#nothing like a flop to motivate you to smash out another set in record time

[kimwifexler]

it's something to speak of the way you are feeling to crowds there assembled, do you ever feel that you've gone too far?

[wannabelilybriscoe]

I'd love to hear about skipped notes! 🫶

@m00neroni also asked about skipped notes, so this is for both of you!

ahhh ok so this weird little story infiltrated my brain and took it over for several weeks in a series of scenes/snapshots. i have it about 1/3 written. it's a one-shot that i predict will be around 20k words. i've been picking away at it when the mood strikes me, because writing it makes me feel melancholic. i'm describing it as "canon-adjacent." i don't want to give too much away about it, so instead, i'm going to share the beginning. maybe getting it out there will motivate me to finish this sooner rather than later.

(note that while this story is set in toronto, because i love to write about toronto, it has nothing to do with my other toronto series)

Maybe time isn’t just a flat circle. Maybe we’re not just repeating history, spinning around over and over again, life after life, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, amen. Maybe time is more like a vinyl record, where each pass under the needle wears the grooves a little more, distorts the sound a little further, so that it starts to skip, so that on the next turn around, you wonder what’s missing, and where those missing parts went. Maybe those little missed notes, those little pockets of silence, of something lost, scattered into the ether, turn into bigger pockets of silence, until the record is more skipped notes than sound, until it stops turning altogether. Maybe that’s how a universe ends. Maybe that’s how a new one is born. 

***

Toronto, 2016

Reggae music drifts up from the basement shop, and the air smells sweet with the decay of autumn. Or maybe that’s just the overflowing trash can beside them. Sascha takes a deliberate step to the side and brings their foot down on a leaf lying on the sidewalk in front of them, just so they can hear the satisfying crunch. 

Mom would tsk at them for crunching leaves, no doubt, thinking it’s another example of their destructive impulses. A childish action at best and at worst, a wind-up to a bigger act of destruction, like smashing their phone against the pavement or throwing a paperweight through Dad’s study window. As if breaking property that amounts to nothing for them, loose change between the couch cushions, is an act worthy of condemnation. They’ve seen a boy in their class go out of his way to step on earth worms that wriggle up through the cracks in the sidewalk when it rains, and isn’t that way more fucked up than crunching a few leaves? Than breaking down something that’s already dead? Than moving the process of decay along a little faster?

Deliberately, Sascha times another crunch with the beat of the music. Shivers. The late September weather is doing that thing it always does, where it flip-flops between balmy sunny warmth and grey teeth-chattering gloom. Today, the weather picked gloom. It casts the world around them in a greyscale filter, like all the saturation has been sucked out of the colours. The wind sends more dead leaves skittering around their feet, and goosebumps rise on their bare arms. Even so, they refuse to put their blazer on. Cold weather is in their blood, so they can handle it. 

Sascha flicks their bangs out of their eyes and side steps to let a man with a skittish, jerking gait walk by. The man mutters something about penance, waving a hand with knobby knuckles around, his fingers curled like claws. Sascha barely pays the man any mind, shifting the leather messenger bag on their shoulder and pulling their phone out of the pocket of their slacks. When you live in the city for your whole life, sidewalk characters are as commonplace as pigeons. Bums, Dad calls them, riff raff. 

Already forgetting the man, Sascha swipes away the messages from their classmates asking where they are, and checks the time: their phone screen shows that it’s 4:16. Band practice will be underway, and Mrs. Boucher will be wondering where her pianist is. Unfortunately for Mrs. Boucher and anyone else who happens to care about band, her pianist couldn’t handle the thought of sitting through another practice. 

It’s not that Sascha doesn’t like music—they like music quite a lot. It’s the repetition of practice that makes them want to crawl out of their skin. The sitting straight-backed, picking out the same bars of the same songs from their repertoire, over and over again until their vision starts to swim and their fingers feel numb, and the notes bleed into one another, and the melody distorts into static in their head. Until it feels like the mahogany-arched doors of the school are closing in, and the cloying ivy that covers the stone walls is squeezing tight enough to bring the whole building crumbling down, and the wrought iron gates lining the perimeter of the school’s grounds are shooting up like spears toward the sky, so not even the birds can get in. Caged in. And, well, they’d had to get out. Stuff their navy blue blazer with the stupid school crest into their bag and walk out into the open air. Before they lost it and gave in to one of their destructive impulses. 

In their haste to get out, Sascha had left their headphones in their locker. Which was a real bitch, because they’d really wanted to drown out their thoughts with blaring guitar and skull-hammering drums. Instead, Sascha had looked up at the gloomy sky with clouds like soggy blobs of watercolour paint when the colours run together and become grey-brown, and they’d listened to the cars rumbling by. Had picked Avenue Road to walk down because it’s long and straight. Had followed it aimlessly, which had proven to be ill-conceived, as it took him through Queen’s Park, only to spit them out into the University of Toronto campus. Which had reminded them of university applications, which had reminded them of expectations, which had reminded them of what waits for them beyond graduation, beyond the last summer of high school, which had reminded them of how little choice they have in anything concerning their future. Which had reminded them of the niggling feeling lurking in their periphery, the skittering sparks underneath their skin, that Sascha is running, running, running out of time. 

So, they’d made an abrupt turn onto St. George Street, speed walking away from the campus. Which had led them north again to the Annex, which is how Sascha ended up where they are now. 

Pulled. Toward a set of stairs leading to the basement unit of one of the many shops crammed together like crooked teeth. Their open hand, the one not holding their phone, twitches with an itchy, static feeling, almost like there are sparks crackling between their fingers. Almost. In that way that sometimes happens when they feel like something more is happening. Like the way Sascha used to think, when they were younger, that if they looked at a leaf hard enough and pictured it moving, it would actually skitter across the ground. That if their anger was explosive enough, it could shatter a lightbulb overhead. 

Sascha knows those things couldn’t actually happen. Impulsive and destructive as they may be, they are not stupid. Sascha knows that to think they could experience more is childish daydreaming, inflated by their inherent sense of self-importance, which is no doubt influenced by Dad’s status. That, and the family myth told to Sascha and their sister since they were little, that somewhere down the line, on Mom’s side, some great-great-great-grandmother had been a baba yaga. But magic is just that: myth. And that feeling of more is just that: a feeling. Sascha thinks it’s pretty fucking mature to be able to recognize all this about themself. 

Even so. Pulled. Toward the staircase leading to the basement unit below a laundromat in the Annex, the door propped slightly ajar with a chipped sign overhead reading BOOM! KAPOW! in hand-painted, cartoonish letters. A comic book shop, judging by the graphic art posters tacked to the shop’s window, along with a pride flag. 

It’s the music drifting up from the basement that draws them, Sascha reasons. Music notes bobbing in the air like sprites, drawing them down, and wind curling against their cheek as though crooking a finger, beckoning them closer. Who wouldn’t be drawn to the undeniable mysticism of music drifting up from a hole in the ground? 

The steps are narrow concrete, and the door is propped open with a block of wood but needs a yank to open fully. The moment Sascha steps through, they’re hit with the stuffy warmth of the shop, a musty basement-and-book smell, and a boy.

A boy, a teen, with a softness to his face, sitting behind the shop counter on a wobbly stool. Looking very at home among the cramped shelves of colourful books covering the walls, the rows of shorter shelves in the middle filled to the brim with comic issues. The boy’s dark hair, swirling like charcoal sketched onto paper, messy like he’s run his fingers through the curls more than once. Light brown skin, like it's holding on to the last rays of summer sun. A suitcase record player propped open on a TV table behind him—the source of the music. And a textbook opened on the counter in front of him. Something about the shop and the boy feels soft, like someone has drawn the scene in pastels and smudged the edges, softening them. 

The boy looks up and their eyes meet—warm amber to trap a fly with. Something inside Sascha jolts—they snap their gaze away. 

[starwitch3000]

What’s Your Story - 2

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Summary: During lunch with their best friend the reader decides to do things a little differently.

Warning: Drinking and language. also this chapter is more of a look into the readers life and her friendship with Natasha. But Peter is in there and he’s a little sad. also Mantis!! 

masterlist  ~  ff.net

chapter one

You sighed sitting in one of your favorite coffee shops waiting for Natasha to show up. You were both on your lunch breaks and decided to meet up for a chance to hang out.

It's been a week since you dumped your problems on the bartender at The Milano and while that night you were filled with hope and motivation not much has really changed. You were shocked you haven't walked out on your crappy job because ever since not getting promoted everyone around the office has been acting like you’re incompetent. They'll praise the new guy over the tiniest things which is annoying as all hell.

You did however have a small stroke of luck. While sifting through your morning emails and nursing your third cup of coffee you had an idea. A story idea. And one that stuck with you too. You abandoned your emails immediately and opened a text document and threw everything in your head into the document like vicious word vomit. And all week you've been spending your free time piecing together an outline. Your dining room table was a disaster covered with notebooks and random slips of paper but you felt confident that this mess was going somewhere. Just not somewhere fast enough.

So now you're just trying to find some sort of escape route at work. You wanted out asap but you also needed rent and food, so you decided against just up and quitting. You were also thinking about reaching out and finding a new editing job somewhere else, but your search has come up empty so far.

You were also feeling incredibly lonely and bitterly heartbroken. The apartment you lived in just didn't feel the same after your ex moved out and you felt that same ache that you normally did after a break up. Which is usually when you end up jumping into a new relationship without thinking. It was hard for you to admit to yourself but ever since high school you never really stayed single for long. Always jumping from one commitment to the next like some sort of addict. So now you've been single for nearly three weeks and that similar itch has overtaken you.

"Sorry I'm late," Natasha was suddenly next to you breaking you out of your thoughts suddenly like a bucket of ice water was just dumped on you, "you would not believe the line I just had to deal with. People are fucking idiots."

She ranted without even acknowledging that she scared the shit out of you.

"I hope you don't mind burritos with your coffee," she continued, "but I've wanted a burrito all damn morning thanks to Clint so here we are."

She tossed two brown paper bags onto the table in front of you and she settled into her seat. You slid her the coffee you bought for her and she gratefully took a drink. You each grabbed a bag and dove into your meals setting into a comfortable silence as you ate.

"So how's work today?" Natasha asked breaking the silence after a while.

"Oh it's great," you replied sarcastically, "the new guy figured out the copy machine all by himself today. Pretty sure the gold statue of him will be finished by the end of the day."

She winced, "well at least the good news is it’s Friday. So you'll have two whole days to yourself where you don’t have to look at him."

"Yeah that's true," you sighed, "you want to get really wasted tonight?"

"I can't tonight," she replied awkwardly biting her lip.

"Something going on at work?" You raised an eyebrow watching mild panic cross your friends face.

"No, no it's not work," her hand grabbed her coffee to fiddle with, "Bucky just wants to go out tonight just the two of us."

“Okay you’re aware I know who Bucky is right?” You questioned raising an eyebrow at her, “He’s been your boyfriend for a while now. I’ve met him. We’re all friends. Why are you acting weird about this?”

She sighed, “It’s just… been a little weird talking boyfriends right now I didn’t want to bring it up.”

“So you were just going to pretend Bucky didn’t exist for my sake?” you watched her bite her lip looking a little ashamed.

“Maybe?”

You sniffled feeling touched, “you know I love you right.”

“Man shut the hell up,” she rolled her eyes, “look, I’m just saying, I’ve seen you after bad breakups and I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

“No offense but pretending a whole ass person doesn’t exist kind of make this awkward,” you said, “and, for the record, I’m fine. Sure getting dumped out of the blue really sucks, especially when you think things are really good, but he made his choice and there is no going back. So I’m gonna focus on me for a little bit. I need to sort some things out for myself before I decided to start dating again.”

“You’re acting strangely out of character you know,” she said with a faint smile on her lips, “but I kind of like it.”

“Please don’t hide Bucky from me okay?” you kindly asked, “He’s not the boogeyman okay I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

Natasha snorted into her coffee before taking a drink.

“At least promise me when you do start dating again it’s not going to be some deadbeat again,” She said setting down her coffee cup giving you a stern look.

“If I knew ahead of time that the guy was going to be a deadbeat why would I date him?” you questioned.

She shrugged, “Because he’s cute and you can never stay single long.”

"That’s not going to happen this time because my life is a mess right now why burden someone else with that bullshit," you sighed, “No matter how cute he is.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” She said.

“No but for the first time in my life I think I just want to deal with my shit by myself you know,” you shrugged.

“Well no matter what you know you’re not in this alone,” She replied.

“You’re a total sap,” you shook your head teasing your friend, “look what love has done to you. I can’t wait to tell Bucky about this.”

“Watch it,” She warned.

Later that night you were at your apartment staring at the mess that was your dining table. It was a scattered mess as you were working on some outlines but you had hit a wall for the evening. You felt it. No matter how hard you tried to get anywhere you kept spacing out. Sighing you walked away from the table. There is no point forcing it so might as well clear your head.

Flopping onto your couch you didn’t even bother with the TV so you sat there in silence staring up at your ceiling. You stared for what felt like an eternity but in reality, as you checked your phone for the time and it read 7:30, it was only a couple of minute.

You couldn’t just sit in your house doing nothing all evening, as much as you wanted to work you knew it wouldn’t happen. So you got up grabbing your jacket and purse, stopping to fix your hair, and left your apartment and just walked. You walked wherever your feet wanted to go and as you walked down the sidewalk you thought through your options, you could get some food, maybe do some grocery shopping, call a friend to hang out. But you didn’t do any of those things because before you knew it you were standing outside a now familiar bar.

The Milano.

Might as well, you thought staring up at the bar sign and walked on in.

The place was a little more filled than it was last week and you saw a couple of familiar faces from the last time. One of those being Kraglin who was standing at a table near the bar with a beer in hand talking to a couple of people you didn’t know. He saw you walk in and gave you a kind nod causing the people with him to look your way. One older and taller with a red mo-hawk, a graying beard, scars and a mean look on his face. The other was a shorter, bald, muscular man who had both of his arms covered in red tattoos.

Putting on a friendly face you nodded in return to Kraglin as you made your way to the empty end of the bar. You noticed Peter was there behind the bar, but he was having a heated conversation with a small girl sitting on a stool in front of him. You were going to mind your own business and wait to get a drink but you overheard Peter say, “I don’t care how many times we have this conversation I will never understand why Jigglypuff is in smash.”

Given both of their serious expressions you were a little shocked that they were talking about a video game.

“Says the guy who only ever plays as star fox,” the girl in front of him sneered, “We get it Peter you want to be a spaceman, stop shitting on my favorite characters.”

“I’m not shitting on them, I’m just saying, you already have kirby bringing in another round pink character is just there to confuse people,” Peter defended throwing his arms up in defense.

You leaned against counter and watched the two taking in this girls appearance while the two continued their argument. She was sitting cross legged on the stool and wore a large dark green sweater and some leggings. Her black hair was straight and fell just past her shoulders.

“You know what sis I give up,” Peter threw his hands up again this time taking a dramatic step back, “If you want to attack pacman this way, that’s your choice. You’re wrong but it’s your choice to be wrong.”

Shaking her head she smacked her hands against the counter, “It’s like you’re not even listening to me!”

You grinned adamantly watching the two.

“Well I’m not anymore so have fun beating classic mode without me.” Despite arguing with this girl he still refilled her drink. Dropping the drink on the counter you finally caught Peters attention.

Leaning against the bar grinning over the argument that just took place, “Don’t look at me I’m a pikachu girl all the way.”

“Somebody gets it,” The girl rejoiced and threw her hands up in praise.

“Didn’t expect to see you again,” Peter said ignoring the girl.

“Yeah well where else do I have to be on a Friday night?” You joked.

“Ouch,” Peter hissed, “that hurts you know. What can I get for you? Having another one of those pity parties tonight?”

“Rude but fair,” you shrugged and asked for a beer.

“Bottle or tap?” Peter asked then nodded to the girl he was arguing with, “This is Mantis by the way I’m not speaking to her anymore so if you could let her know that’d be great.”

“Bottle is fine,” you replied then smiled towards Mantis, “Nice to meet you I’m (Y/N).”

Peter grabbed you a beer and opened it sliding it to you.

“Nice to meet you,” Mantis smiles, “I’m Peter’s sister and apologize in advance for any of his behavior.”

Confused because Peter and Mantis looked nothing alike you nodded and raised your eyebrow at Peter for confirmation on what you were just told.

“We grew up in the same foster family together,” He shrugged, “technically family.”

“Isn’t he just the sweetest?” Mantis gushed dropping her legs down from the stool she was perched on, “I feel the love Petey.”

He scowled at his sister as she walked away joining Kraglin and the other two men from before.

“I like her,” you grinned sitting in the stool you’ve been standing next to and earning a scowl of your own, “oh come on you can’t really be that upset over some video game.”

Peter sighed scratching at his scruff, “I’m not it’s just other stuff really.”

You took a swig of your beer watching Peter. He was just as handsome as you remembered. Tall and beautiful filling out that sweater nicely on the outside he looked perfectly fine, but perhaps focusing a little more on his eyes he seemed tired. Something was clearly bothering him.

Taking a deep breath you asked, “So what’s your story?”

He raised an eyebrow at you giving you a looked that just screamed, seriously?

“What? It’s only fair,” you shrugged fixing him with a mischievous look, “Tell me Peter, would you like to commit arson tonight?”

Shaking his head he let out a long sigh, “You know what I think I just might.”

“I’m all ears and no judgement,” you took another swig of your beer leaning your arms against the bar.

“Similar to you I was dumped recently,” Peter admitted, “though I wouldn’t really say we were dating in the first place it was more of a long term booty call, but we’ve lived together for a while now. We’ve been fighting a lot recently and this morning she officially moved out for good.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you frowned and found yourself echoing him from last week, “Getting dumped fucking sucks.”

He nodded solemnly, “tell me about it.”

You were both silent for a moment. 

"Well you seem happier than last week," Peter says busying himself with cleaning a small area of his work space. He seemed a little fidgety from talking about his problems so he was looking to change the subject. 

"I am," you shrugged, "well trying to be. I started writing finally but I'm still at that shitty job constantly listening to my bosses praise this new guy. Who, by the way, is a fucking moron."

"Ugh, why would you stay?" Peter questioned with a look of disgust.

"I've got bills to pay man. I hate my job but I would really hate being homeless okay," you defended.

"Okay fair," Peter said, “but at least you're moving forward."

"At a snail's pace but I'm okay with that," you shrug, "too much shit has happened recently I want some peace and quiet."

At that moment a certain redhead stormed into the bar and made a beeline towards you. Seeing Natasha startled you mostly because she was supposed to be on a date with her boyfriend.

"What-"

"You have to stop him," she cuts you off immediately, "he won’t listen to me so it has to be you. Put a stop to this."

"What on earth are you talking about," feeling completely jarred by the situation.

"James," she verified, "you have to stop him."

Raising an eyebrow you asked, "are you asking me to murder him? Because sure okay just don’t arrest me for it."

"Thanks (Y/N)," Bucky, who had followed Natasha into the bar and was standing just beside her, said.

"No hard feelings it's kind of a best friend thing. She asks. I murder," you shrugged.

"Who are you going to murder?" Mantis, who made her way back to the bar for a refill, asks overhearing your conversation.

"This guy apparently," you gesture towards Bucky, "wanna help?"

Mantis grins but before she can answer Natasha cuts you both off.

"No I'm not asking you to murder him," she fixed him with a hard stare, "yet. I'm asking you to knock some sense into him because he wont listen to me."

"About what?"

"He wants to get a cat."

"Oh no," you huff in a unconvincing rage, "the bastard."

Natasha glares at you, "don't patronize me."

"I'm being completely serious. He should be hanged for his crimes."

"Okay I understand you don’t want a cat tasha, but look at this little guy," from under his jacket Bucky reveals that he's holding a small kitten that fits perfectly in his hand. The little thing is all black with hazel eyes that squeeze shut in content when Bucky pets under their chin.

"Oh my God you are so precious," you squeal reaching out to gently run your finger on the cats head.

Natasha huffs annoyed.

Peter clears his throat, "uh pretty sure the sign outside says no animals in the bar."

"But you're allowed in?" Mantis questions Peter, "that doesn't seem right."

"You can't seriously be mad about this little thing just look at the little face," you say to Natasha.

"We don't have the time for some animal. That thing is just going to destroy the apartment," Natasha argues.

"Babe you might be exaggerating just a bit were only gone during the day, for the most part, I think we can handle one cat," Bucky reasons. You had to agree sure work for Natasha got in the way but there’s always Bucky to be there to take care of the small thing.

“I know were like best friends and all Nat but I have to side with Bucky on this one,” you winced preparing for the incoming rage.

“Then you take the damn thing,” she spat getting mad that no one would listen to her.

“I can’t my building has strict rules because my landlord is deathly allergic to cats,” because this isn’t the first time you wanted a cat but being stuck on your lease with a decently priced apartment in New York you were always unable to have one.

“So move!”

“I can’t afford that! Look, just give the little guy a test run and if it doesn’t work out I’ll help you guys find him a new home okay?” you reasoned.

“Fine,” she huffs and looks at Bucky, “Don’t expect this to work out.”

“I love you too Nat.”

~

Chapter 3

alright here’s chapter 2! let me know what you think so far. I’m really trying to finish writing this one before I post more but I just can’t help myself. I’m also posting this on fanfiction.net if you prefer reading over there link is at the top.  enjoy! ~Star

[guardmesherlock-rowan]

Writing Challenge - Into the Haunted House

This is with the OC Aggie Christie, 31 days of prompts (and I’ve kind of decided to squish a few together into 25 days)

3 & 4 - Just a Peek/Dare You

A maid had brought dinner up to their rooms, bringing in both Jane’s and Agatha’s meals.  Agatha’s back tightened anxiously wondering why James would pass up the opportunity to sit next to Jane and tell her more about different places he’s owned.  She also mildly wondered about where Jeremy had disappeared to.  While they had promised not to come in without invitation she hardly expected him to keep his word.  It just wasn’t like him.  There were scuffs on her windowsill back home as a testament to how little he and Jack cared about her personal space.  

“So… about Jeremy.”  At Jane’s tone and smile Agatha sat straight up, fearing what was to come.

“There’s nothing ‘about Jeremy’.”  

“You know he likes you, right?”  Jane carefully pushed her covered tray away and turned to face Agatha.  “Like, he ‘like likes’ you.”

“Jane, darling, sugarpop, he likes every girl.”

Jane groaned and flopped backwards on Agatha’s bed.  “Would you even believe him if he said something?”

Agatha shook her head, this was ridiculous.  Jeremy liked every girl, it was like flirting was second nature to him.  There was no other motives behind his sappy behavior, not that she could see, besides the occasional slipping notes into pockets or lifting of already warned about jewelry.  Not that Jane could ever know.  

“How do you feel about him?”  

“What.”  Agatha’s face contorted and she recoiled from the question.

“You seem at ease with him.  Do you like Jeremy?”

Agatha chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about how to word her response.  It would have to be careful, and not hint at all about any extra curricular activities.  “Well, I-”

“Boo!”  Jeremy burst into the room, letting the door fly open and slam against the wall next to it.  Quickly he ducked down, barely avoiding the tray cover that was flying at his head the moment he shouted.  

“What the fuck!”  Agatha screamed, still breathing heavily from the rush of adrenaline.  

“Pardon, I just wanted to see how your beautiful faces would look startled.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”  Jeremy held his hands up in a gesture that was supposed to have meant he was harmless.  

Jane chuckled nervously, another perfectly rational response to fear as Agatha reminded herself.  “I’m glad Aggie didn’t hurt you Jeremy.”  

“As am I! But speaking of being scared, would either you lovely ladies want to go exploring the haunted house Jaque set up? Ames told me he would prefer for us to leave it for later as to not ruin the surprise and to focus on the dance floor, but I am suffering of curiosity, plus who knows what kind of ideas we may be able to suggest to assist him.

“Oh!  Um…”  Jane started, her eyes shifting from Agatha to Jeremy, and Agatha’s stomach tightened knowing what she was most likely thinking.  “I think I’m going to head to bed early actually.  Maybe read a few scripts that Simon wanted me to go over.”  She faked a pretty realistic yawn, but it was a little more exaggerated than usual.  “You two go have fun!”  

“Jane-”  Agatha reached out for her.

“Good night!”  Jane skipped away and back across the hall.  Jeremy shut the door behind her leaving the two of them alone.  

“Really?”  She crossed her arms, waiting for his explanation.

“Sorry, your door was open just a crack and I couldn’t stand the thought of hearing you confess your longing for me to another person when,” he sat down next to her, leaning in close, “you could do it looking lovingly into my eyes.”

“Bullshit.” Agatha smiled and pushed him a little.  “Thanks for the save though.”

“I am still offering to take you out to the haunted house that Jack built.  You never know what might be lurking in there.”  He stood up and offered his hand.  “Plus it sounds like the room extend to cover a lot of the rooms on that floor.  Making it a lot bigger than it initially looks like. Might find something interesting on that floor.”

“Might?”

“I heard his father’s study was on that floor.”  

“I see, and what do you think his father might have hidden away?”  

“I don’t know, but how could they possibly get a warning about something I don’t know about yet.”  

“Or you could just use this as a vacation and relax instead of working.”

“Do you consider what you do for ‘side jobs’ as work?”  Jeremy’s grin widened as Agatha scowled at him.  But she knew what he was talking about.  “Plus aren’t you a little curious to see Jack’s handiwork ahead of time?  Might give you an edge.”

“And ruin the surprise?”  Her mind flashed to the adrenaline of walking through the streets at night, uncertain of where ‘danger’ might be lurking.  

“And ruin James’s fun.”  

Agatha stood up and grabbed her shoes.  “I’m in.”

Neither of them missed the way Jane’s door seemed to sway a little as they left Agatha’s room.  Agatha smiled and cut back the chuckle as she imagined Jane pressed to the other side of the door trying to spy on the two of them, just as she imagined Jeremy had been spying on them before.  They were farther down the hallway when she finally joked, “everyone seems to be spying on me.”  

“Well, I can’t say for Jane, as she is just a concerned friend.  But I know I struggle not to sneak just a little peek.” Jeremy said seriously.  

Agatha bumped her shoulder against his, “ha ha.”  The short trip seemed to be filled with Jeremy making a few more flirtatious remarks that had Agatha rolling her eyes.  Even in the heart of Moriarty’s estate he was the same as the first day she met him.  Passing by one of the windows she could see that the sun was settling early and she wondered for a moment, if she should’ve brought some of her supplies with.  Though should anything happen Jane knew how to use the tools.  

“Distracted?”  Jeremy caught her wrist, stopping her from running into a beam.

“A little, I’m kind of hoping to catch some ghosts tonight.”

“Ah of course.  If there is any way I can help let me know.”  Jeremy waved his hand to a door just to the right of them.  “This room is apart of the haunted house.”

“How would you know?”  Perhaps he had already memorized the layout?

“I may have gone looking around before coming to get you.”  He shrugged with an easy smile, “don’t worry, it’s not locked anymore.”

“‘Anymore’.”  Agatha snorted.  She pushed the door open and found a wall of black plastic just a few feet ahead of her.  

“Hey, want to play a little game?”  Jeremy murmured.

“What?”

“I’m thinking, I’ll blindfold you, lead you in, and then you need to get back here through backtracking.  If you get scared in there, you lose.  If you get lost, you lose.  You’ll have 15 minutes.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Helps with keeping track of where you’ve been even when your eyes aren’t there to help you navigate.  Are you telling me you’ve never been kidnapped and blindfolded?”  Jeremy pulled a black sash out of his pocket.  “Though if you need my help I’ll also consider if an honour to help the great Ms. Christie.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Even if I dare you?”  He grinned.

“Nope.”  Agatha crossed her arms.

Jeremy whipped out his phone and pointed the camera at her.

“What are you doing?”

“Just recording you chickening out, thinking of sending this to your brothers.  I can think of at least one who would be very disappointed in you.”

“They wouldn’t be disappointed.”  He stared into the camera for a moment feeling her face get warm and thinking about the jokes that would come up the next time she visited home.  “Fine.”  She groaned.  

“Trust me, it’ll be fun!”  Jeremy stepped behind her and wrapped the sash over her eyes.

“Is there where I get handed a stick so I can beat up a Moriarty shaped pinata?”  She teased, only to get a sharp flick to the back of her neck.

“Focus.”  Jeremy leaned close to whisper in her ear.  “I’m going to place my hands on your shoulders and guide you through.”  Agatha sighed her agreement, but still almost jumped into a defense pose when she felt his warm hands land on her shoulders.  “Relax, you need to pay more attention to the angle of your body, any hints the rooms can give you.  Smells, slope of the floor, anything.”  

He started pushing her, and it was more nerve wracking that someone leading the way.  Though he had already stopped her from smashing her face into something once that evening, she could probably trust him to do it again.  Probably.  “My it’s dark in here.”  Agatha droned out.

Jeremy hushed her but she could hear his chuckle.  “Alright, just about…”  It felt like they had walked in circles for a good while.  Finally he stopped, spun her in a slight angle.  She heard his trying to hold back a laugh as he spoke.  “Now count to 30 and then remove the blindfold.  Out loud.”  Agatha started counting, hearing Jeremy retreating somewhere behind her.  Her voice seemed to be hitting something in front of her, so she took a careful step back just in case.  30 seconds later she could finally take it off, her eyes didn’t immediately adjust to the low light, but the sight in front of her had Agatha bite her tongue as she cut off a surprised shriek.