// Emerson shrugs one shoulder, not really too enthusiastic about talking of her death—her murder ) Meh, it was just some lonely bum. He wanted some money. I mean, he could have asked, I woulda given him all that I had. You know, bein' it late at night, 'n' stuff. I mean, I shouldn't have been walking alone at night, anyway, but... // she shrugs again, this time slowly, with both shoulders ; she makes a sour face, her nose scrunching up for a moment )

So, like, why are you so interested in helping me? I'm just some silly girl trapped in the ghostly plane of existence. Not like I mean anythin' to you, or nothin'. // she floats around him curiously, her body horizontal )

( ♔ ) emersone

[ // He has to admit that he likes seeing this girl’s face beam. It’s rare to come across someone who can actually light up like that days. Is this what they mean by ‘a smile if infectious’? ] Just Ludwig is fine. Unless I’m working, formal titles aren’t required. Will Emerson be alright with you? [ // Sees that Emerson’s hand phases through his. He doesn’t flinch or freak. Just smiles ] But yes. It’s nice to meet you.

Ah, well, you see… [ // Actually heading home after wrapping up another ‘game’. There was a child rapist he had to take care of ] I just needed some air to clear my mind. [ // Comes to an abrupt halt. Turns to stare at her. Demeanor shifts into a stoic one. ] …were you attacked, Emerson? Raped? Murdered? Tell me. Trust me. [ // Sets hand upon his chest ] I am someone who can help - even if you are already dead.

who's the worst friend and who's the worst roleplay partner ever?

if ya guessed me, you're right!!!

Emerson watched Mister Q watch the scene unravel further. She felt a huge pang of guilt, and another sob echoed past her lips. She floated back down to him, wanting to touch his arm, or, perhaps his back or shoulder? She had no idea what to do. She had done the wrong thing, in killing him, though. That much was true.

"I'm s-sorry," she whispered. "I just thought you'd like it better if the stress of work wasn't there anymore..." She reached out and finally hugged him tightly, making sure he wouldn't pull away.

Ghastly Little Ghost || AU

Q stood still, watching them push over the statue, pick up his broken form. They closed his eyes and picked up what was left of his glasses. Q stared in horror as they covered his boy and as the ambulance drove away, and continued to stare once it was gone. The crowd faded, the people gone. Shards of glass, fit to his prescription were covered in what used to be his blood. Q was dead. He watched it all unravel. 

The rain fell, right through him, and washed away the blood that stained the pavement. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, and a storm had made its way to the streets. Emerson’s sobs filled his ears, and only his, as he was the only person out to hear.  

"I--I--" she began, unable to finish her words. She broke down and sobbed openly, not knowing what else to do. The girl let out a shriek and stomped her feet, that were shrouded in fog. Emerson flew up, fast and quick, to the nearest rooftop and sat on its edge.

Her face was in her hands tightly, the sobs still wracking her body. She hadn't meant for this to happen--not really. She didn't mean to /kill/ Mister Q, just..scare him a little. It wasn't her fault he didn't move out the way!

She let another shriek rip through her lungs, her head facing the darkening sky above her. It began to rain, but the droplets sank right through her, wetting the concrete she sat upon.

Emerson wanted to /die/. For real, not be a ghost; she wanted to cease to exist. It was too difficult being a ghost. How could you commit suicide if you were already dead?

The girl continued to sob, begging for forgiveness in unintelligible words.

Ghastly Little Ghost || AU

“Emerson,” He began, fury dripping into his words, “I’m dead. You told me I had years to live on!” He shouted, hands shaking. “You never told me about this! About how this ‘connection’”, he mimed the quotation marks, “would mean this! All of this!” He looked back at the crowd, ambulance now arriving. “I let you follow me, you did have a friend! I listened to you, I talked to you when I knew I shouldn’t have, I let you follow me around everywhere I went! I’m always stressed! I would’ve always had a burden on my shoulders! I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t want or ask you to kill me! Emerson, what have you done?!”

Emerson felt horrible about ending Mister Q-Tip's life, but she had to do it. That was just how things worked. If you got to close to a living person, who could /see/ you? Who could...interact, who could hear you, all that ghostly stuff. It was just, you had to, you know? You had to kill them.

And Mister Q was no exception. He had to be hers forever, and now he was. He could vanish, but she'd always be connected to him; for she had killed him. She had pulled his spirit from the living, to the dead. 

Emerson looked down at her hands, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her sweater's cuff. "S-sorry, Mister Q-Tip. I didn't m-mean to, I just, I wanted a friend. And you were so stressed all the time...I just thought it was the best idea..."

How am I supposed to know? Do I look like I am clairvoyant? No. Just because I'm /dead/, doesn't mean I can /see into the future/! 

// she groans and throws up her hands, frustrated )

I'm so done with you. Good luck trying to figure things out on your own, jerk. 

And when will that be?

Not until you understand how--how stupid it is! To be a ghost! To be /dead/! Do you like not being heard? Or seen? Or /anything/? It's like you're screaming and...nobody can hear you, or you're drowning in a pool full of lifeguards. It isn't /fair/.

And I want you to realise how unfair it is by being stuck like this until you do, neener! 

I know you do. I’m the only one that can see you.

I just want to go back to being normal, thanks. 

Why don't we just agree to disagree that hitting me is not going to solve anyone's problems? Huh? Okay. I like this plan. Yep.

We should do something /fu~un/, Sebby. We should go to the shops and see how many people we can scare by making ghostly things happen. // she beams ) Come on, it'll be a blast. Sometimes I do that when you're in school and I'm bored. 

You hit me, though. I hit back.

Send me a:

☂ for: what we’d do on a rainy day. 

☪ for: my idea of a night with you. 

✆ for: a drunken/stoned voicemail. 

✉ for: unsent text messages. 

♬ for: a song that reminds me of you.

You can hit /on/ me, if that's what you mean. // she winks ) But other than that, no hitting. Haven't you ever heard the rule "no hitting girls"? Gosh.

If I’m a ghost, can I hit you now?

I dunno, until you realise how upsetting it is to be a ghost. Not being able to do as you please, because nobody can see or hear or touch you ever. 

How about that, mister?

How long does this last for?

// she 'hmph's then slings her other arm around his neck and holds fast ) No. I'm not gonna. I'm not gonna because you're dumb and silly and wonderful. Even if you're stubborn and rotten and don't want to fall in love again because a stupid old man hurt you. He hurt you loads, Sebby. Why can't you let him go? He's stupid. If it were me, I wouldn't have, you know, threatened to kiss my best friend. I was there, you know, just curious as to where you were going. I'm sorry I spied, I didn't mean to. I just wanted to meet this stupid oaf. 

He was more rotten than you, you know. Treating you the way...he did. He shouldn't have. I wouldn't. I would treat you better; like a prince. Even a stubborn one, but I would, you know...

// emerson kisses his cheek lightly, then pulls away altogether ; she sits with her hands in her lap ) I'm sorry he messed you up, but you shouldn't think that your love life is over because one butt head decided to fuck up. // her eyes go wide at the curse, and she covers her mouth ) Oh--oh my gosh! I'm sorry!

Leave me alone, Emersone. 

// she watches him curiously from the shadows of his room ; [ he talks to himself? odd. what a weirdo. ] she thinks ; emerson sits down on his bed and reappears, placing a hand on his shoulder ) I'm..sorry. For hittin' you. I was just--angry, I guess. Angry. 

Don't talk to yourself, you're gonna be crazier than me, you numpty. Come on. Stop. Stop it! // she floats closer to him on his bed, trying to offer her warmth ; obviously doesn't have any )

Sebby, don't be like that, it's fine; I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hit you--it was so, so wrong of me. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me...? 

[ he moves his head to the slap, the pain stinging through his face. it was rare he was hit above his neck. he placed his hand on the red mark quickly forming over his skin.]

Why should I care about anyone else? [ He mumbles, talking to himself. ] Anyone you ever care about hurts you. Sherlock, John, my ma. [He kept on listing people, sitting down on his bed and running his fingers through his hair.] 

It’s safer, not to care. Right, Sebastian? Yeah. This makes sense. A few slaps here and there… no lasting damage.

// she appears before him, uncomfortably close ; her voice is a hushed whisper ) You know wh-what? You're right. You /do/ only care about yourself. You're a selfish, horrible, little boy. You're no man, no matter how old you are!

You're--you're horrible! You were horrible in school, and you're horrible now that I've gotten to know you! You'll be horrible for the rest of your life, and I hope you are alone for the whole while, too! 

// she slaps him, hard, and hears it echo through out the room ; her eyes go wide, feeling the sting on her hand ) O--oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! // she closes her eyes tightly and vanishes again )

Yeah, do your weird ghost shit!

It’s not like you’ve put any thought into trying to make me feel bad… it’s something that’s impossible to do. I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone besides myself!

I'm n-not a psycho! I don't live in some stupid 'psycho' world, either! You big...you...butt head! Gosh! // she fumes, wipes away at her face to get rid of hair that is sticking to her forehead )

I'll stalk who I want, jerk! And that'll be you, now, if you like it or not! Good luck trying to get rid of me! // she lets out a shriek and vanishes ; he can hear quiet sobs near, but can't see her at all )

Things are complicated. I make him cry and he makes me cry. That’s what happens in relationships, you hit bumps, it gets hard. But that doesn’t happen in your psycho world, does it? Everything’s so simple, and fucking easy for you to understand. 

Go stalk someone else, I’m not in the mood.

Sure, and that's why he made you cry so many nights? Alone? Goodness, what a way to treat someone you love, huh? 

I still fancy you. I think I always will, not matter what stupid age you are, you numpty. But it's not like you /care/ or anything. "Since I'm dead," or whatever, right? Nobody can love a dead girl.

But whatever, go love your silly, abusive grandpa, see if I care! 

You don’t know nothing about John. He-He loved me. [His voice breaks a bit and he avoids her eyes.] 

Ouu, liar, liar, pants on fire! I've heard you, silly. You can't play the lying game that well, can you? Hm?

// she ruffles his hair, and to her surprise, she can actually feel it ) Huh. 

I'm sure he was /lo~ovely/, too. But not as nice as me, right? I wouldn't make you cry. Promise, cross my heart and hope to, um. Um, live? I guess? Or, or die again, I suppose. Whatever. Whatever!

I had a man when I was 16. It doesn’t matter what age I am, I can get whoever I please. 

No. I don’t.