his birth father was dead. It had been a pleasant thought, devoid of emotional complications.

“So you’re here for an apology, is that it?” Mr. Griffith turned towards him. His eyes were clear, and hard. Oliver wondered if his own eyes looked like that.

“What good would that do me?” Oliver said. “I’m not the one on my death bed.”

Mr. Griffith went back to staring at the wall. “Your brother wasn’t interested in meeting me too before I die?”

For some reason, Oliver had expected Mr. Griffith to be better informed. Mai had told Alice about Eugene. But clearly, Alice had withheld the information of even his visit—perhaps she had been concerned the old man would try to escape than face his son. The overly familiar irritation of having to tell yet another stranger that his twin was dead returned. Despite the fact that Eugene had been dead longer than he had lived at this point, it didn’t get easier. Oliver didn’t want that look of pity and horror.

Which was worst for the old man? To think his other son didn’t care to see him? To know the truth? Oliver didn’t want to be directly responsible for a heart attack.

“Well?” Mr. Griffith pressed.

“Eugene was quick to anger—and quick to forgive,” Oliver said slowly. “He would have wanted to be here, but he left this world before you.”

Mr. Griffith went stiff, and Oliver found himself saying, “It was an accident, when he was sixteen—it didn’t happen when—”

“When I abandoned you two.” He grabbed Oliver’s hand, clasping both hands around it. Oliver flinched, but the man’s grip was strong.

“There hasn’t been a day,” Mr. Griffith said, ‘There hasn’t been an alcohol strong enough, a drug potent enough, or an activity numbing enough to drown it out. The memory. The guilt. Even if I had simply dropped you off at the orphanage myself, it would be have been better than that.” His voice was becoming hoarse, the exertion of emotion thickening his throat. “The guilt weighs on me, always.” His eyes shown with tears.

Mr. Griffith—his father— whispered, “I’m sorry.”

And Oliver knew. There was no lie, no attempt to alleviate his own conscience. His father meant it. Was I accept your apology too cold? You’re forgiven too haughty?

Mr. Griffith wasn’t looking for confirmation. He repeated, even softer, “I’m sorry,” as he released Oliver and pulled back his hands.

Oliver’s hand was left cold and numb.

“You mentioned a wife,” Mr. Griffith said, wiping his eyes. “You’re married then?”

Oliver sat there a moment to bring himself back to the present. As a child, he had believed you just quit being scared when you become an adult. As time went on, he had come to understand fear had probably caused his father to act in such a way. It wasn’t an excuse for the behavior. But it was a reason, something that no one had addressed, no one could address when issues were kept behind locked doors.

“Yes,” Oliver said. “With two kids.”

“Can you send Alice a picture?” Mr. Griffith attempted a smile. “I’d like…to see them. If that’s all right with you.”

“Would you prefer to meet them?”

“I don’t have much time left. There won’t be any traveling for me. It’s a nice thought though.”

“That’s not what I asked. I asked—” Oliver leaned in, “—if you wanted to meet them.”

Mr. Griffith raised his eyebrows, and nodded.

Oliver heard Alice stand up and open the door. Oliver turned as Mai entered, flanked by their two young boys. They were not twins, but the couple of years between them was close enough that they were often mistaken for such.

They gazed around the room, eyes wide. Mai gave Oliver a soft smile.

Oliver turned back to his father, whose cheeks had become wet.

“Meet Mai, Noboru, and Katashi,” Oliver said. “Boys, this is your grandfather.”

“I’m the oldest,” Noboru announced as he bounced forward. His jet black hair and intense eyes made everyone say how much he looked like his father. But Oliver only saw Eugene when he looked at him.

Katashi clung to his mother’s jeans, his hair brown like Mai. Or his grandfather, Oliver had come to realize. With a little coaxing, Katashi released his grip and moved towards to the bed, staring at Mr. Griffith with a solemn gaze.

Noboru grabbed his brother’s arm and pulled him even closer, and started chatting with his grandfather about his trip to the United States, which was here, and how he had a house in both Japan and England, and he could speak both languages, and could Mr. Griffith speak Japanese still?

Oliver vacated his chair for Katashi and stood next to Mai, who slipped her hand into his.

“I was starting to think it wasn’t going well,” she whispered to him as she squeezed his hand. “And you weren’t going to let us in.”

“I honestly didn’t know what to expect,” he said softly. “He’s a broken man.”

Holding his father’s hand had drained him, but he could feel the energy returning as Mai’s hand warmed his. He watched a real smile come over his father’s face at something the boys said. “But I’ve made my peace. Thank you.”

She leaned into him with a smile. “If I can stop one lonely man from becoming a lonely ghost, then I’ve done my job.”

[rmnitb]

updates on the GH short stories compilation:

it is about 40% done!!

it will be divided into 3 parts

a preface has been added to volume 1

vol 3 is finished!

just need to wait for covers + 1 short story in vol 1 and a few short stories in vol 2

this is all thanks to the humongous efforts of the gh community's translators @csakuras @witchhuntress and @thisurlplease, and to @seoulsborne123 who volunteered to create art for the covers of vol 1 and 2!!

you can expect to see the compilation's release soon!

((meanwhile, please check out @ghosthunthq 's post about the first ever GH Zine! the deadline for submissions isn't until the 1st of june, so you have plenty of time to create new fanworks for it!!))

[ghosthunthq]

Mai Taniyama, Grim Reaper Extraordinaire “She’ll have your soul now.”

by @eyeliner-vampire

Happy Halloween from @ghosthunthq

[whateverisurlife]

21 QUESTIONS GAME

Thanks @radiowrites

Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 you want to know better

Nickname: what ever

Zodiac sign: Pisces

Hight: not sure but not tall

Hogwarts house: not sure but cous says Slytherin

Last thing googled: red queen by Victoria aveyard

Favorite musicians: Not picky but all kind

Song stuck in head: wonderland Nightcore not sure who sings it

Following:530

Followers: 19

Do I get asks: Nah

Amount of sleep: Not sure depends

Lucky numbers: Nope

Wearing: top, leggings and a short

Dream job: orthodontist

Dream trip: Learn knew things

Instruments: I used to play at an orchestra I used to play the viola and I can kinda play the cello and violin

Languages: English, Spanish and trying to learn French

Favorite songs: right know Ahora de puedes marchar by super junior and could I love you any more ft Jason marz

Random fact: love to be in style, love romance movie books and well and try to love life. And was thinking of maybe making a Petition for the selection by Kiera Cass into a movie

Aesthetic: Mostly anything cute

@sukarreto-chan @csakuras @rrukka @yashiro-san @skip-beat-manga @skip-beat-fandom @theselectionissimple @fuckingchatnoir @fairytailroar @wind-tribe-girl @kara @assassinationclassroomnews @kanae-san @kinbari14 @nagisasbitch @tomoekiss @ouran-host-club-personals @ghosthunthq @americaleger @maxon-america-maxerica @maxonschreavess @marinette-cheng

[radiowrites]

@ghosthunthq has a post with links to the translations here!

i really, REALLY need to read the ghost hunt novels. do english translations exist or am i just gonna have to suck up my hatred of kanji and read them in japanese

[ghosthuntcollections]

Ghost Hunt Fandom Survey Results Part 5: Fandom Spaces and Involvement

Now that we’ve got the prompt challenge announcements out of the way, let’s move onto the next part of the survey!

Is the Ghost Hunt fandom one of your primary fandoms? [125 responses]

Yes: 69

No, but it used to be my primary fandom:  28

No, Ghost Hunt has never been my primary fandom:  28

It’s somewhat surprising, but a little over a half of the respondents considers Ghost Hunt their current primary fandom.

How involved are you in the Ghost Hunt fandom? (125 responses)

1 means “Not at all” and 5 means “My life”.

A big group of people have taken the moderate road of 3.

What are your primary fandom hang-outs? [121 responses]

Tumblr: 97

Fanfiction.net: 70

AO3: 62

Twitter: 27

Youtube: 27

Discord: 23

Facebook: 20 

Instagram: 18

Reddit: 9

Wattpad: 6

I don’t really go into fandom spaces: 6

Livejournal: 5

Forums: 5

Dreamwidth: 2

Deviantart: 2

Amino: 1

Pixiv: 1

The italicized platforms were answers through the text box.

This question was from the optional ‘About you’ section, which means not everyone answered (4 declined). I put the results here to compare with the question about the Ghost Hunt fandom in specific. See below.

Which platforms do you use to interact with other Ghost Hunt fans? [125 responses]

Tumblr: 82

Fanfiction.net: 63

AO3: 37

I don’t interact with the Ghost Hunt fandom: 31

Discord: 20

Twitter: 15

Facebook: 8

Wattpad: 7

I don’t really go into fandom spaces: 6

Youtube: 5

Livejournal: 4

Forums: 4

Dreamwidth: 3

Reddit: 2

Okay, so I forgot to add Instagram to the options, which is why it’s not listed here (Sorry). In any case, no one entered anything in the text box...

The top 3 remains the same, but it’s pretty interesting how the AO3 count takes a dive from 62 in the previous question, to 37. Overall, more GH fans hang out at Fanfiction.net than in AO3, because GH is a fandom that became popular before AO3 went online. It has remained like that since FFnet is where most of the GH fics are archived....

Do you create content about Ghost Hunt? If so, what kind of content? [125 responses]

Fanfiction: 58

No, I don't create any content: 54

Fanart: 26

Theories, analysis, meta: 10

Edits/Graphics: 9

Other: 7

Translation: 6

Organizing events: 4

Roleplay: 3

Cosplay: 3

The fandom has always been dominated by writers, so the result doesn’t come as a surprise. However, the changes since 2016 are pretty interesting. In 2016, 45 out of 80 people said that they did not create any content, and there were only 26 writers and 15 artists.

Here are the answers from the ‘Other’ text field:

currently working on a fan AMV

Tea blends

Going to be working on a theory and maybe some art after studys finish for the year

shitposts

I haven't posted my fanart for a long time now

I try to help with the wiki

I don't currently have any works, but I do have plans for something around next Halloween

Have you ever participated in any of the following Ghost Hunt-related fanwork events? [125 responses]

No, but I am aware of (some of) these events: 57

No, I was not aware of any of these events: 41

Davis Twins' Birthday (organized by @ghosthunthq): 20

Ghost Hunt Exchange (organized by @ghosthunthq): 19

Ghost Hunt Prompt Challenges (organized by @ghosthuntcollections): 7

Topic theme writing weeks (organized by Ghosties & other things): 5

Most people seem to be aware of (some of) these fanwork events, while 41 (32.8%) of the respondents were not. A total of 28 respondents (22.4%) have actually participated into one event or more.

Previous part: Fandom Spaces and Involvement

Next part: Fanwork preferences

[thisurlplease]

GH Vol 1 Ch 8 Update

So, I know this chapter has been taking forever, but I’m almost done. I have 5 pages left to translate (out of 45 x_x). After that, I’ll give it a read through, fixing anything that sounds funny, and prepare it for posting. I’m going to aim for Tuesday (Feb 27), but we shall see. Once that’s posted, I’ll get straight to translating the epilogue. It’s only 8 pages, so if I focus it should only take me a few days to get it posted. Then Volume 1 will be done!

What’s after that? As some might have noticed, I joined the art team over at @ghosthunthq. I’ll be doing a combination of working on GH fanart for over there (art suggestions are welcome), translating Volume 2, and comparing differences between the GH novel, manga, and anime since that was something a few people had requested. I also have more books to give away, so that will happen soon, too. 

Anyway, I just want to thank you all for being in the Ghost Hunt fandom. It truly makes me happy. Hopefully, this will be a productive Ghost Hunt year!

[flychansan]

Ok. So a ship that has apparently never been considered by the ghost hunt fan-base: Monk/John. It's not even there on a platonic bromance level... However it's canon takigawa goes out drinking with John (and Ayako only joined their drinking buddy group later). It's also very possible Takigawa introduced John to the types of alcohol he likes. I'm wondering how this ship has been overlooked when people already pair john with Lin (two people that almost never interact in canon).

I can tell you that it has been considered by at least one person: Amnesia by PuffinsandPelicans focuses on the Monk/John relationship. I have not read it yet, but it seems to be good. Here’s a recommendation by @ghosthunthq.

Yes, Takigawa and John definitely have some (canon) ground and history… I think it has something to do with the lack of Takigawa-centric or Takigawa-ships in general.I could say something similar about Takigawa/Hirota. They had some nice interactions in the sequel, but no one ever talks about it. I’ve also seen Lin/Takigawa in the Japanese fandom, but barely anything over here.

The amount of John/Lin fics is surprising, but I can think of a few reasons for its existence: 1.Most people tend to ship their favourite characters characters. John/Lin shippers may like both of characters enough to ship them. 2. The seme/uke trope. They’re the shortest and tallest guys in the series. A height/size kink may be involved.

[eyeliner-vampire]

Deadmen Tell No Tales; a GH birthday fic

Though there have been lots of ups and downs, Deadmen Tell No Tales is finally complete just in time for the Davis Twins Birthday celebration -- as promised! 

Summary;  Just when Noll thought it was over, he finds himself face-to-face with the one person he thought he'd never find. The worst part is, she thinks he's the ghost of the boy she killed, out for revenge. She's hell bent on taking her mistake with her to the grave, but will he be able to escape or is he about to learn what it means to be dead? Our story begins and ends with Oliver Davis.

Five chapters. 

Five stages of death. 

Read it here; ff.net / Ao3 

Snippet below the line~

.

.

Do not go gentle into that good night, -Dylan Thomas

.

.

CHAPTER 1: Denial

Part I

Oliver Davis.

It was weird how his own name sounded so foreign to his ears; how the more time he spent as Kazuya Shibuya, the more he forgot what it had been like before. There was a part of him took comfort in this new identity. This new life.

He hated that part.

"Oliver Davis-hakase." Takigawa-san said again, as if Noll's thoughts had an echo.

There was a pause in which six pairs of eyes focused on Noll, all in various states of incredulity. Noll looked away from them all, glaring down at the only person in the room who wasn't watching him as if he'd grown another head. Hara-san's slate grey eyes were turned resolutely to the floor at his feet; the only one of the Irregular's who had known who he was. Why he was here.

"Naru…" Mai fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. He couldn't help meeting her wide, brown eyes. "Is that true?"

Anger shook his fists. If he hadn't already hidden them in a tight fashion across his chest, they would have ruined his carefully constructed mask. He took a breath. Somehow, they had effortlessly unraveled all his secrets right under his nose. So effortlessly, in fact, that if he hadn't already been so furious at his own carelessness, the stormy teen might have been impressed.

"Well?"

"I don't feel the need to answer you," he said, hoping no one else noticed the slight tremble in his voice. Disgusted with his own foolhardiness, he turned toward the door. "Are the 15 minutes over?"

His words must have shocked them into stillness because no one moved to stop him. He escaped into the stuffy heat of the summer day, ignoring the worrying rattle of the cabin door as it slammed shut behind him. Finally free from prying eyes, he let his guard slip. His fingernails were beginning to bite into his palms, threatening injury. He forced him open.

Who were they to corner him into such a position? he asked himself. Who did they think they were to take all his secrets and throw them back in his face?

Friends, his mind supplied. Noll rolled his eyes skyward, pushing the thought away with a growl.

He strode further from the cabin, hands curling to fists in barely contained anger, not caring that his Chinese chaperone was not right behind him. In fact, he didn't think he could stomach it if it did. These past two years, Lin had barely allowed him a mere second to himself — it was almost a relief to be alone.

No Lin hovering over his shoulder; a constant reminder of how fragile he was. How useless. With a sudden pang, Noll set off at a brisk pace. He just needed to put as much distance as he could between them as he could. He needed space to think.

He found himself back at the door of his cabin in a few short minutes. He fumbled in his pocket for the key.

The campground was obviously outdated; the floorboards creaked, the paint was bleached from years under the blazing sun, and the locks stuck. Fighting with the old lock, it took two tried before the key slid in and another three before it would turn. Just when he was starting to consider kicking the damn thing open as a completely viable option, the lock finally clicked and the door gave way.

The cool air of the cabin's surprisingly functional A/C greeted him. It blew back his bangs and chilled the sweat gathering on his nape.

He pocketed the key again, ignoring the small western couch pushed flush against the back wall, and collapsed onto the tatami with a grunt. The second he hit the floor, exhaustion seemed to settle into every muscle. With a sigh, he crossed his arms behind his head, allowing his unfocused eyes to fall shut but not expecting to sleep.

The act of sleeping had proven to be more and more difficult over the past two years. He'd spent more nights staring blankly up at the ceiling then he could remember. And even when he'd managed to fall asleep, his dreams were plagued by screeching tires, shattering glass, and green, murky water.

[books-tea-ghosts]

Happy Birthday, Boys! Thank you, Ev for all the help with the background and encouragment! This was done for the @ghosthunthq's event for the twins with the prompt, 'Firsts', I chose 'Their first piece of candy!' A big Thank you to @beejinki, as well for writting a lovely drabble to go alongside it!! (which will be linked once I have it)

[date-a-nonbinary-suggestion]

!!! wAIT,,, UHM,, this isnt a suggest so idk if its okay but ... mod tiffo,,, when you say ghost hunt do you by any chance mean the anime ?? bc ,, thats one of special interests and i —

I do, and the manga, and the short stories. :) 

Come on over to my blog @tiffotcf or the ghost hunt fandom blog @ghosthunthq that I manage and we can chat and hook you up with some good good GH fandom. We even have a GH discord chat. Come say hey!

[radiowrites]

12 a.m.

Make a wish.

[Ghost Hunt fanfiction - 1000 word one shot - by RaisedonRadio. For the @ghosthunthq Davis Twins’ Birthday project!]

Read it on: AO3 / FF.net / Below the cut!

Prompt: A ‘first’ in the twins’ life.

“Wake up,” a voice whispered in his ear, as a finger tapped his shoulder. Seven-year-old Oliver sat upright fast enough to make his neck ache. He was disorientated in the dim light, and absolutely certain he was in the tiny ratty room he had practically grown up in.

The voice was not in Oliver’s ear, it was in his head – his twin brother’s voice, rudely invading his space without knocking on their mental inner door first. Eugene didn’t bother to knock on real doors either, so why was Oliver surprised?

Oliver tamped down the suffocating feeling as the atmosphere settled around him and became familiar. He was in their bedroom in the orphanage. They had lived there since last winter. It was starting to get chilly outside again, which meant soon one year will have passed. At least, that is what the adults had told him. They made it out like it was a big thing. Their first year here.

Oliver focused on Eugene’s face, oddly illuminated by a single candlestick’s glow. It was set in a small metal holder with a handle, and Eugene held it confidently. If there had not been an electric lamp on the nightstand between the beds, Oliver would have believed they had gone back a hundred years and it was their normal source of light.

“Where did you get that?” Oliver asked.

“Mrs. Clark’s office?”

“Is that a question or an answer? If you burn the place down, they are going to send us back.”

Eugene shook his head with a smile. “They won’t do that. There’s nowhere to send us back to.”

When Oliver’s fears surfaced and were brushed aside so easily, it unnerved him. Didn’t the idea of losing the first home where they were fed, clothed, and allowed to sleep in a timely manner scare Eugene? Did anything? Or did Eugene figure his brother did enough worrying for the both of them?

“Put it down before you drop it,” Oliver said. He tried to sound commanding, but it just came out as pleading. Sometimes, when he was trying to control or protect his brother, he heard his mother’s voice instead of his own. She had never been imposing. Every request from her came across as begging.

Eugene grumbled and set the candle down on the rickety nightstand between the beds. The nightstand wobbled and Oliver had to question if it was any safer there as he watched the flame flicker. They were on the third floor, jumping out the window just wasn’t an option.

There was a small round alarm clock on the nightstand and Oliver picked it up to prevent it from tipping into the candle. Telling time wasn’t something he was good at yet. But he could understand the concept. The hands were almost together at the top. And since it was still dark out, that meant it was close to a new day.

“So,” Eugene said. He paused and sat down on Oliver’s legs. “I overheard they can’t find our birth certificates.”

Eugene couldn’t speak the language well, yet he seemed to understand it intuitively – much better than Oliver. He managed to be a part of so many conversations without people noticing. Maybe it was because they thought he couldn’t understand. Or maybe he just could go invisible, like the people he talked to who no one else – Oliver included – could see. It was a skill Oliver would never praise or encourage, even though it did turn out to be useful often.

Eugene continued, “They said maybe our mother gave birth at home and we were never recorded.”

Oliver frowned and shifted his legs out from under his brother. They were going numb. “Can someone just have a baby at home like that?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to ask.”

That sounded like a conversation Oliver definitely did not want to be a part of. “So we really don’t exist.”

“Yeah,” Eugene said. “They think we were seven years old when we came here. Alex just asked me when was our birthday. Do you know…?”

The question seemed to echo in the room. Of course they didn’t know. There had never been a mention of a birthday. No presents, no treats, no congratulations for surviving another year. They only knew of the concept from seeing scenes on the TV in the rare occasion it had been on when their father was home, and he had fallen asleep drunk in front of the device. And they had known to never ask why they were not allowed to experience such things.

“Then we pick a day,” Eugene said.

“You can’t just pick a day to be your birthday,” Oliver said.

“Stop trying to be reasonable and listen for a moment,” Eugene said. “They will decide on something if we don’t. And I want to have our first birthday together, just the two of us.”

He picked up the candle and pointed to the clock Oliver still had in his hands. “Count down to the new day, alright? Then we’ll blow out the candle together.”

“Why?”

Eugene’s mouth opened in surprise. “Uh, I don’t know. But it’s what they do. We don’t have a cake or anything, but just a candle should work, right?”

The large plain candlestick didn’t look like the ones they put on birthday cakes, but Oliver didn’t think it was necessary to point it out. He watched the tiny third hand march around the clock face. Another revolution should do it. “And do you even know what day it is?”

“Yes,” Eugene said. “I saw a calendar today.” Then there was silence. Oliver watched another twenty seconds go by.

“September eighteenth,” Eugene finally said, then exclaimed, “No! It would be the nineteenth now.”

“Not yet,” Oliver said, his eyes intent on the clock. “Another thirty seconds or so.”

Eugene went quiet, and they watched until all three hands aligned at the twelve for barely an intake of breath before the seconds hand moved on. In a swift move, Eugene clicked off the lamp and held up the candle.

“Happy birthday,” he said brightly.

As one, they blew out the candle. The room went dark. The ticking of the clock was magnified.

“Happy birthday,” Oliver murmured.

…

Notes:

The concept of them choosing their birth date is a headcanon. It does not have any basis in fact (that I know of).

Also, writing pre-Davis era can be difficult since they did not even have their names yet, but trying to use the initials can be confusing to new or just more casual fans.  So maybe you noticed they never ‘say’ their names in the dialogue…? They’re only in the narrative.

Thanks for reading. :)