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:o 

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(From George Rexstrew’s Instagram)

I live in NJ and if I ran into our fave ghosts strolling NYC together while admiring their faces in Times Square I would have perished myself.

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a lil early modern theatre fic snippy

“You are persistent.” 

“You are not the first to say it,” Hob returns. 

The player barks a laugh. “And why, sir, are you so persistent in your attempts to engage me in conversation?” 

How does a sailor explain to the North Star why he searches for its glow in the night above the sea? “I wish to know you, player. To hear your thoughts. To speak to the man behind the parts.”

“You truly. Are interested in me. Not the characters I personate?” It cleaves the chambers of Hob’s heart in twain to hear his player’s cautious surprise. 

“I like them well enough. But it is not to them I wish to speak.” The player regards him, but Hob knows the look in his eye, the hope of the clothiers in the Burse as they see a rich lady pass. “I wish to know how you feel about them. How it is to put on Henry VI one noon, and Mephistopheles another. Whether your heart beats harder when you cross the boards, or if it comes so naturally as it seemeth. If you have a favoured part, or line, or costume, if you despise Chapman, or Peele, or if you would choose to be a tragedian over a comedian.” 

His player watches him like he holds the treasures of India in his hands. “And you do not wish. Some boon of me?” 

“All I desire is your friendship, player.” 

His player tilts his head. “My friendship.”

“Tis so.”

His player regards him once more. 

Then he holds out one hand, pale and long-fingered. “Though I cannot fathom your… interest, I shall believe it.” 

Hob takes his hand, belly flipping at the brush of skin. His player’s hand is not the soft, silken thing he had imagined. Instead, it is strong, smooth palmed, but with calluses that bespeak long years wielding a sword. 

“Your name?” 

“Hob Gadling,” he says. 

The player’s lips quirk. “Hob?” 

“Robert, but that was my father.” 

“Hob Gadling,” his player says, as if savouring the name’s weight upon his tongue. “It is. A pleasure.” He releases Hob’s hand, leaning back against the wooden wall. 

“I fear the pleasure is all mine,” Hob replies. “And your name, player?” 

“Names have power, Hob Gadling,” he replies, a shade of mischief in the ice blue eyes. “Perhaps, if we meet again — if you should indeed wish more of me than just the character — I shall tell you.” 

“As you like,” Hob says, for it is half a promise of another chance to talk to his player. “May I buy you a glass of something, if only to make up for my poor company?” 

Mirth shines behind his player’s fine features for a bright, flashing moment. “Wine, if you please, but not that thrice-damned canary the hostess insists on serving.” 

Hob cannot help but laugh. This man remains a joy to him, in all his prickle-skinned adamant armour. “As you wish.” 

notes:

The Burse, or the Royal Exchange, was London's first shopping mall, built in 1571. Ned Alleyn was the lead actor of the Admiral's Men, and also a theatrical impresario. Canary is Spanish wine.

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You really gave up a potentially tranquil eternity for your friend?

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES 1.07

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You ever think, what if Death did catch us? She'd force us to go to the afterlife and split up. I will make sure that never happens.

Edwin Payne - Dead Boy Detectives - The Case of Crystal Palace (1x01)

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Edwin and Charles are each other's light in the dark

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Jayden Revri as CHARLES ROWLAND

Dead Boy Detectives (2024 - )

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absolutely adore how they made edwin so bitchy and sassy and strut and sometimes disguise himself as woman. like they really said let the repressed edwardian ghost serve cunt

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Peach riot rise up card illustrations~

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I love the Dead Boy Detective Agency and I just have a quick question.

Death knows all of her denizens in her realm, that means no spirit can actually hide from her. She's letting the boys do what they want because she views them as actively helping the other ghosts find closure.

I don't think she'll take them until they're ready to leave.

So my question is

" does she just kind of laugh every time she sees the boys skedaddle away from her?"

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Having anotheg 'gork we have got to get out of bed faster then this' morning

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