#we just didn't want him toppling a bookshelf while away or something

[ballroomnotoriety]

hello we set up a camera to watch the cats while away and tonight it showed a bunch of orbs in the kitten room so i googled it and google said it's either dust or fragments of lost souls so i was like hmm let's go with dust and immediately afterwards the camera sent me a Person Alert From The Kitten Room so our house is just haunted i guess.

[a-blue-secret]

CHAPTER II

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: none (haha no swearing in this one)

WORD COUNT: 2.9k+

AN: All I can say is: Beomgyu was hanging off the top of the door. That's why. (You'll understand once you read I promise) Also, I have no idea how alliances are formed so this is a completely made-up and not-factual process.

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for three years and four months and nineteen days, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

Taehyun did not go air out the Discussion and Tactics room. Not out of spite, but because he had one of the palace's servants do it instead. He did however, inform the court that Coronation Revels were over, and all people not native to the Gojongja court would have to make their farewells by the end of the week. When asked where the King was, Taehyun smoothly evaded giving direct answers, choosing to reply that what the King was doing was none of their concern. A few days after the final revel, only a few foreign representatives remained.

Beomgyu stayed in his chambers the whole of the three days, even ordering meals within his room. This irritated Taehyun, since it left him in charge, yet again, of the matters that normally the monarch would handle. And while he had contemplated barging into Beomgyu's room and forcing him to do his work, Taehyun also knew that the elder would say that it was technically Taehyun's job, since he controlled Beomgyu. And Taehyun really didn't want to have his patience tested by Beomgyu that particular day, so he just gritted his teeth and carried on.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun tapped his fingers against the wooden table impatiently. He looked around the room again, eyeing the old bookshelf and the ancient chest of drawers for the umpteeth time. Yeonjun wasn't late or anything, he was just annoyed that this stupid discussion would be taking up his time.

Just at that moment, a knock sounded on the door.

"Lord Choi Yeonjun of Aruyeo Kingdom," the guardsman announced, opening the door for Yeonjun. Taehyun briefly considered standing up, but dismissed the thought. A vizier was of higher position than any lord, after all.

Yeonjun stepped into the room and looked slightly surprised at seeing only Taehyun sitting there, drumming his fingers against the wood. He quickly gathered himself and gave the vizier a sharp bow.

"Grand Vizier Taehyun."

"Lord Yeonjun," Taehyun acknowledged. "Please, have a seat."

Yeonjun sat down in the only other chair set at the table- the one opposite Taehyun. The vizier leaned forwards, clasping his hands together on the bare tabletop. Yeonjun looked around, clearly wondering where Beomgyu was but reluctant to voice his question.

"His Greatness is occupied with other matters," Taehyun said calmly. "He has asked me to carry on with our scheduled meeting, regardless of whether he is present or not."

"Ah… okay." Yeonjun shifted in his seat, still refusing to meet Taehyun's piercing gaze. Inwardly, the vizier smirked. He loved doing this: intimidating people, analysing them, seeing what ulterior motives they may have. Finally though, he decided that Yeonjun was far too nervous at that moment to have any interesting motives, so he relaxed and sat back.

"So, what do you have in mind for the alliance?"

Yeonjun cleared his throat, then placed his own hands palms down on the table. "Her Royal Supremeness has suggested as a start that Aruyeonan nobles, like me, can come to Gojongja court."

Taehyun frowned.

"Gojongja nobles are already living in Aruyeo," Yeonjun explained. "So, it seems only fair that if we are to have an alliance, we should have an exchanging of our nobles."

Taehyun straightened his collar. "It is an intriguing idea, Lord Choi, but we have to think about our court's security. As the Kingdom with the overall monarch, we have to place more safety measures within our court than any of the Four Kingdoms. Letting foreign nobles stay in Gojongja for an extended period of time is a risk."

Yeonjun nodded readily. "I understand. That is why our Queen had me come as ambassador. I, if I do say so myself, am an extremely trustworthy Lord. I will be the most trustworthy Aruyeonan noble that has ever set foot within your court. Once I have earned your trust and respect then, and only then, is when we will let additional Aruyeonan nobles in."

Taehyun held up a hand. "Hold. You mean to say that you will be staying in our court? Until you earn our respect? And then you will let other nobles into our court?"

Yeonjun nodded once. "That is correct, sire."

Taehyun frowned. "I do not like those terms. Forgive me, but I, frankly, do not trust you at all. It will take a great deal of time for me to."

"I understand, sire. Which is why I am to stay in court until you can."

"You do know I could turn you out of court with the flick of my wrist, don't you? I could turn you out and prevent you from ever coming back."

"You and I both know you would not do that, since Queen Erajin would not take kindly to you banishing one of her lords from your court."

Taehyun grudgingly admitted Yeonjun was right. Exiling Yeonjun, no matter how tempting the offer seemed right then, was not a remotely diplomatic move at all.

"Also, this will be a benefit that Aruyeo will have. If Gojongja will reap no rewards from this alliance, then there is no point in having it."

Yeonjun smiled. "Oh, Gojongja's benefits are far greater than Aruyeo's. You will have access to our Royal Army, our Navy and our Air Forces. In return, we ask for your knowledge on clans and abilities."

Taehyun paused. It was a very simple request. One in which Gojongja seemed to gain the most beneficial reward. "Well. That is surely something. At the revel however, you mentioned something about sharing resources. Could you clearly state what that means?"

Yeonjun leaned forward, using his hands to emphasise his points. He looked comfortable now. Perhaps diplomatic discussions were in his blood as much as they were in Taehyun's.

"Sharing resources means everything it sounds like it means. We share resources such as land- for example, our mines in exchange for your forests- information sources - like historical sources- and, if times become truly difficult, we can even share ships, and armies, and citizens."

Taehyun listened carefully as Yeonjun continued to explain. This Lord was compelling, that was for certain. When he spoke, one couldn't help but want to agree to everything he said.

"Hmm. 'Sharing' is a concept I do not believe Gojongja has experienced in a while, so it will take some time to adjust, I can assure you. If you don't mind me asking, why do you need our knowledge on clans and abilities?"

Yeonjun's face hardened. "That is a confidential matter, and knowledge of it is confined to only the most trustworthy people within the Aruyeo court." Taehyun raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what Yeonjun was implying.

"It'll take a lot more than that to get me to trust you," Taehyun said.

"Believe me, I know," Yeonjun replied. "And I am determined to do so."

The two of them talked business for several more hours. By the end of it, the outcome was clear- Gojongja would be accepting all of Aruyeo's terms regarding the alliance. Taehyun had studied and rolled over the words of the agreement over and over in his mind, had taken them apart, dissected their potential meanings and analysed them to the bone. However, Yeonjun seemed to anticipate each and every one of Taehyun's scepticisms, and countered them with more agreements and rules.

Finally, Taehyun concluded that an alliance with Aruyeo would not be harmful for Gojongja, and that was that. All that was left was for the King to put his signature on the paper, and the alliance could fully begin.

Taehyun stood up, and so did Yeonjun.

"Well," Taehyun said. "It was nice talking alliances with you, Lord Choi."

"Likewise, Grand Vizier Kang." Yeonjun's lips twitched as they shook hands. "I'll see you around, then?"

Taehyun let Yeonjun leave first. Before he exited the room, Taehyun took one last sweeping glance around it. He noticed a tiny glass ball which caught the light streaming through the small window. Walking over, he picked it up off of the chest of drawers. Rolling it between his fingers, Taehyun carefully analysed the ball. It was no bigger than an average marble, and inside there was a strange metal powder which seemed to move as if they were the waves of the ocean. Taehyun frowned, pocketing the strange marble, before striding out of the room, closing the door with a soft click.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

Taehyun had stayed talking to Lord Yeonjun for much longer than he'd have liked. The Aruyeonan was extremely thorough in his explanations, and Taehyun was never one to let tiny details slide without careful analysis. While this was one of the things which made him the best diplomat among the Gojongja court, it also tired him immensely if he focused too much for a prolonged period of time.

After more than five hours sitting cramped in the Discussion and Tactics Room, Taehyun was mentally exhausted, hungry and cranky. So when he stalked up to Beomgyu's door and the guard turned him away, he may have forcefully slammed the butt of his dagger against the wood in frustration, causing the whole thing to fall off.

Beomgyu, who had previously been standing on his head, startled and toppled over in surprise. Taehyun also looked a little shocked as he stared at the fallen door.

"... Whoops?" he said.

"Why'd you go and break my door?" Beomgyu demanded, annoyed. Taehyun was about to reply with some snarky comment, before realising that, since the door was down, there was nothing separating them from the eavesdropping ears of the rest of the court, and so he just bowed respectfully and apologised.

"My sincerest apologies, Your Greatness," Taehyun said. "I must have underestimated my strength. I will have the door fixed as soon as possible. If you please, my King, would you mind joining me in the Meeting Hall? There are some matters it may benefit you to know of."

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow at Taehyun's extravagant display of formalities, but made no comment on it. "I accept your apology," he replied in a similar exaggeratedly formal way. "And I will see you in the Meeting Hall as soon as I change into a more suitable outfit and have the splintered remains of my door removed."

Taehyun bowed again, and strode off down the hallway.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

"Good, you're here," Taehyun said when Beomgyu finally sauntered in to the Meeting Hall. "Lord Yeonjun let me keep the agreement to look over it. Read over it and see if it’s all good," he said, tossing the scroll to Beomgyu. He caught it out of the air, before sitting down in the chair at the head of the long table. The King undid the black ribbon, unfurling the parchment. He scanned over the contents of the letter, before carelessly tossing it back down onto the table.

"Yeah, sounds good to me," he dismissed. "Why'd you bring it?"

"You need to sign it," Taehyun patiently explained. If he was completely honest, he felt a little guilty for breaking down Beomgyu's door. For him personally, his chambers were his haven, his private space. He could only imagine the anger he'd feel if the person he hated rudely barged in, splintering his door to pieces. Taehyun wouldn't be happy at all.

Beomgyu picked up on Taehyun's unusually placid tone, and took the agreement into his hands again, reading over it fully.

" 'Grant Aruyeo access to Gojongja's knowledge on clans and abilities'?" he read, scoffing. "What are they going to do with that sort of information?"

Taehyun shrugged, kicking his feet up onto the redwood table. He was tired, mentally and physically, so at that moment he didn't really care for propriety. "Lord Yeonjun said it was a confidential matter between only the most trustworthy people of Aruyeonan court."

"I suppose our record of clans is the largest and oldest out of all the Four Kingdoms," Beomgyu mused. "It is one of our advantages as well. Shame we'll have to share it with Aruyeo." He set the paper down again, smoothing it out. "Well, it sounds all good to me. Though there are parts which I really don't like, there are parts which I really like as well. And looks to me like there are parts which Aruyeo won't be happy about," he said, chuckling a little. "Gaining a portion of the metal mines for a section of our forest? Seems like ultimately we'll benefit from this alliance." He snapped his fingers at Taehyun. "Get me that quill, would you?"

Taehyun rolled his eyes, but took his feet off of the table and walked over to Beomgyu to push the quill and ink pot closer to the elder.

He watched as the elder dipped the quill into the ink.

"Beomgyu… I really am sorry for breaking down your door. I don't know how I did it, and didn't mean to do it at all."

Beomgyu raised his eyebrows at Taehyun, quill hovering in midair. "What's this?" he said. "Are you actually apologising to me?"

Taehyun glared, and scratched his neck with the backs of his nails: a nervous habit of his.

"Okay, no need to glare at me," Beomgyu chuckled. "And it's fine. The door was broken anyway. It's not your fault it came off." At the confused noise that Taehyun made, Beomgyu put down the quill to explain. "The reason they denied you access was because I'd accidentally broken the door, and if you found out you'd be mad. I was going to have it fixed before you found out, but you managed to topple it down before I could." Beomgyu shrugged, picking up the quill again. "It's no big deal."

Taehyun stood there, dumbfounded. "So then how did you break the door?"

Beomgyu laughed slightly. "Oh, you do not wanna know. Besides, you're the one who managed to knock it over and break it into splinters. I just managed to rip it off its hinges."

Taehyun glowered at the top of the King's head, all traces of guilt gone. What could Beomgyu have even been doing to break his door?

"And there… we… go." Beomgyu signed off his signature with a flourish, putting the quill back into the ink pot. "Our alliance is now officially underway. You don't have to do anything else now, do you?"

Taehyun frowned. "I don't know. I've never formed an alliance before. There'll probably be meetings and stuff to discuss what will happen if one of us goes against the terms of the contract."

"Oh, okay," Beomgyu said casually. "You can sort that out, can't you?"

"I- I mean, I suppose I could, but as King it really should be you who-"

"Oh good. I guess I'm going to go into town. It's boring here."

"W-what?" Taehyun spluttered, staring in surprise as Beomgyu stood up. "You're the King, and you're going outside?? Without any sort of warning beforehand?"

"Well what do you suggest I do?" Beomgyu asked, annoyed.

"Go horse riding in our private woods, maybe some sparring practice, talk to the officials you've been ignoring for months? Or even just stay in your chambers?"

"Well, I seem to recall that someone splintered my door," Beomgyu replied, glaring. "And horse riding hurts my butt, I don't need extra sparring practice, and those Lords are so annoying! I'm going out."

"Fine," Taehyun sniffed, standing up himself as he straightened his uniform. "But I'm going back to bed. If you get mobbed, don't come running to me crying."

"I won't, I assure you!" Beomgyu called after Taehyun's retreating back.

.・゜-: ✧ :-　　

After closing the door to his chambers, Taehyun fell limply face-first onto his bed. Why was it that arguing with Beomgyu seemed to use more of his energy than any verbal warfare ever could? He groaned into the silk sheets, before turning over to glower at the ceiling. It had been two months. Two months and sixteen days since Beomgyu had been under his control. He was thankful that nothing major had happened for the first few months of Beomgyu's reign, but he knew that with the alliance, things would not stay calm for long. He didn't know how, but he had a gut feeling that this alliance would not help Gojongja at all.

Taehyun turned his head to look at his clock, eyes tiredly following the movement of the swinging pendulum beneath the actual clock face. It was only some hours past luncheon. Why was he so tired?

Suddenly, he remembered the odd marble he'd found in the Discussion and Tactics room. He fished it out of his pocket, staring at it closely. He rolled it between his fingers, carefully analysing the strange metal powder inside. The powder was a dark, lead sort of colour. It almost looked like a pile of ash, but it moved as if it were the waves of the ocean, crashing against the walls of the ball. The ball itself had lots of imperfections; veins ran along the outside in places where the glass was thicker, and looked almost as if to have stretch marks where it was thin. Taehyun gently tapped his nail against it. It sounded hollow. So the ball must be a thin outer glass then, Taehyun mused, setting it down on his bedside table. He unbuckled his boots, laying down more comfortably on the bed. He'd take the hollow marble to the Royal Antiquarian. It looked old-fashioned: maybe they'd know what it was.

Feeling assured by this decision, Taehyun lay there, staring at the ceiling, before his eyes began to feel heavy. He tried to resist, but eventually gave in to fatigue. Just a few minutes' rest, he told himself. Just a few minutes.

[himbowelsh]

I know it's not Halloween anymore but can I have sth kinda spooky with Webgott as two ghost stuck in same building? You know they both died there but at different time, so they didn't know each other before they became ghosts. Maybe it's kinda ones fault that the other is dead and stuck in this place? It's a lot of bitching and trying to get on the others nerves. And maybe other guys are there to check out this haunted house but instead of scary brooding ghosts hey find two arguing twats.

Addition to ghost Webgott. I just can’t get that image of my head. Luz sets up his heavy machinery to hear any potential ghost talking and first thing they all hear is “God, Joe, you’re such a dick!” and Liebgott repeating with all the grace of five year old in slightly girlish voice “God, Joe, you’re such a dick!”. + Web is the kind of ghost who summons all his celestial energy just to turn TV on and watch shark documentaries and Lieb for some reason sits with him every time.

The camera flickers on to catch a close-up of furrowed brows and a set of focused brown eyes.

After a second, the frustration clears from the man’s face. He leans back just enough to adjust it, flashing a wide grin, before stepping away from the camera.

“Okay,” he announces, taking a step away from the camera stand. “We’re set! Who’s ready to roll, huh?”

“Nice goin’, Luz, you just have ‘em a huge shot of your face,” a gravelly voice offscreen chides. Luz looks past the camera, cheshire grin widening.

“They oughta be grateful. C’mon Joe, get over here, let them see you too. We gotta show who’s in charge of this whole thing. For when we get famous later.”

Reluctantly, another man steps into the frame. He looks awkward as awkward in front of the camera as Joe does comfortable, even as Luz tugs him down to crouch next to him.

Luz turns to him, officious and commanding, as he adjusts a pair of invisible spectacles. “Mr. Toye,” he says, in a spot-on impersonation of that one guy from 60 Minutes, “how does it feel to be the first person to get definitive scientific evidence that ghosts exist?”

“It feels like I’m in an old crackhouse at midnight being interrogated by a crazy person,” Toye replies flatly, casting a sideways glance at the camera lens. When Luz flares up in indignation, he is ignored.

“Okay, this wasn’t a crackhouse. This was a boarding house, you know? Where people used to live back in olden times.”

“Then it was abandoned. Then it turned into a crackhouse.” Toye’s gaze bores into the camera; it's like he’s trying to make it more uncomfortable than its making him.

Luz rolls his eyes. “The point is that it’s not a crackhouse now. This place has been abandoned for years.”

Toye is determined not to lose his impromptu staring contest. “Sure. When can we be done here?”

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” Luz extols. “We’re here all night. As soon as those two get done setting up the sound equipment —“ He pauses. His gaze wanders past the camera again, brow furrowing. “Where the hell are Bill and Babe with the sound equipment?”

“Oh my god,” says Toye, and smacks his hand against his face as he slumps over.

In another part of the house, a high-tech voice recorder is finally activated, after fifteen minutes of tinkering, puzzling, thumping, and “how the hell does this thing work”s to kill a man from boredom.

“Hey, here it is!” exclaims a supremely thrilled voice, too close to the speaker — his voice is a static scream. “I got it, the little bastard!”

“Move away from the thing,” another voice demands. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, kiss it? Whisper sweet nothings? Get back, genius.”

“Watch it!” exclaims the first voice. Then, after a few seconds: “How’s your stuff coming? Pick anything up?”

“No, I haven't picked anything up, because I’ve barely got the thing turned on yet. What, d’you think all this ghost shit’s just gonna happen at once?”

“Well. I was hoping.”

“Sure you were,” Bill huffs. “I know this is your first hunt, Babe, so get used to waiting. It gets a lot more boring than this.”

“My brain’s gonna melt out of my skull.” Babe pauses, considering. “Hey, Bill, you think people would find that spooky?”

“Jesus,” mutters Bill. If he was hoping Babe was done, though, he’s out of luck.

“I mean, the deaths before were pretty weird too, right? The ones George told us about. This place was a boarding house from the 1930s to 60s, and then sometime in the 60s that author guy — Werner?”

“Webster,” contributes Bill absently.

“Right, Webster died. He drowned in his bathtub, right? Only they don’t know how it happened because he was supposed to be a really strong swimmer. Plus it was a bathtub. I mean, that’s weird.“

“The guy was having a rough night, had a bit too much to drink, fell asleep in the water. It ain’t much of a mystery, Babe.”

“Okay, sure. Even though people kept saying someone killed him — I’m just saying, that’s creepy! And then in the 90s, the other kid —“

“The drug addict. Come on, that’s not weird.”

“They found him with half his blood painting the room, Bill! And the news article said he drowned! How the hell do you drown on dry land? That’s freaky as anything!”

“No, it’s not. The guy got in a fight, because this used to be a crackhouse, and fights happen in places like that. The article says he was stabbed. He probably... bled out, drowned in his own blood or something.”

“Doesn’t say that. Just says drowned. If it were blood, it would say blood.”

“So who the hell cares how he died? Point is, he’s dead now. And after he showed up dead, the cops cleaned this house up, so there’s no more drugs here now. We’re as safe as we can get.”

“Yeah, ‘cept for the ghosts.”

“For the last time, Babe, there are no fuckin’ —“

It’s funny to see how the duo jumps when one of the ancient books suddenly topples from the bookshelf onto the floor. Joe has to hold back a snort at the sight of them.  The redhead almost leaps out of his skin, while the stockier man with the iron-cut jaw has assumed a position like a threatened hedgehog. His eyes are wide, his fists are in the air, and he’s in full fight-or-fight mode.

It’s hilarious.

This group is hardly the first so-called “ghost hunters” who have come to observe the house, but Joe gets the feeling they’ll be the most fun to mess with. From the two in the other room, who are too busy pretending they’re making a damn documentary, to these guys, who can hardly get the equipment working… screwing with them will be like taking candy from a baby.

“Will you quit that?”

Joe tenses up. Like terrorizing small children, however, there’s always going to be someone around who ruins your fun.

When he turns, he finds Webster leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He’s got that sour look on his face again, like he’s sucking on a lemon. “It’s immature.”

Believing in ghosts is immature, in Joe’s (totally non-ghostly) opinion. As far as he’s concerned, these four dumbasses have got it coming.

He could say this to Web, but by now he’s learned there’s no point. Webster makes a point of discarding his opinions at every opportunity. Joe can’t reason with the guy. He can’t make him see logic when he’s already devoted to his opinion. No, there’s only one surefire way to get through to Webster, and that’s to pick a fight with him. Joe’s had enough arguments to last an eternity — which is, coincidentally, as long as he has to spend in this house.

With Webster.

Webster, who haunted this house long before Joe decided to die there. Webster, who was the last thing Joe saw, like an angel appearing in the midst of a fever dream, before he started choking on liquid that should not have been in his lungs. Webster, who Joe’s still not certain didn’t kill him. Webster, the most pretentious ghost on the damn planet.

Fate can be a bitch sometimes.

So instead of saying anything reasonable to Web, he just looks over his shoulder and sneers. “Why d’you care what I do? Butt out, author boy. Go back to your room.”

“My room has got two more ‘investigators’ in it.” Web sounds phenomenally put out. Joe can’t find it in himself to be sympathetic.

“Boo-fuckin’ hoo. Go scare ‘em off.”

“Wow, great idea.” Webster sounds dismissive, but Joe knows the truth. He doesn’t want to exert the energy that manifesting will actually take. It will leave him exhausted for days, and Web just hates it when his “aura is drained”. In Joe’s opinion, he’s a lazy ass.

“Do you want me to do it? I will. I’ll write in blood on the walls. I’ll bang on windows, I’ll throw their fancy thousand dollar equipment around. I’ll whisper naughty words in their little machines.” Joe can’t help smiling at the thought of the investigators’ faces lit up with terror. “Hell, I’ll drag one of ‘em through the house by their hair. That’ll get the ghost hunters excited.”

It looks like Webster wants to smile, for just a second; but he ducks his head, and when he looks up, he’s the same old superior Webster. “You’re an idiot,” he says.

Maybe he’d been hoping for a different reaction. Joe doesn’t know, and convinced himself he doesn’t care as he turns away from the other ghost. “You’re an asshole.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re a prick with a ninety year old superiority complex.”

“You’re a drug addict.”

“Was,” Joe shoots back, finally flaring up. That was a low blow. “You drowned in a fuckin’ bathtub!”

“I was murdered! My landlady —“

“You want to have been murdered, you dumb ass! You didn’t sleep for three days, and passed out in the bath! Your landlady has nothing to do with it! Saying you were murdered just sounds cooler, doesn’t it?”

Webster’s eyes narrow, while the rest of him puffs up in righteous indignation. “You know, at least you can say you were killed —“

“Yeah, I was! By you, fucker!”

“You were stabbed!”

“You drowned me!”

“You were dying anyway!”

“That doesn’t make it okay!”

Web falls silent, still flared up and furious. Veins throb at the temples of his flushed face. His chest heaves; his shoulders shake. He looks two seconds from throwing a punch, and Joe almost hopes he does. Let them get into one of their wild, all out, shake-the-walls-and-ceilings fights. Give the investigators a real show.

“I can’t stand being stuck with you for all eternity,” Web finally says, voice tight and furious.

“Yeah, me too. I’d rather die. Oh, wait, guess what, I’m already dead!”

He watches with no small amount of glee as Webster’s lips curl back in a snarl, exposing rows of perfect bared teeth. He looks two seconds away from conniption, and it’s glorious. Nothing satisfies Joe more than leaving the eloquent bastard speechless. “Ficken arschloch!” Webster spits after a moment, and Joe allows a wide, manic grin to spread across his face.

“That’s it, liebling. Erzähl mir mehr! Bitte!”

“Fick dich!”

“So eloquent —“ He moans, tossing his head back in mock-ecstasy.

That’s the moment Web really does try to punch him.

They wind up fleeing the house in blind panic as the walls rattle, doors slamming at their heels. Babe doesn’t stop screaming until they’re already speeding down a side street, kicking and clambering over each other to find their seats in Bill’s oversized truck. Their equipment clatters where it’s been haphazardly thrown in the trunk. Were Luz not so distracted, he would be mourning the inevitable damage.

He’s too busy screaming. “Oh jesus. Oh jesus! Jesus, Mary, and the holy fuckin’ ghost, what was that?”

“That was exactly what you think it was!” Bill hollers back. “It was a fuckin’ ghost!”

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit —“ Babe choruses. He sounds like he’s sobbing.

Toye just drives. He does not look behind him. He does not take his eyes off the road. He just drives.

The first misadventure of the Pennsylvania (and Rhode Island, By Technicality) Paranormal Research Society has come to a premature end.

It’s not until they review the evidence they’ve collected later that night that they realize something was really wild in that house.

To be fair, they all knew that to begin with. The slamming doors had left little question of that; the way books flew off the shelves, broken furniture spun across the room,  and windows slammed open and shut left no question of that. There was something in that house and it wanted them gone so much that it chased them out.

It’s only when they’re safe and sound, holed up in Babe’s basement and clustered around George’s laptop, that they realize exactly what they caught.

“Am I losing it,” says Babe, “or does that sound like German?”

“No,” replies Luz. “That’s definitely German.”

“What’s he saying?”

“How should I know?”

“Shut up,” Toye hisses, and fast forwards to a particular part of the audio clip. Here, a very clear voice can be hear saying, “Joe, you’re an asshole!”

And then it sounds almost like someone mimicking him back, in a higher voice. The group thinks it’s a woman for all of a split second before it dawns on them. The first ghost is being mocked.

“I... think we found the ghosts of an old a married couple,” says Babe.

“A gay married couple.” Bill scrunches his nose up. “Gay ghosts? Can that happen?”

“They fact that they’re ghosts shouldn’t mean they can’t be gay. Straight ghosts can happen.”

“How do you know so much about ghosts?” Bill demands. “Have you met any?”

“No!” retorts Babe. “Just, ghosts can be as gay as anybody else! Maybe every ghost is a little gay, who knows? We ain’t here to make judgements on any ghost’s lifestyle! There’s nothing weird about being a gay ghost!”

“Oh my god,” Toye says again, and slams his forehead down into his hands.

Next time Luz wants to do a “fun group thing”, they should all go rock climbing or learn to hotwire a car. It would be less chaotic than ghost hunting.

Webster seems much happier after the investigators leave, which Joe supposes is a good thing. A happy Web is less inclined to be a pain in the ass, especially if he’s allowed to curl up in front of the TV in his room.

Technically, the house doesn’t have cable. The house doesn’t have power. Ghosts can get around the laws of physics, so this isn’t a huge problem. Web’s biggest worry in his afterlife is making sure he doesn’t miss any shark documentaries when they pop up on the Discovery Channel.

Webster is a weird, weird dude.

“Think they liked the show?” Joe asks, plopping down on one side of the couch. Webster is slumped over, using his hands to pillow his head (the energy it takes to turn on the TV would be enough to wear him out, even if they didn’t mess around with the house earlier). He just makes a weird grunting noise and shifts over until his head is resting in Joe’s lap.

Joe allows it. Webster smells nice, in a faint, ghostly way; and his hair is fluffy. Laying on him is one of the least annoying things he could do. At least he’s quiet.

They argue all the time, but their fights never last for long. There’s no point holding grudges when you’ve got an eternity with someone, after all. Joe and Webster are both going to be here a long time.

Maybe fate is kind of cruel, but Joe is sure there are worst places he could have ended up than at Webster’s side. All things considered, it’s not the worst afterlife in the world.

[tickletastic]

4 Times Damian Lost Family Game Night, And One Time He Didn't

Title: 4 Times Damian Lost Family Game Night, And One Time He Didn’t

Rating: G/SFW

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1728

Fandom: Batman/Batfam

Ships: None

Characters: Dick Grayson, Tim Drake , Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown (maybe more)

Notes: I’ve actually been working on this for a while,,,,, so I hope it’s good!

Summary: Tim is extremely ticklish. Damian finding out is his downfall.

-1-

Every month the Waynes have their family game night. They realized early on, that they couldn’t play board games on this night. It just wasn’t an option. Things tended to get very physical very fast when they played competitive board games, so instead, they found other games.

This month they got into teams, and they had a Mario Kart tournament that lasted the entire night.

Today the teams were Tim, Jason, Steph, and Bruce, against Dick, Damian, and Cass. Damian and Dick had already been eliminated, as well as Bruce and Steph. So currently Cass was kicking Jason’s ass. It was kind of like a relay the way they played. Two people would start, one from each team, and whoever won got to stay on, whichever team went through all of their players first, were the losers. Cass was the only one team blue had left, and frankly, she was their best player.

After she got Jason out however, Tim was on. Tim, was by far, the best Mario Kart player in the house. He’s dedicated. As the round began, Tim had quickly passed Cas, and was almost close to lapping her on his 2nd lap.

Dick stuck his hands forward, a playful grin spreading on his face. He leaned a little into Tim from his position behind him, and began to poke Tim wherever he could reach.“Dihihihick thahahahahats cheheheating” Tim giggled, a death grip on his wii remote. He was trying to avoid the fingers, by scrunching up his various body parts, but he was surprisingly going steady. Dick stopped after a few more seconds, but Damian stared on. What was that? How did Dick get Tim to react like that? Eventually his thoughts were disrupted by Tim’s shouting. Their team had won, and Damian certainly didn’t like losing.

-2-

This month’s game in the Wayne house was hide and seek. Yes, it seemed pretty juvenile, but who doesn’t love a good game of hide and go seek?

It was in the last round, and Cas was it. She looked everywhere, but being trained assassins and ninjas, the Waynes proved to be pretty hard to find.

She walked into one of the libraries in the manor and pulled the secret book. It caused the bookshelf to open like a door, revealing one grimacing Damian.

“How did you find me first?” Damian asked angrily. This meant he would now have to help Cas find the rest of the clan.

As Damian walked deeper into the manner to search, he began to hear giggling. Giggling that closely resembled Tim’s from their last family game night. The closer Damian got to the secret room under the stairs, the louder the giggling got.

Once he opened the latch, it revealed a disheveled Tim getting tickled and prodded by Jason.“Found you.” Damian said in a monotonous voice.“But you still lost” Tim responded with a smirk.

-3-

The next family game night consisted of Twister. In a family full of ninja-trained athletes, Twister got pretty competitive. They had an extended mat so that the eight of them; Tim, Dick, Jason, Damian, Bruce, Steph, and Cas could all fit on it.

They were all in extremely awkward positions as Alfred read out the instructions on the spinner.

“Left foot green Mater Damian,” he spoke, watching as Damian tried to get his left foot over his right even though his hand were both on the mat.

Damian came down hard, toppling Cas, and Steph in the process.

“Damian! You’re such a dildo!” Steph yelled, pushing his shoulder.

“Steph,” Bruce said as a warning “Don’t call your brother a dildo.”

Damian, and Steph walked over to couch and sulked, and Cass sat down next to them (her usual ray-of-sunshine- self).

Quickly after that, Jason was out too, claiming that it’s harder to play twister in jeans. They watched as Dick, an acrobat, Tim, the best fighter of the Robins, and Bruce, the mentor of all of them, battled it out on the Twister mat.

The losers could see the players getting tenser as the time went on, especially Bruce who had trained both. As Bruce’s turns went on Damian noticed that his father would try to skim Tim’s sides every time he had to move a hand.

Eventually Bruce fell over, leaving Tim and Dick to battle it out. Bruce was mad that his kids had beat him at a game based on flexibility, but he went over to sulk with the rest of his kids.

“I was in the circus for most of my childhood Tim, I can do this with my eyes closed.” Dick taunted

At some point, just to show off, Dick did a bridge and held it, but he managed to align himself so that his face was in front of one of Tim’s sides. Tim’s shirt had ridden up from being in such an awkward position, and he giggled as Dick blew, almost losing balance.

“Dihihihik yohohohoure a cheheheahahater.” He giggled, using every ounce of his energy not to move away. Dick extended his bridge as much as he could, and his lips were basically touching Tim’s side. Dick began to blow raspberries on Tim’s side.

“NOHOHO!” Tim squealed, bucking his hips without his limbs leaving the spots. However, his hip bucking was enough to knock over the outstretched gymnast beside him.

Tim got out of the awkward position and began to cheer for his win, but not for very long. Because soon he was sprinting out the door running from an angry Dick.

-4-

May’s family game night wasn’t really a game, but more of a competition. Bruce, Dick, Damian, Tim, and Jason all headed to the batcave’s gym, towards the monkey bars. They were going to have a competition to see who could hang upside down the longest.

On the surface, this would appear to be easy for the bats, but they really weren’t used to hanging upside down. They move quickly, and never stay for too long, so this was a new challenge.

Jason decided not to take part, so he went from person to person and attempted to make everybody crack.

First, it was Bruce. Jason opened his mouth to speak and Bruce climbed down, sighing.

“I’m getting to old for this, I don’t even want to know what you were going to say.” Bruce spoke, walking out of the room.

Next was Damian, who was nearly as easy to knock as Bruce. Jason made ocean noises, reminding Damian how seasick he would get on water, and Jason could’ve sworn Damian turned green. He was off those monkey bars almost faster than the flash.

Damian used his inherited skill, and brooded while he watched Tim and Dick. Jason walked up to Dick and leaned really close to his ear, and simply whispered “The flying Graysons.”

“That was a low blow Jason, but I’m not gonna give up.”

“Fine. So be it…. Heyy Timmy,” Jason said, walking closer to Tim. Jason got a look in his eyes that scared Tim.

Tim’s hands were dangling above his head and Jason was ruthless, he knew what was coming. He felt fingers enter his armpits and he absolutely lost it.

“NOHOHO JAHAHASOHOHON NOHOHOHO!” Tim screamed, falling to the ground beneath him.

Dick won this competition, but Tim sure still beat Damian.

-5-

Tim was bored and it was hot. It was really, really hot, and he was really, really bored.

It was him, Damian, and Jason sitting in the game room of the mansion. He had already beat Dami in air hockey and Jason in Guitar Hero Live, and he didn’t know what else to do.

Suddenly he got an idea and turned on the television, throwing a Wii remote at Damian.

“You. Me. Mario kart.” He spoke, jokingly staring Damian down.

“It’s on Drake.” Damian replied, actually glaring at Tim (because ya know, he’s Damian).

They began the race, 800cc with Tim as Daisy and Damian as Donkey Kong. Tim was surpassing Damian by a whole lot, lapping him once, and almost twice.

As he began to gloat, finishing his 1st lap, he felt pokes to his side. They were small subtle fingers, testing the waters.Tim grit his teeth, quickly turning to look at Damian. “W-what are y-you doing D-Dami?” He questioned, attempting to finish the race.

“Hmmm… Just testing something out Drake,” Damian spoke, a mischievous grin on his face. Tim was going fine for half of the 2nd lap, until Damian kicked it up a notch. He tossed his controller at Jason, knowing that Jason was usually on his side, and began to dig harder into Tim’s sensitive sides.

“Dahahahamihihiahahan! Stahahap ihihit!” Tim tried to speak, his giggles getting louder.

“Try his neck Demon-Spawn,” Jason told Damian, attempting to finish the race (rainbow road is a real kicker).

“Jahahasohohon! Yohohou’rehehe ahahah traiahaTOHOHOR DAHAHMIHIHIAHAN STAHAHAP!” Tim squealed, trying to scrunch in his neck.

“His hips and armpits get him pretty badly too,” Jason continued.

“JAHAHASOHOHON IHIHIHIM GOHOHONNAHAHA KIHIHIHILL YOHOHOU!” Tim screamed, thrashing so hard he lost the death grip on his remote.

“I really never expected you do have such a silly weakness Drake.” Damian spoke, kind of enjoying torturing Tim.

At this point Damian was scratching at Tim’s neck and clawing at his hipbones, overwhelming the older boy. Tim was screaming and squealing, thrashing madly. Tim is really, really ticklish, and at this point he was going absolutely mad. For someone who never knew affection as a child, Damian was oddly good at this. Damian’s nimble fingers and knowledge of the human body’s nervous system were really driving Tim up the wall. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

Tim went into silent laughter just as the congratulatory music began to play. Damian hadn’t stopped tickling though.

“DAHAHAHAHAMIHIHIAHAHAN PLEHEHEHEASE! YOHOHOHOU WIHIHIHIN! YOHOHOHOU WIHIHIN!” Tim laughed out in agony. Damian didn’t stop until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You should stop now Damian, we don’t want to kill Tim,” Jason spoke, leaning in to whisper “trust me, i tried. Bruce wasn’t too happy.”

Damian finally got off of Tim, cheering because he had finally won something against the former Robin.

Tim really wanted to give him an ego check and remind him that Tim had won all the other times, but he was definitely not up for a round two.

[ace-and-spade]

"Going Off" || Cyprien || Trial 2.3 || Re: Everyone || Attn: Jinan

Cyprien had been taking deep breaths to compose himself as the trial proceeded. If he did nothing, he’d be voted simply because of his own weakness. He had to figure out something, anything to keep himself from receiving such harsh judgment. It was then that Wisteria chimed in, something that really pushed him off the deep end. It was all true that in the world… no one actually cared about how you felt. Just what they see in front of them. So… Let’s give them what they want. He proceeded to slam his fist onto the podium to raised his head. He was smiling, but it was a strange one. It didn't match the cesspool of emotion his eyes displayed. “I had forgotten that corporate cows are the worst in knowing the thoughts of those beneath them…” He began.

 Cyprien then proceeded to take off both his coat and loosen his shirt. “If you want evidence so badly, then let’s go down the list ladies and gentlemen.” He stared directly at Wisteria as he spoke, his smile ever present as his eyes were devoid of any joy. “We’ll speak of Hanagawa-kun since that’s what we all are emotionally invested in and who I’m accused of killing. One thing that is needed to taken into account is that I have almost no upper body strength. Even a simple crate can have me begging for help after carrying it for less than an hour. Besides that little did bit on how I need to train my muscles more often, let’s talk about how Hanagawa-kun was killed. Strangulation while also have a bookshelf fall on top of him. We haven’t lied so far, no?” He was almost mocking Wisteria with that last sentence.

 “Both tasks require at least a relatively great deal of strength if we consider the following. You would have needed to either quickly kill off the boy before he had the chance to give a plea for help if anyone was around, or overpower him into submission if you remember that he has no other wounds besides the ones on his neck. And let’s take in Akito’s physics hypothesis into account. Using the force of the rocking movement the bookcase would have provided to your advantage to topple it onto Hanagawa-kun. That still doesn’t explain how you’d possibly be able to adjust the bookcase in an angle that wouldn’t have killed a person from its weight. Imagine this, a twig like man pulls out a bookcase that’s almost double his height and is able to quickly knock it over using that very same momentum? Wouldn’t you expect to see some sort of remnants of such an action at the scene or on the man himself?” And with that, he gestured his hands to the crowd. Besides the red bruise forming from his earlier actions, there were no injuries. He motioned to his clothing, no tears or seams out of place. “I know what you might be thinking… but what if he’s using makeup to hide something or replaced his clothes? Well. I have some shocking news for you all....” He then rubbed his hands with clear force and motioned to them again, still no marks. “I didn't use any makeup today nor did I bother bringing a spare coat with me.”

 “Let’s travel down to the gym in this discussion as well. Since it relates to this murder as well. As we know, it’s a mess. And let’s recount that Nejem-san is the only person to have seen the gym’s original state before Yuuto’s murder. I’ll hit both the accusation that the murder could have possibly taken place at 8 am and that the gym was a mess due to a possible struggle. The rooms that I've been to today besides the stage have been the bookstore and the buffet, which was where I was during the event. If someone wants to chime in, be my guest. However, to go back to my original point. Wouldn't you think I’d be spotted by more people other than him if I had been at the gym at such a time? Especially since there would have been more than one person awake at such an hour. Oh, and speaking of the one person to have been to the gym today and only person to have seen me enter the bookstore….”

 He turned his head and gave him a sinisterly polite smile. “Nejem-san… such a strong and well-trained man in the art of combat… Since you seem to know what I was doing at such a time. What was holding? How did I look? Because there’s one clear thing you forgot to mention in such a critical portion of your testimony… The Gym and Bookstore are five hallways, one room, and one elevator ride away from each other. So before you start spouting nonsense about how I should be the one to explain myself to Mr. Camera Vision, answer me this~”

He stared at Jinan, smile gone as he leaned on the podium which his coat had laid on. “What were you actually doing at that very same time that you propose I did something to Hanagawa-kun, Jinan?”