#bubble-crazed-lunatic

[timefought-a]

“I keep hearing him scream every night while I’m wide awake, but the's been dead for years.” [50s au maybe ? let's make it even more angsty]

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic

   It was dark, and still hot in her little apartment. The light was spilling in from the tenement landing and the street below, through the red and orange and yellow scraps of fabric Charlie used as curtains.

   Her daughter hadn’t been able to sleep well, but now, collapsed against her mother’s chest and in her lap, she was fast asleep at last.

   Charlie was watching her old friend across the room, on her couch. He looked so... old, now. Gently, she stroked her daughter’s reddish hair, watching him with sympathetic eyes. Slowly, she got up, disappearing into the other bedroom to carefully put her daughter down before she returned. She didn’t sit back with him immediately, but instead to the case over the kitchen sink. There was enough liquor in there to reasonably fell very large game. Some things about Charlie never chained, of course.

   A glass of gin and a glass of whiskey. She did nothing by half measures, either -- both were well above a shot. The whiskey was eased into his hand, and gently, she held onto his other hand.

      “My amuri, my father’s father, called it -- well, he didn’t talk English, not to his grandbabies, but it’s like survivor’s guilt. He used to get nightmares -- abuji said he heard them, at night, talking to him, or crying. The Great War took a lot from him, and when he came home, he came home to country that felt foreign, and four babies who barely knew him. Even when I was born, and growing up, nearly twenty years later, he was still hearing his friends in the night time.”

   There was something unspoken in her statement. Charlie was never one to talk very openly about her pain and her suffering, a flaw that had never done her any good. Her tone of voice, the way she spoke gently and held his hand, said what she couldn’t -- you are not alone. I hear it, too. Of course, one would have to have a relatively perceptive friend for that to be noticed.

   Gently, Charlie kissed his knuckle, shaking her head.

      “I wish I could give you anything else.”

[timefought-a]

“What do you mean you didn’t leave this message for me? Then who did?”

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic

         “--of course it wasn’t me,” she snapped, pulling her clothing more solidly around herself. She didn’t know why -- he had seen her in all states of undress before, but it was a little different when he had managed to catch her in a compromising situation with someone else.

   Scoffing, she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wall of the alley.

      “When have I ever been cryptic like that? If I wanted you to come find me, I would be texting like ‘meet me here on this date or I will find you and you will die.’ None of this bullshit. And I definitely wouldn’t want you to meet me while I was working. So, poor decision making on your part -- now we’re both exactly where whoever left it for you wanted us to be. Thanks, mate. Absolutely fucking brilliant of you. If we die, I blame you.”

[timefought-a]

the "what your muse thought of mine at first glance" meme thing ! (fuck mobile tbh)

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic

         This one looks easy, and I need the money.                     “--come on, mister, where you going?                  You looking so lonely. Let me walk with you.”

[timefought-a]

[text - Charlie] I just walked into a room at a party and someone yelled "dibs" [text - Charlie] does that mean what I think it means and should I run away

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic

   [ text ]; that was me   [ text ]; i didnt know how to announce i was here too so   [ text ]; hi

[timefought-a]

◎ AND ALSO THAT BECAUSE RELEVANT

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic      while drunk

      As far as drunken mistakes went, they were each other's favourite.

   He was charming. She was vulnerable. They were both lonely, and each other's only real friend. It was like they were just drawn to one another that way. It didn't help at all that they were always compounding their obvious problems with alcohol.

     London. 1984. It was pouring with rain outside, and people were crammed into the dark, basement club, all black leather spiked with studs and combat boots tracking mud. The music was loud, the lights low. They were crammed into a rickety booth alone, empty glasses strewn across the table. As usual, she had sprawled herself across him, his arms around her, her hands cupping his face as she pressed her mouth to his. She tasted of cigarettes, gin and lip gloss. For a moment, she broke away from him to breathe.

      “--I love you.”

    Her words were probably only just audible over the din, hot breath brushing over his skin. She didn't know why she said it, but it had felt right to. She did love him, although perhaps not in the way that statement, issued in that way, was typically meant.

   Again, she caught his mouth in a kiss, arms slipping around his neck.

      “I love you,” she repeated against his lips. She was desperate for something, for some validation of herself. The alcohol had numbed her overwhelming fear of rejection, even though she was sure it was now coming. She was at the point where she was barely able to stand, which was coincidentally the  point at which she wouldn't feel any pain if he pushed her off of him.

[timefought-a]

'I do' (you said send all the memes i send all the memes)

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic

   The choice between certain death or ritualistic marriage and probable death wasn't exactly a difficult one for them to make. At least if they went through with this, they would probably be able to make a break for it while everyone was distracted. For Charlie, however, it only solidified her resolve to never accompany him to any alien planet ever again.

      'It'll be fine,' he'd said. 'We'll have so much fun,' he'd said.

      'Please don't shoot, we're unarmed,' he'd said.

   To be fair, it wasn't all his fault. It was just a coincidence that they managed to match up to a prophecy held by the human colonists on this planet. A huge, horrid coincidence.

   So. Get married, and be sacrificed to their living deity, which was something of an enormous and very upset earth worm with legs, in the morning, or be hanged, drawn and quartered where they stood. It'd been an easy decision, if somewhat complicated by the fact they hadn't been able to make a cohesive plan. After all, they couldn't be together the night before their wedding. That would defeat the purpose.

   The wedding get-up, she was sure, was designed for people of generally less quantity than her. It was also bright, almost neon green, which didn't suit anyone, much less Charlie. Her hair had been woven with flowers, although badly, resulting in several tangles.

         “Let me guess,” she muttered as they were stood in front of some kind of altar. “This is one of the things we never tell He Who Shall Not Be Named about? If we get out of this, by the way, I’m going to kill you for bringing me here.”

[timefought-a]

(br)otp thing for charliebubbles because CUTE

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic​

   Who made the first move; theyre both as equally bad as each other let’s face it. they probably don’t even remember    Who said ‘I love you’ first; oh god dont even go there. i bet drunken crying was involved    How often they fight; all the time, but nothing big    Whose big spoon/little spoon; the doc is the little spoon bubbles is so thin he couldnt even hug charlie in bed comfortably tbh    What their nicknames are for each other; so many names she calls him ‘bub’ though, as in baby, the bubbles parallel is coincidental.    Whose the better cook; charlie, not that he eats it, but she bakes him sweet stuff    Their song; this one. the audio is good but the video is shit so just idk pretend the video isnt happening    Who remembers their anniversaries; time travellers and anniversaries are not known to go well together    Their favorite thing to do together (besides sex); get their drank on tbh    Who ‘wears the pants’ in the relationship; lol charlie for sure, not even ambiguously    How they would get engaged; i bet there’s been lots of drunken ‘we should get mmmmaaarrried’    What their wedding would be like; imagine if they got drunk married once though oops and they just woke up and were like...um....let’s never talk about this....    How many kids they’ll have; N. O.

[timefought-a]

"Screw it. I'm going to class in my pajamas." (HOGWARTS AU BECAUSE THIS WAS THE PERFECT SENTENCE COULDN'T MISS IT)

;; bubble-crazed-lunatic

      “--you mean you usually get dressed? Couldn’t tell, hey.” she asked dryly, stretching out on his bed and fiddling with her wand absent-mindedly. She’d already gotten dressed herself, and everyone else had long since left his room -- the pleasures of free periods first thing in the morning were untold.

   She dragged herself up to a sitting position, legs crossed, chin in hand, idly twisting a kinky curl in her fingers. Her persistence in playing with her hair made it go even frizzier.

         “Nah, don’t reckon anyone would notice. They think you’re weird as is, so they wouldn’t ask questions. Prob’ly just think you was just being...you.”