bakerstreet | ghost love.

ghost love.

sleeping with ghosts —

You can't help who you fall in love with. But what if the person you fall for is no longer a person? Perhaps they were, once; those days have gone. All that's left is a memory. Is that something you can put to rest, or will you keep them with you and away from their final resting place?

Comment with your character and preferences. Mention if you'd prefer to play the living, the dead, or either.
Reply to others. You can use the RNG or not, if you'd wish. Make up your own additional prompts, scenes, scenarios, and such.

Dead Lover — No wonder they have unfinished business with you. You were theirs in life, and they're not about to let you go.
Tethered to You — In life, you didn't know each other, but now their ghost is connected to you, and you to them.
The Sight — You're the only one who can see them, the only one in the world to them, now.
Haunted Home — There's something wrong with your house. Can you reclaim it? Do you want to get rid of your companion?
Peace to the Vengeful — All you wanted to do was do a kind deed and help them achieve peace, not become eternally grateful.
Remember — Both of you are bound and determined to find out who you were as a living mortal. The knowledge might tear you apart.
Different Time, Different Place — This ghost is of a person who's a bit...antiquated compared to you. Careful, they may want to court you. It certainly makes things awkward when they see how you dress.
Jealousy — Lights burst, glass cracks, and the whole place goes cold when someone with a pulse smiles at you.
Protection — You'll risk your afterlife for the one you love.
Confession — If you can communicate vocally, confessions are easy. If you can't talk, that's a whole other kettle of fish.
The Challenge of Intimacy — Ghost makes it look so easy. You want to reach out and touch them, but you can't always do that.
Manifestation — Your emotions have temporarily given you a physical form.
Keeping You Here — The living's affection keeps the dead in the mortal coil.
Decay — The longer they stay with you, the more of a violent wraith, disconnected from their past, they become.
Passing — You have to let them go, even if they don't want to.
Just Like Heaven — You'll work together to find a way to bring you back to life.
ANYTHING ELSE?

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You body is under the floorboards.

[ It's a remark he can't help but make, because what? Didn't getting arrested for burying a body on the Hale house grounds teach Derek anything? The house is county property, they do check up on the place occasionally.

He takes in everything that had been projected into the dark, worrying at his lower lip. The mirrors remind him of puzzles out of Silent Hill, the ring of light drawing his eye.

Derek's there obviously, because he's either an alpha, or a blood relation. There's no way for him to tell if he's dead or just knocked out... he wouldn't put it past Peter to have twisted the truth when he'd said that he'll get better. ]

It has to be the coming full moon, and what, if you miss it, you never get another chance at it?

I know, right? What a jerk.

[ That. Wasn't the point. And is a really inappropriate tone, but, Peter. ]

You're gonna have to bust through those, by the way. And no, you could try at the next full moon. If you lived that long.

[ There it is, the pragmatic reason underlying all the other pragmatic reasons: Peter is afraid Stiles, Derek, or both of them will die. Derek more than Stiles, not that he'll say that. ]

Not the point I was going for.

[ He says slowly, after a beat. ]

You really should have been haunting Derek, he's the one who buried you in the first place.

[ Why not have him dig Peter up again? Because as it stands now, Peter and him shouldn't be the only ones with a say in this.

Not that he's agreed yet. ]

You weren't my first choice.

[ Neither was Derek. But Lydia is a very special, very tricky kind of leverage with Stiles. Peter sees no advantage in admitting to his original plan right now. He's had a decent stretch of influence over Stiles, and now he can see that wheels are starting to turn again. At this point, he can practically feel them. ]

What more is there to consider, Stiles? I can see you trying to twist this, you know. You don't want to follow my plan to the letter, just in case. Is that it?

[ His voice is that deadened calm again, the pointed non-violence that promises incipient ugliness. ]

[ He tilts his head, half shrugging. He rarely is. ]

There aren't many workarounds for the parts that will bring you back to life, but I'm sure I can think of a couple of precautions.

[ As if that's a surprise. ]

You realize I'm with you literally every second of the day? Yes, even then. And also then. And also all the other times.

I'm not enjoying myself, FYI. I would love to leave. But I can't. The point is, I can see what you're doing. So just stick to the plan.

[ He doesn't specify a threat. He's tired of threats. That might be coming across more than he intends. It might be funnier under other circumstances: the cartoon serial killer monster with grandiose delusions of a few months ago is now a frustrated teenage ghost. ]

[ And if gave himself the chance to really think about it, it would be embarrassing having an audience for every little aspect of his life, but he doesn't. ]

Sure, you're around, but it's not like you can make me shut up. Better people than you have tried.

[ To which there is, oddly, no response. Peter is gone without so much as a flicker. The silence in the small space that no longer resembles a convenience store is sudden and stifling, as if some giant invisible presence is crowding out all the air that would carry sound.

Or oxygen, for that matter. Peter told Stiles that he's dreaming, and it follows that Stiles shouldn't need air. This isn't real, breathing isn't necessary. Probably, Stiles has had dreams about not being able to breathe before. It's a common nightmare for many people with a range of sleep-related problems, from apnea to paralysis. Maybe, like people often do during these kinds of nightmares, he'll wake up in bed (or slumped over his desk like Peter claimed).

It seems to be a while coming, though. It seems like something is holding him away from consciousness. ]

[ Spinning on his heels, he tries to locate Peter with no success, breathing hard, then harder when there isn't anything there. Eventually he finds himself on the floor as his legs simply give up from the perceived lack of air. He almost welcomes the fact that he blacks out, when it comes.

He gasps awake on the couch downstairs, the papers he'd been lying sliding off onto the floor. He takes a couple of minutes to pull himself together, slumping back against the cushions and just, breathing. ]

Jackass.

[ Peter's around. He'll hear him, however shaky his voice sounds.

He's almost more determined to let someone else know what's going on now than before, he thinks, burying his face on top of his knees. Like he needed more nightmares.

He hopes that it'll only be nightmares. ]

Don't make me do this to you.

[ The voice is from nowhere, low like it was in the dream, giving the impression Peter is way, way too near. He makes no appearance, however. The dream and everything that happened in it, it wasn't an exertion, exactly; the weariness he feels has nothing to do with expenditure of energy. The truth is that Stiles has fought him a long time, has been stubborn and resourceful, and Peter doesn't want to stay dead. He wants, more than anything, to survive. To live again in the body he bought at such a high price. He wants to feel warm blood on his hands. ]

You're so smart. It'd be a waste to drive you insane.

[ He barks out a laugh, the sound muffled by his position. ]

I'm not making you do anything, you can't just go around demanding that people help you.

[ This isn't something hiding under the covers can fix, not when the monsters can just keep following him into every little aspect of his life. But he wished it could, a simple easy barrier to get Peter to go away. ]

You know what you have to do. There are consequences for not doing it. It's that simple.

[ The voice, relentless and disembodied, almost makes it seem like it's his own house talking to him. ]

Do what I say and this all stops. Don't do it and I'll show you everything I learned, six years trapped in my own body, unable to move or talk. Do you want to see the fire, Stiles? I saw it every day. You can feel for yourself what it's like to burn with your family. You can watch your dad die a thousand times. I can do it. You're making me do it.

This never has been a choice to you, has it?

[ He looks up, staring at the picture frames on the far wall. It's too dark to make out what's in the frames, but doesn't need to see them to recall which family photos they were. ]

[ The silence feels like an assent. And then, mercifully, it eases into normal silence, the quietness of a normal house. The withdrawal of Peter's presence and the resumption of mundane reality is like removing sunglasses after hours of wearing them — a reminder that the world isn't parasitic and nightmarish by default.

As Stiles knows, though, he's still there. Perhaps that taints things, even if his pointed absence is a relief. ]

[ He sits in the dark for some time afterwards, eventually levering himself up and back upstairs into bed. Like he would've been able to get any sleep that night anyway.

There's a moment where he considers his phone, but he knows that texting Scott is more miss than hit, and even if he had some way of directly contacting anyone in Derek's pack? He's not sure they'll have any idea what he's talking about, and that'll just lead to them ignoring him. (He'll try it a day later, the result being strings of seemingly nonsensical numbers and blank texts that he can't explain.)

Wednesday is the night of the full moon, leaving a span of four days to get everything in place. And while Peter had shown him how the ritual had to be done, there hadn't been specifications on the items themselves. Any commentary otherwise would be ignored unless it had a point. Mirrors were found at dollar stores and thrift stores, while a crowbar easily takes care of the floorboards, still loose from the last time they'd been moved. He doesn't look too closely as to what's left in the pit, doesn't consider what would happen if he'd just buried the whole thing, or what would happen if he burned it down to ash.

The wolfsbane he leaves for last, the powder ready just before he heads to school on Wednesday. He stays awake through a combination of an extra pill, coffee and sheer stubbornness, and it's easy to beg off on keeping an eye on Lydia at her party, when he'd almost nodded off in three separate classes.

As for Derek, getting him to the Hale house was almost laughably easy. Stiles had just shown up at the train station when the betas had been locked into a train car, babbling about terrible (desperate) plans. That it's great that he doesn't trust him, but don't kill him for this because this would have happened one way or another and he just wants him gone, goddamnit. The one sided conversation continues in the same vein even after he'd knocked Derek out and shoved him into the passenger seat of the jeep.

After that, it had just been a matter of waiting for the right time and making sure everything was lined up the way it had to be. It's almost a relief; turning the last mirror in place after he'd been standing in the dark. ]

[ After the confrontation of that night, Peter has been much more restrained in his manifestations. He believes in giving people the right motivation and then not getting in their way (unless their way has started to diverge from his way). For a time, he's concerned Stiles' erratic behavior will inspire Scott to follow him around, but to be fair, that's Peter's fault. He used a heavy hand and there was probably a more elegant solution for the texts, but he had to act fast.

Then, finally, it's the night. It's working, and yes, maybe Stiles seems on the verge of a breakdown but that's fine as long he's only on the verge. Peter would say or do something to calm him if that were in any way possible. Instead he does what is probably the least upsetting, which is not show himself to Stiles at all. The mirrors are there, Derek has his corpse's arm, and then, god, finally, the light comes for him. It is the light you do walk to. It's trying to climb a burning rope into a place that doesn't want him anymore. He does it, of course. He always has.

The sensation of hauling himself out from beneath the floorboards is a mess of pain and weakness, so much so that he doesn't immediately realize what's wrong. It's all wrong, in a sense, and it's the first thing he's felt in what seems like forever, so his frame of reference is off. Okay, yes, he's in pain and he needs a shower and some clothes, but —

— he's the wrong size. He is way too fucking young. There's no hiding his expression: he didn't mean to come back like this. Maybe it's because Stiles isn't the banshee he was aiming for, or it's ... all the things he did earlier, maybe he used up too much of himself to terrify Stiles? Maybe both. You barely have to do anything to haunt a banshee, they do all the work for you. Stiles might have sensitivities, but it's not the same.

And oh, right. Stiles. Peter tears his eyes away from his own too small hand to see if he's run off, or if he's been caught up in trainwreck syndrome. To see if he can tell how much Stiles can tell things have gone wrong. ]

Shotgun.

[ He spits the word. As far as first words go, those only make sense in context. Because zombies, right? Though Peter may have more in common with those medically revived. Not that he'd thought too hard about it, attention focused on whether everything that had happened would be worth it.

He stands behind the mirror. Even staring at the face of the man who'd been haunting him, he still doesn't trust that this is over - that he really is as alone as he seems to be. Not with Peter looking like his younger self rather than the version he'd known previously.

Though if he knew for sure that coming back younger was a mistake, he would have considered it Schadenfreude. ]

Something that I sadly don't have, but would have been the perfect welcome back present.

[ If Peter were any closer, he just might have tried to deck him, no matter how ill thought out an idea that is. ]

So, you said you had information that would help with the kanima?

[ Beyond rolling his eyes, Peter ignores Stiles for a moment, looking over at Derek. The alpha power went mostly into reviving him, and killing Derek will do nothing at the moment, but let Stiles worry about it, if he's inclined to worry about it at all. He stands carefully, still looking down at Derek. ]

Fourth stair from the bottom has a false panel. Look in there.

[ He brushes some more dirt and ash off of himself, seemingly lost in thought. Or homicidal reflection, it's always difficult to tell with Peter. He's had all the things he needs to do lined up in his mind for a while now, but certain things need readjustment with his age. Now only Derek and Stiles (possibly Deaton?) know what he looks like. A certain simple part of him says: kill them both. But that's the part that got him into trouble the first time around. Besides, he's still weak. ]

I'm going to look for some clothes. Yell if Derek wakes up.

[ Huffing, he walks off towards the stairs, unearthing the laptop that had been tucked away. The thing looks ancient, and sticking his hand back in the gap eventually unearths the charger that goes along with it. ]

I'm throwing you under the freaking bus if he does.

[ One reason to appreciate the tight shirts Derek favors - he can tell that he's still breathing from a glance.

It doesn't surprise him that Peter might have hidden clothes around the place, not now. Not with the way he'd planned for his own eventual demise and resurrection.

He moves back towards the middle of the room, careful to avoid the gaping hole in the floor boards. The laptop, he sets down on the floor. He has no idea if the thing even has any battery life. ]

Why, so I can haunt you again?

[ His voice floats back from somewhere else in this creepy house. Surprisingly, the laptop does turn on; maybe in one of his less crazy moments before his first death, Peter had recharged it. That's about the extent of his preparedness, though, because judging by the clothes he's wearing when he returns, they were left behind by Derek. They fit him about as well as they'd fit Stiles. ]

So? That enough, or you want my advice? You're entitled to it.

[ Even if you don't want it, his voice smilingly implies. He's all collected again, his face cleaned off, the unshakable demeanor in place. He keeps his distance, too. He's eager to leave, but doesn't want to look like it. ]

[ He's loathe to admit that Peter has a point, unless there was a way to guarantee that Peter would permanently go away, it would just be repeating the entire experience. ]

No thanks.

[ The desktop finally loads; default wallpaper in the background with a scattering of icons to different programs and folders. He clicks through them just to see what they contain.

Finally looking over at Peter, he motions him over. ]

Get over here and help me find the right files. It's your computer.

[ And as far as leaving goes, either Derek is going to have to wake up first, or Peter's going to have to point out it can take a while. In which case, he'll have to convince Stiles to take him back to the train station rather than to Deaton's. ]

What? Can't you — oh, right, sorry, this was the whole family's. You could not stop people from saving everything to the desktop.

[ So it's time for that uncomfortable people-leaning-over-your-shoulder-to-do-the-computing-for-you thing, but hey, Stiles is free to move and let Peter take over. He opens up the abridged bestiary regardless, taking them through to the kanima entry. ]

There you go. Have fun, don't stay up too late, eat your vegetables.

[ Wow, that sounds like Peter is going to take off. By himself. On foot. Which is maybe not unwanted, from Stiles' point of view, but then again, what the hell does he think he's going to do? ]

[ It's different, dealing with people in his personal space when there's a screen in front of him. Like it doesn't matter so much for the brief period of time when they're working on something. ]

You're not going to be getting this back.

[ If he leaves now.

Not from Stiles anyway. He already knows he won't be keeping the laptop, not after he's copied everything from it, but where it'll end up is another matter entirely. ]

Also, you're going to need a phone.

Fine, but use Derek's baby photos for good, not evil.

[ It's a textbook not the fucking point, Peter! remark, this time used to cover up the complicated plans he's trying to work back out at the same time. One of which involves trying to lift Stiles' keys off him while he's distracted by the laptop. ]

I'm aware. I'll be in touch.

You mean he didn't spring out from the ground somewhere fully formed and ans grumpy as all hell?

[ The keys that are in his pants pocket while he's sitting down? Those keys?

Though if Peter's careful, he should be able to get them without too much fuss. ]

You don't even have my number.

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