#ghost!barty

[bradleysass]

Barty lingers in the mirror when James shaves, his spectral fingers pretending to drag over James’ throat, whispering, I used to leave bruises there, remember? He drapes himself over James' shoulders when he’s alone, hissing into his ear, Do you miss me? Do you miss the way I touched you? The way I hurt you? James ignores him, most of the time. It drives Barty mad. "You don’t get to act like you’re above this," Barty sneers one night, watching James drink himself into numbness. "You loved it just as much as I did. The fire, the madness, the ruin. It was never just me." James grips his glass tighter. "You're not real." "That what you tell yourself at night, darling?" Barty purrs, leaning in close, the cold of his presence prickling against James’ skin. "Tell me, when you touch yourself, is it still my hands you imagine?" James throws the glass. It shatters against the wall.

@leeny-leens @accio-sriracha (I already sent this to you two but I really wanted to post it) @rosiesangel

[thorn-rosed]

cult leader evan and ghost barty that occasionally gets drawn into the pentagram by evan's summonings just for everyone in the cult thinking that they met their god. after a while barty decided to get his revenge on the weirdo that keeps interfering with his daily death missions, but realises that evan isn't easy to scare away.

long story short: bary becomes occasionally visible through pandora's spells, rosekiller make a plan to attract more people to the cult (more people = more money) and fall in love.

[bradleysass]

But then, James realizes something else. Barty’s clearer in the dark. He still isn’t solid—will never be solid again—but when the room is cast in black and blue, when moonlight filters in through the window, James can almost pretend. So he stops turning the lights on. He stops pretending that he doesn’t sit on the couch at night just to listen to Barty talk. That he doesn’t turn his head at the sound of his voice, doesn’t let himself watch him like he used to. That he doesn’t wake up at 3 a.m. just to roll over and see Barty lying next to him, stretched out on the mattress, grinning like he belongs there. "You’re getting comfortable with this," Barty teases one night, propped up on his elbows, watching James through half-lidded eyes. James sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. "Shut up." Barty hums, reaching for him out of habit. His fingers pass through James’ arm, flickering like mist, and something bitter curls in James’ gut. Barty pulls back, shaking out his hand with a dramatic pout. "Tragic," he sighs. "Truly."

[bradleysass]

The confession doesn’t change anything. Or maybe it changes everything. Because Barty doesn’t leave. If anything, he becomes more present—his voice slithering into James’ ear when he least expects it, his cold, flickering form lounging in doorways, on countertops, in James’ bed like a mockery of something he can’t have. "You should get some sleep," Barty murmurs one night, watching as James sits hunched over his desk, whiskey half-finished beside him, ink staining his fingers. James doesn’t look up. "You don't care if I sleep." "True," Barty muses. "But I do like you better when you’re well-rested. Less pathetic that way." James exhales through his nose. "Fuck off, Barty." Barty laughs, light and amused, as if he isn’t the reason James hasn’t slept properly in months. "Come to bed, Jamie," he purrs. "Or at least lie down and pretend you still function like a normal person." James grits his teeth, slamming the quill down. "I don’t need you mothering me." Barty leans in, grinning. "You used to like it when I took care of you." James looks up sharply. "You never took care of me."

[bradleysass]

"You look awful, love," Barty coos one morning as James stares at his own ruined face in the bathroom mirror. Dark circles, bloodshot eyes, a perpetual scowl. A dead man’s shadow, he thinks grimly, before Barty hums, Mine. James grips the sink, white-knuckled. "Fuck off." Barty grins, tilting his head in mock consideration. "I would, but where would the fun be in that? You’d be lonely without me." James ignores him and turns on the faucet. The water runs hot, scalding, but the burn is real. Grounding. He splashes it over his face, inhales deep, and when he looks up— Barty is behind him, chin propped on his shoulder like a lover. "You used to love me there," Barty muses, watching James through the mirror. His fingers twitch, useless and intangible, but James can feel where they used to be—digging into his hips, wrapped around his throat, dragging over his ribs. "Right there, when I—"

@leeny-leens @accio-sriracha @rosiesangel @moonlit-sirius

[bradleysass]

"You should bring someone home," Barty muses one night, propped up on James’ pillows, twirling a phantom strand of hair between his fingers. "I want to watch you fuck someone else." James doesn’t even flinch. "You’d throw a fit." "Mm, true." Barty grins, rolling onto his stomach. "I was always possessive." "Were?" James mutters, running a hand over his face. "You died and somehow got worse." "Adorable that you think I’d let death stop me." James sighs, staring at the ceiling. "You can’t even touch me, Barty." "Doesn’t mean I can’t have fun." Barty shifts closer, his face just inches away, his voice curling low and deliberate. "You still react to me, Jamie. I see it." James clenches his jaw. "You’re imagining things." "Am I?" Barty doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe—because he can’t—but James feels watched, feels seen, feels like he’s seconds away from breaking. Then— "Prove me wrong," Barty whispers, voice like a caress against James’ skin. "Ignore me. Pretend I’m not here. Pretend you don’t think about me every time you close your eyes."

[bradleysass]

"You think this will help?" Barty muses one night, watching as James downs another glass, his hand steady despite the way his mind wavers. "Come on, love. You were always more fun when you were wild. This is just sad." James ignores him. Tips his head back. Lets the burn wash over him. Barty exhales, mock exasperated. "You know, I’d almost be offended. But then again—" he grins, slinking closer, "—you’re thinking about me more than ever, aren’t you?" James slams the glass down harder than necessary. Barty hums, smug. "Thought so." James presses his hands to his face, fingers digging into his temples. "Fuck off, Barty." A laugh, low and taunting. "Say it like you mean it, Jamie."

[bradleysass]

What if Barty’s right? What if it’s him keeping Barty here, wrapped around his ribs like a sickness, like rot beneath his skin? What if it’s his own goddamn mind refusing to let go, his own hands unwilling to scrape the last remnants of Barty from his bones? The thought makes his stomach twist. Barty grins, sensing it. "There’s my clever boy," he purrs, voice dripping with something close to affection. "Always so quick to catch on." James closes his eyes, inhaling slow, steady. "You’re not real." Barty clicks his tongue. "You’ve been saying that for months, love, but I’m still here. Maybe it’s time for a new strategy."