#ficbymax

[dex-xe]

Yo I hope ur still vibing in these hard times! It would be epic if you could write caphrey fluff for any of 9, 12, 16, 25 or 40, but anything caphrey would be fab tbh coz they're v underrated :))

Captain & Humphrey Fluff #16: “Can you please just hold me?”

Captain & Humphrey Fluff #9: “You took all the pillows so I’m using you as one.”

Captain & Humphrey Fluff #12: “Could you say that again?” “Were you not listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.”

Captain & Humphrey Fluff #25: “Your hair is really soft.”

Captain & Humphrey Fluff #40: “Why are you scared of loving?”

(Was it necessary for me to combine literally all of these into one whole fic?? Nope. Did I decide to make it difficult for myself and do it anyway?? Yes of course I did!! Anyway,, hope you enjoy this one!!)

Prompt list

Inbox

Rain cascaded down the windows of the TV room illuminated by the light from the flickering television that Alison had left on for the Captain. It was time for his daily alone time, watching war documentaries and relaxing.

He settled back into the sofa, finally allowing his military-grade posture to drop and relaxing into a cosy evening by himself with his beloved documentaries.

“Hello!” The Captain was snapped from his show as a voice rang out around the silent Button House. “Hello! Is someone there?” The shouting wasn’t too far from the Captain, outside the window probably as it was muffled by the storm.

The Captain sprang up and crossed towards the window, leaning out into the pouring rain to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was calling out to him. Droplets of water coursed through the Captain’s body; he’d rather liked the rain during his life, the feeling of water running from his hairline down his face, the cold comfort of shivering in his boots only to enter the warmth of a fireside glow. But in death, it was almost painful, like pins and needles striking in little pinpricks across his skin.

“Hello?” He called into the night.

“Captain!” A voice the Captain recognised to be Humphrey shouted from above him. The Captain spun around and leant backwards outside the window to reach up blindly trying to catch hold of wherever Humphrey might be, cloaked by the rain and the night.

“Left a bit!” Humphrey said. The Captain flailed his hands across the roof ledge above him. “Bit more!” He finally felt the solid mass of Humphrey’s head in contrast to the faded texture of the living world. Grabbing hold of Humphrey by the hair, the Captain yanked Humphrey back inside the house, both of them crashing through the window and onto the TV room floor.

“Good lord, Humphrey!” The Captain said, getting up to dust himself off. “How long have you been out there?”

“Four days, I think. Robin threw me up there while playing football with Julian, I’m not convinced he entirely understood the rules.” Humphrey joked.

“Blimey, did you not think to shout earlier, man?” The Captain picked Humphrey up off the floor where he had landed by the sofa.

“I did, usually Julian puts the volume far too loud for anyone to hear my weak little voice screaming for help!”

“Well, you’re in now.” It had taken the Captain a while to get used to Humphrey’s headlessness, but after 75 years he was now more than comfortable to hold him while talking. “Do you want me to take you somewhere? Your bedroom, perhaps?” The Captain offered.

“I’ve given up on having a bedroom, Cap. If I get taken there, it’ll be weeks until anyone finds me again.” Humphrey smiled, masking any sadness that tinged his words. “I’ll stay here and watch your show with you, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh- of course, yeah. Fine,” The Captain said. “Where- where would you like me to sit you?”

“Can you please just hold me? Been a while, you know.” Humphrey said, without an inch of discomfort - an emotion that was coursing through the Captain.

“Oh.”

“You don’t have to, but just stick me on your lap or something. Would be nice.” Humphrey smiled and blinked up unwavering at the stoic Captain.

“Why?” The Captain asked. Humphrey rolled his eyes at the naivety.

“Because you took all the pillows so I’m using you as one,” Humphrey joked, nodding towards the preprepared nest of cushions the Captain had tucked himself into - like a child feeling sorry for himself on a sick day. The Captain glanced between the soft and welcoming refuge of the sofa and the table by his side, debating where to place his friend.

He eventually gave in to the look in Humphrey’s eyes and settled himself back into the cushions, placing Humphrey carefully on his thighs. His hands came to rest awkwardly either side of his lap, making a point not to go anywhere near Humphrey again.

“So, what’s this show about then?” Humphrey asked. The Captain huffed and pointing at the screen, black and white footage of tanks rolling across deserts. Humphrey laughed. “Point taken! Tell me about the tanks, then. I know you want to.”

“Well, this one is the A.15 Mark IV Crusader, one of the most popular models of the time.” The Captain began. “It is a rather good mover, can be shifted about with incredible ease but actually rather light-armoured and under-armed. Very vulnerable to attack once it’s in the firing line.”

Humphrey hummed in acknowledgement.

“It is crucial in the war effort, absolutely vital in the fight against Fritz. 1941 - the North Africa Front, they’re refitted for desert conditions. Quite exotic out there, you know.” The Captain nodded wisely, reminiscing about the stories he’d heard from the front.

“Could you say that again?” Humphrey asked quietly.

“Were you not listening?”

“No I was, I just like hearing your voice.” The Captain spluttered as Humphrey spoke, straightening up at the compliment.

“You don’t want to listen to this old walrus blabber on for hours,” the Captain said.

“Take the compliment, Captain.” Humphrey scolded. “It’s not a weakness to take love.”

“Whatever are you talking about?” The Captain mumbled, his gaze never leaving the familiar images of his tanks.

“Why are you so scared of loving, hey?” Humphrey chuckled.

“A soldier isn’t afraid of anything.”

“Apart from his own emotions, apparently.” The Captain shifted uncomfortably, oppressed by the weight of Humphrey’s questioning as well as the literal weight of him resting on his lap, pinning him into the chair. “I’m perfectly happy showing my love for friends, you should try it sometime.”

“Anyway, it’s not love, is it.” The Captain stated. “Paying somebody compliments.”

“Can be,” Humphrey said. “If you want it to be, huh? Anything can be: giving little compliments, talking about how you feel, listening to others, touching. All are good, Cap. Go on try a little, 75 years can’t be good for you.”

After a moment of awkward hesitation, the Captain raised his hands from beside him, floundering around Humphrey’s head and clenching and unclenching his fists. Slowly reaching forward and keeping his eyes transfixed on the screen, he threaded his calloused fingers into Humphrey’s long, fluffy hair and brushed across his scalp, relaxing into the feel of it.

“Your hair is really soft,” he said quietly.

“Thank you,” Humphrey whispered, smiling at the Captain’s tiny step forward in allowing just a touch of emotion out.

[dex-xe]

so i did part 1 of this back in like march but we're going for a part 2!!

So please send me a Ghosts pairing or a situation or anything and I'll get writing!!

Prompt List #2

Feel free to use these for whatever you may want! Credit is not necessary.

PROMPT LIST #1 - PROMPT LIST #2 - PROMPT LIST #3

Fluff

“I’ve learnt to love you.”

“They’re good for each-other.” 

“(She/he/they) don’t compare to you. No one does.”

“Shut up and hold me.”

“I’m not leaving. Ever.”

“I promised to love you forever.”

“You’ll find your way back to me, I know you will.”

“I’ll take care of you.”

“Can you sing that song for me again?”

“I don’t know if you know this but, I love you.”

“I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…” 

“It looks good on you.” 

“You’re the reason I’m still here.”

“I love you and all but…” 

“You saved me.”

“Would you like to stay?” 

“I’ll take the couch.” 

“I’m quite comfortable here.”

“How did I manage to get you.” 

“Maybe I’m just lucky.”

“It’s us agaisnt the world.”

“Are you hurt? What happened?”

“You fainted, are you alright?”

“What do you remember?”

“I think (she/he/they/I) rubbed off on you.”

“Don’t let go.”

“I promise.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“I don’t want to wake up.”

“Find me again.”

“Don’t forget me.”

“Well it’s a good thing I don’t plan on doing that.”

“Please don’t say goodbye.”

“I wish we didn’t we have to say goodbye.”

“You didn’t think you’d be able to get rid of me just yet did you?”

“Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?” 

“I could never get tired of you.”

“Are you alright?” “I will be.”

“No you don’t understand, I have to get back!”

“I’m not your princess.” 

“You say you hate it but your red face is telling me otherwise.” 

“For (her/him/them), (I’ll do) anything.”

“(She’s/he’s/they’re) worth the wait.”

“I can be your reason why.” 

“This is not what I meant when I told you to fall for me.” 

“I don’t know if I want to yell at you or kiss you.”

“Is it that hard to believe that I love you?”

“Stop flirting with me, I’m not going to fall for it.”

“Is somebody jealous?”

“Can you quit being sappy for five seconds?”

Angst

“Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” 

“It’s always a losing game with you.”

“If it means anything, I love you.”

“I must’ve loved (her/him/them) a lot.”

“You’re in-love with somebody else.”

“(She/he/they/I) lost (her/his/their/my) soulmate.”

“It wasn’t supposed to end this way.” 

“I’ve moved on.”

“This isn’t the person I fell in-love with.”

“It doesn’t matter unless I’m their last right?”

“Why are you still fighting?”

“You were the one who walked out, not me.”

“Please don’t make me choose.”

“You’re choosing (her/him/them) over me?”

“You don’t get to call me that.”

“You lost the right when you walked out of my life.”

“What happened to forever?”

“Don’t you remember me?”

“Would you have said yes?”

“Please don’t make me choose.”

“You can’t just act like nothings wrong when it is!”

“You’re with me for a reason, right?”

“Why would (I/she/he) fall for someone else?”

“I haven’t seen you in months.”

“You’ll always be a friend.”

“Did you love me (me/her/him/them)?”

“I’m sorry.” “For what?” “Everything.”

“I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

“You have to let me go.”

“It’s all in my head. This isn’t actually happening, you’re not real!”

“Look me in the eyes and repeat what you just said.”

“Why are you letting (her/him/them/me) do this to you?” “Because I love (her/him/them/you).”

“Would you do the same for me?”

“What happened to all of our promises?”

“This was our forever.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

“It’s been years, can’t you just give me a chance.”

“I’m not ready to get hurt again.” 

“Because I know when I open my eyes this will all turn out to be a dream and I’ll lose you again.”

“I’m not ready to lose you.”

“No, not again. Please!”

“You just had to go and ruin everything.”

“Why do we have to keep hiding? I’m tired of being kept a secret.” 

“You know this means nothing right?”

“It’s not my fault you believe(d) everything I (say/said).”

“You promised forever.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe me?”

“Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.” 

“Why did you have to go and fall in love with me?” 

“I shouldn’t still be in love with you.” 

General

“I still find myself falling asleep with you on my mind.”

“Do you not remember me?”

“I thought you said wouldn’t fall in-love.” 

“(She’s/he’s/they’re) just a friend.” “We used to be friends to be ‘just friends’ too.”

“I’d never fall in-love.”

“I’ll wait for you.” 

“Just take my hand.”

“You’re weak.”

“Was that part of the bet?”

“At least I kept my promises.”

“Take me back.”

“I need (her/him/them).” 

“Do you miss me?”

“What happened to us?”

“People say I’m heartless.”

“Another nightmare?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Is that a threat?”

“Hold onto me.”

“I have nothing.”

“It’s killing you.”

“Maybe you should give up.” 

“I’m tired of running.”

“(She/he/they) changed (her/his/their) world.”

“Just like we promised.”

“I can’t leave.”

“You’re a bad liar did you know?” 

“I could’ve helped.”

“I never wanted any of this.”

“Only you.” 

“Come home.”

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

“Just say the word.”

“Well, I can scratch that off my bucket list.”

“We really shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Do you trust me?” “No.”

“It was your idea!”

“What happened to your face?”

“All you had to do was ask.” 

“I don’t like you.” 

“I haven’t seen you in months.”

“Why is it always you?”

“Don’t let go.”

“Who said I ever stopped?”

“Get out of my head.”

“You flinched.”

“Is it worth it? Risking everything just for a chance.”

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

“I’m not going to fight you.”

“Every time I think I’m close to finally figuring you out you end up surprising me.”

A/N: While a majority of these are mine there are a few I have found online/was inspired by

[dex-xe]

I'm so proud of you. Cap and Alison 😊

Alison & Captain Fluff #11: “I’m so proud of you”

(This ended up being more angsty than I wanted it but its still super fluffy and sweet and  I’m really happy with how it turned out,, the obvious answer was I think for Alison to say it to Cap about coming out but I decided to flip it a little!! Thank you so much for this ask, this was a really fun one!!)

TW:// grief, death, etc

Prompt list

Inbox

It was the opening night of Button House Hotel. The entire day had been filled with Mike and Alison rushing frantically around the house arranging and rearranging the flowers, making and then remaking beds, placing the little finishing touches to their masterpiece, their life’s work. Five long years of hard graft was finally about to pay off as the arrival of the very first paying guests was imminent.

Alison dashed through the corridors in search of Mike, clutching a red ribbon in her fist. Her husband had taken a backseat for much of the opening night preparations but had made one single demand: he wanted to cut a thick red ribbon over the front door with a pair of novelty-sized scissors, to be met with mediocre applause from the crowd. So there Alison was, mere hours before the first guests arrived, sprinting through the house to try and make Mike’s dreams come true.

“Alison!” Someone called after her as she ran. “Alison!, Alison!” She spun around dramatically to find the Captain jogging down the hallway trying to catch her attention with his swagger stick. “Alison! Wait a minute!”

“What, Captain? I’m a little busy, if you can’t tell,” Alison huffed, continuing to march away from him towards the stairs. “I’ve gotta stick up this ribbon so Mike can have his ridiculous ‘small town mayor opening a leisure centre’ moment. Thank the Lord it’s before the guests arrive and only in front of family, hey?”

“I would just take a moment of your time, Alison,” the Captain quickly overtook Alison’s marching and stopped abruptly in front of her, blocking her path to the stairs.

“What is it?” Alison asked turning the ribbon over in her hands.

“Are Michael’s family making an appearance? For the grand opening?” The Captain asked.

“Yeah, they should be here soon,” Alison said. “They wanted to come for, and I quote, ‘the best day of their son’s life’. So, you know, it’s good to see how much they value our wedding day.”

“Right. And your mother and father shan’t be here?” He enquired.

“That would be a little difficult,” Alison mumbled.

“They should surely be here to witness their little girl’s achievements, yes?” The Captain cleared his throat and smiled down at Alison. “They should be able to relish in the success of their darling girl.”

“I’m not sure Eastwood Cemetery really allow their residents day trips,” Alison smirked.

If the Captain had any blood, he was sure it would drain from his face, and neck, and chest, and all the way down to his toes. Perhaps it would have drained right out of his soles and left him a mere pool of anxious WWII commander on the corridor floor. Alison clocked the horror on his face and chuckled at his agape mouth and wide eyes.

“It was a long time ago, it’s alright to joke about it now,” she said with a mischievous grin.

“You’ve never said anything?”

“You’ve never asked.” An awkward silence fell between the pair, with the Captain not quite sure of an appropriate response. “Is that all you wanted, Cap?”

“No,” he said quickly. “I- this house, I mean- I think it will make a rather wonderful hotel.”

“You’ve changed your tune since we first moved in,” Alison said, a smug smile overtaking her. Despite the time pressure, she couldn’t help but want to relish in the usually authoritative and disdainful Captain eat his words so she leant back against the wall, satisfied to rejoice in his grovelling.

“Well yes, I understand I was hesitant at first. But I know yourself and Michael now, and I respect that you are doing what is best for yourselves and this house. And us too. I just wished to say that I-,” he trailed off and glanced down at his shuffling shoes.

“You wanted to say what?” Alison asked.

“That I’m so proud of you,” he finished meeting Alison’s gaze, blue eyes boring into her soul. “I am so very proud of you.”

Alison’s lip began to quiver, her face crumpled and fat tears threatened to spill over onto flushed cheeks. She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve, not wanting the Captain to react irrationally at her emotion, as he was prone to doing.

“Oh dear!” The Captain floundered. “Alison, I’m afraid this hasn’t quite had the desired effect. Do not cry! I shall fetch Patrick, he’s rather better at this than I am.” He waved his arms dramatically around Alison, as if trying to comfort her without touching and making himself feel ill.

“No!” Alison tried to grab his arm, moving straight through him. “No, it’s okay! I- thank you. No one has said that to me in a little while, Captain, that’s all.”

“Well, hmm. Yes, I understand that now, what with your parents being- I mean to say that I am proud of all the work you have dedicated to a house I’ve seen neglected for so many years. I was rather apprehensive to place the house in new hands, especially such young and inexperienced ones. But you have taken us ghosts into consideration and given us appreciation we have not seen in many a decade. Your hotel will be wonderful, and you have done a bally marvellous job these past years.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Alison sniffled quietly and gazed up at the Captain.

“No need to say anything. My musings are finished now, you may return to the party planning.”

“I- Captain. I know I get on your nerves, you don’t exactly hide that well.” The Captain moved to interject, but was left opening and closing his mouth like a confused fish. “I know we argue, but I really appreciate your support. I’ve never really had- I’ve not had that for a long time.”

They smiled at each other, ethereal in the beams of dusty sunlight coursing through the window.

“I love you, Captain,” Alison whispered, afraid of what the Captain might say. “I wish I could hug you, this is so unfair. All I want is to hug you!”

The Captain chuckled and wrapped his arms around Alison’s shoulders, not touching her in the slightest but kidding them both into appreciating the physical affection.

“And I, you.” He muttered, quiet enough they could both ignore it had ever happened. Nobody need know the secretive affection the Captain held for Alison: he had never been a father in life but in death was more than willing to take that role and hold her the best way he could, if only for a fleeting moment.

[dex-xe]

This idea has not left my head since season 3 so I finally wrote it, enjoy!!

[dex-xe]

A long time in the making but there's fially a sequel!!

[dex-xe]

(And an ask requesting Captain + anyone Angst #5 - I lost all the asks by accident cause I’m an idiot!!)

Pat & the Captain Angst #5: “I don’t want to feel this. I want to be numb again.”

Pat & the Captain General #48: “I won’t hurt you.”

(I combined these three because I really felt they’d work well together. I didn’t wanna make the romance obvious but it’s definitely implied!! Anyway, thank you to you for sending these I really love this one!!)

Prompt list

Inbox

Pat had always felt fairly content with his tiny attic bedroom. Four walls barely metres apart, a sloped ceiling, and small window that gave him a rather pleasant view of the gardens of Button House. He’d chosen the room mere hours after his tragic and sudden death. One glance at the miniature single bed tucked into the corner was all he got before he was forced to dedicate his afterlife to those four walls, hoping his choice of attic room would place the least amount of burden on the apprehensive ghosts already haunting the other bedrooms. It had suited him just fine. Being a man of small stature, he wasn’t particularly bothered by the cramped nature of his quarters, always one to make do without complaining.

That was all until the past week, when the suffocating closeness of his bedroom became abundantly clear. A few nights prior, the Captain had entered Pat’s room following their nightly patrol. They’d been deep in discussion about the best way to build a shelter; so that if, in the unlikely event the deceased pair managed to get lost in the wilderness, they’d thrive and survive. The conversation wasn’t finished so Pat didn’t hesitate to invite the Captain in to sit and continue.

Very quickly, Pat had realised his mistake. He was hesitant to even call it a mistake but, as the discussion developed and continued, they had strayed, as ghosts often did, to reminiscing about their lives. Comfortable ground for Pat, slightly more treacherous for the Captain. It had started innocuous enough with the Captain regaling the odd story of woodland walks and the flora and fauna he had discovered.

But soon enough, Pat had watched the Captain begin to slacken both physically and mentally and his stories had become looser and more personal. He told tales of his overbearing father and doting mother, his more successful and respectable older brother, and his grandmother; his adoring grandmother who lived up on a hill and waited every day for her nervous little grandson to trek up to help her bake bread and plant flowers. Pat couldn’t lose the golden opportunity that had fallen straight into his lap.

The Captain had returned the following two nights and Pat had learned more about him in three days than in the previous seventy years, and he was determined to bring the Captain to a place he wasn’t even sure the soldier knew existed. Very strategically, the Captain had been avoiding bringing up anything that could potentially lead to his romantic life, he’d refused to indulge Pat in talking about Carol and had quickly shut down Pat’s amusing first date anecdotes.

It reached night four before Pat finally broached the subject, waiting for the perfect moment. The pair sat in comfortable silence, curled up and knees pressed together, in the window seat of Pat’s miniature bedroom gazing out over the shadowy gardens.

“The stars are rather bright this evening, no cloud cover, see?” The Captain muttered contemplating the inky black sky. “I wasn’t much of an astronomer in life, I can’t say I know very much about the cosmos but I can appreciate its beauty.”

“I don’t know much either,” Pat confessed, but he pointed up into the sky just to the Captain’s right. “But that one’s Ursa Major.”

“It is?”

“No idea, could be!” Pat chuckled. The Captain smiled softly at him and turned back to the view. “The best date I ever had was taking Carol stargazing.” “Mhmm,” the Captain shuffled awkwardly in his seat, but said nothing to drive Pat away. So he pressed on.

“We’d only been together a little while. We wrapped up in so many layers and went up Bromley Hill, I held her hand the whole way up, to keep her warm, you know? And we lay down and just talked and drank hot chocolate. It was so wonderful: that was the night I realised I was in love with her. Yeah, good night!”

“Sounds lovely,” the Captain mumbled. Silence fell between them as Pat waited patiently for the Captain to talk, a technique he’d picked up over the past nights: give the Captain a minute to think and he’ll be willing to share.

“When the soldiers were getting rowdy of an evening,” he began slowly. “I would take myself off. The banks of the lake have a rather wonderful view of the sky. I’d just lie there and wait until the early hours, when the men had disappeared for bed.”

“A regular occurrence?”

“Now and again,” the Captain said non-committed. “Occasionally, very occasionally. I wouldn’t be alone, friends would join.”

“Friends?”

“Friend.”

“This friend would keep you company?” Pat asked carefully, eliciting the smallest hum of agreement from the Captain. “It’s nice, isn’t it? To have someone to share a night with?”

“And what precisely do you mean by that, sir?” The Captain turned suddenly. Pat realised he’d stuck his foot in it - rookie mistake really. He sat staring back at the Captain in silence before deciding on a response: in for a penny. “Well, you and this... friend. You’re like myself and Carol. Someone you can talk to, relax with, and truly be yourself around.”

“And how do you gather that from me telling you of my friend?” The Captain interrogated.

“You wouldn’t let just anyone gaze with you,” Pat pushed his glasses further up his nose. “I know you, Cap. They must have meant a great deal to you to let them anywhere close to you.”

“Do not compare him to your wife, Patrick,” the Captain huffed and turned back to the window.

“Why not?” Pat pushed.

“You loved Carol,” the Captain said. “She was your wife, he was but a friend.”

“And?” Pat avoided the Captain’s glare pointedly.

“Completely different situation.”

“You know, Captain, I’m not entirely sure that’s true.” The Captain spluttered and raised his stick towards Pat. His eyes were wide and very, very afraid of wherever the conservation was going. Pat half thought he might get up and run from the room as, like a deer in the headlights, his fight or flight reflex was taking far too long to kick in.

“Now listen here!” He stuttered. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating about Havers but I shall not sit here and listen to you slander a good man. You did not know him, he was nothing like your beloved Carol.”

“I wasn’t saying anything about him,” Pat argued. “But he was ‘beloved’ to you, as you put it?”

“How dare you-,” the Captain started. “I don’t understand, what are you- I don’t understand? He was never... ‘beloved’. Not by me.”

“You cared for this Havers?” Pat waited before the Captain nodded slowly. “You cared what he thought, what he had to say?” Another nod. “You wanted to spend time around him, make him happy? He made you happy?”

“What is this is aid of?” “Your face would go red when you saw him, yeah? Hands would get sweaty? You wanted to be the very best version of yourself in front of him?” Pat locked eyes with the man opposite him, both deathly afraid of the unspoken words. “You found him... physically attractive?”

“Now, what are you-,”

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, Captain.” Pat said quietly. “But that sounds rather like what love is.”

“No, it isn’t. It wasn’t.” The four walls of Pat’s tiny bedroom closed in, suffocating the pair despite their  lack of need for breathing. “It wasn’t love.”

“Did you ever feel that stomach-flippy thing? When he walked into the room? Like you’re going to explode with emotion, or be sick, or perhaps both,” Pat asked. “Think about your other friends. Think about Robin. Does that happen when you see him? Or Mary? Kitty? Does that feeling happen?”

“No.”

“Now think of your Havers.”

Oh God. The Captain’s stomach fell over itself with the image of Havers’ dark eyes floating in front of him. His insides twisted and turned as he listened to Havers’ voice describing the intricate details of their weapon plans, the silky smooth tones of his voice flowing straight into the Captain leaving him shell shocked. How had he never noticed that feeling before, that horrifying swirling feeling. It made him feel both comfortingly warm and ridiculously sick at the same time, as if every illegal thought he’d ever had for Havers were about to burst out from inside him.

“It’s there, isn’t it?” Pat prompted. The fear in the Captain’s eyes told everything Pat needed to know, guilt overrode his body. “It’s okay, Cap! You’re okay.”

“I- I- is that?” He stammered. “It- love?”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” Pat conceded.

“No. No, it’s not love! What are you talking about?” The Captain was overcome with anger all of a sudden, frustration threatening to spill out. “He was, well. No, he was a ‘he’ to begin with. That’s not- that’s not how love works.”

“Love is love is love,” Pat told him. “You can fall in love with anyone. Legal now, Cap.”

“I- I’m sorry,” the Captain’s head was scrambled.

“Don’t you dare say sorry, mate. You’ve bugger all to be sorry about.”

“I really- I don’t want to feel this. I want to be numb again,” he stumbled over his words, avoiding Pat’s gaze and pointedly staring out of the window instead. “I can’t feel this-.”

“Feel it, please,” Pat grabbed the Captain’s wrist in a tight two-handed grip and locked him into place. “It’s not healthy to keep everything inside.”

“We’re dead, Patrick!” The Captain urged. “We have no need to feel, no health to maintain.”

“Up here,” Pat tapped the Captain’s head carefully, the cold tip of his finger brushing through the thin grey hairs at his temple sending a small shiver through the Captain’s spine. “Healthy, up here. You need to take better care of yourself. It’s like a dam, holding back gallons of water simply increasing the pressure inside. Let a little emotion spill over once in a while, keeps your head on right.”

“Water will not spill, Patrick, it will flood. And then where will we be left: vulnerable to enemy attack, that’s where.”

“There’s no enemy,” the Captain moved to interrupt. “No, no enemy. Just allies. Let me in, just for a little while.”

“I can’t-,” he stopped, a single tear tracking its way down his cheek, burning hot onto his skin. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” Pat finally released his tense grip on the Captain and opened his arms, nodding to give the Captain silent permission.

“I won’t hurt you,” Pat whispered, brushing his hand over the scratchy khaki uniform at the Captain’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be the big, brave Captain you always try to be, not in front of me. Just for a moment, let go.”

After only a moment’s hesitation, the Captain dove forward head butting Pat in the chest, pushing him back against the window frame and practically folding himself in half to curl into the open arms. Seventy years of denied feeling poured out of the Captain to pool in their laps, warming their lonely ghostly forms. Pat dropped his legs to either side of the Captain, allowing him to curl closer and lie steadfast against his shoulder taking as much affection as he could having suppressed anything he wanted for years.

“Thank you for talking to me,” Pat whispered. “It’s a big thing to come to terms with, a big, big thing. But a good thing, yes? It’s good that you cared for him, good you felt a way you didn’t know you had. It’s all very, very good and very, very okay. And it’s for you to know and me to hopefully find out a little bit more about, okay? No one else need know.” He paused, his calloused hand finding the Captain’s in the darkness. “You can talk to me, Captain. Whatever you want to say, whenever, and I’ll listen. Hey, I’ll listen to you rant and rave about the shades of brown in his eyes for hours if it means you can start feeling again. Is that okay?” The Captain nodded vigorously, unable to trust himself to produce words.

Pat’s tiny bedroom no longer felt quite so suffocating to either man, nor did it feel like the dingy attic, barely tall enough to stand straight, that it had before. Instead it was a sanctuary to whispered secrets and profound confessions of adoration, four beige walls protecting the Captain in a way his emotional barriers had never quite been sufficient at. He tilted back to glance up at Pat, who smiled softly down at him running a hand over the Captain’s back and leaning to rest his chin among grey hair. The gentle look in Pat’s blazing blue eyes causing the Captain’s stomach to give off a familiarly warm flipping sensation.

[dex-xe]

if you’re still taking requests i’d love to see “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?” with alison and thomas cause u know that lil bitch gets panic attacks/meltdowns and i feel like alison’d be hella good at talking him thru em

Thomas, Alison, Pat & the Captain General #23: “Hey, look at me. Focus on me alright?”

(So this is a fic for these three, I couldn’t decide who to write so here’s all three of them trying to deal with an upset Thomas. Also,, for some reason these are getting no interaction on ao3, yes they’re on there as well, so if anyone wants to go check out some of my stuff on there pls do @/littlemouseinapartyhat :))) Also I know all the fics so far have focussed on a select few characters but the next one will be the Button House women on a sleepover,, spoiler alert Fanny joins in and has fun :P)

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Far too many times, Pat and the Captain had discovered Thomas buried to his eyes in the murky green water of the lake. It was hardly a surprise to either when Thomas had bolted from the house and dove into the water with the arrival of a new Lord Byron with film crew in tow. As soon as his overwhelming emotional meltdown had begun, Pat and the Captain had shared one single glance across the film set, a knowing glance of full understanding of what they must do later. Their usual nightly patrol was punctuated by a detour to the lake where they, like usual, would sit on the grassy bank beside the water for two hours persuading Thomas to come inside. They’d eventually peacefully appease him and watch as Thomas took the long and silent walk back to the house where he’d dramatically flop into his bed - and remain there for days on end. Pat waited until the Captain had finished gawking after Adam to catch his arm and drag him swiftly towards the lake. They stood on the shoreline watching Thomas huff and puff in the dark water, running his fingers repeatedly through his soft curly hair. “So what do we do exactly?” Someone asked. Unaware they had been followed, both men spun around to find Alison behind them, hands on hips gazing out at Thomas. Pat turned back to face the lake, stepping up the algae ridden waterline. “Thomas!” He called. “Thomas! Are you alright?” Thomas didn’t respond. Instead ducking further below the surface to drop his nose under the water too. “Listen, Thorne!” The Captain shouted out to him. “It’s getting dark, you must come inside at once.” “Does he listen?” Alison asked. “Eventually,” the Captain sighed. “You might care to take a seat, Alison. He can take a little while, whiny child.” Alison perched on the edge of the bank, picking at the grass as she rested her chin on her knees, ready to watch whatever Pat and the Captain had planned for the poet. “Thomas, do you want to talk about it?” Pat shouted. “I get you’re upset, mate. But come out and we can have a chat, yeah? What’s wrong?” Thomas stayed silent, staring blankly back as if not a single thought was running through his mind. “I know you don’t feel well, and I won’t pretend to know what’s happening in that little brain of yours but talking it out will make you feel a thousand times better, I promise,” Pat told him. “Now listen here, Thomas. I demand you listen to Patrick and vacate the water with haste,” the Captain yelled towards him. “The film crew’s left, Tom, nothing left here to worry about,” Pat said. “You can come inside and calm down a touch, yeah? Letting it all out will do you the world of good.” “The sun is setting, Thorne. Whatever this silliness is, you had better push it down deep and come inside!” “Captain, that’s not exactly the best advice at the moment,” Pat told the Captain covering his frustration with a small chuckle. “We’re here to fetch him from the water, not provide a therapy session.” Pat turned fully towards the Captain and held his hands out to try and placate him, hoping he wouldn’t resort to his idea of talking never helping - as he had insisted with Fanny only weeks earlier. “If we find out what is troubling him, we can get him out.” “But-“ Alison stood up abruptly and stepped between the two of them. “Okay, well you guys aren’t helping him in the slightest,” she said. “What? I’m helping?” They said simultaneously, snapping to face each other and shoot incredulous looks. “You’re not doing anything!” “Okay, my turn,” Alison returned to watching Thomas’ morose face above the water. She took her phone from her back pocket and dropped it onto the bank before pulling off her heavy green jumper. She stepped into the lake, muddy water splashing about her ankles and coating the cuffs of her jeans. She sighed at the thought of slaving over laundry the next morning to recover her best jeans. “What the bally hell are you doing?” The Captain questioned. “You can’t seriously be going out there?” Pat said. “Fetch Mike if I start to drown, hey?” She said before wading deeper into the water. She was pleasantly surprised that she could keep her feet planted firmly on the silty bottom of the lake as the freezing winter water pooled around her legs, then hips, all the way up to her shoulders, and to the point where she had to push up onto her tiptoes to keep her head above the surface. Reaching Thomas within a matter of moments, Alison stopped in front of him and dropped ever so slightly so she was eye to eye with him. “Thomas,” she said quietly. “Hey, look at me. Focus on me, alright?” She reached a dripping hand from out of the water and reached as if to cup his cheek, hovering millimetres away. “Can you hear me, Thomas?” Thomas nodded jerkily, trying not to break his eye contact with Alison. “Good, you don’t need people shouting advice at you from the shoreline. You need someone to bring you back down, don’t you?” He nodded again. “You’re floating, aren’t you? Well above the lake and you feel like you can’t come down because everything that’s happening in that head is keeping you up. I’m right, aren’t I?” “Yes,” his voice cracked. “I’ve been there, Thomas,” Alison confessed quietly. “I’ve felt that: where you desperately need someone to catch hold of your leg and just pull you back down. It’s a panic attack, Thomas, or something similar; I’m not sure but it’s nothing to be afraid of. I just need you to focus on me, yeah? And the water. The water? The water! It makes you feel sick, doesn’t it? Can you feel it, can you feel that nauseous feeling like when you touch someone living? It’s there, isn’t it?” A thought overtook Alison, a simple but risky idea. It could bring Thomas straight back to reality, or it could make him feel a thousand times worse. Her hand stayed in position close to Thomas’ face, as she flicked her attention to it slightly. Leaning forward, her hand pressed into his cold form fading through his skin momentarily. Thomas took a deep breath, he had no need to but the overwhelming emotion had stopped his breaths for so very long. “Can you feel it? Does it make you feel, Thomas?” She whispered, trying hard to keep her balance on the lake bed and not fall straight through Thomas. “Fair Alison,” Thomas whispered. “I- I feel sick.” “Good, it’s called ‘grounding’. Using the things around you to bring you back to reality. I’m right here with you, so use my touch, my voice,” Alison said calmly. She couldn’t help but think about the first anxiety attack she’d ever experienced. Year eleven, minutes before a presentation on igneous rocks - Mike had been the one to sit on the corridor floor with her and coach her through it, using the very same techniques she was employing for Thomas. “When there are people in the house, people who work to mock me, it is as if every noise, every colour, every person is simply too vibrant,” he whispered, barely audible to Alison. “It is as if every bone in my body is being accosted by the senses, too many senses.” “I know, I know,” Alison muttered. “I know, Thomas. But you mustn’t drown yourself in the lake! This doesn’t feel particularly pleasant for me, let alone the undead. So, don’t drown yourself, please. One of the best things about my near-death and questionable spiritual abilities is that I can help you.” “None of the others understand this horrific feeling,” Thomas said. “Patrick and the Captain, they do their best. But Captain is rather harsh and Pat insists on talking nonsense and then trying to hug me. I do not feel I need that.” “Then come to me, Thomas,” Alison urged. “Don’t drown yourself, what kind of a solution is that? Find me and we’ll talk.” “I do not wish to disturb when you are-,” Thomas started. “No, you’re not a disturbance. If you need me, I’ll be there.” Thomas nodded gently, trying not to put pressure on the cold spot where Alison was touching his face. “Now, I’m freezing to death out here, and I’m fairly sure there’s a fish in my jeans. Let’s go inside, you can choose a film, yeah?” “Yes please.” The light had dropped quickly, the orangey grey light of the evening had been replaced by darkness. They began the trudge back to the shore where Pat and the Captain were sat side by side on the bank, trying slightly too hard to seem nonchalant a hide their eavesdropping. Pat jumped up as he realised they were coming back, and the Captain uncrossed his legs to stand beside him. “Fantastic work, Alison!” Pat said, reaching out to take Thomas by the arm. He cowered away slightly, only to be guided slowly forward by Alison; more herding him than actually touching his waistcoat. Pat retreated holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s probably a record!” “Whatever did you say to get him away so quickly?” The Captain asked. “Stop being so nosy,” Alison chuckled, ringing the water out of her dark hair. “Thank you for your help, Pat, Cap. But just leave him be for a little while, okay? Come on, back in with you,” she said turning to Thomas. “I could do with a hot shower and some clothes that don’t contain ten gallons of pond water and an aquarium of creatures. Will you be okay sitting with the others for a bit while I get changed, Thomas?” Thomas contemplated and then nodded once at her beginning the long walk to the safety of the house. He was still away with the fairies, still flying high above the lake waiting for his feet to return to solid ground. But concentrating very hard, focusing on Alison in front of him - her voice and her touch, he could almost feel the very tips of his toes skimming the waterline. 

[dex-xe]

Max's Fanfiction Masterpost

The Ghost Of Christmases Past - BBC Ghosts (Found Family) ~AO3~

Buttons The Ghost Dog - BBC Ghosts (Found Family) ~AO3~

A Night For Comfort, Not For Bravery - The Thick of It (Adam x Fergus) ~AO3~

Lie To Me - BBC Ghosts (Pat) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

I'm So Proud Of You - BBC Ghosts (Alison & Captain) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

I Won't Hurt You - BBC Ghosts (Pat x Captain) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

Focus On Me, Alright? - BBC Ghosts (Thomas & Alison) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

You're Just A Softie - BBC Ghosts (Found Family) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

Stay - BBC Ghosts (Captain x Havers) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

Can I At Least Tell My Side Of The Story? - BBC Ghosts (Thomas) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

Can You Please Just Hold Me? - BBC Ghosts (Captain x Humphrey) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

Are You Afraid To Die? - BBC Ghosts (Captain & Alison) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

You're An Idiot - BBC Ghosts (Mary & Robin) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

Have You Been Sleeping? - BBC Ghosts (Captain & Kitty) ~AO3~ ~Tumblr~

It’s Crazy What You’ll Do For A Friend - The Thick of It (Adam x Fergus) ~AO3~

[dex-xe]

“Can I at least tell my side of the story?” Young mischievous Thomas and Francis crashing his parents’ party?

Thomas & Francis General #40: “Can I at least tell my side of the story?”

(Just fyi,, I haven’t proofread this and it was written at 2am so if it makes no sense I apologise!! XD But yeh,, I enjoyed this one!! Also tiny bit of underage drinking, literally just kids sipping their parents drinks.)

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“Cousin, this is a rather poor idea!” Little 10 year old Thomas said. He shivered in the cold night as he leant back against a tree, trying hard not to dirty the jacket of his best suit.

“Hush, Thomas!’ Francis clambered up over a fallen tree and reached down to take the young Thomas by the wrist and pull him up. “Won’t it be wonderful: To see, once and for all, what these events are like!”

The boys continued their trek through the woods towards Francis’ home, determined in their efforts to explore the adult world.

Francis was meant to be staying the night at the Thorne’s large country home as his parent’s hosted the party of the season at theirs. He’d been taken to Thomas’ in the late afternoon and ordered to stay; to spend the night playing games with his cousin and get an early night.

And yet, once the servants had shut the boys in Thomas’ bedroom having provided them with warm milk and extra blankets, Francis had pulled Thomas back up, thrown him his Sunday best clothes, and dragged him towards the bedroom window.

“I’ll go first, then you jump after, yes?” Francis had said. He’d lifted the window open with ease and dropped carefully onto the floor below before holding his arms up to Thomas. “Come, cousin! Jump and I’ll catch you!”

“Where are we going?” Thomas had shouted down to him, climbing out anyway.

So they headed through the woods for the half an hour walk to Francis’ house only down the road, twigs and leaves crunching beneath their perfectly polished shoes.

Thomas was well known for following precisely what his slightly older, and much more popular cousin told him to do. As terrible an idea as trudging through the forest in the middle of the night to crash a ball that children were most definitely not allowed to was, Thomas couldn’t help but feel the anticipation mixed with nerves rise in his chest as the glow from the large open windows of the Button’s house came into view through the dappled trees.

The boys jumped the beautifully manicured hedge into the garden of the Button Family’s huge manor house. They tiptoed through the bushes, ducking and diving to avoid the gaze of high-society members talking in the gardens.

Upon finally reaching the ballroom, both boys were struck by the deafening noise of the ton talking and laughing and the delightful undertones of the string quartet playing on stage.

Thomas gazed up in awe at the variety of flowing sophisticated dresses and sharp suits that graced the forms of his society higher-ups, safe in the knowledge that he’d soon be donning his best clothes to join the merriments.

“Here, cousin!” Francis tapped him on the shoulder, breaking him from the transfixed stare he had on the others. “Eat this!” Francis thrust a small jam and cream cake into his hand. Thomas took a bite. He could’ve fainted: if parties were always like this, he never wanted to leave. Forget being a boisterous ten year old, what was that compared to the heaven of flowing music, perfectly delicious food, and the swell of pleasantries exchanged between society friends.

“Cousin!” Thomas was once again awoken from daydream by Francis pressing something into his hand but this time something that thoroughly shocked naive Thomas: a small flute of champagne.

“Cousin, we mustn’t!” Thomas exclaimed.

“Why not? How fun is this?” Francis took a swig of champagne as if it were orange juice around the family breakfast table. Attempting to copy his more mature cousin, Thomas took a mouthful, immediately descending into splutters as the champagne fizzled up his nose.

“Master Francis!” A voice called out. Both boys scrambled to drop their glasses onto the table and smooth down their clothes to look as presentable as two ten year olds in oversized suits at a party well out of their depth could look.

“You shouldn’t be down here, Master Francis!” A man in an elegant tuxedo approached the boys: Lord Seabrooke - one of the most powerful men in the high-society world Thomas and Francis were about to grow into. A firm but fair man, one that two ten year old boys certainly wouldn’t want to cross. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, boys?”

Thomas was about to speak up, apologise to his Lordship before sheepishly hiding behind the drinks table, but Francis got there first.

“Actually, your Lordship, my mother has given us permission to have a little look around,” Francis said confidently.

“She did say that,” Thomas agreed, modding slightly less self-assured than his wilful cousin.

“Did she now?” Lord Seabrooke scoffed. “Pray tell, why would your rather honourable mother possibly allow two boys to wander around her delightful ball?”

“Indeed, your Lordship,” Francis claimed. “Mother has been trying to prepare us for our entry into society. She says we are to observe the ball and study for our entry into society.”

“The pair of you shan’t enter the ton for at least another decade,” Lord Seabrooke commented.

“Yes, well,” Francis said as confidently as ever. “The more preparation the better, and some of us need it more than others.” He turned and glanced Thomas up and down, his eyes burning judgement into his cousin’s form. Lord Seabrooke followed his gaze, his eyes settling on the scuffed hole in the knee of Thomas’ best suit - he must have done it climbing through the woods.

“Hmm. Well, I suppose if your mother has allowed this, I shan’t impose.”

“Thomas Henry Thorne!” A voice screeched from across the hall, her voice rising high above the clamour of the ballroom. The boys whipped around to watch Thomas’ mother, Violet, marching her way across the dance floor fury in her eyes.

“What, in all that’s holy, are you doing here?” She caught a handful of Thomas’ jacket material, swiping at Francis as well as she barrelled the boys out of the room and into a nearby study slamming the door behind them. “What do you think you’re doing, boys! I left the two of you at home under strict instruction! How did you even get here?”

“Well, it was quite the adventure, mother!” Thomas was overcome with the trepidation of his trip through the woods and the excitement and wonder at seeing his first ever ball.

“I care not for what adventures you’ve been on!” Violet hissed. “How did you think this would be a good idea? You know you’re not allowed here!”

“If I may, can I at least tell my side of the story?” Thomas queried. Violet shot him a glare before he started. “You see, we were talking about what parties are like and wanted to see.”

He turned towards Francis, who was also glaring, debating how best to approach his mother’s interrogations. He took a deep breath, bracing himself.

“It was Francis.”

“You fiend!” Francis swiped at Thomas hitting him squarely in the chest. “This was your idea as much as mine!”

“Poppycock! Cousin took me through the woodland and said no one would question us here, which of course Lord Seabrooke, the nosy old git, proved wrong.”

“Thomas Thorne!” Violet snapped. “How dare you, young man! He is a respected member of society, working to ensure that our family are behaving respectfully. He was well within his right to accost you for galavanting around the Button’s party like wild animals.”

“But mother, we are simply preparing for our presentation to the ton!” Thomas cried.

“That is merely the lie you told the Honorable Seabrooke, do not think you shall fool me too!” Violet said. “Francis, I expect this from you.” Francis scoffed and went to object, before Violet waved him away. “But Thomas, this is simply unacceptable from you!”

“Mother, please just let us stay,” Thomas begged, moments from dropping to his knees and praying to her. “It’s just so perfect and romantic and gorgeous. I just cannot wait until we’re presented!”

“I have already requested a carriage, and Alistair has been told you’re on your way back.”

Thomas cringed, well aware that head servant Alistair would not be best pleased with his young master sneaking out the window. In fact, Thomas was quite sure Alistair’s face would turn the most pleasing shade of purple he often did when Thomas misbehaved, working incredibly hard to keep his fury in check.

The short carriage ride back to Thomas’ was spent mostly in silence as the two boys contemplated their adventure out and the reality of being able to one day enter society along with his parents.

Francis finally broke the silence: “it was worth it, though!”

“Oh, utterly!” The boys broke into fits of grins and giggles.

[dex-xe]

If you are still taking Ghosts fic prompts, could I please request Pat/Julian angst #37? Thank you!

Pat & Julian Angst #37: “Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again.”

(Ngl I would never have thought about putting Pat and Julian together for this but I actually really love how it turned out!! That’s why I love this game,, makes me think outside the box. Thank you so much for this one!!)

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She had cheated on him. Cheated on him and he hadn’t even noticed. Of all the emotions coursing through Pat’s ghostly form, frustration was the primary motivator for his tears. How had he never noticed? In life, he had been so caught up in creating wonderful experiences for his scouts, so caught up he hadn’t spotted what was happening right under his nose. Now that he looked back he could see the glances Carol and his best friend shared, how they took care of Daley while Pat was at scout camp, the way he always seemed to be the third wheel, despite being the connecting factor between the two.

Pat rested his forehead against the piercing cold window pane, he couldn’t feel the soothing cool he so desperately desired but the attempt was there. Any death day at Button House led to a quiet and subdued atmosphere as the ghosts were all reminded of the very real, very human lives they once lived. But today had been different, marred not only by the mourning of Pat’s passing but also the shock that Pat’s sweet family life hadn’t been the perfect picture of domestic bliss he had always portrayed.

The others had tried to comfort him - they’d tried to reach out and break the tense atmosphere of the house - but no one had managed to get through to him. As soon as the other ghosts had discovered the truth as to why Pat was in a melancholy trance at the library window, individual plans were made to reach him.

Kitty had come running. She’d been the first to find him crying, curled up with his knees pulled to his chest sobbing quietly into the stormy night. She’d barrelled into the room and engulfed Pat into the biggest hug.

“She didn’t deserve you, Pat,” Kitty had cried. Tears were rolling down her face before she even made it to Pat, she just loved love and couldn’t cope with the break down of her friends marriage - even after death. “You are so wonderful, Pat. You deserved better.”

“I appreciate it, Kitty, I do. But we’re dead, my life was spent on someone who didn’t love me.” Pat yanked his glasses off violently and scrubbed at his eyes, blurring his vision of Kitty sat beside him. She’d stayed for ages with her arms around him, whispering reassurances quietly into his ear but the Kitty’s suffocating grip and even more smothering emotion couldn’t snap Pat from his miserable daze, if anything floundering in his own misery was making the situation worse.

Kitty had disappeared once she’d finally cottoned on to Pat’s yearning to be alone and Pat had been able to return his head to his knees and resume his sorrowful tears. A quiet cough broke the silence. The Captain had towered over him trying to catch his attention.

“Stand to, Patrick,” the Captain had said. “Can’t have you moping for the evening when there are troops to wrangle!”

“I’ve had a rough day, mate. Let me have a few hours,” Pat had told him, sniffling softly.

“It’ll do you no good - wallowing.” The Captain coughed and straightened up. “Your life was the way it was, nothing can be changed now so bury it deep and let’s go to Food Club.”

“With all the love in the world, Cap, the repression tactic isn’t exactly working out for you, so forgive me for not participating.”

Humphrey had also thrown his hat into the ring: “This doesn’t negate the life you lived, Pat. You gave her the most amount of love you could and that’s what matters the most.” But Pat hadn’t wanted a therapy session.

Thomas hadn’t opted for discussion but had instead perched beside Pat composing harrowing poetry around his doomed relationship, which certainly wasn’t helping the mood of the house.

But once they’d run out of ideas, the ghosts had left him alone in the cold library surrounded by nothing but shelves upon shelves of classic love stories and romance novels, mocking him with their happy endings. He curled close into the window and watched the droplets of pelting rain race their way down the glass, tracing them slowly with his ghostly fingers wishing his heart were still beating so he could leave tracks in the steamed window.

“I cheated on my wife,” a voice said from the darkness. Pat startled and jerked up to see Julian had faded through the heavy wooden door and was stood awkwardly in the shadows.

“Cheers, mate,” Pat said. “That makes me feel so much better.”

Julian threw himself down on the sofa opposite Pat, rearranging his shirt tails before lounging back to face the still crying Pat.

“I cheated. A lot. You know, I got up to all kinds of shenanigans: Norwegian noodle parties, lot of them. And raucous nights with-,” Julian gazed off in to the distance as he reminisced.

“Can I stop you there, Julian? Because if I had any lunch, I’d be worried about keeping it down,” Pat said. “Your forgetting I was here, I saw what you got up to.”

“Oh I did worse than you ever saw, don’t doubt that.” Pat shrugged: he didn’t doubt that at all. “I got up to all this fun and Margot was just sat at home. She took care of Rachel; she was a great mother, I imagine. Sure, she wasn’t quite as clueless as you but she suffered what you did.”

“This really isn’t making me any better, Julian,” Pat said, adjusting his glasses carefully. “I don’t want to hear your life story.”

“Well, what do you want? You’re dead! What does it matter? What does it matter if your life wasn’t the perfect artery-clogging Christmas film you always thought it was, you’re stuck here now. What do you want us all to say?” Julian shrugged.

“Lie to me. I don’t care what you say, just lie to me. Make me feel okay again!” Pat’s voice got higher and higher, squeaking at Julian who simply rolled his eyes. The two men sat in the dark. Rain hammered hard against the windows but Button House remained quiet in a melancholy trance.

“What I’m trying to say is my wife did nothing wrong. I wasn’t unhappy with her, per say, she didn’t do anything to harm me, nothing to stop me loving her. Just life, it got in the way, you know? Some people are just like that and others get left hurt in their wake,” Julian admitted. “You’re the same as my wife, Pat. You did nothing wrong to Carol. You didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t make her happy either,” Pat said.

“Who cares?” Julian huffed. “Who cares about some woman who clearly didn’t value you the way you did her? You made your son happy, and those boys - the scouts. You make that lot downstairs happy, sometimes. They don’t know how to show it particularly well but you do.”

Pat sighed. “I thought seeing them, learning about my family’s lives, I thought it would make me feel better. I really believed I was moving on because I found out about what Carol did. Silly idea really!”

“Seems logical enough, but probably a good thing you weren’t sucked off.” Pat turned away from the window and shot a quizzical look at Julian. “If I don’t have someone to delegate my leadership to, I’d be forced to herd that bunch of berks - they’re worse than the electorate. I’d have better luck organising monkeys at the zoo to do the quickstep than getting any order out of them.”

“Your leadership?” Pat chuckled.

“I’m the only elected official in this house,” Julian straightened his tie and stood to leave. “But I don’t like to force my authority; delegation is an important tool for a powerful political player.”

“Of course,” Pat smirked to himself.

Julian marched across the room towards the closed door, only turning back at the last second.

“Anyway, buck up your ideas, Pat. You’re needed.” Pat furrowed his eyebrows and shot a confused look at Julian. “The Captain’s trying to keep Robin from throwing Humphrey onto the fire - you know how he gets around a flame. They’re making a bloody scene and could do with some of your childcare expertise.” Pat grinned and followed Julian out of the library - leaving his despondent stupor for the first time in hours.

He couldn’t go back and change what had happened during his life, he wasn’t even sure he knew what he would change if he could. He’d tried his absolute best t everything he did during his short life. He tried to be the best husband to Carol, the best father to Daley, the best mentor for his scouts - even if something had gone wrong, there was nothing more he could give. And if he couldn’t be the best in life anymore, Pat was certain he’d be the best in death - the best friend, the best father-figure, the best mentor for a gang of needy ghosts.

[dex-xe]

if you’re up for writing a bit of a rarepair friendship: “Have you been sleeping?” with cap and kitty but make cap the one who hurts in the hurt/comfort of it all? i just feel like kitty would be such a good friend and so kind in times of distress, and i’d love to see that written! x

Captain & Kitty General #49: “Have you been sleeping?”

Your wish is my command!! Hope you enjoy this!! (Also im possibly gonna write a fic based on the little Cap/Havers imaginary Moment the Captain has in this but like as in it actually happened and isn’t a dream cause I can’t continue to torture my Captain like this!! So let me know if you want to read that)

Kitty had always felt she was more in tune with others’ emotions than anybody else. She didn’t even need to be in the same room as a friend, in the same house even, to know they weren’t doing well. She'd been the first to know when her sister was crying in her bedroom the night before she was set to attend her first ball. Kitty had sensed it from her own room and crept through the pitch black manor house in her nightdress to go and comfort her scared, sobbing sister; she’d been pushed away, told she was interfering but the thought was there like usual.

Her intuition was one of her key skills, her empathy something she was rather proud of, so it hadn’t been a surprise to her when seemingly no one else had noticed the Captain's demeanour.

He sat sunken in the window seat of the TV room gazing out across the front lawn, eyes fixated on the large iron gates closing Button House off to the outside world. He’d hardly caught the attention of the other ghosts throughout the day, as most assumed he was stuck in his usual indignant rut, angry about something benign. But Kitty knew better.

“Are you quite alright, Captain?” She asked, first checking the surrounding room was empty safe in the knowledge the Captain most certainly wouldn’t speak if anyone else was around to hear. He looked up at Kitty quickly, snapping himself from a daze.

“Perfectly well, Katherine,” he said with a curt nod. Kitty noted his pale complexion, almost grey despite his complete lack of circulatory system, and tired, hollowed eyes marred with the overwhelming melancholy not unusual in the ghosts.

“I’m not so sure,” Kitty said. “You look like you do on your death day, Captain. But it’s only March? Your death day isn’t for ages yet, no need to be sad!”

“I am not sad, Katherine. No such thing.” The Captain coughed and turned back to the window with a small sigh. “I’m simply admiring the view, is that such a crime?”

“You’ve lived here for 75 years and you’ve only just noticed the garden?” Kitty giggled as the Captain hummed softly. It wasn’t the Captain’s death day, was it? Kitty had a remarkably good memory of the events of the house since her death and knew precisely when everyone would be at their most vulnerable, and the Captain’s emotional days were still to come this year.

Scrolling through a mental rolodex of important Button House dates, Kitty finally settled on a moment she knew few of the others remembered. A day that many of the older ghosts had thought nothing of, a day they’d let slip past as they wandered the quiet halls of the house as many had done for centuries. But it was a day that had stuck in Kitty’s mind as a profoundly emotional moment.

“He left today, didn’t he?” Kitty asked. The Captain snapped back towards her, a cold and sharp glare settling on Kitty, who didn’t even flinch at the Captain’s change in attitude - very assured that the tough, military exterior was primarily bluster.

“Now, halt right there!” The Captain snapped, wagging a finger up at Kitty.

“It was today!” Kitty exclaimed. “I knew it was! That man, your best friend ever, he left today, didn’t he? Did you ever get to see him again after he went?”

“I can’t say that I ever did,” the Captain confessed. Kitty stroked the Captain’s shoulder with an affectionate squeeze reserved for her very best friends. The Captain shrugged her hand away and turned back to the window to examine the garden again. “Was there a purpose to this conversation or are you simply here to cry over my perfectly adequate life?”

“Have you been sleeping, Captain?” Kitty asked quietly.

“None of your concern, Katherine,” the Captain snapped around and stood to tower over Kitty. He pushed past her and made a beeline for the TV room door, his heavy footsteps clunking across the wooden floor.

“It would be easier to sleep if you had someone sleeping beside you, don’t you think Captain?” Kitty suggested, prompting the Captain to halt abruptly and jerk around to face her again. His brows furrowed and his mouth turned down in a confused frown.

“Now, now,” he warned. “I am flattered by your offer, Katherine. But I’m afraid I’ve always seen myself as more of an authority figure to you than…”

“Oh Captain no!” Kitty exclaimed. “I mean your Havers. Sharing a bed with one’s best friend can be so comforting, you would perhaps be sleeping better if he were here?”

The Captain paused to consider what Kitty was telling him. He’d never shared a bed with anyone, let alone his “best friend ever” - as Kitty had put it. His eyes blinked closed momentarily as he imagined pulling his nightshirt over his head and clambering into bed beside his “best friend”. He envisioned Havers flicking over another page of his novel as the Captain gazed across at him. A dreamy blur took over the Captain as he watched Havers place down his book and curl up beside him under the covers - he could almost feel an arm wrap around his waist. Maybe Kitty was right and the closeness of a “best friend" could have helped him sleep, simply imagining it was bringing calm over his body.

“Perhaps I would be sleeping better, but he is not here,” the Captain admitted, making his way towards the door. “Is but a pipe dream though, Kitty.”

[dex-xe]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30455139/chapters/75441137

New prompt fic up,, SUPER SUPER proud of it so go let me know what you think!!

[dex-xe]

I’m just gonna place this here in case anyone is interested :P

[dex-xe]

Mary & Robin Fluff #7: “You’re an idiot.” “But you love me.”

(I think i forgot to post this over here so here it is kinda short but,, enjoy!!)

Music blared through Button House late into the night and, for the first time in many, many years, all the house’s ghosts were joining in with the festivities. Kitty, Thomas, Pat, and the Captain had all picked out groups of guests to join on the dance floor, content in their friendship despite not being able to interact. Kitty remained with bridesmaids, all of who had begun drinking early and were far past caring about coherent dance moves.

Having sought out the most exuberant collection of friends he could find, Thomas was flowing dramatically in dance around the group not unlike the Captain, who was nearby bopping rhythmically beside a rather flamboyant cluster of young men. Alison, in addition to some of the more modern ghosts, had clocked the Captain’s choices but would never be willing to say anything to him.

Pat, however, was fully aware of his decisions as he sought out a circle of dads  dancing with their kids; twirling their little daughters around by the hand and knee sliding across the dance floor with their boisterous sons. Invisible to his new-found friends, Pat bopped along with them under the flashing disco lights. Fanny sat nearby watching the others enjoy themselves, even tapping her foot along with the garish pop tunes.

But Robin and Mary kept to themselves, not entirely wishing to throw themselves in with the strangers. Robin jumped and stomped around the edge of the room, his heavy boots making no noise as he glided around with a certain spiritual grace. Mary watched, waving her arms above her and attempting what can only be described as Morris Dancing.

“You can but jump!” She shouted over the music. “You must try rhythm, boy!”

“You need energy!” Robin yelled back, hopping up onto the sofa with his feet fazing through the cushions. “More jumpy, more bouncy jumpy, more energy!” He screeched over the humdrum of the party.

Alison had recently allowed Robin to watch stadium concerts on YouTube, after he’d discovered his keen interest in heavy metal music. But a consequence Alison had not seen coming was Robin’s desire to  demonstrate his newly found talents.

He climbed even further up onto the back of the sofa and turned back to make sure Mary was watching intently - which she obviously was, nervously chewing on her fingers.

“Oooh, you’d best not!” She called up to him. “You gets hurt, Robin!”

Robin looked her dead in the eyes before throwing himself dramatically backward off his precarious ledge and into the crowd of dancing guests. His hair flew wildly around him as he soared across the dance floor, but nausea soon coursed through his body as the flailing arms and legs of subpar dancers penetrated his ghostly form. He fell through them, collapsing in a heap amongst the partygoers feet.

“Robin!” Mary’s high-pitched voice rang out across the room as she ducked and dived trying to catch a glimpse of him in the crowd.

Only a matter of moments later, Robin emerged triumphant from the dance floor holding his hands up and jumping in time to the deep bass reverberating from the speakers.

“Wanted that for ages!” He celebrated. “Called stage dive! Big fun at concerts.” The pair burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching at each other just out of reach of the crowd.

“You be an idiot!” Mary giggled.

“Ah, but you love me!” Robin smiled back.

[dex-xe]

Regarding the ficlet ideas :)

You don't have to do all or even any of these, these are just the things that popped into my head when I was scrolling through! Also if you want to write them romantically you do it, we love and support youuu!!!

Fluff: 7 (Mary and Robin, probably platonic) & 10 (Mary and Kitty, also probably platonic)

General: 18 (Julian and literally anyone, it'll be hilarious)

And General 45. With Alison and Cap (and maybe all the other ghosts) becuase I feel you'd write it really sweetly and honestly it's a scene I'd really like to see

Alison & Captain General #45: “Are you afraid to die?”

So there’s still one more prompt from this person (the Julian one) but I’m combining it with other ideas so expect that soon!! The others have also been done here:

Fluff #7

Fluff #10

But yeah,, this got no interaction at all on AO3 but that’s okay cause I actually really enjoyed writing this one there are some good lines I think. Let me know what you think either here on on AO3 I don’t mind. (Also there is a Doctor Who reference in here but I can’t remember which episode it’s from so if yall find it let me know XD)

TW:// in depth discussions of death.

The dark ceiling of Alison’s bedroom swirled in front of her as she listened to the soft rumbling of her husband’s snores beside her. The glowing red lights of her alarm clock served as a warning to her impending sleepless night: 2:15am.

Worries of life and family and the hotel and the unusual presence of 20 odd dead people inhabiting her home raced through her head as she begged for some kind of distraction from her thoughts. She tried not to set too many rules for the ghosts: whenever she did, they would work even harder to break every written order she laid down - and also every unwritten rule that common sense laid down. But one rule Alison was strict on was their nighttime curfew: do what you want around the house (as long as it doesn’t make too much noise, mess or irritance) but do not, under any circumstance, enter the master bedroom.

She’d originally given them the usual “only in emergencies” protocol but, after Robin had scared Alison out of bed at 4am having deemed a fat ginger cat on the front lawn an emergency, this had quickly been scrapped. But watching the dust flow through beams of moonlight while contemplating every life decision she’d ever made, the prospect of some inconceivable disaster interrupting the ghosts’ eternal deaths was seeming ever more pleasurable.

Alison sighed and sat up to look over Mike deep in sleep, jealous of his peaceful snoring. She swung off the bed being careful not to jostle the sheets but flinched at the freezing floorboards touching her bare feet. She tiptoed slowly through the empty corridors occasionally stopping to listen at the doors of the ghosts’ bedrooms: quiet snoring from Pat’s, mumbled sleep talking from Kitty’s, total silence on behalf of the others.

Every common room lay vacant, excluding Robin curled up in front of the dying fire, so Alison continued on to the kitchen - taking Nigel’s advice to fetch some milk when she’s stressed.

Upon entering the kitchen, she was taken aback to find it was not as empty as the rest of the house would suggest. Leaning back against the far tiled wall with his eyes shut and head resting back on the cold surface, the Captain looked as if he could be asleep standing upright. His eyes snapped open and settled straight on Alison frozen in the doorway. He blinked slowly before darting towards the corner of the room in his usual long-legged, gangly run.

“Captain?” Alison called as he turned away from her. “No, no! It’s alright!”

The Captain stopped. Still. Silent. In a moment of alarming quietness.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Captain. I’ll only be a moment!” Alison said quietly, making her way over to the fridge. “God, I hope Robin isn’t in here.” She pulled open the door with great gusto, fleetingly thrilled by the presence of broccoli, strawberry yoghurt, and half a pasta bake rather than the shouting menace of a caveman.

She shut the door with the milk carton in hand and turned to find the Captain still facing the wall, breathing heavily in what appeared to be a WW2 remake of the Blair Witch Project.

“You can just go back to… whatever you were doing, now,” Alison took a swig from the carton. “Plotting your latest hair-brained scheme to get rid of me?”

“Now, now, Alison,” the Captain said, turning back around to face her and swaying ever so slightly on his heels, stick gripped tight behind him. “I’m less inclined to dispose of you nowadays.”

“Yeah?” Alison raised her eyebrows with a knowing glance and took another sip. “Well, I appreciate that, Cap.”

“Hmm,” the Captain agreed.

“Why are you awake then? Are you awake or do ghosts sleep upright against a wall? Is this some mechanic I don’t know about? Do ghosts have to sleep?” Alison asked rapid fire.

“Of course we sleep! What did you think we do during the night?” The Captain pointed to Alison’s milk and frowned. “You shouldn’t drink it like that. That’s how disease spreads.

“It’s only me that uses it, just don’t tell Fanny, yeah?”

“Mum’s the word,” he murmured.

Alison smiled. “So why are you up, then? Shouldn’t you be getting that beauty sleep?”

“Sometimes it’s a little difficult to drift off, I’m sure you understand that being awake at this hour too.”

“Oh yeah,” Alison said quietly. She lifted her carton up in a small gesture of cheers and made a move to leave. “Well, got my milk. I guess… I’ll just head back to bed then. Good night, Captain.” She had barely made it out of the door before the Captain spoke up once more.

“You could stay for a while,” the Captain said. “If you wanted to. I mean, if you didn’t want to just lay in bed gazing at the ceiling.”

“I’d like that,” Alison pulled out the chair closest, scraping the legs across the tiled floor and interrupting the silence of the house. She left the chair open for the Captain and moved to sit opposite him, settling into the quiet comfort.

“Isn’t it weird to think the dead sleep?” Alison commented. “Doesn’t seem right, does it? Cause sleeping is a bit like being dead only without the commitment so it’s like you’re kind of double dead.”

“Death is nothing like sleeping, Alison. Don’t talk to me about death if you don’t understand it.” The Captain sniffed at her and leant back in his chair maintaining his usual stoic exterior.

“Sorry,” Alison said. “I didn’t mean-,”

“It’s fine,” the Captain said quickly. The pair fell back into silence, they had never exactly been the closest of friends and Alison certainly wouldn’t describe him as her best (undead) friend but they were friend-ly, for sure. Certainly more now that he’d ceased trying to drive her from the house at every opportunity that presented itself. Then again, death does strange things to people, Alison thought, her friends had proved that much. They showed little regard for the lives of the living, thinking very much of themselves and the Captain was surely the embodiment of that.

“It’s not awful, as such,” the Captain interrupted the quiet. Alison looked up from the table to find him watching her intently. “Death. It’s not as terrible as you might think. I know that’s what you were going to ask.”

“Oh,” Alison said. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t actually going to say anything.”

“I know. But you were thinking it.” The Captain said. “You’re in a rather unique position, Alison, I must say. Not many people can say they have a good understanding of death before it happens, but you know more than most.”

“I still don’t really get it, though,” Alison admitted drawing lines across the table with her fingers.

“If I’m telling the truth, neither do I,” the Captain confessed. “I don’t remember it too well. It was like- like falling asleep and then immediately waking up again. You know that plummeting feeling  that happens right as you’re about to drop into sleep, like everything is calm and then suddenly you’re losing grip of reality, and then you’re wide awake again.”

“A hypnic jerk,” Alison quipped.

“Sorry?” He asked.

“That’s what it’s called, that falling thing. A hypnic jerk.” Alison said. “We did it in science class, I think. Your body thinks it’s dying so it does the jerk to make sure that you’re still alive. Makes sense that’s what dying feels like, I guess.”

“Are you afraid to die, Alison?” The question took Alison by surprise, it was unlike the Captain to be open about his emotions and even more unlikely for him to ask about others’ feelings.

“If I have to stay with this rowdy lot for eternity, then yes definitely,” Alison joked with a small laugh.

The Captain smiled and hummed in agreement: “Oh I’m sure I’d have agreed if given the choice before death. Not exactly the most peaceful post-death existence.”

“I’m a little bit scared,” Alison admitted.

“You shouldn’t be too worried, it’s not all that bad,” the Captain said with a shrug.

“Yeah, because you seem to be having a blast with your afterlife, Cap. Happy as Larry,” Alison said sarcastically, she threw the now-empty carton into the bin beside her and settled back towards the table, leaning forward closer to the Captain - their faces barely inches apart.

The Captain paused, his eyes boring into Alison’s sleepy face before he leant forward to match her and whisper in secret confidence.

“It is rather bad,” he reneged. “You should fear it, well done for being scared.” Alison chuckled. “Well thanks, Cap! I feel so much better now!”

“Now, you know that’s not what I mean,” the Captain said slowly, unsure of where he was going next. “As long as you die here, you have no reason to be afraid. We’ll care for you in death as you have for us in life. Be sure, Alison, we’ll teach you all we know.”

“You know, Julian has told me the ‘teachings’ you gave him when he died,” Alison chuckled.

“Somebody needed to give that scoundrel a good telling off; heaven knows no one in life ever did. Julian died much as he lived: with an air of superiority.” The Captain coughed and smirked across at Alison. “He waltzed in here as if he owned the place, demanding authority and respect and, as far as I’m concerned, those are qualities that are earned.”

“Like you?” Alison said pointedly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you earn the authority you have over the others?”

“That is beyond the point.” The Captain stated. “You’re rather lucky, Alison! You’ve met a somewhat tempered version of Julian, he’s actually rather bearable these days, likeable sometimes, you wouldn’t believe him in the early days.”

“Oh I can only imagine! And I’m better then, I assume? Seeing as I’m deemed worthy of your afterlife teachings?” Alison laughed.

“Indeed,” the Captain said.

“Were you afraid?” Alison asked. “Of death, I mean? Obviously like, before it happened.”

“No,” the Captain shrugged, finally heeling away from Alison and breaking their close eye contact. “A soldier is never afraid. When you enlist to serve for your country, you relinquish any right to fear your death. Service kills many who enter, you cannot fear the inevitable.”

“But you didn’t die in service?”

“I was a soldier. No matter if my demise happened during the war or 60 years later, I lived a soldier and I died a soldier.” The Captain said certainly. Whenever he spoke of his time in the military he straightened right up and masked any kind of emotion he had allowed to trickle through.

“Now that you’re not a soldier then, are you afraid of… you know, moving on?”

“Of being sucked off?” The Captain clarified.

“I refuse to say that,” Alison shook her head. “And frankly it’s cruel that Julian has kept this joke up. But are you scared?”

“I am still a soldier, Alison. I’ll always be a soldier.”

“Time has moved on, no more fighting and no more soldiers but you know that, Captain.”

“Doesn’t change anything. Time.” The Captain said, matter of fact. The darkness of the kitchen mostly shrouded his face but Alison could easily make out the outline of his sharp features and piercing eyes.

“Time changes everything.” She stated. “You should know that better than most.”

“I’m a soldier.” He repeated, mumbling it under his breath like a reassuring mantra. “For King and country.”

“Queen.” Alison corrected.

Allowing himself, for just a moment, to relinquish his solid, iron-clad grip on the past, the Captain softly whispered: “For Queen and country.”

[dex-xe]

okay Ghostly Musings: Season 2 Electric Boogaloo is upon us (well me, but youre subjected to it too!!)

So here is the prompt list and here is my inbox

send me a prompt and a Ghost pairing or a situation and i'll write it up!!

(oh and here's seaosn 1 if anyone's interested)