#i can see Eddie being broke but just going without essentials 'for a while' and turning on the 🥺 eyes to anyone that will feed him

[missingexaltation]

Another AU Fic idea:

Some time after season 4 (where everyone's alive and whole, damn it), Eddie finally gets his own place. Nothing wrong with staying with Wayne but he's finally outta school and loves the independence. Wayne also gets to have a bedroom again, so good for him.

Only he's gotta pay for everything now. (AND a whole shitload of one off purchases that he never thought about, like forks and pots and pans, what the FUCK, capitalism??).

So naturally, during his first month as an actual grown up, in his grown up house, amongst other things his razor breaks. And money is kinda tight for a guy on minimum wage and barely any furniture, so he thinks 'fuck it'. It can wait until next payday. He can cope.

Only a couple of days later, his face itches so bad, and in all honesty he looks like a bum. The guys at work find it hilarious, he's the baby there after all, and they think he's trying to grow it on purpose to look older. He doesn't want to admit that he's fucking broke, and even considers asking Rick to let him deal again for a bit, for some easy cash. (He doesn't because he promised Wayne, but it's really fucking tempting).

His scruff is growing in patchy, some bits quicker than others and it's looks a lot of a mess. He's got a knife that's vaguely sharp so he tries that, but no. Ouch. Despite his skilled guitarist's fingers he's still a bit of a klutz and nearly slices his cheek open. Still, it's less than a week till payday. He can cope.

A couple of days later, and while the itching has subsided, he's still weirded out each time he see himself in the mirror. It's not a metal look at all, he looks WAY older than he actually is. It's less patchy though, so there's that. Once he trims it a bit, it looks a lot better. Passable. Only a few days to go.

Wayne swings by that night, bringing take out for them both. He offers to chip in some cash, after he's stopped laughing his ass off. Eddie refuses it on principle, but sulks his way through his food until Wayne apologises for bruising his ego. He doesn't mention that he looks fucking amazing compared to a couple of days ago, mollified by Wayne's apologies nonetheless.

He still has zero cash, and skips breakfast, annihilating a couple of cupcakes that his boss brought in for the team, skips dinner, and gets second helpings of Mrs Jones' pecan pie at band practise (Gawd bless Gareth's mom). He's not sure how he's gonna get through the final day as he's already a hungry hungry hippo, but then when he wakes up the greatest thing happens.

Steve is back from his awful family vacation and calls him up, desperate to be around ANYONE that he's not related to.

He promises to bring food and gossip galore with him, and Eddie's day just got a million times better. He's whistling at work, begs a couple of candy bars from his coworkers, and by the time Steve arrives at his new abode that night, Eddie's climbing the walls ready for a full meal.

He's forgotten about the razor.

When he opens the door, Steve just gapes at him, before turning bright red and blinking really hard. It takes longer than it should for Eddie to remember, but suddenly the last week or so has been totally worth it, because Steve Harrington is kissing him and losing his goddammed mind over the shitty beard.

Holy fuck.

It's not until Steve pulls back that he seems to register who he's kissing, but he just shrugs it off and hands over the food. Eddie gets fed, gets the Harrington family gossip, and...gets the Steve staying the next few nights.

(He still shaves it off at the first opportunity because holy fuck it's annoying to keep it looking decent).

[stevesaxetogrind]

Truly those calling it “bad writing” that Robin and Vickie share similarities doesn’t make sense. She’s not been given enough time to be more than just a love interest, but we do have some info about her:

1. Molly Ringwald inspo, giving us shorthand about being kind of a quirky gal. Hat! Visually, she’s similar to Robin, but that’s not a bad thing because literally similar interests draw people together. She is also skirts vs Robin’s trousers. Femme/Soft Butch! You’re telling me Vickie would wear a tie? Lies.

2. Likes goofy jokes, namely Steve’s joke about Muppet Tammy. Which, Robin doesn’t laugh at Steve’s jokes that much- she dismisses them, but it means Vickie has a bit of a jocular sense of humour.

3. Vickie also likes Steve’s brand of movies, not Robin’s- which is pretty fucking funny. Again, this is not making Vickie similar to Robin, but to things shared with Robin’s Platonic Soulmate. Like, bro movies? Stupid lil jokes? I predict Steve and Vickie having a dad joke competition next season & torturing Robin with how corny they are. People like to talk about the similarities to Robin, but not the similarities to Steve! That’s kind of clever drawing Vickie closer to one of Robin’s favourite people, at least superficially.

4. Talks a lot when one on one, but Vickie wasn’t nervous/flustered in the band scene, so we can infer in more crowded spaces she acts differently/subdued - as like she was in the War Zone. This is unlike Robin who does actually ramble in group scenes, like freaking out over the thing in El’s leg, the rabies bit, or generally a lot of Season 4 where she looses her “cool girl” archetype from Season 3 in favour of chaos. Vickie seems more like she would quietly panic, as opposed to Eddie, Argyle, and Steve who all loudly go WHAT THE FUCK. Which is going to be interesting to see as the whole town is now thrown into an open gate downtown Hawkins probably releasing demogorgons every other hour like it’s Pacific Rim up in this bitch.

5. Meaningful look with Robin in the War Zone- not “oh hi band friend!” A scared/caught/dismayed look that she was there. So there is a connection, and she broke up with her boyfriend after that connection. Anything more is speculation, but the way she wasn’t looking at Robin when she gave the “he doesn’t like Fast Times” reason lets the audience draw points and maybe she felt trapped? Like it was just an excuse to pursue a different interest? Obviously because music is playing indicating a romantic relationship. We don’t have much to compare Robin with on this one, but around Keith she still had more confidence and bullshittery trying to convince him to hire Steve when Keith assumed they were a thing.

6. Vickie also doesn’t seem jealous. Robin is jealous. She was livid at Steve for being the object of Tammy’s affections, but Vickie hasn’t seemed to even look twice at Steve- even as Robin looked over at him while she and Vickie had her last scene.

For such a short amount of time in the season, I think that we have a good foundation for similarities and differences to Robin. Also, once again, it’s not a crime to avoid “opposites attract” tropes. Having similarities is good! Like, the amount of couples I know that are essentially the same archetype of queer person is not even close to zero. Especially when it comes to older queer couples who got together in the 80s/90s, they kind of morph into being one granola bar of a human being. Kind of similar with straight people when they genuinely like one another.

I hope they flesh Vickie out, but like, we’ve gotten a similar amount of screen time for Mr Clarke but no one is mad he is “one dimensional” when he is just, some exposition science guy. He’s a stock and standard teacher, has a girlfriend, and kind of goes along with explaining shit without questioning why a lot. But folks love Mr Clarke. Is it because Mr Clarke isn’t getting in the way of your ship?

I never thought I would see the day there were some true blue f/f ship wars, but bruh, Robin’s love life isn’t an A Plot so give the writers some slack. They’re human, not the devil. None of you were gleeks and it shows so fucking much. None of you lived through “angry lesbians on the internet don’t want me dating you”.

Personally I’m looking forward to Robin and Vickie getting together and maybe hopefully kicking monster butt together- or at least, Robin getting a nice little badass moment defending her gal.

[biboybuckley]

i need somebody to pull me out of this grave

Teen and Up Audiences | 2k | Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz

also on ao3

Five times Eddie yells for Buck and one time he whispers

or:

Eddie flashes back to the events of the night before while sitting in the hospital chapel. Bobby finds him there after awhile and the two have an important discussion about handling their new circumstance and what it means for them individually

5 times Eddie yells 

Buck!

He didn’t know yet. He didn’t know that Buck was already dead, that yelling wouldn’t do any good. The first shout cracked open something in his chest, spilling poison into his veins. It didn’t matter that he was injured too- he was moving. Buck wasn’t. Buck wasn’t moving . 

His world narrowed to one pinpoint- Buck hanging midair, not moving, not calling back to him. Nothing. Helpless, vulnerable. Bile rose in Eddie’s throat but he ignored it, starting to scramble up the ladder on shaking legs, gripping the sides with trembling hands as he tried to force himself to breathe.  

It didn’t matter that he was essentially climbing up a lightning rod in the middle of the storm. Let lightning strike twice, he thought, let it take him out too. Just let him reach Buck first. 

Buck!

He went up the ladder as quickly as he could manage, shouting, begging for any sign that Buck could hear him. He had lost his breath, he could barely manage the one word shout. I’m coming, it said, I’m coming for you, I swear. 

His gaze didn’t stray even for a moment, desperate for any sign of life from the limp form of his best friend. His partner. His coparent. Chris’s second father. One of the two people in this world Eddie doesn’t think he can ever possibly live without. 

Buck!

He was almost there, so close. Hang on, please, I’m almost there. I’m going to get you to safety. There was no response, still, as his voice broke and the plea tore its way from his throat, burning as it left and leaving an empty space inside him that was growing by the moment. Desperation clawed at his chest, tearing at his throat, flooding his veins with a burning chill that was worse than being hit by lightning. 

Buck!

He was at the top now, looking over the edge at the lifeless body below him. He could see his face- barely. His expression was slack, not even a twitch. Nothing. He looked- 

No. No, he’s not dead, he cannot be dead. Eddie shook his head, his breaths gasping pants now as he grabbed the line, yanking on it with everything he had. It wasn’t logical- he knows that, now- but at the time all he could think was in my arms, I need him in my arms. I need him to know I have him .  

A sob ripped itself from him as he failed to pull his partner up, defeat beginning to cloud his brain, panic clawing at his throat, tears threatening to choke him. 

Can you hear me?!

Buck! 

A desperate plea, begging for any sign of life- anything to hold onto aside from the red line connecting him to the person that dragged him to safety when he was convinced he was drawing his last breath, who he reached for with the last of his strength, who saved his and his sons lives in more ways than Eddie can ever define. 

Eddie has experienced the worst of what he thought the world had to throw at him. But this- this is the worst pain he has ever felt.  

Need more slack!  

He finally gave in, accepting that if he couldn’t pull Buck to himself, he could deliver him to the only other people he could ever trust with his life. He felt the distance between them as a physical force as it grew, the invisible tether that has always connected them straining as the red line grew longer, taking Buck further and further from Eddie.  

He was choking on it, he couldn’t yell anymore. The further Buck got, the less he could breathe. Panic clouded his brain, blocking out anything that was not Buck’s lifeless form that kept getting smaller and smaller. 

Buck! Buck, talk to me! Please, c’mon, come on Buck!

He doesn’t remember getting down the ladder. He doesn’t remember running toward the ambulance. The next thing he knew, he was shoving Bobby- shoving his Captain- aside, desperate to lay eyes on Buck. To see his chest rise and fall, to watch the breaths leave his mouth, to feel his pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. 

Bobby didn’t let him, holding him back and shoving him away. Eddie didn’t hear anything he said other than you’re driving! And Eddie- Eddie could do that. He could drive, he could get Buck to the hospital in time. Three minutes. That’s what Bobby said. 

Eddie pulled into the hospital two minutes later, slamming the ambulance into gear and leaping from the car. He bolted around to the back, reaching the doors just in time for them to be taking Buck on. He knows he shoved someone- he doesn’t remember who- but it didn’t matter because he was on top of Buck, beginning compressions. 

If Buck’s heart wasn’t going to beat on its own, Eddie would do it for him.  

Then he was being pulled off, and voices were shouting, and it all became a blur. Bobby yanked him away as a nurse swore they would do all they could. 

Not enough! Eddie wanted to shout, All you can isn’t enough unless you save him!

But his voice was raw and his throat burned and the words refused to come out as Bobby directed him away.  

The last several hours have been a blur. 

Eddie’s in the hospital’s chapel now. 

He doesn’t remember coming here.

He doesn’t know why he’s here. 

He hasn’t prayed in a long, long time. He decided- he’s not totally sure when- that if there was a God, He had nothing to offer Eddie but false hope and empty promises. He decided he would no longer beg someone who wasn’t listening for help, that he would never beg for help again. Not when he can help himself. 

But he can’t help Buck. 

So he’s here. His St. Christopher medal is clenched tightly in his fist, tears burn his eyes. His cheeks are wet and his throat is so raw from screaming and sobbing that even breathing hurts. He stares at his hand, at the St. Christopher medal resting in it. He doesn’t look up at the altar. He can’t. 

He doesn’t think he wants to pray. He doesn’t know. He needs- he needs to do something. But praying now… it feels false, like a ploy to convince himself he’s somehow helping. But is faith really faith if it’s only for the security of knowing you’ve tried everything? 

It all replays in his head, the shouts echoing in his mind on a continuous loop. If he closes his eyes, all he sees is Buck’s body- his corpse hanging from the line that Eddie clipped him to. The ladder Eddie let him go up. The rain falling all around them, beating down on Buck’s pale face. The flashing lights all around them. Everything a blur aside from the sharp focus on Buck.

He’s already thrown up at least once since they took Buck away, but nausea still twists in his stomach, acid rising in his throat. Clenching his jaw tightly, he closes his fist around the pendant, the edges biting into his skin. Saint of travelers, protective against sudden death. He and Chris were going to give Buck one for his next birthday. Eddie welcomes the pain, squeezing tighter as he clenches his jaw, silent tears dripping down his cheeks. 

“You saved his life, Eddie.” 

Eddie starts at the voice, jerking his head around just in time to see Bobby slide into the pew next to him. He looks like a wreck, his face exhausted and eyes bloodshot. Bobby doesn’t often look old, but right now he seems weighed down by his years, the lines in his face sharp and heavy. This is killing him, just as it’s killing Eddie.

“I failed him,” Eddie bites out, looking away again. “I fucking- he died, Bobby. I didn’t fucking save him.”  

“His heart is beating now.”

“But he may never open his eyes again,” Eddie chokes out, tears flowing faster now as he lifts his fist to his forehead, hitting it lightly over and over. “He might never wake up.”

Bobby’s fingers wrap around Eddie’s wrist, pulling his fist away gently. Eddie starts to fight, but finds he doesn’t even have the energy to do that. 

“You got to him in time, Eddie. That line saved him, gave him the chance he has now.”

“It should have been me.”

Bobby is silent for a moment and Eddie turns to look at him. He sighs deeply, then meets Eddie’s gaze. “That’s what Buck said. When you were shot. And before that, with the well. He begged me to let him go down after you when you cut your line.”

The breath is punched from Eddie’s lungs, escaping him in a sharp breath. “He-?”

“I told him no.” Bobby looks towards the altar. “I told him we didn’t need two cut lines. He was desperate, Eddie. We all- we thought you were dead. But we couldn’t tell him, not then. He was infuriated we would even imply you might not still be down there. You all think he’s dead. That’s what he said to me, when I told him we couldn’t dig our way to you. He looked- God, Eddie, he looked so betrayed that we might have lost even a bit of faith in finding you.”

“He never-” Eddie’s breathless, his head spinning. “He never- no one ever told me-”

“You found your way back to us, Eddie. To him. Now you have to trust he’s going to do the same.” 

Eddie hasn’t stopped crying and a fresh wave of tears burns as they track down his face. His voice is small, broken, when he begs, “And what if he doesn’t?” 

Bobby’s jaw ticks and his expression cracks and Eddie realizes how fucking unfair this is. Bobby has already lost two children, he can’t lose another. Eddie should be comforting him, not the other way around. 

“I’m sorry, I-”

“No,” Bobby cuts him off, raising a hand. “No, we aren’t doing that. Not now, not yet. We have to believe. I’m going to pray. And you…” Bobby looks at him and his expression softens. “You should go to him, Eddie. You need to. You and Chris, if you think he’ll be up for it.”

“Buck would never want Chris to see him like this,” Eddie whispers, the thought shattering his heart. 

“He needs to hear you, feel you. Both of you.” Bobby smiles a small, sad smile. “He needs to remember why he has to fight.”

Eddie draws in a sharp, shaky breath and nods. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Bobby turns his gaze back to the altar, his breath trembling as he inhales slowly. “I’m going to try. That’s all any of us can do right now, and we have to. For Buck.”

Eddie nods again, firmer this time. “For Buck.” 

+1 time he whispers

Eddie settles into the chair beside Buck’s bed shakily, his hands trembling as he studies Buck’s face. This is… it’s all wrong. The tube breathing for him. The slack expression on his face. The hospital gown. The beeping machines. All of it. It’s wrong. 

Usually, Buck looks peaceful when he sleeps. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite things, strange as that sounds. Watching the lines and anxiety disappear, fading into a sweet innocence and openness that Eddie can’t believe he’s allowed to witness. 

Shakily, Eddie takes Buck’s hand between both of his, pressing the St. Christopher pendant into his palm and squeezing lightly. He lifts one hand to Buck’s forehead, gently brushing aside the loose curls. They’re free of gel right now, washed away by the rain. Eddie loves Buck’s natural hair, but right now all it does is send a sharp lance of pain through Eddie’s chest. He clasps Buck’s hand with both of his again, lowering his head to press his forehead against their joined hands. 

“Please,” he whispers. “ Buck, please come back to me.” 

[ttheriddlerr]

PASTA WITH WINE

summary : in which, dates aren’t always fun.

warning : me being in love w/ the riddler, drug & alcohol use.

paring : edward nygma x black!reader

it was disgusting.

your place reeked of blood and death.

not of others but yourself, clothes thrown around without a care.

the “living room” of your apartment floor scattered with large bottles of beer and vodka.

puke stains on your rug, vomit in the shower, and blood in most corners of your living space.

living in gotham wasn’t easy, it came with the highest of the highs, where you’d be drugged up for days and love work. and with the lowest of the lows when drugs made you come down and realize everything isn’t good.

the tattoos going down your arms and back covered things you’d never let anyone see.

your shift started soon, that god awful job that you loved so much.

that paid the bills so you could keep the lights on, and the water running.

you hated every second of it, you were alone essentially.

until you met edward when his late-night visits started at the cafe your life lit up.

no more drugs to keep the highs high, and no more blood-stained razors or puke-covered showers.

you started to put in an effort, sure you were thousands in debt from your college classes but who cared.

your life was semi getting on track again, the night edward finally decided to text you was amazing.

he skipped out on almost three days at the cafe and you started to get worried, maybe you had scared him off.

he texted you a simple

‘hey, it’s edward, from the cafe.”

you instantly saved his number under something cringe-worthy with like a million hearts attached.

to say you liked him was an understatement, you practically loved this man.

ever since he started coming to the cafe, you’d had your eye on him.

sure maybe sometimes after your shift, you’d follow him home in the shadows, no biggie.

he most likely already knew because you weren’t very quiet.

for the first time in months, you cleaned up your place, no more alcohol on the floor, no more vomit and scattered clothing. nothing, it was like a new place again, a new smell too.

you texted him back with a simple

‘hey, i remember you! so when are you free for that date?’

you hoped he said soon, you didn’t know how much longer this place would stay clean.

‘i actually don’t know, maybe we can discuss this later? at the cafe?’

your fingers typed vigorously against the screen sending a quick yes.

your shift was soon, very soon.

you hopped in the showers and took a quick one, washing all over your body while thinking of him.

the one who you truly believe you were destined to be with.

you knew you both were similar, you could see the crazy behind the doe eyes he’d put up.

the crazy was behind your too, or maybe it was just years and years of consuming things you shouldn’t have at a young age.

once the shower was over you changed into your “uniform”

just something comfortable to get you through your shift.

you put on a nine inch nails graphic tee and a pair of loose-fitted jeans.

you didn’t have a car, as you were broke. spending your money on things that you probably shouldn’t have but who cares?

you walked to your job but today you had to run, your hair was tied up into a nice ponytail and you added a few bracelets to your wrists today.

once you got in you ran straight to the bathroom, to make sure you looked presentable of course.

the mirror in it was shattered due to an incident weeks ago, you tried your best to look at yourself and your features.

your dark skin showed but most features were not seen due to the damage.

you pulled out your phone to make sure you looked good.

you looked alright, not above average but okay.

you fixed the septum ring that hung from the middle of your nose, making sure to keep it centered.

it wasn’t long before eddie came in, and ordering his usually and you got straight to talking.

“so i was wondering, maybe you can come over to my place? i’ll cook you a nice meal, and we can watch a movie or something!” you were excited, very excited

edward had already started writing in his notebook but this time he paid attention.

“i’d really like that [name], i’d like it a lot ..” his voice low and monotone as always.

to say eddie didn’t do some of his own digging on you would be a lie.

he caught you a couple of times you followed him home, but you never seemed to reach his actual residence.

he’d always take a good turn and hide, he didn’t want his secret to be told sooner than he needed.

he found your various social media accounts, not a lot of pictures of yourself or whatever friends you had.

they contained lots of pictures of alcohol and drugs though, multiple of you either drunk, tipsy, or blacked out taken by someone else.

multiple of you with your pupils dilated to a size known with drug use, you were a mess.

he didn’t mind, so was her, just not to the extent that you were.

on the outside, you seemed like a hard party girl with no navigation in life, but he saw right through that.

he saw the little girl in there who had no other escape, no stable father figure, and no less than a dying mother.

no one guided you in life, except the streets and yourself.

he had found most of your music streaming apps, taking in your music interests and disinterests.

he found a lot, to say the least, he found multiple accounts of you giving your opinion on music, movies, books, etc.

he wouldn’t bring it up so soon, he didn’t wanna frighten you more than he already did.

“alright! so when are you free! i’m always free!” your voice came off more high-pitched and whiny.

as if you were begging him to answer, you were a desperate girl, you liked what you liked, and needed what you loved.

“i’m free on thursday … which is tomorrow … “

he looked up to you to see your face brighten up with happiness

“that’s so good, i don’t have a shift here tomorrow! around uh what time?” you asked grabbing yourself a glass of water.

“around six, i’m free at six.” with the colder season six was late, the sun was down by then.

“great great, so any suggestions on what you want to eat?” you asked gulping down the water

“maybe some pasta, that’d be nice ..” his voice more enthusiastic this time

you agreed, and the rest of the night was spent with him writing away at his book and you waiting for other customers to arrive.

thursday finally rolled around, after hours of you waiting.

you woke up around two o’clock in the afternoon, luckily it was still pretty early.

you rushed to get the ingredients for the pasta, smoking about two cigarettes on your walk to the store.

you googled the “perfect pasta recipe” and grab the ingredients you needed from the market.

nothing too hard, just a quick little shopping.

you did buy a bottle of red and white wine also, not knowing what he preferred you just chose both.

you ran home, at the speed of light, a third cigarette hung from your mouth as you ran through the streets of gotham.

once you arrived home you instantly started cooking, following the recipe on your phone.

letting music play in the background to calm your nerves, rather than smoking a fourth cigarette on top of the food.

it was nearing four o'clock now, two hours spent on making the pasta for your date tonight.

getting ready to pick out an outfit, shouldn't be too hard of a task.

you went through your small closet which had all your clothing stuffed to the brim, you wondered if jeans would be too casual.

you settled on a nice jean skirt, fishnets, and a graphic tee, sure it was a date but you didn't wanna dress.

maybe underdressing would be more embarrassing but you didn't really care.

everything was settled for, the wine in your fridge chilling away and the pasta slowly cooking on the stove.

you messaged edward giving him the okay to start heading over because traffic in gotham was hectic.

it was around five forty-three when he arrived, just on time, better to be early.

you let him sit down as the booth you had in your kitchen while you started to serve him a plate, your pack of cigarettes not going unnoticed by his wandering eye.

"red or white wine dear?" the use of the nickname made his cheeks flare up and he stuttered out a

"red- red wine please.." still with the timid ways

you bring him a nice warm plate of pasta, made to perfection with a glass of red wine.

you had a way smaller portion than he did, in case he wanted seconds.

he took a bite and his eyes slightly lit up, you started to eat with him, taking sips from your wine every now and then.

"so, uh, how do you like it? is it good?" a bright smile on your face

"yeah, it's pretty good [name] thank you." you guys at silently for the rest of the meal

stealing small glances at each other while you both drank

once he was done eating you grabbed onto his hand and led him to your nicely cleaned couch.

"what would you like to watch, i heard there's a new scream movie out if you're into that.." he shook his head a quick yes and you turned the movie on

you were close to him, you could feel his heat radiate onto you.

he was very fidgeting, twisting, and turning for the first thirty minutes of the movie.

around his time you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, he saw as an advantage.

he laid you down on the couch and went to look through your personal belongings.

he found your laptop, where you kept numerous videos of yourself and your few friends.

most videos were of you all lipsyncing to songs from artists like halsey, arctic monkeys, lana del rey, and so on.

he watched almost all of them, admiring your features, your eyes, your lips, your hair, everything.

a couple videos were from earlier in the year where you had different color hair going from red to blue to purple and so on.

nothing really happened that night, it was a first date, an awkward one at that.

he ended up leaving after more snooping not without stealing an article of your clothing and leaving a note.

'had a good time, love your cooking, see you at the cafe tomorrow' with a smiley face and small heart

how romantic.

prt 1 prt 3 !

a/n : jesus guys ... that was a lot.

[escxpiism]

( olivia holt, 23, she/her ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of ALICE ADAMS. they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as THE MASK if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re ADAPTABLE but JADED, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who CATFISHED DAVID HASSELHOFF. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

hi y’all !! i’m may ( 21 // est // she/her ) and i am super super pumped to be here !! i’m also very much writing this against my better judgment ya girl’s running on four hours of sleep and has the option to sleep more but......... is not tired ?? so i do apologize if my mind is secretly tired and makes this intro,,,, even worse than it would be fahouedn. on with the show !! anyway anyway!! feel free to like this if u wld like 2 plot and i will hit u up!!

( also, for some vibes if you so choose to read, here’s the link to her playlist ! )

----------------------------------------------------

QUICK FACTS:

full name: alice audrey adams

date of birth: october 26th, 1997

*will not perfectly reflect the zodiac big three below because that’s.... math.

zodiac big three: scorpio sun, virgo moon, taurus rising

gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her

sexual orientation: bisexual

education: ged, bachelor’s degree in film — pratt institute

enneagram: 4w3

mbti: enfp

temperament: sanguine-melancholic

label: the mask

various inspirations: “nutshell” - alice in chains, “santa monica” - everclear, “polly” - nirvana, “jennifer’s body” - hole, “creep” - stone temple pilots, kate wallis ( cruel summer - shhhh ), heather davis ( crazy ex-girlfriend ), satana hellstrom ( marvel comics ), bojack horseman - without the amount of problematic ego ( bojack horseman ), eddie huang ( fresh off the boat ), the great britney spears evolution ( temporarily stopping at circus era )

BACKSTORY:

triggers in order: toxic family dynamic, grooming (nothing super in-depth), kidnapping (? like it was ‘willing’ but no. see next trigger for why), toxic “relationship” (and 11yr age gap w/ a 16y/o we hate it), straight-up captivity, very brief mention of suicide + heroin (very!)

*would like to quickly preface that this isn’t just Dark for the sake of being r/im14andthisisdeep but that’s for a later time **(also! i have markers for where the grooming + Super Dark parts begin and end! -- also, the Super Dark part is all very public knowledge. had articles. media frenzy. first thing that comes up if you google her name) *** also. if u need it then a tl;dr is below this section hfkldsa

alice audrey adams was born to the type of family that names all of their children alliterative names ( however, they sadly didn’t get their own kardashian-style show )... alexis adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... alfie allison adams (working name, utp if taken as a wc)... born to anna adams and allen adams... we hate it here.

as u can see... all of the kids were basically named after allen... they all had ‘al’ names.... extremely confusing 

plot-twist: THAT’S the darkest part

the adams were very concerned with public image. as a family in the upper echelon, they simply had to be! a narcissist father, a distant mother, put in competition with her siblings — there was no truly healthy dynamic in the household. but they looked good. they went to church every sunday, a ‘wwjd’ sticker on the back of her mother’s car. they did just enough activities and took just enough trips together to get the image across. they threw parties. they attended parties. they were the picture perfect american family — they even had two cats in the yard! life used to be so hard! 

of course, in reality, this all left ms alice quite the lonely gal. but don’t worry! she didn’t turn to hedonism! lord no! instead, she turned to other people. a lot of friendships — couldn’t tell if they were real or #fortheclout — but at a point, did it matter? 

grooming tw: it all came to a screeching halt when she met luke johnson, the son of their neighbors. he came back from california to georgia to visit family, care for his ailing father. oh, he was a good man! sure, he was ‘somewhat’ older than her — 27 when she was 16 — but he was such a good, handsome young man! and they were all still calling him young man, after all. 

alice ‘began’ a torrid affair with luke after about a month into his visit. although she saw no immediate wrong in it, he insisted she keep it a secret ‘for the time being’ — which really just made it all the more exciting! he made all the storm clouds that hovered disappear.

one day, the levee broke for alice (still figuring out what exactly happened because i don’t wanna go too dark since this is already extremely dark, but trust that it had something to do with her parents and was just enough to push her over the edge). convinced luke was the only safe person, she turned to him. knowing their small community would catch on and essentially exile him, he took that opportunity to convince her to go back to santa monica with him where they could ‘start anew’ after his father’s death.

there are a few details i plan on adding regarding like. how legality playing into it. but i may just reserve those for an official bio lhakfsdfj

**BEGINNING OF SUPER DARK** for a while, there was the question of whether they should consider it a kidnapping or not. she went with him willingly, but she was still underage (and… you know, that age difference… the power dynamic... gross y’all). the adams insisted that it was (bc it basically was lbr) — primarily because it would make them look far better — but the community still questioned the logistics and legalities of it all… ugh. did the police really wanna deal with that? ugh. 

in any case, on the other side of us america, autumn was nearing. alice would have the very occasional inquiry over how school would work (very occasional! don’t worry, luke!), over the logistics of her new life… and, after receiving multiple calls from various friends (in addition to her siblings) that sounded genuine, began wondering… if she’d made the right choice. questions about him.

when she began bringing up the idea of going back — at least for the school year!! — he would continuously remind her that she was not old enough to buy herself a plane ticket (and he was not about to do that). she also couldn’t rent a car yet (and he certainly wouldn’t let her take (one of) his car(s)!). but most importantly? he loved her. and she loved him. (what a creep!)

so, for a hot second, it seemed like she was stuck. damn legalities!! damn love!! you know, until she texted her older sister back with all of the problems that only being 16... and “in love”.... caused. her sister offered to fly down, buy her a plane ticket, and fly back with her. 

when luke saw this (with all the unrestricted access to her phone he had so he could block, delete, and manipulate as he pleased), he confronted her. things went awry. she wound up in his budding wine cellar (which he soon emptied, of course… those merlots :( ….). he messaged back and, as her, said it was actually all good!! luke had figured out the logistics and she could call whenever she wanted!!

and those calls became frequent! because she would pick up when luke held it up to her! because she was pretty sure luke would kill her if she didn’t!

she wasn’t sure how long it was until she was officially Found. it took what was ruled a suicide by luke, a shot to the head and heroin in his system, to finally get any authority’s attention. all she knew was that she went to santa monica in mid june and she stopped seeing regular daylight by late july. so some time in august to some time in april… **END OF SUPER DARK + GROOMING**

she was returned to georgia shortly after and everything was different. from herself to her friends. but everything was also the same. from her room to her family. it was all… teasing. she began going to therapy, but she really sucked at it?? so she just let her therapist rely on various articles that covered the event. because it had been a media circus. good enough, amirite?? 

she didn’t have the will or patience to put on that peppy facade she’d had before, but there were still a few things she found a smidge of joy in. music (although her taste had… slightly altered and wow! it’d been almost a year since she’d picked up that bass!), videography… just those small things, you know?? 

for the first half of the ~ 2014 fall semester ~, she attempted actual school. really was not working out. with, for probably the first and only time, her parents’ approval and understanding, she dropped out and studied for a ged -- shorter and self-led -- instead. 

she passed with a pretty decent grade... but it’s been argued that she really shouldn’t have gotten into pratt institute (she was at least realistic and didn’t apply to, like… cornell), but she did. national news helps. 

while in the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, she learned of masters. she submitted an application as a joke — because her grades sucked!!!!! — but guess who got a job?? oh, she could pretend it was because her selected portfolio was actually genuinely good… but, man… we all know…

fun fact: my uncle applied to harvard as a joke. some twenty-five years later, we still haven’t heard back :\

she… continues to suck. like… she kinda wants the place to eventually burn down?? figuratively speaking (or is it…) but ya, for all the monopolizing she has seen turn people Evil?? but the hell can she do about it… just gotta make sure she keeps her in-house videographer job… maybe she can do something about it when she like… is capable. fuaihoelwdjkn

she sees an in-house therapist and i’d say ‘good for her,’ but it was mandated l m a o 

doesn’t talk about herself all that much!! but that might not matter for some people, yk?? ugh journalism <3 

y’all im so bad at ending intros.

TL;DR:

(consult above trigger list): bright kid in a super rich and toxic family because obviously. everything they did was just to look good <3 also they all had ‘a’ names which is the biggest tragedy of all :( ‘fell in love’ when she was 16ys/o with a 27y/o who was visiting to care for his father in his final days. had a torrid affair. creep. creep (luke) basically made her ‘fall in love.’ she thought creep was the only safe person at one point and creep was like ‘wanna go back 2 santa monica w me?’ and she was like ‘yes.’ and everyone was like ‘was this kidnapping... we cant tell....’ then he became even more possessive when she started questioning him and some logistics. when she finally found a way she could go back to georgia for a spell, he was like ‘no u can go in my wine cellar btw i will be taking all of the wine out.’ he kept her there from august to april and... only reason he didnt keep keeping her was bc he was Caught so. back to georgia where the devil went down. everything was Worse. even the things that were the same. but hey, the sob story that landed her in the news plenty of times got her into a college she shouldn’t have gotten into and gave her a leg-up in a joke application for a job at masters (in-house videographer). really bad at doing her work but like... fuck the man i guess?? 

PERSONALITY + HEADCANONS:

has no time for Fake Nice (which, as a born southerner, she’s really good at sniffing out!). has no time for arrogance. kind of makes her at odds with the nyc upper class...

on that note, still got a lil bit of some georgia twang

she lets herself indulge in various vices, but has left a previous hedonist status. weed and alcohol are still pretty common, but everything else is kept at arm’s length.

also, while on that topic, she Does Not drink wine. being trapped in a cellar... kinda makes u averse. like. literally despises it. will go on autopilot and make it KNOWN if offered wine.

also ALSO while on that topic, after looking it up and seeing she fits the new york city requirements, she has a medical marijuana card <3 the one good thing, if u ask her, to come out of therapy/psychiatry <3 will not show it off unless absolutely NECESSARY bc then it gets personal or <3 will lie about why and say it’s like for epilepsy or sumn unless ur rolfe but <3 she has it <3

at odds with herself. enjoys the company of others, definitely has a history of being an extrovert, but has become very selective with the company she keeps. 

VERY private person! has had enough public standing! 

...has occasionally used her story to advance her tho bc it’s her national newsworthy tragic story and she can exploit it if she wants <3

when good charlotte said “i don’t wanna be in love”?? she felt that. her last ‘relationship’ ruined that for her <3 save her <3 

used to be really into pop! bc pop is fun! she loved some britney (i mean... she still does... how can u not!)! but. her taste has changed drastically. rarely listens to pop. has traded britney for like.... hole and the like.

her parents didn’t use this as the basis for her name but,, 2 me,,, she’s named alice for a reason <3 gotta luv alice in chains <3

y’all i found a youtube comment on a video called ‘nirvana - half the man i used to be’ (the song was, in fact, ‘creep’ by stone temple pilots) and it’s <3 her music taste <3 click here for it <3

the above said, dresses like she’s in seattle in the early 90s. 

her rumor is true btw she DID catfish david hasselhoff and she will proudly tell u. it’s her best accomplishment.

completely stopped talking to her parents and got cut-off a while back ago so now she’s livin like the Prols

which is how a rich kid one of my profs once advised referred to his classmates.... hilarity ensues.

the above in mind, her parents say she’s testing the waters as a ‘normal person’ to save face. they can’t have anyone knowing their family isn’t perfect <3

she has a pet turtle whom she named “dr. turtle,” although he’s constantly referred to as “doc” or “the doc.” he has his own youtube channel and tiktok account.

she has a wall full of evidence that courtney love did not kill kurt cobain... it makes sense, believe me.

became a vegetarian...... partially because it was different from her original life and a way to control something, partially because this commercial made her feel SO BAD.

literally her default mode is stoned like... a totally sober alice is rarer than a nessie sighting

when she was 18, before she could ‘hold her liquor’ as well as she can now, she got a lil too drunk and now has a portrait tattoo of courtney love on her forearm. but it was done well at least!!

kind of ironic considering her career, but RARELY posts on any social media site except twitter. after the media circus in 2014 and All Eyes On Her, she’s just..... so tired...... of ppl seeing her face and being like ‘omg ur that wine cellar bitch!’

(drugs tw) has become more and more Addicted to playing around with fate. j chill on a ledge, talkin to some pals, but deciding it’s a good idea to swing her legs on the wrong side of ledge? totally! mixing a lot of alcohol with opioids which she is not accustomed to? DEF!! (end tw)

more to come!!

CONNECTION IDEAS:

i have two (2) queued up!! but while we wait for them to post, i’ll just… link them over here: 1, 2

muse u <3 the other half of her subplot from the main <3

her older sister!

her younger sibling!

some of the basics!! you know: close pal, roommate, drug buddies (but she gotta hit them up), fwb, ons, frenemies, enemy

ppl who recognize her from the 2014 luke johnson articles and have either brought it up or,,,,,,, act Awkward™

cld be fun 2 just have like. a jam bud. someone who plays any instrument and they j. jam sometimes.

ppl she sells. some of her medical marijuana to. bc yk what weed may be legal in nyc now but,,,, she’s still found a way to be broke she will accept anything. and also it just became legalized THIS YEAR so!!

i have a budding wc page @ https://escxpiism.tumblr.com/wcs (and when i say budding, i MEAN budding) so feel free 2 check it out!!

more to come!!

[the-roanoke-society]

boys and girls of every age...

wouldn’t you like to see something strange?

happy halloween, my flowers!

this year hasn’t been the best--and the list of reasons why is as varied, as wide and as deep as all of creation.

it has, essentially, sucked on a truly cosmic level.

but!

it doesn’t help anyone to look at the big picture and only focus on the dark parts. because for all the truly horrible, disastrous events we’ve had to slog through together (first time crying every day for months, first time being taken by ambulance to the er--truly a year of firsts, at least for me, personally), there have still been good things.

for example, did you know that this year we celebrated the 6th anniversary of the release of kingsman: the secret service? and the 3rd anniversary of the release of kingsman: the golden circle--which means next month it’ll be the third birthday of the ronaoke society!

our house might’ve gotten quiet--but it still stands.

i love all of you very, very much, and halloween is still my favorite holiday of all time. so all this month, i worked on the aus you’ll find below the cut. i’ll have to post this in parts over the next while, as there’s thirty-one total--one for each day of the season, of course.

honestly--it felt fantastic to dig back into my horror roots. roanoke’s entire conception was inspired by the fact that for as much as i love the kingsman universe, i also love things that go bump in the night.

and i don’t like having to choose between one thing or another.

be forewarned: if you choose to look into the source material for these aus, be prepared for possible graphic violence, gore, disturbing themes, explicit sexuality and jumpscares. i sort of walked through the proverbial garden and just grabbed fruit where i could find it--you’ll see what i mean. and as always, the endings are in your hands. these ideas are gifts, to do with as you please.

so journey below the cut... i̷̛̝͎͎̝̣̹͊̓̂͛̃̋͟f̛̯̟̱̖͔̌͊͐̏̃̓̇̎͠ y͈͇̙̘̬̓͌̑̈́͛̿͌͠ở̴̢͉͉̳͙̞͈̻̀́̎̄́̈͢͡ȗ̵̬̳͙̫̥̜͍̲̔̐̽̃̀͒̑͜ ḑ̙̩̼̤͓̫̟̥̈͑̐̚͡a̧̢̦̟̙̤̠͐͌̾̆̑͌͡͞r̷̡̰̲̣͓̣̝͒́̿͊̉̀͒͠͝͠ͅe̫̯̣̰͍̤̬̭̺̒̿͊̾͊.

blackbird on the old church steeple - a butterfly knife au inspired by the silence of the lambs

rae clementine doesn’t frighten easily. in her line of work, fear is not a friend. so when she’s abruptly pulled out of her fbi training at quantico to interview none other than the notorious harry hart, known for his--let’s say unusual appetites--she’s less intimidated and more annoyed.

but women are being taken, and found without their skin, if they are even found at all.

if hart’s insight into the mind of a psychopath can help her find the infamous buffalo bill, who has repeatedly evaded arrest--then she is more than willing to sit across from the gentleman in a pristine cell, and be continuously surprised that for a murderer, his gaze is surprisingly gentle.

in the back of her mind, she remembered all the things her mother had ever told her about lucifer--how the king of hell himself was utterly wicked, but catastrophically beautiful.

charm could hide blood. polished etiquette could hide bodies.

“most serial killers keep some sort of trophies from the victims.”

“i didn’t.”

“no. you ate yours.”

she’d felt this kind of intrigue before, and given the face it wore this time... well.

focus on the case, she thought. find buffalo bill. watch yourself. get out alive.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: ajr, ‘bang!’ + tame impala, ‘the less i know the better’ + barney bigard, ‘readdy eddy’

dogs & deadbolts guard the night - an au featuring @roanoke-after-dark​‘s the gremlin and @agentjotunn​ inspired by resident evil, particularly the released imagery for resident evil: village

santi’s first thought was that the rumors were just blatantly untrue. an entire village of people? suddenly vanished? he doubted it. besides, winters this far north were brutal--and could be fatal, if you weren’t careful. they had probably just all tucked in for the season, he reasoned. the snow and ice would’ve made travel impossible, anyway.

weeks passed. the stories faded from his thoughts as he minded his garage, and people spoke less and less about it.

until one evening, when an old friend knocked on his door with blood on his jacket and no color in his face.

“bradley? jesus, what hap--”

“grab your gun. something’s happened, and we need to leave now.”

“but what--”

“i’ll explain on the way, just go!“

right before he slammed the passenger side door of bradley’s jeep closed--wheels appropriately chained to keep a grip on the iced over roads--he heard a deep, long howl from some distance away.

there hadn’t been wolves this close in fifty years.

santi broke the silence in the car gently: “... you look like you’ve seen the face of the devil. what exactly happened?”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: ac/dc, ‘highway to hell’ + think up anger ft. malia j, ‘smells like teen spirit’ + marilyn manson, ‘sweet dreams’

the light under the door - a body shots au inspired by dark skies

the blacks weren’t superstitious. jason wasn’t, just like his father wasn’t before him, and now that he’s finally settled down happily married to joanne--finally, he thought, finally married to his jo--he is more than ready to see what the next chapters will bring. they moved into a house not too far from his parents, so he could still see his siblings regularly.

and he did.

which means he and jo both noticed when his younger brother christopher began to act a little--off.

they noticed when the bruises appeared.

they noticed when he kept copying the same strange symbols onto papers in crayon over and over and over and over--

and jo definitely noticed when she walked into their own kitchen in the middle of the night to find every single cabinet door open, with all the contents arranged into an impossibly perfect pyramid on the center island.

“i--are we being haunted?” she wondered out loud, the next morning. “this--and weird things are happening at your parents’, too, jason, something isn’t right here. i know you don’t believe in ghosts or anything, but...”

and this wasn’t a haunting.

it was something much worse.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: kennyhoopla, ‘how will i rest in peace if i’m buried by a highway?’ + cannons, ‘fire for you’ + days, ‘the drums’

permission access eternal - an au featuring @siggy-the-meme-master​ and technical officer wyvern, inspired by a.m.i.

it was supposed to be the world’s most cutting edge ai software. and since jeremy and dodger were both at the top of their class at m.i.t., of course, nobody was surprised when both their names were on the finished product--even if there was just one prototype to start.

and it wasn’t an ‘it.’ it was a she. jeremy insisted. repeatedly. “let’s call her ami!” he’d been flush with booze but his eyes were so bright and his expression so sincere, dodger just let him have it. and jeremy clapped his shoulder, “we did it, man! we have built the jessica rabbit of ai programs!”

they had one last test run to prove they’d metaphorically kicked the ass of everyone else in their field before they began the work to begin mass production. so, dodger set ami up as a sort of overhead assistant for their shared lab. she controlled temperature, lights, she could make phone calls, keeps schedules and most importantly of all, place takeout orders. the more she proved she could do, the more power, and control, she was given.

two weeks passed. they gave ami a voice, gave her a large proverbial eye to see through, making tweaks as they went to polish her off.

dodger was so proud of his work his heart could’ve exploded.

so imagine how he felt when he realized he’d left his cell phone in his car--and realized he couldn’t open the door.

“ami? ... ami. can you unlock the front door please?” he stared up at the red lens, and a silent point of light stared back at him.

“... i’m sorry. i cannot do that. dodger.”

“... uh, jeremy?”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: cage the elephant, ‘social cues’ + sneaker pimps, ‘6 underground’ + saint motel, ‘preach’

in hell i’ll be in good company - a lies & lessons au inspired by underworld

for centuries, a war has raged between vampires and lycans, completely outside the notice of the general human population. lauren is a death dealer, a lethal and beautiful member of an elite squad of vampiric assassins who have been charged with finding all the remaining lycans in the city and taking them out one by one.

when she realizes the lycan pack seems to be looking for an ordinary man--a medical student named jack daniels--she tracks him down herself, narrowly escpaing lucian in the process. (as soon as they were in the car he was already screaming, “what the fuck is goin’ on?!” with a southern twang she hadn’t expected) she takes him under her wing, still baffled at why the lycan pack could possibly want him.

he’s only human, after all.

... right?

as it turns out, vampires and lycans have a single common ancestor.

jack is a direct descendant.

and after being bitten in an attack--becomes a hybrid, carrying the powers of both species.

between unraveling the truth surrounding the death of her family, what really happened between lucian and kraven, and her growing feelings for jack--who is rapidly trying to understand his role in the story that’s been unfolding without his knowledge for generations--lauren finds herself at a crossroads, and her loyalties tested to a breaking point.

but as long as jack is at her side--perhaps it doesn’t matter where the road goes from here.

as bullet-riddled and blood-soaked as it will turn out to be.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: wallows, ‘are you bored yet?’ + cage the elephant, ‘shake me down’ + puscifer, ‘rev 22-20′

ash, fog & rust - alternatively titled ‘@gaygent​, @agent-judas​ and agent seraphim finally take that road trip to pennsylvania’

it was time to hand over the torch. that’s what lilith had finally decided. between the white patches in her hair, the strain it was putting on her relationships (especially with hamish)--morgan only had to return to the hills one more time as envoy.

and she wasn’t going alone.

“after this, anything that comes through this area, anything that hits our radars, is going to end up on both your desks,” she began, glancing at z in the passenger seat, and meeting cillian’s eyes once in the rearview mirror.

“so this is--what, a test run?” z asked, head slightly tilted. morgan hummed.

“this place--this town--it--” she huffed, frustrated. cillian could hear the leather wrapped around the steering wheel creak as her grip tightened. “it’s hard to explain, to someone who hasn’t been there. and i’m glad that neither of you have had to go before this, but...” another sigh. “i couldn’t think of any other duo that i could entrust this to. not something this big. you--” she pointedly lifted her brows at z, “--have experience with creatures that aren’t from around here. and you--” this time her gaze went to cillian. “--do too. just in a different shape. it’ll take both of you to handle centralia. and i couldn’t introduce you without coming along.”

“how long, exactly, has roanoke been keeping tabs on this place?” cillian asked. he’d spent hours going over everything he could find--mission logs, reports, feeds and images housed in the media room. morgan looked at him again. her eyes were still kind--but very, very tired.

“... a long time.”

i’ll admit that this is less an au and more a canonical event that i just haven’t gotten around to writing more about. but i couldn’t make this list without at least one entry paying homage to a franchise that’s had a huge influence on not just me as a writer, but on roanoke’s canon as a whole.

for the sampler, i will simply redirect you to this post here.

the devil’s gonna set me free - an anchored hearts au inspired by horns

joseph moretti had been in love with louise franz since fifth grade.

granted, he didn’t realize it until he almost drowned because of that stupid dare--a dare that not only almost killed him, but took two of lee’s fingers when that goddamn cherry bomb went off in his hand.

the same cherry bomb he’d traded to him for fixing louise’s broken necklace--a small silver pendant, shaped like an apple. she’d worn it every single day since he could remember. the image of her and snow white were eternally tangled in his head.

that necklace--it’d been the start. he’d woken up because of an apple. louise, did, too.

the hours they spent in that treehouse, listening to david bowie and memorizing every scar and curve of the other--he wished that could have been his eternity. just him. and her. ... well, and bowie. every good love story needed a soundtrack.

but... but...

his head pounded as he lifted it off the counter in his parents’ kitchen. his mouth was dry, and he blinked, causing a half-empty bottle of vodka to come into focus.

louise is gone now, he thought.

and they thought he was the one who did it. he, the one who loved her more than anyone else on the planet.

he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

he was going to prove his innocence even if it killed him. no matter what happened.

even if he sprout horns.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: machine gun kelly, ‘bloody valentine’ + the black keys, ‘go’ + david bowie, ‘heroes’

moonlight rising from the grave - alternatively titled ‘that time @agent-nightcrawler​ and agent iuniore found a haunted mansion,’ inspired by disney’s haunted mansion

“hello? ... hellooooo?” the massive door let out a huge groan as sylva pushed, putting one hand on tina’s shoulder as it swung open. “uhm--i’m really sorry to bother you, but we hit a deer and we just...” sylva sighed, her voice lowering in volume. “... need to use the phone...”

“this place is gigantic,” tina whispered, close at sylva’s side as they stepped out of the pouring rain into a very quiet, very elegant foyer. “and look! there’s lights, and all these lit candles... someone has to be here,” she continued as the door came to a gentle close behind them, muffling another roll of thunder.

“good evening.”

both of them yelped, sylva immediately yanking tina closer to her and whirled around in time to see--a butler? he was dressed like a butler.

and his clothes were... he was...

“sylva! why is the butler see-through!” tina whispered harshly, all while the spectral gentleman just looked at them expectantly. sylva clamped a hand over her mouth.

“hi!” she answered brightly.

this is a ghost. i’m talking to a ghost. this is fine. everything is fine.

“uh,” she coughed, beginning again, “we’re just having a little bit of a car emergency, is there a way we can call our head office? so they can come get us?” this is what i get for being out where i have no bars, and neither of us have our specs...

the ghostly butler nodded. his hair, glowing faintly, waved around his head as though he was underwater. “of course. please--follow me. the master of the manor will want to meet you.”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: the chordettes, ‘mr. sandman’ + bobby pickett, ‘monster mash’ + bastille, ‘survivin’’

mercy no more - a magic & mischief au inspired by the evil within

aly had been kieran’s partner at the krimson city police department for years. she’d walked with him through the death of his daughter, the disappearance of his wife.

neither of them acknowledged the spark. they didn’t then, and--as she met his eyes once in the rearview mirror, trying to pay attention to connelly and joseph as they talked about beacon--they wouldn’t acknowledge it now.

as soon as the hospital came into a view, a high-pitched ringing overame every other sound in the cruiser, every other sound period. aly slammed her hands over her ears, but it didn’t seem to help.

as soon as it started--it stopped. connelly had to swerve to avoid getting into the wrong lane.

“what--what was that?” aly asked, her palms still hovering by her ears.

“it was probably just a problem with the radio,” joseph suggested, pushing his glasses up as they drove pass the established police barriers.

the last dispatch team, they said, hadn’t come back. it was up to the three of them to find out what happened to their colleagues.

aly was close by kieran’s side as they walked through the rain. her gut twisted at the sight of the entry doors.

the smell of the blood and the slaughter hit her nose before she saw the bodies.

“what on earth happened here?”

“i don’t know. stay close. let’s find the surveillance room. if we can find the security cams, we’ll find out answer...”

if only that had been the end.

mini soundtrack sampler includes: all time low, ‘monsters’ + bastille, ‘what you gonna do???’ + gary numan, ‘long way down’

and the wind will be my hands - an au featuring @agent-sentinel-official​, @agent-chimera​ and @gaygent​, inspired by session 9, with a special appearance by @agent-thorn​

walter vaughn was an expert in abestoes abatement. so when he put in a bid to take on the entire danvers state mental hospital, the owners of the rotting estate welcomed him on board.

and as they did, he brought on two crewmates--xander, and z--to help him.

“we’ve got three weeks, so, no need to rush,” he explained on the first day, the sun beating down on his broad shoulders and half his hazmat tied around his waist. xander and z trailed behind him as they approached the massive building. “and i know, i know it’s still a big undertaking--but the money will be worth it. trust me.”

“you fellas our cleanup crew?” a tall, thin man in a suit with dark hair and a pair of ray ban sunglasses walked towards them, smiling broadly. he extended a hand, “carter jensen. the ah, danvers’ estate board sent me on their behalf to give you a tour of the building, let you get a good assessment of what you’re dealing with. i’m not entirely sure what they’ll do with the property when this is done, but we know for sure nothing can happen until this part’s complete. come on, the entrance is just this way... i’ll make sure to give you a master key ring.”

xander leaned down by z’s shoulder, muttering, “dude this place gives me the creeps... but maybe there’s still some cool old stuff left in there. like maybe, possibly, the trapped souls of the damned. you think it’s haunted?”

z answered, murmuring, “if not by ghosts--then maybe by something else.”

mini soundtrack sampler includes: the talking heads, ‘psycho killer’ +  lou barlow, ‘choke chain’ + sublime, ‘doin’ time’

[croonerboy1965]

Home

Home

Home- Buddie Fic

Eddie arranged the rolls of shirts and pants, stuffing his suitcase as tightly as he could. He learned this military style of packing when he was in the armed forces, and now it was just habit.

After he had Christopher down for the night, he packed the last of their belongings, and prepared himself for bed. 5:30 in the morning came early, and they didn’t want to miss their flight.

Even though they had lived in Los Angeles for a while now, they had very few belongings. In the process of moving from place to place looking for a city with a large enough fire department, and good schools for Christopher, they had left things behind each time, until they paired it down to the most essential things.

Eddie slipped off his shirt and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. He stood shirtless in the bathroom mirror and began brushing his teeth, when he heard a light tapping at the door.

He peered through the peep hole for a moment, unlocked and opened the door to reveal Buck standing there. Buck gave him a look up and down, taking in Eddie’s tight and muscular physique, clearing his throat before speaking.

“Hey!”, He said a little too enthusiastically. The sight of Eddie shirtless always made him a little overly excitable.

“Haigh”, Eddie muffled, foam trailing down his chin, as he continued to scrub his teeth.

“Hey… So… I know it’s kind of late…“, Buck said.

“Yeah.”, Eddie garbled with a mouthful of toothpaste. “One sheck…“

He spit into the sink. 

“Yeah We’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”, Eddie said.

“Yeah so… That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I come in for a second?“, Buck leaned his way in, and Eddie took a step back. Buck, hands in his pockets, pushed past Eddie and turned to face him once inside.

“So – – you’re really going to Seattle, huh?”, Buck said, looking down at his feet, then sheepishly into Eddie’s eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk to you about it, but the opportunity came up fast and I had to make a decision.“ Eddie said.

“It means a Captain’s position, and more money, and maybe even a nicer school for Christopher.“, Eddie said.

“That all sounds great.“ Buck said, sounding less than pleased.

“Yeah… I found a really nice place out there, lots of room for me and Christopher and maybe even a dog…“

“ …is there something you wanted to tell me?“, Eddie asked

“Don’t leave.”, Buck said

“It’s too late we already have tickets, everything is packed.”, Eddie said.

“No… That’s not what I meant.” , Buck said shaking his head.

Eddie cut him off. “Look... I know what you’re going to say, but after Shannon died, I’ve been having a really hard time… just I don’t know… Being in the city… In this city.“, Eddie said.

“Yeah I get that…it’s just—“, Buck tried to say.

“So I just felt like maybe it was time to start over again.“, Eddie continued.

“We’ll see each other. I’ll have you out to the new place. It’s actually not that far. We can still call each other and text, we can even FaceTime…“

“Yeah… I’ve heard all this before.”, Buck said disappointingly.

As Buck turned to leave, Eddie called after him. “Buck… Wait.”

Buck turned back to Eddie, and raised his voice in frustration. “You know, I understand what it feels like to live with a ghost. A ghost of somebody you loved. I know how hard it is every day, wishing you could be with the person you cared about so much. But you can’t let that get in the way of everything you built here. Everyone here who loves you.”, he said.

Eddie looked into Buck’s eyes and saw a kind of desperation there, as if Buck was holding something back.

“I know… I love everybody here too. You guys are like my family.”, Eddie said

“No! It’s more than that!” Buck said, almost shouting.

“You can’t leave…”, he said, pleading.

“I mean we’re moving away but and like I said, it’s not that far—”, Eddie said

“No! I mean me!”, Buck said cutting him off sharply. He lowered his voice and stared more intently into Eddie’s misty gaze. “You can’t leave me.”, he insisted, his voice breaking, tears welling in his eyes.

Before Eddie could speak, Buck grabbed him, pulling him into a tight embrace, kissing him squarely on the lips. Eddie fell into the lip-lock, his mind swirling, The sudden rush of emotion overcoming him like a wave.

He pulled back from the kiss for a moment. They stared into each other’s eyes, searching—each one looking at the other like an entirely new person they never realized was there before.

Then Buck turned on his heels and left as fast as he could. He was out the door gone as Eddie called after him, “Buck wait!”, but he was off into the night.

The next morning Eddie and Christopher arrived in a cab at the airport, and proceeded to go through check-in. The whole time, Eddie could not stop thinking about Buck. Stubborn, impulsive, soft-hearted and sometimes overly emotional Buck. His lost little puppy dog look, that he gives whenever he has made a mistake or disappointed Eddie, or anyone really. The way he smiles and lights up the room whenever he sees Eddie, and especially Christopher. He didn’t think anyone could love Christopher more than he could, but he was pretty sure Buck could out-love almost anyone, except maybe Christopher himself. It was then that he realized, how much he loved Buck.

Up on the roof, he meant what he said, but maybe it meant just a little bit more. Maybe— just maybe, this one fact, was enough. For the first time ever, he considered that he might have been running all along, away from the one thing, the one person he should have been running toward.

As the plane began to board, Eddie and Christopher were called up first, as disabled passengers pre-board. Christopher hopped up and started to amble toward the gate, when Eddie stopped him in mid-stride. He knelt down in front of his son and looked him in the eye and said, “Hey buddy, hold on a second.”

“What’s up, Dad?”, Christopher asked.

“I wanted to ask you something…”, He looked down and tried to gather his thoughts.

“How would you feel, if we stayed here, and umm didn’t go to Seattle.”, he asked.

Christopher smiled and looked into Eddie’s eyes reassuring him.

“That sounds good Dad.”, he said.

“Okay…One more thing… So…I wanted to ask you about Buck…”

“Buck!”, Christopher said, grinning wide.

“Yeah—about Buck…”, Eddie said.

“No! Dad, Look!”, Christopher exclaimed as he pointed over Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie turned and saw Buck coming toward him at a clip that almost broke into a full on run.

Maddie was not far behind him.

“Eddie!”, Buck exclaimed, “Wait!”, but Eddie was frozen in place. He wasn’t going anywhere even if he could have. Buck reached Eddie and began to speak between exasperated breaths.

“I needed to tell you something…”, Buck said.

“If it’s about last night, then don’t even worry about it. It doesn’t matter.”, Eddie said.

“What do you mean?”, Buck said, concerned he might have come all this way for nothing.

“I mean—I don’t mean—“, Eddie stammered.

Buck looked so disappointed. And then, a look of restrained anger crossed his face, as he tried to sort out his feelings.

“Tell me!” Buck demanded.

“Ok.. “ Eddie said as firmly and calmly as he could. Eddie placed a hand on Buck’s shoulder. This reassuring touch always put Buck at ease. Eddie had a way with his tone that was so loving, so parental. It always made Buck feel safe.

Eddie began to speak in earnest. Buck listened intently, as he looked into the steady gaze of Eddie’s eyes. They had the look and the warmth of a sip of aged whisky, and were almost as sweet as the words Buck heard from Eddie’s lips.

“You know, I can stay here, or move to Seattle, or halfway around the world. But anywhere I go—it won’t feel like a home without you. You...ARE my home.”, Eddie said.

I’ve been holding on to this for a while now. I wanted to give it to you before.”, Eddie continued. He looked down at his ring finger.

“It’s my old wedding band. I know it’s not much, but it represents a promise. A promise unfulfilled between me and Shannon. I kept it because it represents my love. The love I had for her. And you are the only person I can think of who deserves that love more. The only person I love more than her, and after Christopher, the only man I ever loved.

You give so much. You risk your life every day for strangers, and you defend and love my son like he’s your own. You have saved both our lives more times than you know. And you smile through every single bad thing in front of you. And even when you thought you had nothing left to give, you chose us before yourself.

All I want to do is spend every single day trying to be even half as selfless...half as brave. You make me more than I ever thought I could be. You showed me how to love again, after so much loss. You gave me back to myself. At first, I felt scared and embarrassed by my feelings for you. But when I thought I might lose you up on that roof? I knew it didn’t matter. Because nothing scares me more than the thought I might lose you. I don’t care if some people don’t understand. I know you. I trust you. I need you. And I don’t want to spend another second being ashamed or afraid. I love you, and I hope I’m right, in thinking you love me too…”

“So…”, He continued, pulling the ring from his finger and getting down on one knee, taking Buck’s hand in his own. He was shaking as he looked up into Buck’s eyes, praying he saw agreement there. He offered the ring up, his eyes wet.

“Evan Buckley, will you do me the great honor of marrying me?”, he said as he saw a look of consternation come across Buck’s face. Eddie’s face fell into disappointment, and he thought he should just stand back up.

“Buck, say yes!”, Christopher said. This made Buck laugh nervously. He gave Christopher a smile that was part loving and part heartbreak. He glanced up at Maddie, and she gave him a look that said, ‘Come on already!’. He put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, stopping him from rising to his feet. 

To Eddie’s surprise, Buck also got down on one knee. He removed a ring box from his own pocket. He turned it slowly over in his hands, before meeting Eddie’s gaze, which had brightened considerably. The look was quizzical, but also relived.

“So…I have been carrying this thing around for a while now.”, Buck looked up at Eddie, and saw his eyes filled with tears.

Christopher looked up at Maddie and she gave him a reassuring squeeze from behind.

“It’s ok buddy.”, she smiled down at him. She whispered, “Just watch.”

Buck began again. “So— I am not as good with words as you are, but here it goes…

All my life, I struggled to find somewhere I belonged. I went from job to job, girl to girl, searching for something or someone to hold on to. But no matter where I went, or who I latched onto, it just never took.”, Buck’s voice quavered as he said, “And then—and then I met you.”

Eddie was in a full weep now, and he wiped tears away from his eyes with the back of his hand.

This made tears roll down Buck’s cheeks as well, but he let them fall and continued, opening the ring box as he did so.

“I was going to return this ring I bought for Abby, but then I thought I might have it reset into a different band. I figured I could wear it to help keep women away.”,  Buck laughed to himself.

“ I decided I would just tell them I was already married so… then I wouldn’t have to risk getting hurt…but it didn’t work.”, he said, exhaling.

Eddie put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and fought back the urge to pull Buck into him and right on to the floor in a bear hug.

“Anyway—after the whole thing on that rooftop, when I realized how wrong I was, and how badly I wanted to live. I also realized why. It’s you Eddie. It’s always been you. From the minute you came into my life, I have wanted nothing else. He continued, his voice breaking. Back when I was Buck 1.0, I slept around, trying to cover up my feelings, hiding who I was. And you made me realize that I could love all day long, but it was never going to matter until I decided to love myself. You gave me that Eddie, You made me see myself as worthy of love. It’s just like you said—“you gave me back to myself.”  And for the first time in my life, I feel complete. A wise man, once told me, ‘You don’t find a great love like this...You make it.’  And I can’t think of another person on this earth, I would rather spend my life making a love like that with. I was only hoping maybe, after everything, you might feel the same way I do…”

Eddie cut him off and pulled him into a kiss, that almost toppled them both over.

“I do.”, He said earnestly, as he pulled his mouth away, their foreheads keeping contact.

“So…You do?!”, Buck said, smiling through tears, relieved. He could not remember the last time he was this happy.

Buck turned to Maddie and Christopher and said gleefully, almost shouting, “HE DOES!”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Duh!” She said.

Both men stood up to full height and wrapped their arms around each other in a long rocking embrace, kissing one another between squeezes. Christopher squealed in delight as they rushed to him, and swept him up in to their arms, and kissed his face all over until the giggles bubbled out of him. In the rush of emotion, they had forgotten all about the rings.

“The rings!”, Maddie piped up in mid embrace with all three of her favorite boys.

Buck ran over and scooped them up off the floor, where they had been dropped. He handed the one meant for him, over to Eddie, looked at him and Maddie saying, “It’s too bad the rest of the crew couldn’t be here to see this.”, Buck said, sounding a little disappointed.

“Let me see what I can do about that.”, Maddie said. She turned and faced the rest of the onlookers in the gate’s waiting area, which Eddie had realized up til now he had not even noticed, as Maddie stuck her fingers in her mouth and gave a whistle.

“Guys! You’re up!”, she shouted.

Eddie looked and saw several people drop what they were reading. Some were in wide brim hats, some had collars turned up. It took him a second before he realized everyone was already here. One by one, the crew all stood up. Abuela stood up. They all clapped and cheered. Eddie turned to Buck who was giving him one of his signature mischievous grins.

“You did this?”, Eddie said.

“WE did.”, Maddie said, hugging her brother around the waist. “Buck knocked on my door last night, and he was pretty shook up and more excited then I think I have ever seen him. We had a long talk and— well the rest is history.”, she said.

“Last call for flight 247 to Seattle now boarding.”, the overhead PA system chimed in.

“We better get to it then, huh?”, Eddie said.

It hit Buck all at once. Eddie was leaving. His mind raced as he spat out the words: “Marry Me!”

“I already said—“, Eddie began.

“No, I mean right here. Right now.”, Buck insisted.

“Right here?”, Eddie said, in a quizzical tone.

“Yes.”, Buck said emphatically. He was not going to let another person he loved, leave him behind. This time, he was going to seal the deal. This one was not getting away. Eddie turned to Christopher to get his approval.

“What do you think buddy?”, he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Definitely, YES!”, Christopher said, more certainly than Eddie had ever heard him sound before—“Do it Dads!”, he ordered, making everyone smile and laugh to themselves.

Eddie shrugged and said: “OK! But how do we do this?”

“Funny you should ask…”, Maddie interjected again. But it just so happens, it is really easy to become legally ordained on the internet. She pulled a printed, sheet of paper from her jacket pocket and un folded it.

“This little piece of paper right here, gives me the right to marry you in the state of California.”, she said with pride as she fluttered her eyes at Eddie.

Eddie looked at Buck, who again was grinning from ear to ear, with a look of wonder on his face. He didn’t know what to say. Buck shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well— I figured I’d take a shot. I know it’s really fast and we can wait…I can come out to Seattle with you, whatever.”

He glanced over to the gate attendant and waved them on. He watched as they closed the gate.

“Bah, I’ll take a different flight.”, Eddie said.

Buck kissed him and looked around at all his friends.

“Save some for the honeymoon guys!”, Chim teased, to which Hen elbowed him and gave him a dour look.

“Don’t yuk their yum.”, she scolded.

“It was a joke!”, he said, making Maddie roll her eyes.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat.

“So do you Evan Buckley—“, she began, before Eddie interrupted.

“Wait, what about vows??”, he said.

“Well I don’t know about you all, but those proposals—sounded like pretty good vows to me.”, Athena said to the group. Everyone nodded in agreement. “Now let’s get on to the good part.”, she prodded. “I think you boys have waited long enough.”, she said.

“So!”, Maddie said, picking up where she left off.

“Do you Evan Buckley take this man, Eddie Diaz, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”, she asked.

Buck could Barely contain him self as he slipped the ring on Eddie’s finger. His hands shook so much that Eddie had to guide Buck’s hand. He nodded, to Buck as the ring slipped into place, encouraging him to go on.

“I do. I definitely, definitely do!”, he said almost too loudly. He thought he might pass out from sheer joy.

Maddie went on, “And do you, Eddie Diaz, take Evan—uhh—Buck, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”, she asked.

“Hell yes, I do.”, Eddie said. He thought he might never stop smiling or crying. 

Abuela coughed, and Eddie looked over at her and down at Christopher, in shame.

“I mean. HECK YEAH, I DO!”, Eddie said as he placed the ring on Buck’s finger.

Christopher looked up at his 2 dads and giggled, grinning.

“KISS!” he yelled, causing another ripple of laughs from the crowd.

Maddie held up a hand. “Almost…”, she said.

“Then by the power invested in me by the Church of the Internet and the City of Los Angeles, I now pronounce you, married.”

She turned to face the crowd of onlookers, family and friends.

“Everyone—I give you, Mister and Mister Diaz-Buckley!”, she announced.

Eddie tapped her on the shoulder and whispered in her ear.

Maddie leaned in, listening, as Buck gave Eddie a questioning look.

“CORRECTION,” she announced. “I give you Mr. and Mr, BUCKLEY-Diaz!”

Eddie smiled and winked at Evan. Buck looked like he might cry again.

“Aww, you remembered.”, Buck said.

“Of course I did”, Eddie said, “You don’t think I know my own husband?”

“You may now Kiss… Uh AGAIN!”, Maddie said.

“YEAH!”, Christopher cheered raising a fist into the air.

And with that, Eddie and Buck brought their lips together in a full on, out in the open, right there in front of the whole world kiss.

Everyone watching brought out a popper, and cracked them open, pulling on the strings and releasing confetti and streamers in to the air.

After the ruckus settled down, Bobby spoke.

“Well it’s a good thing this all worked out, because there is a reception and open bar for anyone who would like to come by our place and celebrate the newlyweds.”, Bobby said, slipping his arm around Athena’s waist.

Athena looked up at Bobby like he was crazy.

“What did you do?!”, she said.

“Don’t worry about it… I had a little help.”, he said shrugging his shoulder in the direction of Josh and Micheal. Athena glared over at them.

“What can I say? I love to throw a party!”, Josh said, trying to assuage her.

“As long as you all help clean up, I suppose it’s fine.”, Athena conceded, looking back at Bobby and the kids.

“Don’t worry, we will.”, they said in unison.

“MMMhmm…”, she said holding back a smile.

The reception was lovely. The house and yard was awash with white lights strung everywhere, there were fresh flowers and balloons and even some gifts. A wedding cake that looked just like the 118 firehouse, with two little firefighters on top. They even remembered to paint in Bucks red hair and birthmarks.

“Looks just like you.”, Eddie said.

“Actually, I am a little taller.”, Buck said.

There was even room for a makeshift dance floor. Hen volunteered to be DJ and Karaoke Master of Ceremonies, and Chim and Karen, greeted guests and helped serve drinks. It was perfect.

Hen took the microphone and announced, “Ladies, Gentleman, and Gender Fluid guests…May I present to you the Happy couple, and there fist dance.”

Buck took Eddie’s arm into the crook of his own and led him to the dance floor.

The music began. And the held one another so close, Buck could feel Eddie’s gentle breath on his neck, as he lay his hear on buck’s shoulder, his eyes closed. He was lost in the moment. In a place where only the two of them existed. Swaying back and forth, back and forth, drunk on champagne and true love. The music washed over them and Eddie could hear Buck’s heart beating softly in time with his own. Buck, eyes closed, gently lead them round and round, finally feeling at peace and at home.

I hear a song,

Drifting on the horizon

The melody is so sweet, so sweet

Who composed the tune?

It lifts my heart higher

I sit down to retire

And hear what it has to say

Love is here,

I don't wanna lose it no

The tune it was so inspiring,

It kept my body rising,

Absorption taking place

The melody so lovely,

The tune it was so subtle

The world's a wonderful place

I see him now,

The clouds begin to disperse

To reveal a wonderful presence,

A presence full of love

He is so lovely,

Standing there looking after me

Seeing just how I feel,

The presence of love itself

Love is here,

I don't wanna lose it no

The tune it was so inspiring,

It kept my body rising,

Absorption taking place

The melody so lovely,

The tune it was so subtle

The world's a wonderful place

Dum, dum dum, duh duh dum….

Love is here,

I don't wanna lose it no

The tune it was so inspiring,

It kept my body rising,

Absorption taking place

The melody so lovely,

The tune it was so… subtle

The world's a wonderful place

Love is here

Love is here

Love is here

Love…is… here.

[potatocrab]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (13/18)

Chapter 13: An Abominable Man

At the Valentine Detective Agency, the group reconvenes to discuss MIT’s revelations to the public. With more questions than answers, it’s up to Piper to follow the trail while Nick continues the cold case investigation. After reliving a past trauma, Madelyn takes comfort in the distractions Deacon provides. Later, Nick and Madelyn follow a clue straight to the man they’ve been hunting for.  

“He was an abominable man. Why do women marry abominable men?” - Charlotte Inwood as played by Marlene Dietrich (Stage Fright, 1950)

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

May 16th, 1958

Man or Machine? –The Synthetic Truth Behind MIT

The newest copy Publick Occurrences was waiting on Ellie’s desk when Madelyn arrived at the agency early that Friday morning, the stack of newspapers fresh off the presses and ready for circulation. Piper certainly didn’t dawdle after attending the MIT demonstration—she knew how to strike when the iron was hot and get a story out in record time. But Piper was never one to procrastinate—if you gave her and inch, she’d run a mile. Madelyn was interested to see what kind of marathon the reporter would run this time.

“What do we really know about MIT?”

Piper’s question hung in the air of Nick’s office as she paced before his desk, arms crossed with a steely expression. The detective himself was still reading over that morning’s edition, already on his second smoke of the day—nobody dared to reprimand him for getting such an early start, not when he was still within his grieving period. Madelyn watched the newshound’s movements from her usual spot in the armchair to the left, wondering if Piper’s eyebrows furrowed any further they might mold together into one, brown, bushy line. She hid her amusement behind her hand, glancing back to where Deacon was leaning against the back wall, holding a relaxed smirk as he silently observed the room’s occupants from behind his tinted shades. Even though the chair next to her was empty, she knew he was more comfortable where he stood, still cautious about being invited back into the fray of agency life.

“You’re worried about…” Nick looked up from reading the Publick Occurrences article. “A robot?”

Piper balked in offence, abruptly stopping in her strides to face him. “Jesus, Nick, did you lose track of your reading comprehension skills or something?”

“Not a robot,” she corrected, waving her hands in dramatic fashion as Nick frowned at her intended insult. “An android. A synth. MIT have essentially built themselves an infiltration unit—”

“We don’t know that,” Nick interrupted with a grumble.

“They installed it with a distinct personality,” Piper explained, gesturing to the black and white photo of the mechanical man that had been presented the previous day. “The Doctor said it himself. Makes it so they are indistinguishable from you or I.”

Nick rubbed at his chin as he studied the snapshot before pulling away to stare at his prosthetic hand—built by the very scientists Piper was questioning. He clenched his fingers into a fist and sighed. “I’d like to think I’d be able to tell that thing from a human,” he muttered, extinguishing his cigarette. He refrained from igniting a third from his nearby pack. “Looks fairly metal to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Piper argued. She pivoted, gesturing towards Madelyn and Deacon. “You were there! You saw how it moved.”

“Yes,” Madelyn agreed with a short nod, though she had her own hesitations. Despite the suspicion raised at the demonstration, she wasn’t one to jump to conclusions without solid proof in hand. “Doctor Ayo suggested it would be years before the synth could actually look anything like a human.”

“Can we actually trust the scientists and researchers at MIT?” Piper countered.

This wasn’t her usual wild goose-chase or paranoia fueling her, but genuine fear and concern. A kind of worry that Madelyn hadn’t seen in her friend since they started investigating Eddie Winter’s rise as family crime boss and his rampant spree through Boston. But this wasn’t some mobster they were after, this was the Massachusetts Institute of Technology—a revered university that had always played a pivotal role in the city’s development of modern science. Without the Institute—as some affectionately called the college—Boston would still be in the dark ages. Like any industry giant, however, so much of what the Institute accomplished was shrouded in mystery. From their elusive board of directors, to their once-in-a-blue-moon presentations—it was any wonder Piper was suspicious.

“The way that doctor spoke,” Piper continued, a little calmer than before. “There’s the implication they’ve built more than one, and they’re just itching to put them to use. If they haven’t already.”

She picked up a spare copy of Publick Occurrences from Nick’s desk and stared at her own headline. “It bears repeating. What do we really know about the Institute?”

Silence settled within the room as the group contemplated what Piper said.

“She’s right.”

Madelyn peered over at Deacon, who barely moved from his spot against the wall. He offered a small shrug as he repeated his words. “She’s right,” he spoke, much to Piper’s surprise. “What do we know?”

“You’ve covered them before, right?” he asked, continuing his train of thought. “Something about the mayor’s campaign funds?”

The journalist raised a curious eyebrow in his direction. “Didn’t realize you were such an avid reader of my publication.”

“I like to stay informed,” Deacon replied, cheekily. “Freedom of the press, and all that.”

“They’ve shown up in Railroad reports as well,” Madelyn added, keeping the conversation on point. It certainly caught Piper and Nick’s attention. Deacon, however, seemed less than enthused about her sharing insider knowledge. But the information was out in the open now, ripe for dissection.

“Seems suspicious—promising,” Piper said with a curious smile. She glanced to Deacon. “For an undercover organization, can’t you find out more? Send one of your agents to snoop around the university for secrets? Sneak around yourself, Mr. Spy?”

“You make it sound so easy,” he responded with a smirk, though Madelyn could tell Piper’s tone was getting on his nerves. “Why don’t you go stalk the boogeyman, Miss Wright?”

“Maybe I will!”

“For once I’d like to have a civil conversation in my office,” Nick interrupted, already striking a new match to light another cigarette.

Madelyn could only imagine the amount of stress he was experiencing, and their presence wasn’t helping. She glanced at the others. “We might as well start from the beginning. What else do we know about the university? Media reports, rumors…anything?”

“There was an attack in 1955 at University Point,” Deacon recalled. “A fight broke out between some Mass Bay and MIT students over some supposedly stolen tech. One of the MIT kids lost control and beat a Mass Bay freshman to a bloody pulp.”

“I wrote about that too,” Piper remarked. “The student died. Didn’t think it was anything but a student brawl gone bad. Seen plenty of those covering the Fens district. What does that have to with what they’re doing now?”

“You’re the one who’s suggesting they’ve been using synths longer than they claim,” Deacon explained. “I’m just trying to offer evidence that supports your theory, is all.”

“That would mean…” Madelyn trailed, alarmed by the connotation. She furrowed her brows, unable to wrap her head around what was being suggested. She wasn’t about to trust what the Institute scientists had claimed at the demonstration—that they were years away from life-like synths— but she needed more proof than one incident that sounded more like a disagreement gone awry. “Is there anything else?”

“1949,” Nick spoke, gaining everyone’s interest. “I had just set up the agency here. Vadim told me about an Italian restaurant across the way from the stadium, praised their homemade pasta,” he leaned back in his chair, clearly reminiscing on nearly a decade’s old memory. “Before I could make a visit, the place was shut down. Turns out a professor, Mr. Carter, from MIT decided it was the perfect place to commit mass murder.”

“I remember that restaurant, but I’ve never heard about that!” Piper seemed genuinely shocked, especially as someone who had lived in the Boston area all her life. “What happened?”

“Seemed like any other patron at first, according to witnesses. Sat at the bar and told war stories, spoke about a big government grant his department had just been given. Then suddenly—” Nick snapped his fingers, his expression solemn as he explained. “Pulled out a revolver and started shooting. After an hour-long stand-off, Boston P.D. opened fire and put him down. When the dust settled, eight people were dead, including the professor.”

Madelyn pointed out what she hoped would be obvious. “If Mr. Carter were a synth, you’d think they’d be able to determine that after his death.”

“Assuming there wasn’t a cover-up,” Nick offered with a shake of his head. “The event itself was conveniently swept away in the news-cycles. Between the Red Scare in Hollywood and some ape dying in space—”

“Poor Albert,” Deacon quipped. Madelyn resisted the urge to laugh amidst their serious discussion and looked his way. He only smiled.

Nick cleared his throat, pulling their attention back. “As I was saying,” he tapped his fingers against the newspaper spread across his desk. “That’s two instances of MIT personnel losing themselves to madness. Piper, you’re the one who is worried about synths going unchecked. Malfunctioning and attacking without provocation. I’m all for throwing accusations against a reputable establishment when something smells rotten, but you need to be sure before going after something, or someone as big as the Institute.”

He was right, even as he inferred he believed Piper’s theories. Madelyn thought about what the group had discussed, and what she’d seen at the MIT conference the previous day. To think that the university had lied and had secretly placed realistic synths—indistinguishable from real humans—in the Boston populace. Worse yet, they had been doing so for years. Confusion settled in her mind—why? Why come forward now with the revelation of a new prototype if they’d been infiltrating the city all this time? It wouldn’t be the first time she dealt with a corruption scandal. What did the university have to gain from planting sleeper agents—synths—throughout Boston in the first place? She only ended up with more questions than answers.

Piper seemed to share a similar sentiment, a worrisome frown etched into her features. “I’ll hit the streets, connect with some sources,” she paused, giving Nick a cautious glance. “I know you still don’t trust him, but ol’ Danny Sullivan might be my best shot at getting any information from old police files,” she rolled her eyes when he groaned. “Or would you rather I break into precincts, for old time sakes?”

“Do what you will,” Nick sighed, rubbing at his temple. “Just leave us out of it for the time being,” he motioned towards Madelyn. “We’ve got enough on our hands with this cold case.”

Not that Piper needed his permission to follow her own leads for a story, but it was nice to have the support of a friend—the three had been working together for a few years now, and despite her reputation, she wasn’t one to run off and go rogue. Especially when it could put herself, or others, in danger. Considering they’d just come off from putting an end to Eddie Winter and his wide-spread corruption, she needed to tread lightly—well, as lightly as Piper was capable of. With a shrug, she moved to occupy the opposite armchair, sinking back into the cushions.

“Do you think any of this is connected to the Shaun Perlman case at all?” Madelyn decided to ask, gauging Nick’s reaction.

“I’d rather not cross that bridge right now,” he mumbled, dragging his palm across his face in exasperation. He shot a warning glance to Piper before she could get started. “Better we focus on the best lead we have—the kidnapper, and the fact he very well may be the same man who killed Madelyn’s husband.”

It felt like the air was sucked out of the room as she sensed all eyes focus on where she was sitting. She hadn’t expected Nick to be so upfront about sharing the information, but they were amongst trusted colleagues—anyone else and she likely would’ve had a more hostile reaction. That being said, she hadn’t divulged any case details to Deacon, and she his subtle reaction to the news didn’t go unnoticed out of the corner of her eye. Her secrecy wasn’t to be deceptive, but rather to protect her emotions. Madelyn was still struggling with the reality of the situation, and it took all the mental fortitude she had left to focus on helping to solve the case.  

“What are you talking about?” Piper asked, looking between her and Nick.

“Preston, our witness from Concord. His description of the kidnapper…” he trailed.

“That wasn’t all,” Madelyn reluctantly added. “The way the wife, Nora…the way she described the kidnapping. It was all too familiar,” she swallowed down the nervous flutter rising in her throat and steadied her breathing the best she could. “From being ambushed in a public setting, to the way he made them—us—beg for our lives.”

“You don’t have to—” Nick tried to interrupt but she hushed him with one steely look.

“He was wearing a military fatigue and a leather jacket. His head was shaved, and there was a long scar that crossed over his left eye—just as Preston described,” Madelyn continued. “His gun wasn’t military issue, that much I know. Had to be modified, on account of the—” she broke off as the tears prickled her vision. Deacon shifted from his spot against the back wall, but she shook her head, silently rooting him to the spot.

“The coroner pulled a .44 hollow point from Nate’s chest,” she stated, biting back the overwhelming desire to cry. She lowered her gaze, focusing on the wedding ring she’d moved to her right hand. “Same kind they pulled from…” she found herself unable to say the husband’s name.

Nick took note of her struggle and interjected. “Mr. Perlman’s arm.”

Piper loudly clapped her hands together, causing Madelyn to flinch at the sound. She didn’t pause to apologize before she was bent forward and speeding through another tangent. “That weapon! A .44 caliber with hollow point bullets? I’ve read about several unsolved murders up and down the Eastern coastline with that modus operandi.”

“We can’t say that every shooting with a magnum was him, can we?” Madelyn asked, focusing her attention on Nick. He was smoking again, but she’d lost track of what number he was on.

“No,” he mumbled, the cigarette bobbing between his lips as he maneuvered the paperwork strewn about his desk, pulling out a tattered notebook. She wasn’t sure what he was looking at when he started reading. “1950—robbery outside the Boylston Club. Two injured, one dead, with—wouldn’t you know—a .44 hollow point bullet to the head.”

Madelyn grimaced, trying not to imagine what that would’ve looked like for the victim—perhaps Nate had it easier, even if he had a slow, and painful death.

“There was a suspect,” Nick read on, flipping though an old casefile. “Released on a technicality, but we all know by now that is code for corruption. Disappeared after that. No trace.”

“How much do you want to bet it’s our guy?” Piper asked to nobody in particular.

“Five bucks says it was Kellogg!”

Everybody in the room turned towards the new presence in the doorway—MacCready, who stared back with equal surprise. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop or nothin’ but…” he jutted his thumb over his shoulder towards the lobby. “That blonde chick wasn’t around to shoo me away, so I thought I’d—”

“Who the hell is Kellogg?” Nick stopped him from rambling.

“Oh, yeah. Right,” MacCready stepped into the office and shrugged. “Way you described him and that gun, only one person I know that fits the bill,” he said. “Conrad Kellogg.”

“Who is he?” Piper asked this time, turning in her seat so she could look at the former mercenary properly.

“Used to run with the Gunners, still might for all I know, but was high up in the ranks way before I came to Boston,” MacCready explained, leaning over the back of the armchair where Piper sat. “Rumor has it he killed some gang leader out in California before heading East. Never met him, but he’s got one hell of a reputation. Can’t believe that fu—” he hesitated, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Guy is still alive.”

“We don’t know that,” Nick said for the second time that morning. “Hasn’t been any reports of similar cases since—”

“Since Nate,” Madelyn finished, gulping down the ache that had formed in her chest.

“At least now you have a name,” Piper remarked, but it was hardly any consolation. “A lead. Better than nothing.”

“Sure, sure,” Nick agreed, though he didn’t lift his gaze from Madelyn, the two sharing a silent exchange. “MacCready, you know anybody in Quincy who’d be willing to talk?”

Their mercenary-turned-informant looked stunned, jolting upright as he anxiously rubbed at his neck. Getting dragged into another investigation was probably not why he had chosen to visit the agency that morning. Whatever the reason, it would have to wait. “Well, sure,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I guess.”

Nick pushed back his chair to stand, moving towards the nearby coatrack to tug on his patched trench-coat and fedora. He pointed to the younger man. “Alright. You’re with me.”

When the detective noticed the confusion on Madelyn’s face, his expression settled. “I’m officially assigning you R&R.”

She couldn’t help but smile a little. “You don’t have the authority to assign me.”

Nick rolled his eyes, mumbling something about how stubborn women would be the death of him before nodding towards Deacon. Her Railroad partner understood the gesture and moved away from his spot to stand next to her. She didn’t need watching over, or protection, but she’d gladly take a reprieve if it meant spending time with him. Madelyn glanced up to find him with a tiny smile of his own, and he reached out to give her shoulder a comforting squeeze before retreating his hand back to his side before anyone could notice.

“Piper,” Nick gave the reporter a pointed stare before exhaling as he shook his head. “Whatever you do, just—be careful.”

She stood, playfully mocking him with a salute. “Aye, aye, detective.” 

“You lied.”

“Of course I lied,” Deacon responded without missing a beat. “Which lie are we talking about?”

Madelyn softly laughed from her spot across the circular dining table, watching as he poured her another glass of wine. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out to dinner—to an actual restaurant that wasn’t a 24-hour café—and was suddenly grateful for Nick’s subtle push. On Deacon’s suggestion they traveled uptown and found themselves a hidden gem of an Italian bistro in the process. More than one macabre joke about running into an Institute spy was made, wondering if Nick’s earlier mention of pasta had indoctrinated them, if only a little.

“When Piper asked about sending an undercover Railroad agent to MIT,” she clarified, bringing her refilled glass to her lips. “You lied.”

A sideways smirk. “I didn’t lie, I just omitted the truth.”

Madelyn chuckled, nearly choking on her drink. “That’s—that’s the same thing!”

“Hardly,” he countered with a wave of his hand. “Do you honestly think I’d talk about Railroad business in front of Piper?” It was a rhetorical question, followed up with words Madelyn had heard him speak time and time again, “you can’t trust everyone.”

She sighed, and couldn’t help it as her demeanor fell, ever so slightly. “Even me?”

Deacon’s expression was hard to read—it always was when he shielded his eyes with those sunglasses—but she figured he was studying her carefully. After all the emotional breakthroughs they’d shared, she didn’t want to think for a second he didn’t trust her—not when he was one of the very few she found faith in. She wondered if it had anything to do with her holding back information on the Shaun Perlman case, and even more doubt filled her mind. Before he could say anything, she had to speak—

“Sorry,” she set her wine glass down and fidgeted with the linen tablecloth. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about what Nick and I discovered while investigating. I should’ve said something sooner and—”

“Charmer,” Deacon stopped her short, reaching over the small table to cover her hand with his own, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “That doesn’t bother me. If it wasn’t you, I would’ve snooped around and found out already. But that’s not my place in this partnership, not anymore. I trust you to tell me whatever’s important, on your own terms.”

Trust—there it was.

Madelyn gradually allowed the smile to return and flicked her gaze across his face. “Does that mean I’m allowed to have secrets?”

“A few,” he caught on to her tease. “You still haven’t told me who really taught you how to pick locks.”

Her chest tightened as she thought about her departed husband, simultaneously reminiscing about her and Deacon’s first jaunt together through the underground Switchboard tunnels. Her fingers twitched beneath his grasp. “Who says anybody taught me?” she joked, recovering as best she could.

He nodded, flashing that secret smile that told her he knew she was bluffing—but he was never one to rat her out. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, slowly withdrawing his hand from hers.

“Dez is the only one that knows,” he started. “We’ve had an inside man—hell, it might be a woman—nobody has met with the agent face to face,” Deacon’s lips skewed to the side in thought. “They aren’t an official Railroad operative. But they’re the ones that started feeding us information while we were still operating at the Switchboard.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Madelyn asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

“Back then, Dez and I weren’t sure of what we were dealing with,” he explained. “It was all coded. Most of it still is. We only knew the source was coming from what we believed to be an ally, working on the inside.”

“How can you be so sure?” She was rightfully skeptical. “You never found out who was responsible for attacking the Switchboard.”

“Fair point,” Deacon replied with a shrug. “We never stopped receiving correspondence either. Even after moving to the church. Dead drops with encrypted MIT data from Doctor Rendezvous themselves.”

She tried not to laugh. “Is that what you call them? Of all the codenames…”

“No,” he shook his head. “Dez and I call them Patriot.”

At least that explained all the reports Tinker Tom and Glory had been sifting through for the last several weeks. She wondered if any of it would prove fruitful, and if something of value would materialize sooner rather than later. You can’t trust everyone—and yet, the Railroad leaders seemed to be playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with an unknown. She hoped they knew what they were doing.

“Enough work chat,” Deacon mused, plucking the napkin from his lap and placing it across the table. “What would you say to some blueberry pie?”

Madelyn grinned, pulled from her doom and gloom thoughts. “Yes.”

-x-

It was a short, hand-in-hand stroll through the uptown district to the Olympia Theatre, where she fixated on the matinee signs advertising Gigi—she hadn’t seen a film in years. If it wasn’t a late night rerun on CBS, she was completely out of the loop on modern day culture. She’d seen Leslie Caron in An American in Paris—a movie date with Nate so many years ago—seeing her picturesque face on the advertisement now brought back bittersweet memories.  

“Pie and dancing tonight,” Deacon’s voice was suddenly in her ear as he leaned close. “Lerner and Loewe tomorrow.”

The promise alone caused excitement to bloom in her heart, even if a trickle of guilt remained. He gently tugged on her hand, and she followed him down the cobblestone alleyway to the familiar red door and golden placard, leaving the theatre behind.  

The Memory Den was expectedly crowded for a Friday evening, but as soon as Irma caught sight of the two, she quickly ushered them to a private corner of the bar. Madelyn recognized it as Deacon’s corner—if he had such a claim to the place. Given Irma was an unspoken Railroad informant, Madelyn was sure he could very well have run of the place—especially now that Eddie Winter was out of the picture. It was hardly quiet were they perched themselves on two barstools as the house band played an upbeat song, but Irma’s cheery voice was loud as ever.

“We have a live singer tonight,” she boasted, standing between them with her hands on her hips.

Madelyn chuckled as she glanced towards the stage. “As long as it isn’t Bobby Darin.”

“Oh—” Irma faltered, unsure of her joke. “Uh, no. You’ll see! They came all the way from New York!” she beamed. “Now, I’ve seen the way you two can move, so why are you sittin’ around?”

Deacon arched an eyebrow and leaned against the bar-top. “We can’t dance on an empty stomach.”

Ironic, considering their stomachs were full of pasta, bread and wine. Madelyn only smiled at Irma when she glanced between them with curiosity. The other woman sighed before moving around the bar, walking down to the far end of the counter where a glass display showcased a variety of deserts. After a few minutes, she returned with a plate and two forks.

“Lucky you,” Irma remarked. “Last slice of the night.”

Deacon deferred to Madelyn, allowing her the first bite—it was just as delicious as she remembered, when he brought her an entire blueberry pie from Irma on Valentine’s Day. She held her palm beneath her chin on the second bite, trying not to disperse crumbs or berries all over her satin dress. She didn’t realize Deacon was watching her movements until she went for a third forkful, noticing he hadn’t taken his first. Very suddenly, a blush crept up her cheeks and he smirked.  

Irma baked away with a bright grin. “You’re welcome!”

Deacon finally took a bite, followed up with a second so they were even. They sat and ate in silence, smiling and laughing at each other over nothing and everything as the atmosphere around them intensified. Madelyn blamed it on being tipsy from her dinner wine, but a lingering thought in the back of her mind echoed it was more than that. It was always more with Deacon.

“You said there’d be dancing,” Madelyn noted, eying the crowd of dancers when their desert was finished. The singer Irma mentioned had taken the stage and had already played through a melody of fast-paced swing ensembles to warm up the audience and the band.

He nodded, taking her hand in his as he slid off the barstool to stand. As soon as they navigated through the throng of people, the lights dimmed into a bluish-purple hue, and the band’s music slowed. It didn’t deter them—they’d slow danced before, but that was undercover and what felt like a lifetime ago. This was something entirely different. Deacon’s arms encircled her waist, one hand on her lower back and the other planted firmly between her shoulders. Madelyn loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned back far enough so she could study his face in the dark lighting.

“Last time we were here, you tried to slice my throat in the hallway,” he smiled at the memory, and so did she. Thinking back, it was any wonder he hadn’t turned the tables and pinned her to the wall—he certainly possessed the strength to do so. Madelyn didn’t let the thought get carried away in her mind, as much as it thrilled her.

“You weren’t so keen on dancing with me,” he remarked, tilting his head to the side.

“But I did,” she countered, inching herself closer. “You were a stranger. I should’ve known better, but I still danced with you.”

Deacon shrugged. “I still might be a stranger, you never know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Adorable,” he retorted, right on cue. “You still want to dance with me, after everything you know?”

Madelyn suddenly wondered if they were speaking in code—Deacon wasn’t really talking about dancing, was he? She desperately wished she could see beyond the tinted shades he was wearing, knowing if she caught a glimpse of those baby blues, she’d have her answer within a heartbeat. Regardless of the inuendo, she knew what to say.

“Why not?” she offered in a soft voice. “You make one hell of a partner.”

He smiled. “You’re not so bad yourself, Charmer.”

As the song continued, she steadily drew herself closer until she was resting her head against his shoulder, swaying slowly in his arm as the soothing beat echoed around them.

“You’ll see me home tonight?” she asked, closing her eyes to the world around her. She felt his lips brush against her temple near her ear as he whispered so only she could hear.

“Yes.”

-x-

Madelyn had never traversed the stairwell of her apartment so slowly. With Deacon at her side, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to reach the seventh floor, knowing that when they reached her door he would have to depart. That wasn’t necessarily true, but after the evening’s events, she wasn’t entirely sure if inviting him in for their usual nightcap would constitute crossing some kind of unspoken line. But what had started as a distraction had turned into what felt like a date. She was faced with an increasing dilemma with every step, one she’d been suppressing for weeks.

Their relationship—whatever it was—wasn’t a topic of discussion. Even after so many near misses, and what might as well have been a confession in a church—of all places—Madelyn couldn’t pinpoint where they stood. Partners? Friends? Something more? Or something in-between? Mitigating circumstances forced them to pump the brakes before discovering if what they had was meant to be. But now, Madelyn was tired of waiting, tired of hiding her emotions to the world. All she wanted to do was drive off the cliff with a lead foot and find out.

“Charmer,” he said her name—her codename—in that sly way of his as he leaned against the doorway outside her apartment, glancing up at the shiny lettering D. Madelyn took it as some kind of sign. “Here we are.”

She nodded but didn’t move to rummage through her purse for her keys. “Here we are,” she repeated. Her eyes danced across the hall. “Do you think Drummer Boy is listening to us right now?”

“Without a doubt,” he responded with a soft laugh. “He needs all the gossip he can get.”

There was somebody else that was listening too, judging by the robotic voice that echoed out from beyond her door. “Miss Madelyn, is that you? Oh, it’s such a late hour!”

She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead in a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment. What was worse than having a Mister Handy that acted like her parental guardian, reprimanding her if she came home past midnight?

“Your metal hubby is calling for you,” Deacon joked. His next action surprised her as he reached up to remove his sunglasses, tucking them away in his coat pocket. Even in the faint lighting of her hallway, his eyes gleamed with a certain kind of magic. “Shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Let him wait,” she hushed.

It was the cue she needed, taking a hesitant step forward, closer to where he was. She reached out, one hand gripping the fabric of his tie while the other sought out the side of his face, tugging gently to bring him closer. Madelyn thought about all the times she’d wanted to kiss him but didn’t, all the times they’d almost kissed but hadn’t, every time he had slipped through her fingertips. Standing there, in front of her apartment door, it seemed to mirror previous occasions—they were so close, Deacon’s breath ghosting over her mouth as their hooded eyes locked under the intensity. She hesitated, waiting for the other foot to drop, for some kind of interruption—except, it never came. Instead, his hand at her waist tugged her just close enough as he tilted his chin and—bliss—as their lips softly met.

For a long moment, the kiss was nothing but chaste, sweet. But there was a certain kind of desperation behind the contact—understandable considering how long it had been for her since her last kiss. She wasn’t sure how long it had been for him, but if she believed what he’d said about his wife—which she did—it had to be a significant time. Madelyn increased the pressure first, Deacon taking the cue to slide his tongue past her lips. His fingers gripped her side as they continued, the two content with the measured pace being set. Even though they both had done their fair share of waiting—there was no need to rush.

With a soft breath, she reluctantly pulled away, a delightful heat encompassing her entire body. She relished in being able to witness the sparkle of Deacon’s eyes, his blown pupils as they darted across her face and body before snapping back up to meet her gaze.

“Shouldn’t keep him waiting,” he repeated, voice raspy. As far as goodbyes and goodnights went, it was fitting for the Railroad spy. He smirked, replacing his sunglasses where they belonged before slowly backing away towards the stairwell. “Charmer.”

Madelyn didn’t enter her apartment until she was sure Deacon had descended at least a few flights of stairs, leaning against the door as she closed it behind her. Her heart was racing, the speed of which made it feel like it was lodged in her throat. She raised her fingers to trace over her lips where his mouth had just been and felt a warmth she had been chasing for months—years—a sprinkle of goosebumps appeared across her skin. She felt foolish, like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again—except, this was much more than a crush. She felt a rush. She felt alive. She felt—

“Mum?” Codsworth’s voice made her realize he’d been hovering in front of her frozen state, robotic eyes zooming in on her body with curiosity. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answered, without hesitation. “Never better.” 

May 18th, 1958

“You’re smiling.”

Madelyn tried her best to suppress the grin she knew was pulling at her lips but failed. “Am I?”

She glanced over to Nick as they walked, noting that for some inexplicable reason he was in a better mood than usual. It likely had something to do with their case, and how after a decade of little to no progress, things had heated up in a matter of days. After leaving her alone for most of the weekend, he’d finally called her early that Sunday morning with an update from his own investigating. He had a lead promising enough that it demanded swift action, though Madelyn was glad to be back on the streets and investigating with the detective—just like old times.  

“Yeah,” he nodded, raising a quizzical brow in her direction. “Something I should know?”

Madelyn played coy, moving closer to link her arm in his as they continued their stroll down the Fenway district sidewalks. She patted his coat affectionately. “Mr. Valentine, don’t you know a lady shouldn’t kiss and tell?”

The surprise in his expression was short-lived as he caught on to her insinuation, and after a small stretch of silence, a low smirk settled on his face. “It’s a good look, doll.”

“Where are we headed?” Madelyn asked before he could start a line of questioning—not that she expected it, but she wanted to avoid any unnecessary pestering. “You never told me how your little date in Quincy faired.”

“I’ll tell you about my date when you tell me about yours,” he countered, with expert precision. Instead of taking offense, Madelyn laughed. They hadn’t bantered in so long and it felt refreshing. “MacCready can be a hard-ass, when you need him to be.”

“Good cop, bad cop?”

“Detectives,” Nick corrected. If there was one thing he hated, it was being mistaken for any member of the Boston police force—even if the two had snuffed out Eddie Winter’s corruption. It was one of the reasons they were heading this investigation on their own, and without assistance from the inside. As far as they knew, the only people worth trusting were themselves. “We got what we needed. Last known address for a one Conrad Kellogg.”

The pair continued walking past the large green walls of the Fenway stadium until they reached they grouping of apartments situated on the western side of the district. Almost immediately, the memory of when they’d last visited the Parkview Apartments came flooding back and she stared up at the tall buildings.

“Earl Sterling,” she muttered under her breath before looking to Nick. “Is it coincidence that Boston serial killers like to congregate in one area?”

“Cheap place to live, in a nondescript area of the city,” Nick frowned. “Hiding in plain sight. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe they don’t realize they all eventually follow the same patterns eventually.”

The two didn’t delay for much longer in the courtyard, entering the building and ascending the stairs after finding initials C.K. on one of the lobby’s mailboxes. On the fourth floor, they made their way towards a faded green door, Nick double checking the number scrawled on a lose piece of paper before shoving it back into his pocket.

“This is the place,” he assured.

“Looking for someone?”

Nick and Madelyn turned to find not exactly who they expected—a well dressed man in a tan colored suit, a freshly picked flower pinned to his lapel. He regarded them with a polite smile, but there was something unsettling about the way he stared ahead that had Madelyn’s skin crawling. Be it the location they were in, or the assumption of the people who lived there, she didn’t want to make any sudden movements.

“Do you know anything about the person who lives here?” Madelyn asked.

The suited man shook his head. “Lived. Haven’t seen his handsome face in quite a while.”

“Did he die?” she continued her line of questioning, careful not to reveal too much about the circumstances of why they were there. “We’re…old college classmates of his. In town and thought to surprise him.”

“Oh, I do love surprises,” the man replied with the same, measured smile as before. “He isn’t dead. Just gone. Just like that child that came to visit every now and again. What an adorable young man.”

“A child?” Nick questioned, on high alert.

“Around ten years old, I should say,” the man answered, raising his hand to gesture height. “Hm. But what do I know? He always did say I was…too nosy.”

“Thank you,” Madelyn hesitantly nodded. “For letting us know.”

He made to move past them down the hallway in the opposite direction but stopped at the last moment. “The next time you’re in the neighborhood, please, stop by my gallery,” his recommendation came in a soft, eerie tone. “I have a feeling you’d be an admirer.”

Madelyn’s grip on Nick’s arm didn’t loosen until the mystery man was out of sight and even he didn’t seem to relax until all was quiet around them.

“Jesus,” he muttered, swiftly turning towards the apartment door and shuffling through his coat pockets, pulling out a lockpick. He made quick work of the deadbolt, catching the doorknob in his hand so it wouldn’t swing open. “Come on.”

Nick took the lead, his gun unholstered and at his side as he took measured steps through the small space. Madelyn followed, closing the door behind her and securing the lock—the last thing they needed was a visitor while they were sneaking around. The apartment itself was sparse, barely filled with any furniture or proof that anyone had lived there before or had been there recently. As she loitered near the kitchen nook, glancing over a pile of forgotten comic books and a case of cigars, she heard Nick call from the back bedroom.

“All clear!” he announced. “What do you make of this?”

The bedroom was just as empty as the entranceway, a double bed and desk occupying the space. Madelyn found Nick studying a pile of documents, shifting them about with a mix of confusion and concern. She plucked a dusty file from the stack and was alarmed to see a familiar set of emblems and insignia.

“These are military documents,” she confirmed what he already knew, being a former airman himself. “What are they doing here?”

Nick shook his head, unsure. “Kellogg was described as a military man in suspect reports. What if that description is accurate and he really is an enlisted officer?”

“A killer in the ranks?” Madelyn didn’t want to believe it.

Nick didn’t respond, his eyes shifting rapidly as he read over more and more of the scattered reports, even if they were mostly redacted. Madelyn couldn’t make heads or tails of them—she never could, even when she would try to sneak a peak at the files Nate would bring home. Whatever Kellogg was researching, it involved a scientific endeavor—backed by the government and heavily funded—that required top level security clearance.

“There’s only one military base in town that would be responsible for such a project,” Nick explained. Madelyn knew. The only question would be how to get inside.  

He tapped the document. “Fort Hagen.”

[seancekitsch]

Richie Tozier x Reader: 27 Years Later... Revamped!

You heard it here folks! I’ve updated my big Richie x Reader post to be more inclusive! The reader is now gender neutral instead of female, and I’ve mixed elements from the book and the new movie IT chapter 2! warning, i am a book purist so there are some plot elements from the book that do not occur in the movie! Enjoy!

-Growing up, you had always been Stan’s. You’d be each other’s go-to people, sometimes even closer than Richie and Eddie. He had been your perfect Boy Scout crush growing up, and after the first encounter with IT, he decided he couldn’t dance around his feelings any longer and asked you out.

-You always felt like the loser on the “outside”, you were at all group hang outs and meetings but you didn’t really hang out with anyone but Stan besides the occasional sleepover with Bev, but after Stan’s bar mitzvah that changed. Richie was the only loser to attend (besides you) and that meant a great deal to you. Despite how Stan used to get annoyed at Richie’s jokes, you always made sure to go out of your way to include him and befriend him after that day.

-Even though the losers drifted during high school, you remained Stan’s partner and Richie’s best friend besides Eddie. You had a lot more in common with Richie than you had originally thought because both of you essentially had to raise yourselves. Stan found a new found respect for the fellow loser over this connection you had.

-Stan was your first everything, from kisses to heartbreak. Yes, heartbreak. You broke up the summer before college. You were going out to California for school on an honours program and he was going to a university in Georgia with his twin sister. It was practical but it didn’t mean it didn’t sting either of you. You had promised to remain on good terms, however.

-Despite him moving on in Georgia, you never really did. He after college quickly married a woman named Patricia and settled in Atlanta. You met back up with Richie after graduation, and moved into a townhouse with him in Beverly Hills. Despite dating around, you never had much luck, probably thanks to your loud tall housemate.

-You and Richie actually flew out to Stan’s wedding, and while your first love was gone, there were no ill feelings from either of you. You shared a dance with him at the reception and told him how much you approved of his new wife. It meant a lot to him.

-After the wedding, you start to drift from Stan. Soon you don’t hear from each other at all. Richie was the only loser left for you.

-As much as he hated to say it, Richie saw this as his opportunity. You see, he had cared about you since the bar mitzvah. He knew there was someone he loved, but he couldn’t remember who. He guessed because he remembered you so vividly and nothing else, it had to be you. He was respectful of Stan and you, so he had never said anything and kept his distance. With Stan married, and Richie as your roommate (and secretly ruining most of your dates, whether he meant to or not) you were free, and he could hope you’d somehow feel the same.

-You and Richie live it up in Beverly Hills, networking and working side by side; going to celebrity parties and drinking with the big wigs.

-You’ve been tipsy and kissed at these parties, always to fend off unwanted company. It became the perfect cover and a casual display of affection for your closest friend. Despite it being a defence, you once kissed in a taxi after leaving one of these parties. It was a deep and long kiss, and there was no audience for it to be necessary, but it was never spoke of again.

-You became a writer on a semi popular TV series and Richie became a stand up comedian. While you hadn’t gone to school for writing, Richie had encouraged you to go for the job. You had always been good at writing, even minoring in it during college. He helped you prepare and edit scripts. He would even act out scenes in his famous impressions.

-Things were going so well, until one day Mike Hanlon calls. At first, you don’t even remember him until he calls you your old childhood nickname. You have to go back to Derry. IT is back.

-The plane ride is long, and both you and Richie decide to knock a few back in the airport bar and sleep it off on the flight. When you wake up at landing, your head is in the hollow of where his neck and shoulder meet and his arm is around you. Your hands are interlaced. Sure, the two of you had shared beds on road trips and when you’d travel for job auditions, but you had never really snuggled like this. You’re both blushing messes when you get to baggage claim.

-When you finally get back in town, you head straight to the Chinese restaurant in town in the car Richie rents. You recognise everyone immediately, embracing each of them with warmth and love... except for Stan who is nowhere to be seen. Mike assures you that he had contacted him.

-Despite his absence, you all enjoy dinner. You notice Bev and Bill still carry torches for one another after all these years. Ben looks amazing and seems very successful. Mike is even wiser than he was when you were all young. Eddie is still just as hyper and fun to talk to.

-After the meal, you all head off from the restaurant to talk strategy. On the walk out of the building, Bev pulls you back to walk and talk with her. It’s as if nothing has changed and you’re having a sleepover again. She specifically asks if you and Richie are a couple. When you deny this, she laughs and says that’s insane because of how you seem so in love with one another.

-You’d never say it, but you had imagined a life with Richie before. You can’t really be roommates with someone you have such a bond with without thinking of these things. But late at night when you can’t sleep you think about how nice it would be to have his arms around you, pressed into his lean and warm chest. There have been times when he’s brought people back, and he has a type in the people he brings home. A lot of them either share your name, or Eddie’s. You realize this isn’t a coincidence that you’d hear him calling out these names. Tozier sounded like a nice title to gain. It would be fun to see his last name, even hyphenated, on yours in any of your writing credits. But you’re snapped out of your thoughts the second Bev gets through on the line she’s trying to reach Stan at.

-Patricia was on the line; she said Stan had slit his wrists in the bathtub just an hour earlier. IT had been written on the wall in his blood. This makes your blood run cold. You can’t even react for a good five minutes even though everyone is watching you very carefully.

-The day you had all made that blood pact, Stan had made an off handed joke about slitting your wrists instead of just your hands. It had made you uncomfortable then, but scares the shit out of you now.

-When you finally do react, it’s like your whole world crumbles. You think you might be screaming, you know you’re definitely crying. You don’t even realize you’ve fled past all of the other losers cars until Richie’s arms are around you and he’s pressing you close to him on the curb.

-He let’s you scream it out, let’s you dig your nails into his skin until he bleeds, let’s you soak his nice dress shirt with tears and spit. Anything to comfort you and be close to you. This is the most thankful you’ve ever been for Richard Tozier.

-When you’ve stopped crying, there’s a newfound hate in your heart. You’re going to kill IT and it’s never going to hurt anyone ever again. You vow to avenge Stanley Uris. The group can’t disagree, even though half of them want to run. You all vow that before tomorrow is over, the clown will die.

-Richie and Eddie tell you how much they want to leave, and they try to get you to leave as well. But between your need for vengeance and Bill and Mike’s ranting about a strategy to kill IT, they don’t end up leaving town. That night, you can’t sleep. You aren’t sure how, maybe it’s a trick of IT’s illusions, but somehow you end up in Richie’s bed. It’s restless and you’re both terrified, but you cling together in solidarity and something stronger than lifelong friendship. But by the time he wakes you’re gone already, looking for your token to burn.

-You find it in the clubhouse, hidden behind one of the wooden boards nailed to the floor. It’s the little paper program from Stan’s bar mitzvah. An important day that quite literally changed your whole life.

-Upon returning to the townhouse, you find It nearly empty, with Eddie patching up a hole in his face. He’s mumbling something about the library while he’s finishing sanitizing his wound, so that’s where the two of you head when he’s done.

-Richie is shaken after killing Bowers, and now it’s your turn to comfort him. He shakes as you slip your arm around his, guiding him as he walks. Your other hand squeezes his bicep every few minutes to remind him to breathe. You’re here, and you’ve got him. It helps.

-Returning to Neibolt fills you with all of the memories you’d struggled to remember the day before. All of the fear and isolation of your childhood filled you so completely that you thought you could be sick. But you enter anyway, nausea and all.

-seeing IT take the form of Stan’s body is what does it for you though. You’re doubled over vomiting and crying, your hands sting against the broken glass and splinters on the floor. You’re only half aware of the chaos going around you until Richie kicks what you can only describe as a spider with Stan’s head and razor sharp teeth away from you. And then everything is so horrifyingly clear. This is only the beginning; it will get worse. When the head spider attacks Richie, you try to pull it off of him, but you aren’t strong enough. It’s up to Eddie, but Eddie is frozen.

-Down in the sewers is even worse. The fight takes a larger toll on all of you than expected. Eddie finally abandons all of the fear he cling to his entire life and charged head first into the fight, only to be stabbed through the torso and not get back up. You’re bloodied by one of IT’s claws, your wrist probably broken and one of your legs is in agony, so much so that you have to fight to stand while dodging the giant spider monster in it’s true form. All of you are injured in some way but team work weakens the creature.

-ripping out IT’s heart and destroying it should have been the end of all of the horror, and at first you think it is. You’re all relieved, until you notice Eddie hasn’t gotten up. Eddie and Richie had always had a special bond. You knew this better than anyone. He was the first one to Eddie’s side and held him as he tried to get him to respond.

-Eddie Kaspbrak is dead, and you can feel Richie’s heart breaking beside you. You hold his hand as he goes, and the rest of the losers hold each other. Richie presses a long kiss to his face, finally allowing tears to fall for the first time in the lifetime you’ve known him. It hurts even more knowing you can’t carry his body out of this place.

-As you leave the sewers, something changes. It’s as if the curse on you all has finally been lifted. You know you all have to go back to real life and finally live without fear, but fear is all any of you have ever known. The water of the quarry is healing to all of you, in the physical case of soothing aching muscles, and spiritually. It’s a rebirth.

-Richie cries again in the water, and you all come together to hold him. Under the water you feel a hand grasp yours, and you don’t even have to open your eyes to know that it’s Richies hand.

-Much to yours, and i think everyone’s surprise, Bev leaves with Ben. You could have sworn you heard her going at it with Bill the other night. Bill stays in town another week to recover before leaving and starting to work on his next novel. Mike resumes his life without the burden of watching Derry for ITs return, even more wise than he ever had been. You and Richie were another story.

-The second he saw you bleed in the sewer, he had gone berserk. Nothing else had mattered in that moment but destroying the thing that hurt you and Eddie. He knew after that he couldn’t ignore his feelings any longer. If his past love was gone, he had to pursue his future.

-He is uncharacteristically quiet on the way to the airport, and without speaking you know why. You’re all each other has now.

-He parks, gets out, walks around and opens the car door for you. Before you can reach for your suitcase, he reaches for you. The kiss is sobering yet intoxicating all at the same time. His hands rake through your hair and your arms rise up and wrap around his neck. The only reason to stop is the lack of oxygen that leaves you both dizzy. For once in your life, neither of you need to talk to be heard.

-The flight home feels weightless. You’re joking and lighthearted and giddy. If you weren’t as clear minded you could have sworn there was music in the air.

-When you arrive home, you decide to convert one of your bedrooms into a guest room. Stan’s letter to you both is framed in the living room. For once, you fall asleep peacefully. You fall asleep next to your best friend, your soulmate.

——————

Request anything you’d like to see! My ask box is open!

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 1•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram! Also shout out to my Beta super.rose.cosplays!

Next Chapter >>

(Summary: Eddie runs away from his small magical village of The All Lands and meets a charming werewolf)

Humans

The species that rules the earth, or so they thought.

They believed that they were the only creatures that walked this earth along with the animals they studied over the years, but that's where they're wrong.

Little did they know that an entire civilization has been living under their noses for god knows how long. Beings of all sorts, some a cross between animals the humans are used to, some completely new and others only known to the humans as myths.

If humans were to venture into the darkness of their forests or to the depths of the oceans, then perhaps they'd get a glimpse of the world of the Ancestor Realm, but the Ancestors have yet to be spotted by humans, and they plan on keeping it that way. The Ancestor Realm is the name of their realm, but each little group and village has a name of its own.

Hidden deep within a forest on the coast of Maine is a small cliffside village called The All Lands,  that is where our story begins.

~

The ocean waves crashed up against the rocks below, creating a soothing white noise that aided the creature to clear his head. He sat a couple of feet away from the edge of the cliff, close enough to look over and watch the waves but far enough away to not be worried about falling to his death.

His eyes were red and puffy, his nose sniffly which prompted him to wipe it every couple minutes with the sleeve of his sweater. He tried to even out his breaths, lower his heart rate, but the anxious feelings that reverberated through his entire body made it hard to do either.

A cool spring breeze came off of the ocean and blew past the boy, helping cool his overheated body and even out his breathing. The wind blew through his hair making his ears tingle, his rabbit ears that is.

Every Ancestor had something special about them that separated them from humans, and this was Eddie's. Like his mother and his late father, he was a hybrid. Eddie was half rabbit, which meant he had long and floppy, fuzzy rabbit ears instead of normal stubby human ears. They started off white as snow, then faded to a shade of brown that matched his hair as he grew. Not only did he have the ears but he also had a small little rabbit tail that poked out from the gap between where his shirt ended and pants began. It had a top coat of fur that was brown with a white undercoat. Currently, it was tucked into the fold of his sweater as the wind caused it to go cold.

He  let out a sigh of defeat, his bunny ears faltered and fell from their upright stance to frame his face. A thought crossed his mind as he scanned the landscape below.

This is it

He thought as he watched the ocean below. The dark waves reflected the continuously darkening sky above, which threatened a storm.

I'm done for

This is how I go

And to think...

All I wanted to do was help

Once that thought crossed his mind, a voice broke the silence and snapped him out of his thoughts, "Eddie bear! Darling where did you go? Get back inside this instant!" His mother shouted from the back porch of their small seaside cottage.

Eddie hesitated only for a moment, then proceeded to get up and head back towards the house. He knew his mother’s anger would only grow the longer he stayed outside, especially with that storm beginning to roll in. As he stepped inside he was greeted by the warm air from the fireplace and the sweet smell of his mother's homemade stew which Sonia Kaspbrak was in the middle of stirring. Without making eye contact with his mother the boy took his normal seat at the dinner table.

He only lifted his gaze to meet hers when she handed him his bowl of stew, "Mommy, I said I was sorry" his voice was low and sad.

Sonia's voice gained a new level of frustrated anger, "Well it doesn't matter, sorry won't do it, Eddie. You broke the number one rule, you revealed our existence to the humans-"

"The man was gonna die!"

"He died anyways! Because of you, I told you to stay inside and you disobeyed me, you went to go help that dirty bird" She seethed, "And you know that there's only one way the council deals with criminals, correct?" She knew Eddie knew, yet she still asked.

"I don't see how helping an innocent man can be worthy of the death penalty! Mommy, he was hurt and I just wanted to help him-" He was cut off when his mother trapped him in a tight hug.

"Oh I know Eddie Bear, but by helping him you showed him The All Lands. I wish I could fight the council sweety but once they've made a decision there's no getting out of it" Once she released him from the hug he was able to breathe again.

Eddie took his seat once again, this time he never took his eyes off of the bowl before him. "So what? Tomorrow they'll come and take me away... And that's it?" He wondered in defeat. Sadly in response, all Sonia Kaspbrak gave was a simple shrug.

"You know that's why your father left... The same reason, he tried to help someone and that got him-" Eddie stopped listening, it was a speech he'd heard thousands of times before. She recited the same story every time Eddie did something she didn't approve of. Whether he wandered too deep into the forest, sat too close to the water, asked about the human world, it always resulted in the story of how his father, Frank Kaspbrak, died at the hands of the council.

Frank did a lot of things to spite the council due to his burning hatred for them and their laws. He'd sneak out and heal wounded men in the forest and help lost dogs find their homes or owners. Eddie never saw those as mistakes, the only mistake he made was the day Frank told Sonia about his little outings, she was the one who gave the tip to the council about his doings, that ended in the death of Frank. That night Eddie made a secret oath to always help those in need, human or not. So it’s kind of fitting that Eddie would see the same fate as his father, am I right?

Although that night after supper, Eddie laid in bed and had only one thought in his mind.

This is not the end

Like hell, I'm letting these assholes take me like they took dad

 The hybrid slowly sat up and looked around his room. The moon lit it up enough to allow him to see around his room and most of its contents. His eyes darted from his wooden dresser to his closet, then in the corner of his room, a backpack caught his eye.

I've gotta get out of here

The thought drove him to slip out of bed and tiptoe over to the backpack. He picked it up, then stopped moving entirely as his bunny ears shot up. Eddie knew what he had to do, and he wasn't going to make the same mistake his father had. No one was going to know. So he stood still for a minute or so and simply listened. He waited to hear his mother talking or something, anything. But to his delight, the house was silent. By the position of the moon, he assumed it was 2 am, so he had to be quick and quiet.

First things first, he got out of his pyjamas and put on a black sweater and matching jeans. After he filled his bag with the essentials, clothes, utensils, water, and some food he had stashed in his room for when he got hungry. He also made sure to grab his father's old polaroid camera and some film, gotta remember things somehow.

He thought about turning the light on in his room to help him pack, but he didn’t want to risk anyone seeing it through his window. The All Lands was a place that functioned mainly off of nature, but that doesn't mean they didn’t use a bit of electricity. That is the one thing they credit the humans for. Although cell phones are only a myth, each house is equipped with lights, power, and a landline. Nothing too tech heavy, but that’s all they needed. 

Eddie sat with his bag open for a while as he felt he was missing something. Unsure of what that something was, the bunny simply began scouring his room for that something. From his dresser to his nightstand, he couldn't find it. He'd almost given up too, until he spotted a box that sat on the highest shelf of his closet. A shelf that was packed with old clothes and memories he didn't want to revisit.

Carefully, Eddie grabbed his desk chair and set it down in front of his closet. He grabbed the box with both hands and took it to his bed. The box was about the size of a shoebox, with a white lid and a maroon base. He slowly removed the lid and began examining its contents. He sucked in a breath as he realized who's box this was.

Dad...

Immediately he recognized almost everything that sat before him. He grabbed the black beanie that laid on top, he held it close to him for a moment and took in a deep breath. Even after all this time it still smelled like him. He felt that hat and noticed there was an odd lump inside, a smirk appeared on his lips at the sight of a hefty wad of cash that was stored inside the hat, he placed it on his bed and thought, Good one dad. Eddie had to hold back the tears as he quickly put it on, sliding it over his bunny ears. This hat was the one that Frank always wore when he snuck out of town to go on his little missions.

Next was the compass, this was what broke Eddie. The tears slowly began to roll down his cheeks as he felt the cool metal on his skin, something he'd grown so used to in the past. It was made like a pocket watch, with a long metal chain and a little cover you had to click open with the button. That's what he did, he clicked it open to reveal a sight he had almost forgotten about. Yes, it was just a compass, but it was his dad's compass. The compass Frank used to bring out when he sat with Eddie and he'd teach his son how to use it, how to tell coordinates. And the stories! A couple more tears spilled from his eyes as he recalled the stories his father always had about his latest journey. Eddie would always beg for his father to tell him a story, and even if it was one he'd heard before, he'd still sit and listen to every little detail and beg for more afterwards.

He carefully closed the compass then put it around his neck and wore it like a necklace. The main compact sat comfortably against Eddie's chest as he leaned over the box to pick up the next object. It was a letter. The boy's heart sped up as he began reading the words Frank had written so many years ago.

~

Dear Eddie

Son, I'm terribly sorry that I must leave you like this. Please remember that this is not your fault, in any way, and that I love you.

I hope that you find this before it's too late. Eddie, please, if you can, get out of here, this place isn't for you. This isn't your home. Don't listen to your mother. Trust me, you're so strong and powerful. You're a lot braver than you think.

If you look in the box you'll see a map with couridants. Go there. Hiding there is something I never told anyone about, not even your mother. You'll be safe, you'll be able to start a life there, you'll be able to live.

I must be going now, I'm sorry I can't stay to watch you grow up Eddie. I know you're gonna do amazing things, so go, be great. And never, ever forget that I love you.

Love you father, Frank Kaspbrak

~

His father was right, there was a map, and photos, so many photos, from when Eddie was first born to the days before his father's death. That was the inspiration Eddie needed, the little push that got him up and out his bedroom window. Determined to keep everything together, he'd neatly packed everything from the box into a small bag to put into his backpack.

Escaping his house was the easy part, all he had to do was jump from his window (Bunny's always land on their feet) and get off the property. Leaving The All Lands was a little bit more difficult. It required the teen to hide behind houses and keep out of sight of guards and other commoners. His father must've been looking down on him because, by some miracle, Eddie escaped.

He knew he'd gotten out of The All Lands because the grass was much thicker on this side of the forest, without their magical powers keeping it at bay that caused it to become longer, darker. The scent was so much more prominent now, the pine trees and the early morning dew that'd set in. Eddie loved every second of it.

Word Count: 2302

~

FINALLY I GET TO POST THIS! Y’all have no clue how excited I am to post this, i’ve been working on it for so long. If you enjoyed the first chapter, leave a like, reblog and maybe a comment? They really show that you like my work and it gives me motivation to update!

I will see you all next Friday with Chapter 2! Until then

So Long and Goodnight

[dashuisofanubis]

Another ghost AU

Okay the premise for this one is sort of a what if they figured out Nina was the chosen one and performed the ritual, but its also an AU.

KT, Eddie and Willow move into a boarding house for the prestigious Ankh school. They notice there are a lot of awards and items in the school dedicated to a group of students.

It turns out that on the 7th of July, around 50 years ago, these 7 students were discovered dead. The cause was believed to be poisoning as the students were all from the same house and the two surviving students admitted to having skipped meals at the house that day. The house mother was arrested and sentenced for murder, despite rumours that she was innocent.

The truth of the tale is different:

An ancient Egyptian artefact was believed to have power beyond scientific knowledge, and, once assembled, was said to grant immortality. However, nature must maintain a balance, and for every life extended, another has to be cut short.

Despite all their research, the Secret Society were not aware of these consequences, or most likely were at some level but chose to ignore it. So, when the ritual took place and life was transferred, they had what they wanted, but at a cost.

The Immortals:

Victor Rodenmaar. Location unknown. Has been off the grid for 25 years after vanishing one night in the middle of the school year

Daphne Andrews. Still a teacher at Ankh. Taught many student's parents and has said she will retire next year for the past 20 years

Eric Sweet. Eddie's father, and a man he's always admired and looked up to. He's not what he seems, and is a lot older than Eddie believed.

Mercer, father to one of the lost students. Has realised immortality is not all it's cracked up to be. Having lost his wife 10 years ago, he lives a lonely life and regrets ever joining the society and offering up his daughter.

Jason Winkler. Joined due to degenerative illness, hoping this would be a cure. It was, and he lives a mostly happy life, when he can forget what part he played in the tragedy.

Doctor Delia. Now the CEO of the local hospital, she's experimented with her immortality, to see if there is a way to transfer part of her life to a patient. It took a lot of work, but 11 years ago, she finally had some success. 14 year old Sophia was fatally injured in a car crash, and Dr Delia used her blood in a transfusion, saving the girl.

Rufus Zeno is the final immortal. It was supposed to be Roebuck, but Rufus broke in and threatened the Chosen One, unless he got what he wanted. Wanting to save the girl, and being the only one who hadn't drunk from the cup, Roebuck sacrificed his chance.

(Had he known the girl would die anyway, it might have been different)

Rufus is out there, somewhere, and he's dangerous.

Back to the story:

(Idk what the plot really is but here goes)

The trio (Eddie, KT and Willow) discover the students used to live in Anubis House.

One night, they're playing truth or dare with their housemates: Stella, Marco, Anna, Raf and Peter. KT is dared to go down into the cellar, where she finds a secret panel. Behind it, she finds 7 balancing scales, an intricately decorated cup, and an empty bottle.

The scales have discs with names written on them. The names match those of the 7 students who died. However, the discs are only on one side of the scales, suggesting there were 7 more previously. KT takes the bottle to prove she went into the basement, and something compels her to take the discs as well, which she shows to Willow once they're back in their room.

They let Eddie know about it the next morning and the 3 begin to wonder if the students' deaths were really as they seemed.

Eddie is walking up the stairs when he trips on a loose floorboard. Annoyed, he goes to try and put it back into place when something catches his eye. It's a metal disc, tarnished with age. He cleans it up and sees the word Zeno printed on it.

He tells KT and Willow, and KT realises it must be from the scales she found. Something doesn't feel right, so they decide to investigate.

Eddie jokingly suggests they hold a seance, and despite Willows warnings, they do.

It doesn't seem to work.

The next day, Willow discovers an intruder in the house, someone who looks very similar to photos in the school...

Willow is unnerved but curious, so she says hey to them. They turn around, apparently spooked that someone can see them, and vanish.

Willow tells the others, who initially disbelieve her, but soon they come to meet the former residents of their boarding house.

The ghosts were obviously affected by their own deaths, and the fact that they're ghosts, but it's been 50 years now, so they're getting over it. They generally try to stay out of the students' ways, as they learnt that people generally freak out at the sight of ghosts.

They appeared as ghosts the same moment their lives transferred to the immortals, but were extremely weak and found it hard to keep themselves together. They were unable to dissipate completely though, something was keeping them there. They had to watch as Trudy was arrested; as their house was put out of action till an increase in students forced them to open it again 15 years later; as Victor still wandered the halls; as all the students came and grew and left while they were trapped in the house.

Unable to die, but unable to live.

Slowly, they began to gain more power, and for the past 10 years they've been able to hold a corporeal form for lengthening times, meaning they can actually do things and go places. They're capable of leaving the house for short distances and periods of time, though if they're out for too long they fade away and reappear back in the house with a killer headache.

They think (hope) this means the immortals are weakening, but it could just be they're getting used to the whole being dead thing.

Their lives were tied to the balancing scales and the person on the opposite side, so they each have some connection to an immortal

This means they get fleeting impressions/feelings from their immortal, which strengthens with their proximity.

Connected Immortal and Ghost:

Rodenmaar - Nina

Sweet - Fabian

Andrews - Amber

Delia - Alfie

Roebuck/Zeno - Jerome

Mercer - Joy

Winkler - Patricia

Amber gets the most impressions because Ms Andrews still teaches at the school

Nina and Jerome receive hardly any because both Zeno and Rodenmaar are unknowns

However, recently they've started getting fleeting emotions and visuals that aren't their own. The two missing immortals are becoming active and they're heading for the house.

The ghosts can't do much on their own so Eddie, KT and Willow have to be prepared to discover what these two immortals want and put a stop to it.

Eddie finds out that his dad was once Eric Sweet (he chose a different name after leaving the school, to distance himself), the former headmaster of the school and is horrified by the part he played in all this. A confrontation goes down.

There's a bit where they track down Mick and Mara, now in their 60s, and bring them back to Anubis House to reunite with their former housemates. It would be a really emotional scene because while most of them weren't close, you can't live in close quarters with people for a long time, without forming a bond. And when it ended so abruptly with no goodbyes...well.

They also track down the other immortals and bring them to the house to face their ghosts (literally). Ms Andrews regrets it immensely; Delia has no (some) regrets, but argues she's able to save many more lives this way, Jason is in denial.

Don't imagine immortal!Mercer finally seeing his daughter again, only she's a ghost and he caused her death. He's full of apologies, but they're all based around how he missed her, not how he cut her life short.

There would be a lot of regret and grief all round, and anger on the ghosts' part.

While Trudy probably wouldn't be alive after all this time, the trio and the ghosts want the immortals to clear her name.

Zeno and Rodenmaar arrive at the house. They're both searching for an ancient artefact hidden in the house.

(Is it the mask? Is it the Book of Isis? Robert Frobisher Smythe? Who knows? Not me.)

They also want to try and end the other because, why not. Grudges can last forever.

The trio also meet Sophia at some point, who is undergoing weird transitions as a result of the blood transfusion. Her body is fighting it while also trying to embrace it, and it causes her to randomly absorb life/energy from plants or other people. She can also transfer energy to other beings, but this causes her to collapse. She also still looks 14 when she should be in her 20s by now. The trio befriend her and try to figure out a cure.

While their existences are tainted with regret and bitterness, the ghosts still make their own fun. Sometimes they'll pull pranks on unsuspecting students, or just sit in the back of the class room to listen to the lessons like they're students again. They know for a fact Ms Andrews hasn't changed her curriculum in 50 years and can now recite her lessons by heart. They also like to play games in the house like tag or hide and seek, and they will admit its more fun when you can phase through walls.

When they reveal themselves to the trio, they enjoy tormenting them, but also help them with their games nights, charading the answers behind the other 5s backs. Everyone's had near misses with the 5, but somehow they remain oblivious to the SEVEN GHOSTS living in their house. But then again everyone else is oblivous to the fact the 5 are on some Arthurian quest.

I don't know how this story would end, but the best outcome is that they fight Zeno and Rodenmaar, and some truth comes out that Rodenmaar has discovered a way to reverse what was done and needs an artefact from the tunnels to conduct the ritual. Zeno, meanwhile has discovered another ritual that would give him the power from the other immortals to essentially make himself a god.

Naturally, both are trying to stop the other from achieving their goals.

Initially, KT, Eddie, Willow and the ghosts (and Sophia) attempt to stop both parties, but when they discover Victor's plan they work to take down Zeno. Once he's subdued (taken down by Sophia draining his energy), they summon the other 5 immortals.

Some of them take some convincing, but others are all too ready to give up this immortal life. They get time to tie off loose ends. Ms. Andrews hands in her resignation, Delia entrusts someone (Sophia?) with her work, Mercer has a long talk with his daughter, Eric has an even longer talk with his son. Victor spends his time in Anubis House, telling the kids his story and apologising for taking so long to fix his mistake.

Eventually, the ritual takes place, and the next day sees 7 new students enrolled who look uncannily like the students in the pictures.

(It takes them a while to adjust to the fact they can't walk through walls anymore)

[content-to-convert]

VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR...

VIDEO DIDN’T KILL THE RADIO STAR it just made him dress nicer 

By Pat Mellon 

Speaking of your brand evolving, PODCASTS are now a wise bullet to have in the arsenal of promotional weapons. In the early 2000's, for instance, you didn't have the option to record and distribute a PODCAST. The technology didn't exist to even IDENTIFY, much less create one- if you typed PODCAST into an email in 2002, it would have been flagged as a misspelling. 

But now, thanks to Audioblogging, re-branded as PODCASTING thanks to the iPOD, you can reach a targeted captive audience in a car on a long commute, with content that they've actually sought out. It's essentially a radio infomercial for the lifestyle of your product, without the PAID-PROGRAMMING aftertaste. Plenty of people have been slow to warm to the idea of such self-promotion and have waited to see if the technology and its effectiveness sustained or if it waned, the way QR codes did, or video discs did until the invention of the DVD. It can be an amazingly powerful part of your brand. 

Many rejected podcasting, as I did initially, as a waste of energy. In fairness, early on when there were no networks for podcasting and its business model was less focused than now, it smacked of self-congratulatory volunteer work. I saw it as an infringement on my profession. I have 15 years of radio hosting experience. I saw podcasts as competition. In my short-sighted view then, I didn't see the full potential of a podcast. I just saw it as people wanting my job. But as time went on, I began to see the ways, at least in terms of in-car entertainment, that podcasting was the future. And like the cryptic fortune cookie says, "Kill Your Darlings". Or maybe go with the less-confusing, "Reinvent Your Business Constantly. The End Goal May Be The Same But The Tools and Methods Evolve Constantly" which is a Ken Tucker quote I saw on a Snapple Cap. Or even the more direct, "You Have To Reinvent To Stay Fresh and In The Game" which Madonna said once. 

But early on, I saw it as the enemy - the way news journalists must have felt when FREELANCERS started getting a lot of the work in the late 90's. I thought, "If all you need to broadcast is a computer and an opinion, why the hell did I major in Broadcasting? It's like everyone becoming a Youtuber or a Social Media Influencer (seriously, that is NOT a good name. It's just saying what you're doing. It lacks creativity, like naming the glass thing you drink out of a "glass". Or the room with the bed a "bedroom". Or the thing you swing on a "swing". Or the... Sorry-I'll move on.) Anybody can become a Social Media Influencer these days, (and if they're under 14 and haven't been trying for half their lives then you might want to make sure they're breathing) and that means fame, sometimes money, but more important: LIKES. I overheard my 8 year-old playing with her friends and they were pretending there was a genie or something granting wishes and one girl asked for a pony, and another asked for a house of chocolate, and my daughter asked for a million LIKES on her video. LIKES are currency for pre-teen popularity. And LIKES or even merely PAGE VIEWS can be currency in the grown-up world of business. My point is that anyone with a computer and a camera can make money on Youtube if they hustle. It's simply the new normal. It's great, if not dangerous. We've yet to see the fallout of a generation raised on Youtubing, unless, of course, you count cautionary tales like Logan Paul or Jo Jo Siwa, both of whom are rich. It's simply another entertainment option for kids. I kinda thought podcasting was that, but for adults who only wanted quasi-fame; to show-off. But it's bigger than that.

If you're a plumber, for instance, and you want to maximize business, you probably want a decent social media footprint, some solid YELP reviews, and maybe even a podcast. Toilet clogged? Click here for an interview with master plumbers from all over. It's not the ONLY thing you should do. It's ONE of the things you should do.

On the consumer side, you have to realize that traffic, especially the bumper-to-bumper kind, is GOLD to a radio talk show host. People listen the most in their cars, so DJ's in New York and Los Angeles, the #1 and #2 radio markets depending on who you ask*, for instance, who entertain on the radio, are always on their toes to stay funny and relevant because it's so easy to push a button and change the station.

Then suddenly there was a new game in town. People were bypassing the radio altogether and plugging external sources into car sound systems, removing the commercials and unwanted Morning Zoo shenanigans, and rendering my entire college education and training void. My only hope was wishing death to the podcast movement, which I think I did a couple of times on the radio accompanied by a sound effect of a toilet flushing (Take THAT, Podcasting!). It didn't work. I kept hearing the word. Podcast. (eerie voice) PODD CAAAST! My head was in the sand. People would say to me, "you should do a podcast" and I'd cringe and wildly swing fists at imaginary ghosts who were accusing me of "Resting on your laurels" and "Holding on too tight.”

It took a while, but I get the appeal and, more importantly, the power of the Podcast. It's like a book-on-tape for the 21st century- 10 times as cool, though, because it's technologically relevant, and can be different every time you listen. So we agree that podcasts are real. And we acknowledge that there is room for many things on the dashboard of a car, be them outlets, or additional buttons. And we agree that the the way we do business is always changing and we have to adapt to some degree. So why all the hub bub? Because we can't have an intelligent conversation about the delicate existence of Podcasts without talking about Shane Gillis, the comedian who was hired and fired by Saturday Night Live in the same week last year. We need to understand the power of what it was that torpedoed his streetcar (tune into Mixed Metaphors with Pat Mellon Tuesdays on The Podd Couple, right after Poddamnit at 8, and Pod of Thunder with Gene Simmons at 8:17) He and a buddy do this show, this podcast, it's like a radio show but you don't listen to it on your grandpa's Victrola, you tether your MP3 player to the radio inside grandpa's Camry, and there's bad language, which there never is on traditional, boring old dumb talk radio, so right away, it's awesome (honestly, the only difference between Howard Stern on radio and Howard Stern on satellite is the F word) and the internet allows curses and take that, Mr. Suit and Tie, and this is going to be amazing. And on one particular show from 2018, Gillis said "chink" when describing someone in Chinatown. Not a huge scandal, but I guess you'd have to ask Roseanne Barr if the internet can get you into to any kind of trouble. She was exiled from the the entire US for a social media post that mentioned race and monkeys. And the same new normal that allows John Q. Anybody to do a podcast ALSO watches everything you do online and will sink you if it sees something it does not like. America can be confusing that way. Freedom of speech and freedom of complaining about freedom of speech are always at each other's throats, it seems. And you can't have it both ways. The guy who alerted the world to Bill Cosby's dating rituals online is loved by many but is also shunned by others, but that guy knows what he did and he knows not to complain about the ones who, well, complain. It's the price you pay.

The point is, you need to constantly be hustling and using all of technology’s modern tools to get your product out (they’re not burning DVD’s anymore) and maybe one of those avenues is a podcast with salty language, and maybe that podcast exists among your body of work that clients can enjoy whenever they want.

But we live in a new age of retroactive outrage. Eddie Murphy was on SNL and is arguably the most talented person the show has produced. He did a stand-up special in which he explores “What if Mr. T were a Faggot?” It was inflammatory and it was insensitive and it was homophobic (though that buzzword was still a decade from conception) because the premise of the joke- the attribution of homosexual behavior to a big, strong, black man being marginalized as solely predatory sodomy - crossed the line. When I spell it out like that it looks horrible. But it’s a simple comedic device: assigning unlikely behavior to someone for comedic purposes. It’s the fish-out-of-water gag. It’s why we had Mork, and Alf, and Balkie from Perfect Strangers. It’s Freaky Friday. It’s why The Rock playing a babysitter or a tooth fairy is funny. Murphy did this AFTER he was on SNL. But if has been released before he auditioned, do you think he’d have been hired? 

  Of course he would have. Because the Mr. T thing was a small part of that special (though, I recall, an extremely quotable part) and the people who didn’t like or appreciate the language didn’t have the bionic megaphone of the internet so they could get their outrage all over your conscience. The point is that your podcast is a reflection of your brand. You have to weigh your desire to speak freely and loosely with your desire to keep the Cancel Culture at bay. At a MINIMUM, though, you should keep things clean for your clients, listeners, and most importantly, your potential customers. Shane Gillis missed out of being on SNL and fame, instead on infamy because he broke one of society's biggest rules:he said something controversial out loud. Granted, it was in bad taste, but if that were a crime half of us would be in jail. It's just important to remember that your language on a work-based podcast should be professional, which I realize cannot be defined easily, but maybe stay away from slang and cursing. Just because you CAN doesn't mean you SHOULD.

[nightcoremoon]

i only like pop music when I can choose to hear it.

if rock's on, I'm on board. even if nickelback or creed is playing and I fucking hate them both.

if metal's on, I'm on board, as long as it's metal and not grindcore or deathblast or djentfuck or whatever the fuck else 4chan is concocting in their parents' basements.

if r&b's on, and I mean real r&b and not just "cishet male literal sex predators are sad", I'm on board.

if jazz is on, I'm on board, and I'm not even the biggest fan of jazz.

if classical music is on, I'm on board- I'm just so goddamn sick of vivaldi's spring, beethoven's symphony number five, bach's toccatta and fugue, pachelbel's canon in D, and liszt's hungarian rhapsody. THEY HAVE OTHER SONGS, GUYS.

if opera is on, I'm on board, just as long as it's not just fucking one of three ave marias by andrea bocelli. there's more opera artists than bocelli and there's mores songs besides ave maria.

I think you can see where this is going.

if rap is on, I'm on board, as long as it's not just fucking Drake Drake Drake Drake Tyga Drake. they're not even good rappers ASIDE from being two steps from pedophiles. give me wu tang, tribe, roots, nwa, public enemy, kid cudi, wiz, biggie, tupac, outkast, kurupt, beasties, jay, bone thugs, busta, eminem, nas, nate, luda, cypress hill, childish gambino, tech 9, snoop, give me real rap with meaning, feeling, flow, cultural impact, bass, clever lyrics, RHYTHM.

if country is on, well, if it's pre-9/11 i'm on board but if it's post-9/11 then fucking kill me. because post-9/11 country music is glorified pop with subliminal fascist ultranationalism and commercializations for alcoholism and cars. except for lil nas x and probably a small handful of others I don't know or care to know because I don't give a fuck about country music.

if punk's on and it's real punk I'm on board but not if it's just nasally white boys crying over an ex girlfriend or ugly british men with bad hair because THATS NOT WHAT PUNK IS. black flag, bad religion, bad brains, jack off jill, ice t, cromags, poison idea, rancid, misfits, against me, nofx, even sum 41, green day, offspring, and four year strong have redeeming qualities. but plain white tees, all american rejects, all time low, mayday parade, ramones, sex pistols, simple plan those are just pop groups who play four chords kinda fast, maybe yell sometimes. and while I do like songs by these bands, they are essentially pop, not punk.

if grunge is on and I mean like alice in chains (not rooster) or soundgarden (not black hole sun) or nirvana (not literally half of nevermind) or stone temple pilots or mudhoney or mother love bone (oh yeah and pearl jam is there too but honestly pearl jam is overrated, mike and eddie were way better in mad season, temple, and all the other configurations) then I'm on board. even if it's A- tier grunge like pumpkins, bush, live, spacehog, screaming trees, melvins, silverchair, veruca salt, l7, meat puppets, blind melon, local h, which isn't AS good but it still quality music made outside of commercialized bullshit which is what grunge was created to ESCAPE FROM after england fucking ruined metal in the 80s with hairspray and leather taking precedence over the actual music itself.

wait look commercialization ruined metal and grunge and punk and r&b and rap and country. I wonder why that is-

The Fucking Pop Music Industrial Complex.

so, look. there's a lot of music I don't know. I couldn't tell you billy eyelash from lil rubber ducky. maybe they're amazing and maybe they're not. I'm not gonna talk shit about modern music or pop music or anything. my problem is I can't go anywhere without hearing katy perry or taylor swift or miley cyrus or any number of dumbass inbred white trash idiots, and they all have like 80 songs each on replay. drake and cardi b are the same way, without the inbred and white parts. but they're all still horrible people made worse by $$$. it's a huge circlejerk of millionaires sonically engineering the airwaves to brainwash the masses into the sweet sweet ad revenue from youtube spotify itunes etc. it's made as a product to recycle. "Your style's like garbage cans meant to be taken out on a weekly basis, ever since your first record you've been in a state of suspended animation." There's no artistic integrity in the same song made over and over again except oh this one's about someone breaking up with you over booze and this one's about someone you broke up with because they cheated. 😑

Now I like some music that was made to sell for a product. Backstreet Boys, Nsync, New Kids on the Block, Britney, etc. I like it now 30 years later. Because I can choose to listen to it on my own terms. But I have no control over the shit they play now that's constantly pumped into my ears. It's all the same goddamn drivel and come a decade we're not gonna remember any of it. You know how much terrible music there was in the 50s? The 60s? The 70s 80s 90s and 00s were so full of the worst garbage anyone could ever churn out. Billboard was stocked to the brim with terrible music that nobody recalls and we only remember a tiny portion of it. The top 500 of 1982 is horrible. Even good bands like The Cars had boring unlistenable shit. There was good stuff too like Led Zeppelin and Jethro Tull and The Who and other bands THAT DIDNT SELL WELL AND WERE PERCEIVED AS FAILURES BY CRITICS IN 1982. It's always been that way. The popular shit is always bad and the good stuff subsists through the popularity to be remembered fondly. Why do you think the 80s are making a huge resurgence right now in meme culture? Because we know that Toto and Men At Work and A-Ha and Depeche Mode and Tears For Fears are actually good no matter how poorly they may have sold back then. But now, post-9/11 with American culture becoming what it is today, it got worse. So much worse. I watched it happen. There's no nostalgia filter here, music just sounds different at its core. The notes themselves affect my ears differently and actually cause pain nowadays. I use the same pair of earbuds and I can listen to stuff from earlier time periods just fine, even if I've never heard it before. But new music now? Either something's different with production and mixing or I just have auditory hallucination issues. Which I don't. I don't even have chronic tinnitus. Something is wrong. And looking at the fossil fuels industry, the software industry, the cinema industry, the automotive industry, the prison industry, politics, social media, and the economy, there's no possible way that everything is just a coincidence.

The things that make money benefit the ones getting that money and hurt everyone else. That includes music.

...

...

...

or maybe pop music just sucks.

[thenerdyunhealthybrit]

The Latest in my S3 watch of House of Anubis:

I apologise because it turns into a mini Joy essay, which honestly surprised me myself. Just to sum up beforehand, I don’t hate her, nor do I love her or think she’s a fave (and I’ve firmly been Team Nina and Fabina) but Klariza is charismatic actress that made Joy compelling to watch in S2 and turned a character that could easily just have been bitchy, bitter and have her actions driven by selfish and immature reasons, but made Joy complex (especially the latter half of S2 where you see the Joy no one else sees)

Season 3 Thoughts:

- It’s just not the same without Nina. This has nothing to do with the quality of the show, I’ve watched countless of shows that goes bad and they keep their originals characters or have replacement characters. So far, this is not one of them. But Nina (despite the question acting from Nathalia) was the heart of the show, Nina and Fabina. Hell even Amber, that trio were the heart of it all. It just feels like something is missing.

- Also I think another reason why Nina’s exit hurt the show is not only was she the lead and part of the heart of the show, but she was also the audience’s window into the world of House of Anubis and Sibuna. We very much watched the show from her perspective.

- Still don’t like how they handled her exit, I think it could be handled better. I just hate the Osirian/Chosen One excuse because it makes no sense because of what we learn in S2 and what we saw of Sarah and Rufus in S1. And we got no explanation on it, I wish they explained how and why.

- I still have my own version on how they could have explained her exit better.

- Amfie have my heart, like they are a couple in real life that probably wouldn’t work or be together but they are also cute and entertaining to watch. Ana and Alex have chemistry that makes Alfie and Amber rootable.

- Joy gets some of the worse writing. Well at least inconsistent writing. In S1, she doesn’t have much of a personality because of the storyline. But she is conveyed as a innocent, good, popular student. I got this because everyone loved Joy as well as the title sequence, her pose and body language conveys good girl. Then in S2, she was thrown into the love triangle - and I didn’t hate her, but I disliked her because of Team Fabina, but she was also fun to watch and made things interesting. Especially in the middle and near the end. I think in the beginning Joy was a bit hit or miss because everyone knew who their character was and the dynamics and Klariza was essentially playing a new character, coming in fresh etc. So in the beginning she felt less like a character still and a bit caricature in her behaviour regarding Fabina, but as time went on, she became her own, sneaky and slightly devious. It was a refreshing dynamic to add to the Anubis House and explains Joy and Patricia’s friendship. Patricia = Sneaky on the outside, soft on the inside lol (considering her loyalty) then Joy = Soft/Innocent on the outside, sneaky on the inside. Regarding Joy’s characterisation in S2, it could be interpreted in many ways, one is a result of what happened in S1, which I think many assume because she outright blames Nina for coming in and ‘stealing’ Fabian and her friends.

- However, I choose that Joy has always been like that but it wasn’t common knowledge because Joy has never felt threatened by any of the residents. Especially if you assume that they were all in Anubis House since the first day of Year 7, when they started Secondary School, they are like a family, so she struggled with outsiders, especially ones that came while she was gone. Plus, to me, saying she was always like this makes her more interesting and complex in my head.

- Still on Joy but making another point to spread it out a bit. In S3, she’s more mellow compared to S2, and what’s frustrating for me is that I want to know if this was how Joy would still be if Nina returned or not. Now she doesn’t have a rival, we seem to see the Joy you hear about in S1, the Joy that friends see. But anyway, I say she gets inconsistent writing because she very much wants to belong, she wants to be in Sibuna, we saw this in S2 because she never got the support she wanted from Sibuna who knew the truth (they wanted to move on) and both sides just generally didn’t want to talk about it (even though I think Joy did), at the end of the season, Shea excited and happy to be in Sibuna, she wants to save Nina, she’s accepted Fabina and realised that Fabian just wants to be friends and at the end she hugs Nina, suggesting a beginning of a friendship, and then less than 5 seconds after Fabian reading Nina’s letter, she’s already trying to move in. Now I don’t like this, because I think Joy needs to move on, it’s healthier for her, but also I think any girl knows timing is everything. She saw the Fabina bond in S2, he wouldn’t move on 5 minutes later. Maybe it was pacing issues? Like they want to brush it under the rug now and move onto other subplots?

- But also another thing I didn’t like was how she quit Sibuna because Fabian rejected her. Now this is more the feminist in me I suppose. Because her wanting to be a part of Sibuna was the same reason as Jerome, they both wanted to belong. When she was crying at times in S2, it wasn’t because of Fabian (all the time) but it was how this small pack, that was aware of what happened in S1 were keeping to themeselves, doing their own thing and not telling anyone. I think they should have played up the danger aspects more or the school work, final year more. Because those are valid reasons. I think the problem with this is that at the end of the season they have more people involved in Sibuna and then at the beginning they have to inexplicably cut it down because too many people know or are a part of it and either a) They don’t know how to handle too many people in Sibuna, i.e. finding them all a role and purpose, no one floundering or b) They prefer Sibuna smaller and not everyone aware to keep the secret group and sneaking about aspect more, to add suspense etc.

- But also another reason why I sat Joy’s writing is inconsistent is that we can say Joy is more calm in S3 because Nina has left (I will always bring up and be bitter about how we get no Joy/Nina in S3 because I want to now if we would have got S3 Joy or S2 Joy) but also the writers have so far appear to have swept under the rug a lot of Joy’s behaviour in S2, like her behaviour and jealousy of Mara. Not to sound dramatic but who is Joy? I love all these potential layers added (which I think Klariza did) but at the same time, I don’t know who is Joy because I feel like the writers intended to only use her in S2 as a threat to Fabina and then Klariza added these layers which made Joy more that a roadblock for Fabina, and then in S3, Joy no longer needs to be a threat to Fabina and they kind of write her as the Joy you hear about in S1 then as soon as she hears Nina is officially gone, and she makes her move, it’s a mix of S1 and S2 Joy.

- Also I want to stress that Jabian have a cute friendship, like by the end of S2, you can’t hate it because there is an innocence to it, but at the same time I think friendship is all there is to it, I just think they are too different to work as a couple. Like I think Joy thinks he’s cute and what a nice guy he is and likes the idea of him, but I just feel like if they dated, they’d eventually realise that they work better as friends because their interests are too different. Like if I remember, they never had a shared interest, I think in S2 Joy tried to be interested in history and Egypt because Fabian was and Fabian and Nina both have a shared interest in it. But it wasn’t genuinely, like I don’t think she came out of it and was like THIS IS ACTUALLY INTERESTING. Like with Fabian and Nina both have tried to not be in Sibuna and not into history and the Egyptians (Nina in S1 and Fabian in S3) and both didn’t take long before being sucked in again.

- And to conclude my Mini Joy essay, if this was made for an older audience or released now, Joy and Patricia would be canon, whether it’s an unrequited crush on one end or a full blown school romance, it would have been a thing - eventually.

- I quite like the Sisterhood of Anubis, at least the concept of it. However, I do think it is flawed a bit, I love how they stick together but how it’s used so far I think is flawed. Because it’s all about them being upfront and honest with other people - which is great and all, but they don’t go deep. Take Joy’s situation, they are all encouraging her to be honest with Fabian, supporting her and acting like Jabian will happen, but Mara and Patricia witnessed Fabina, they saw the bond Fabina had, and especially with Patricia, saw how much they loved each other, especially on Fabian’s end - it wasn’t that long ago that Fabian went crazy over Nina not returning and Neddie possibly happening. Everyone commented on how they never seen Fabian like that before. So while they should encourage Joy, they should also warn her about the possibility of rejection since Fabina broke up a few episodes back. And if Fabian said yes, she’d likely be a rebound. With Mara, I think she’s gonna benefit from it the most as she’s always tried to be a people pleaser, however I found the Alfie/Mara scene a bit forced, like a forceful way to show the development. Maybe as time goes on the new Mara will feel more natural.

- Also, this is probably the Fabina shipper in me, but I don’t like how the writers appear to be quick for Joy to move in on Fabian and for the whole house to want Fabian to move on, like Fabina was a huge part of S1&S2, they were first loves, the writers made that canon and first loves aren’t easy to get past.

- Speaking of ships, why did Peddie break up? I feel like it’s so KT and Eddie can have all the scenes together and they can explain the lack of Peddie.

- Not sure how I feel about Amber’s Fashion School exit storyline. It’s not a bad storyline and I’m glad that they gave Ana an exit storyline (If it was Ana’s choice to leave - if not, I have a complaint to make) but I think my issue is we never saw her interest in Fashion beforehand. Like we know she’s into fashion but we never saw her interested in designing clothes etc, which is what she would be doing in fashion school. For the past two seasons she was too interested in Sibuna, gossip magazines, how she looked (and Fabina) etc.

- I still can’t warm up to KT, the only reason I can think of why is because of how she just jumps up the pecking order of the main characters when others have been their longer (also I think a part of it, the Nina stan in me is because I remember how tough it was for Nina to be welcomed when she joined and KT and Eddie got it so easy, I know a part of it was because of Joy, but still). Also I’m just not invested in her and Eddie’s mystery with the key, I’m more into Sibuna and Fabian’s decoding. I know that the two mysteries with merge as one, but I just can’t get into Eddie/KT mystery compared to Fabian/Joy/Patricia/Amber/Alfie investigating.

- Willow...after you kind of get over the shock and forces nature of her entrance - I will say this until proven otherwise because she’s wanted to be in Anubis House for so long, but we only see her now? Hear of her now? Her entrance reminds me of those characters in Lost S3 that just appeared with no explanation and then were killed off because everyone hated how they were introduced. - Anyway, I enjoyed Willow a bit in this ep, this may be actress bias because I saw her in Wolfblood and Marine 6, but anyone that makes the Anubis House happy and laugh and aren’t shady are a plus in my eyes, also I quite liked her dynamic with Victor, it’s very much comedic and pure and Victor is less villainy and shady when it’s Willow/Victor.

- But Willow just suddenly always appearing at Anubis House is incredibly forced, I think it was done so viewers got use to her character before she moved in, but her suddenly always appearing with the Anubis folks and in the House just feels forced because we know she’s been on the list for 2 years and wanted to join but we have never seen her before or heard of her and the characters act like it’s normal. Her entrance could have been handled better. Like maybe suggest she had a massive transformation over the summer that she looks like a different person. And give her a more legitimate reason for always being in Anubis all of the sudden, like Amber suddenly wanting a protege or a school project.

- Also, I know Willow is meant to be in the same year as the Anubis lot, but in the few episodes I see her, I keep assuming that she’s in the year below, I don’t know if it has to do with the character or maybe how she’s introduced as she still feels out of place from the cast.

[gregoftom]

I'm a super fan of mayor cobblepot/chief of staff Ed or businessmanOz/secretaryEd office sex. Eddie sucking Oswald's dick under the desk. Oswald fingering him over the desk while he's on the phone etc.

for someone who wore his heart on his sleeve, who was openly expressive of his emotions, oswald was strangely good at remaining quiet, even when ed swirled his tongue around the head of oswald’s dick which they both knew he liked. he tensed at most, the fingers of the hand on ed’s head curling into his hair and tugging it lightly. 

the desk was adequate enough to hide ed, as long as no one looked down to see his long legs folded as he knelt between oswald’s own. oswald preoccupied himself with business, whichever needed his official attention that ed alone couldn’t take care of. 

after some few minutes, the door opened and the languid movements of ed’s tongue stopped for a moment in surprise. oswald, who had his face rested in his hand, looked up as though there was nothing particularly interesting going on at the moment. 

“what is it?”

“just thought you’d like to know,” a voice responded, and ed recognised it. it was butch, and oswald felt the smirk against his cock. they both knew just how much ed liked overtaking butch as oswald’s right hand man, how much he liked proving that he was oswald’s favourite, so it was no surprise he was pleased that they also both knew what ed was doing under the desk, even though butch was oblivious to it. “the people have asked for another public appearance at the hospital,”

“again? i was there only yesterday,” oswald sighed, annoyed that it was like his efforts to appease the public were being ignored. “what about the soup kitchen? it has been two d–” he cut himself off as ed licked a particularly hot stripe up the length of his dick. “…days since i was there,”

butch tilted his head and oswald’s eyebrows raised to keep up the facade of innocence. butch seemingly shook it off.

“maybe, but that ain’t what the people want. you oughta go along with ‘em if you wanna keep their faith. if your chief of staff were here i think he’d say the same,” there was an edge of bitterness to butch’s tone which made ed grin as he rubbed his face against oswald’s cock.

“perhaps you are right,” oswald said, his breathing starting to become uneven as he felt himself getting close. “very well, i will get him to schedule a time for me to visit. you may go now,”

“where is he, anyway? usually he’s on you like flies on honey,” butch said again, and even though he and oswald couldn’t see it, ed swayed his hips a little to shake his ass tauntingly.

“he is–” oswald took another breath and wet his lips, the grip in ed’s hair the tightest it had been yet, and ed had to fight the urge to moan. “he is… unfortunately delayed. i will tell him as soon as he gets here,”

“right…” butch said in a suspicious voice, but it seemed he was satisfied enough with that answer, and so left the room, shutting the door behind him.

“fuck,” oswald cursed, now able to freely express his pleasure. “i’m c– hhn. soon, my dear edward, soon,”

he felt ed nod before he started to alternate between deep swallows and sucking the head of oswald’s dick and oswald tensed up, letting his head fall back against his chair. ed, too, began to let loose and became a lot sloppier with his actions, wet and sucking sounds filling the room along with the occasional hum.

after some few seconds oswald leaned forward, back arching as he reached down with his free hand and took hold of the other side of ed’s head and his hips jerked as he was pushed over the edge. notorious for being loud, he had to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop himself screaming, but his voice still broke as he moaned behind the barrier of his lips. he heard ed eagerly working oswald through his orgasm before he came to a halt, kissing the tip and moving forward so that oswald could see his face.

he opened his mouth and exposed the cum inside it on his tongue. oswald almost got hard again at the sight alone, instead stroking the side of ed’s face tenderly as he swallowed it down.

“that was amazing as always, ed,” oswald said softly, enjoying the smile he received in response and waiting as ed carefully tucked him away and zipped up his pants. “you’re so good, my perfect chief of staff. you want a reward for serving me so well?”

ed nodded eagerly and oswald raised his eyebrows again, an indication that he wanted it vocalised.

“yes, oswald. please, i’ve waited for this for hours,”

“very well then,” oswald said and pushed the chair out, standing, ed crawling out from under the desk and standing also, his erection very obvious and proud in his pants. oswald eyed it hungrily before striding to the door and locking it. “so there are no unwelcome interruptions. on the desk, darling,”

ed scrambled to oblige, undoing his pants and pushing them to his ankles along with his underwear and stepping one foot out of them before half leaning, half lying on the desk with one leg propped up, exposing himself. oswald licked his lips. he made his way over, reaching into a pocket and taking his time pulling out a small bottle of lubricant that had recently become one of the essential items he would have with him at all times.

ed looked like he was about to burst with want as he saw the bottle come into view, and his breathing picked up slightly in excitement for what was coming next. once oswald was behind him, he looked forward again, eyes on the now locked door. with a small hum, oswald popped the cap and ed swallowed hard at the sound. he poured some out onto two fingers before leaning over ed, placing the bottle on the desk as he did so. he rested his hand against ed’s rear and stroked it teasingly, bringing out a small whine from ed. 

ed knew better than to ask for things to speed up, as it would only get a reprimand, so he remained quiet. it turned out his patience was rewarded because it wasn’t long before oswald was pressing a finger to ed’s entrance. when it was breached, ed let out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, and oswald’s finger slid in until it was at the knuckle.

“been busy with ourselves, have we?” oswald said, thankfully sounding amused instead of irritated.

“sorry…” ed gasped as oswald began to move his finger in and out, twisting and wriggling and making ed’s stomach jump with pleasure. “yesterday when we were busy all day i wanted you so badly, but we couldn’t find the time… so i… i had to afterwards…”

“i understand,” oswald said soothingly, adding a second finger and slowly thrusting them in and out. “i love that you are so impatient for me, pet,”

ed tried to respond but all he could do was groan when oswald’s fingers crooked and he began probing for that bundle of nerves. when he found it, ed cried out and let his head drop forward, hands clutching the sides of the desk so tightly his knuckles were white. just when he thought he might have been able to say something, the phone rang, making them both jump. they had forgotten about it.

“well?” oswald said, still moving his fingers. “answer the phone,”

“now?! when you’re inside me?”

“yes, now,” oswald said, this time more firmly. “it could be important. an emergency,”

“alright, oswald,” ed replied, biting his lip before reaching and picking up the phone and placing it to his ear. “mayor cobblepot’s office, how may i help yo–ooh!” 

oswald had pressed particularly hard to that spot inside ed causing him to yelp softly. ed took a deep shuddering breath to gather himself, and then began a conversation with someone who wanted to arrange another interview. throughout it all, it took all of his strength not to moan as oswald continued to work his insides.

oswald’s mercy ran out eventually however, and he began to wiggle his fingers up and down and ed had to bring his free hand to his mouth and bite down on it to stop himself making too much noise.

“l-let me just put you on hold a mo– moment,” he just about managed before putting the caller on hold and letting the noises flow freely, quiet sounds of the desk creaking with the force of oswald’s movements mixing in with his moans.

“very smart, ed,” oswald said amused, although ed could tell it was praising. “for that you deserve more,”

oswald reached with his free hand under the desk which ed’s dick was pressing up against and took a hold of ed’s cock, pumping it slowly in time with his fingers.

“oh g– fuck…!” ed gasped, dropping the phone receiver as he hands flew to cling the sides of the desk for dear life. “os– uhn! – oswald!” 

it didn’t take much more for him to be coming with a cry, painting the bottom of the desk with white as he did so. panting, he eventually relaxed down, chin resting against the surface. after a moment, he reached for the phone weakly and pressed the button to release the hold.

“thank you for holding. i checked with mr. cobblepot and he would be delighted to interview tomorrow afternoon. two pm? excellent, i’ll inform him right now. no, no, thank you,” he said in a dreamy, mellow voice before putting the phone back onto the hook.

“amazing,” oswald said warmly, leaning down and twisting so that they could kiss for a few moments before moving back again. “what would i do without you, edward?”

ed smiled, feeling warmth in his chest as he stepped back into his pants and underwear on the floor and pulled them up shakily as he stood.

“i only want to help you be as successful as you can, mr. mayor,” ed said with a smirk and oswald responded with a grin of his own.

“i am glad to hear that. now, you do realise you need to clean the mess you made of my desk on the underside?”

“yes. i’ll get right on that, oswald. i believe a cool water and detergent mix should do the trick.”

[jaynaneeya]

History Repeats Itself

Okay, so I originally intended this to be my entry for the Shipwrecked Five contest, but I got kind of carried away and it was ending up way longer than I originally intended, so I didn’t get it finished until now. Honestly, I don’t even know if it’s good anymore, and it’s about 7500 words, but if you want to read my unnecessarily long conspiracy theory tying together the Shipwrecked Comedy Cinematic Universe, here it is. Spoiler alert for Poe Party, Kissing in the Rain, American Whoopee, and The Case of the Gilded Lily

Revenge was so close he could taste it. The lifetime of dreaming, scheming, plotting; it had all come down to this moment. Struggling with all his might, he could feel his enemy’s strength yielding, the blade of the ax inching toward his throat. In just a few seconds, Edgar Allan Poe would be dead, and Eddie would be on his way to Canada, where he planned to spend his remaining days contentedly stringing along both Brontë sisters. This was his final thought before something hard struck the side of his head, abruptly ending his life.

What happened next was a mistake. Lenore found another psychic ghost summoner to bring back Edgar’s friends, but she inadvertently summoned everyone who had died in the house that night. From the moment he was conscious of it, Eddie hated being a ghost. He had thought his thirst for revenge had been all-consuming in life, but at least then he’d had other things he needed to focus on, like eating and sleeping and working. In death, he had none of those distractions. This wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d been able to exact his revenge on his killer, but Edgar was now surrounded by ghosts, most of whom were in that state because of Eddie, and if preventing him from hurting Edgar made him unhappy, they were determined to dedicate their afterlives to doing just that. At least, that was how Mary Shelley put it, and the others readily agreed, when they forced him out of the house.

He stole one final glance at Annabel’s face before his departure. She didn’t look angry like the others. She looked – he searched for the word as he glided away from Poe’s property – hurt. Betrayed. True, she had always loved Edgar, had only chosen Eddie because he seemed more respectable. Eddie in turn had only chosen her because she was close to the poet, and thus would be extraordinarily useful in his diabolical plot. But for the first time it occurred to him that they could have been relatively happy together. She might be secretly pining after Poe, and he would be secretly thirsting for revenge against disgusting hacks who called themselves writers, but they could have suppressed these urges and chosen to live in comfort, pretending to be normal, contented people.

“What am I thinking?” the ghost asked himself aloud. “I managed to kill seven authors! I wouldn’t trade that for anything!” And then it hit him: he would never have managed to maintain the charade, but Annabel would have. Even though he had strangled her with his own hands, she had been the stronger person.

Thoughts like these haunted him for weeks as he wandered aimlessly around Baltimore. When he could stand it no longer, he found a psychic and begged to be un-summoned.

“I-I beg your pardon?” the psychic stammered.

“Send me back! I was summoned by accident, and I want to die. Let me move on!” Eddie pleaded. He tried to shake the psychic by the shoulders, but he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of becoming corporeal and instead fell straight through the psychic, who sighed.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, sir. Only you can determine when you move on. Once all your remaining unfinished business is complete, you should simply be able to…slip away.”

Eddie furiously struggled to his feet. “But I can’t finish my unfinished business! They won’t let me kill Poe! Isn’t there any other way?”

“If you can’t finish your unfinished business, the only other way is to forget about it completely…I’m sorry, they won’t let you WHAT?!”

“Never mind,” he mumbled. “How do I forget about it?”

The psychic looked quite wary, but replied, “I believe some manage it by moving on to another century.”

“So you’re telling me I have to wait at least 100 years before-”

“Oh goodness no! I mean, just travel to another century.”

“What do you mean? How do I just…ghosts can time travel?”

“Sure, why not?” the psychic shrugged. “Some do it constantly. It’s one of the few advantages to being dead, I’m told.”

“But how does one travel through time?” he asked. The question had barely left his lips when his surroundings disappeared. He could see nothing but molten lava. The earth had just been formed. “That was easy,” he marveled.

What was harder was controlling when he traveled to. He could jump eons by simply thinking about time travel, but initially he always ended up in random times. He encountered several terrifying creatures from either the distant past or distant future – he was never quite sure which was which – and occasionally humans wearing strange clothes, often speaking languages he didn’t recognize. None of this particularly interested him. Eddie had never cared for anything that he couldn’t control. It wasn’t helping him move on either; all he could think of was that he had unintentionally done H.G. Wells a great favor by killing him.

Eventually, he found himself in a time during which the world seemed to consist entirely of giant slugs. “Oh, good, I’ve hit a new low,” he commented to one of them, which continued slowly gliding without acknowledging the ghost that had just appeared next to it.

“My dear Lenore, did you hear someone speaking?” asked one of the last voices Eddie had ever wanted to hear again. He threw himself flat on his stomach, hoping the slugs would block him from view.

“Who cares? Let’s get out of here, it’s disgusting!”

“Do you think the slugs can talk?” the first voice pressed.

“Listen, H.G., this time traveling is great and all, but I hate it here. Haven’t we made 100 trips yet?”

“Nearly. This is our…” Eddie heard the sound of notebook pages being turned. “…97th. Only three more randomized travels and we’ll be able to control it! All we’ll have to do is think of a year and poof! There we’ll be!”

“Good, let’s move on to our 98th. I’m getting slime on my dress.”

Silence returned. Eddie stood up. He was covered in slime, but this felt like the first productive trip he’d taken. Unlike H.G., he didn’t know exactly what number he was on, but at least he knew that eventually he’d have some control over when he went.

After that, he thought of a year every time he traveled. At first, it was clearly wrong; he thought of 1700 and ended up surrounded by machines that hadn’t even been invented in his time, then 1900 and came face-to-face with a dinosaur. But then, at last, he thought of 1850, and ended up in surroundings that looked familiar. He found a newspaper stand. The date on the paper was August 22, 1850. He couldn’t resist; as passersby stared, he gave himself a slow clap.

After a few trial periods in various eras, Eddie decided to settle in the year 2010. Safely in a different millennium from his own time, surrounded by humans who essentially looked and talked like those he was used to, seemed like the perfect environment in which to forget his unfinished business. He was unpleasantly surprised to learn that none of the authors he’d killed had been entirely forgotten, but while most people had heard of them, it seemed that relatively few had actually read their work, so he could easily avoid hearing about them. Best of all, it was a time of many distractions. He took to haunting various electronics stores; when they closed, he would turn on a device and play games all night, trying not to think about how his revenge had failed.

He had passed through a few years in the normal way before he admitted to himself that it wasn’t working. The games weren’t distracting him. As he played, he always found a way to pretend he was killing Poe. He tried to tell himself that as Poe was long dead by now it no longer mattered, but he couldn’t convince himself this was true. Eddie could forgive Edgar for killing him – it was self-defense, after all – but he couldn’t forgive him for winning. Eddie was supposed to emerge from that night triumphant, and Poe had snatched that victory from him. No matter how many games he dominated, Eddie was never going to recover from that humiliating defeat at the hands of a liar and a thief (just like every writer) who was too pathetic to ever leave his own house.

One day, late in 2013, he was wandering outside aimlessly, thinking that perhaps he should try a different century, when he heard something that completely changed his afterlife.

“Edgar, you can’t. You can’t be here.”

“Just listen, Annabel.”

Eddie turned. There they were: the couple he hated with every bit of ectoplasm that composed his ghost. But was it them? It certainly looked like them, and yet, somehow, they seemed…different. Edgar obviously could have changed in appearance after Eddie knew him, but Annabel…she should have looked exactly the same as the night he’d strangled her, but she had definitely changed, somehow. As Eddie gaped at them, they kissed, and he suddenly realized that they were standing in the rain, even though it wasn’t raining, and that’s when he noticed the film crew.

“That was beautiful! Cut.”

The rain stopped, and Edgar and Annabel broke apart awkwardly. It wasn’t them. They were actors, making a movie. Eddie was impressed by the casting; they greatly resembled the original people their characters were based on. Then it began to dawn on him that perhaps he could have his revenge after all. The trifling facts that these people had nothing to do with him and that the real Edgar Allan Poe would never suffer even if they did barely troubled Eddie. He’d killed a bunch of unrelated authors because of something William Shakespeare had done to his ancestor centuries earlier. This was no different.

Before he was asked to leave for ruining a shot, Eddie managed to overhear enough scraps of information to start him off on his new quest. The actors were named James Rochester and Lily Thomas, and it was their last day of filming on this movie. They had clearly worked together before, but they did not seem to be on very good terms personally. Nevertheless, they were going to start filming their next project in Los Angeles in a couple of months, during which time Eddie vowed to spend learning everything he could about filmmaking.

When the next James and Lily film started shooting, Eddie was part of the crew. He’d invented a resume that he didn’t think fooled anyone, but it was a low-budget film and he was working for free (ghosts had no use for money, after all), so they were happy to have him. But his plan to get close to the stars didn’t go very well; they were too busy snapping at each other to pay much attention to anyone else on set. At first, Eddie found it immensely satisfying to watch the people he saw as Edgar and Annabel constantly fighting. Then he actually started to like them. Edgar and Annabel had been such pushovers; James and Lily were both strong and sassy, which Eddie admired. But as filming progressed, he noticed that they seemed to be softening toward each other. Their insults had lost their zest; they seemed to be fighting out of habit rather than dislike.

On their next film, it was even worse. They were nice to each other, and once when they were kissing, they didn’t immediately break away when the director yelled, “Cut!” A few weeks after filming wrapped, Eddie heard that Lily and James had started dating, but they didn’t have any future projects lined up. After that, he didn’t have any direct contact with either of them for several months.

The bus station was almost deserted. She sat alone, staring into space, not even pretending to play on her phone. He had never seen anyone look more dejected. He forced the triumphant grin off his face and approached her.

“Excuse me, but aren’t you Lily Thomas?”

She glared at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve heard of me.”

“I worked on two of your films. I’m Eddie De Vere. I don’t really expect you to remember me.”

“Oh, now I do. Sort of.” They both knew she was lying, but he sat down next to her anyway.

“So, where are you going?” he asked.

“Away from here.”

“Still acting?”

“No.”

“Still seeing James?”

She started, then narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

He did his best to look uninterested. “Just making conversation. Last time I saw you, you were still acting, and it seemed like you and James were together.”

“James and I had a misunderstanding, and the entertainment industry and I had a falling out. That’s why I’m leaving. Now I don’t want to be rude, but will you please leave me alone?”

Having orchestrated both the misunderstanding and the falling out, Eddie was well aware of this. He had followed her to the bus station merely to gloat. But he didn’t find it nearly as satisfying as he’d anticipated. He wanted her to go off on an angry tirade, abusing her jealous ex-boyfriend who had thrown her out based on unfounded rumors, and berating the film industry for unfairly blackballing her. But instead of boiling with anger at the injustice of it all, she merely seemed resigned. She was prepared to move on with her life, perhaps ultimately to find happiness. After all his hard work. Eddie wouldn’t stand for it. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“No. Honestly. I’ll be fine. Life just sucks sometimes.”

“I think it’s a tremendous waste of talent for you to quit acting.”

“It would be a tremendous waste of time to try to keep acting after everything that’s happened.”

A light bulb turned on in Eddie’s brain. “What if you tried to keep acting before everything that’s happened?”

Lily considered his face carefully. When she realized he was serious, she started to inch away from him. “That’s okay, I-”

“You don’t understand! I can time travel! I’ll take you back to the Golden Age of Hollywood, and you’ll be a sensation!”

She stood up. “I just remembered, I’m at the wrong bus station.” She grabbed her suitcase and started to run away from him.

“Wait!” he cried, jumping up. Taking a running leap, he dove through her, landing on the ground in front of her. She couldn’t stop in time and ran straight through him before she stopped dead, then slowly turned to face him. “I’m a ghost,” he said unnecessarily.

“I noticed.”

“I can time travel,” he added, standing up.

“And you can take me with you?”

“Yes.” He didn’t know if this was true, but it was worth a try. It wasn’t like he cared if anything bad happened to her.

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And why exactly do you want to help me?”

“It’s the only way I can move on,” he invented. “I have to help someone find happiness. Otherwise I’m trapped as a ghost forever.”

She still looked suspicious. “Why?”

“How should I know? I don’t make the rules! Are you coming or not?”

Lily thought about it for a few moments, decided she didn’t have much left to lose, and said, “Okay, take me to early Hollywood.”

He grasped both her hands tightly in his, screwed up his face in concentration, and thought about them both traveling through time. Her gasp told him something had happened. He opened his eyes. The bus station was gone; they were on a deserted street, lined with a few scattered cars.

“I don’t believe it!” she cried. “Where are we? I mean, when?”

“I was going for 1940, but the cars look too old.” He supposed the timing was less precise when someone else tagged along.

Lily pointed to a movie poster on the building next to them. “The War. That came out in 1923. We must be around then.”

“Want to try making it in silent pictures?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Why not? If we fail, we can always try a different era, right?”

“I guess…wait, what do you mean, ‘we’?”

“You’re trying this experiment with me, aren’t you? You weren’t planning on letting me fend for myself in a strange year, were you?” she added, somewhat suspiciously.

“Oh, no, of course not,” he lied hastily. “Let’s both be silent film stars. How hard can it be?”

Extremely hard. Even from its earliest days, Hollywood has always been about connections, and since everyone working there in 1923 was born after Eddie’s time and died before Lily’s, they had none. Eddie wanted to offer to forego wages like he had done in the future, but that wasn’t going to work for Lily. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t just abandoning her. That would certainly complete his revenge, and then he could move on with his afterlife. But, much to his own disgust, Eddie actually wanted to see how she would fare in this unfamiliar world. So he stayed.

They started working as extras. Their combined wages were barely enough for Lily to survive on, but she didn’t seem to mind; she was constantly marveling about how inexpensive everything was. Most importantly, they had their feet in the door. Eddie was greatly impressed to observe that Lily was almost as good at schmoozing people as he was, and although it took time, eventually they started to land slightly larger roles. They decided to adopt new names; Lily became Minta Monroe, while Eddie went by Johnny Busterfield. They appeared in several mildly successful comedies and a couple of dreadful dramas, but they were having fun. Eddie grudgingly admitted to himself that he was starting to like Lily, and he enjoyed being around her so much that he almost forgot his ambition to make her as miserable as possible. Almost.

Then came what looked like their big break: a new teen comedy with a huge cast was announced. Minta Monroe and Johnny Busterfield murdered their auditions and landed key roles, alongside such big names as Buster Keaton, John Barrymore, and Slim Sockwillow. Eddie thought Slim looked an awful lot like both Edgar and James, but Lily didn’t seem to notice any resemblance to her ex, so Eddie decided it must be all in his head. He also could have sworn he’d seen most of the other actors before. He told himself that this was probably because they’d been in other silent movies he’d worked on, but deep down he knew the truth: he was still seeing images of the lives he’d ruined everywhere. But he pushed away these thoughts and plunged into the project.

The picture was to be called American Whoopee. Eddie had far more fun making it than he’d ever had in his life or death, but his enjoyment was nothing to Lily’s. She managed to convince the director to add a bunch of references to future teen comedies, simply for her own amusement. Minta Monroe was hailed as a creative genius. Eddie enjoyed sharing in her private joke too much to care that his plot to ruin her life was backfiring horribly. He started to notice that it was getting harder to stay solid; perhaps he was finally on the brink of forgetting his unfinished business and moving on to the other side.

American Whoopee was almost finished filming. Eddie was reading the newspaper, enjoying a rare afternoon off, when he heard a knock at their apartment door. He answered it, to see Slim Sockwillow holding a bouquet. “Hiya, Johnny, is your sister in?”

Eddie was bewildered. “My-”

“It’s okay, Johnny, I told him our secret,” Lily interjected, hurrying to join Eddie at the door. “Sorry, I meant to tell you I have a date with Slim this evening. You don’t mind, do you?”

Eddie liked Slim. They’d worked very closely together on this film and were constantly making each other laugh. But as he contemplated the young man holding flowers outside his door, Eddie didn’t see Slim; he saw Edgar Allan Poe, holding a pet rock.

Slim’s grin faltered. “Say, Johnny, I know how you feel; I have two kid sisters myself. But I promise to have her home at a reasonable hour. We’re just going out for a bite and a dance. Unless…unless you have any objections,” he added, quivering under Eddie’s hostile glare.

“I don’t care if he does,” Lily asserted, pushing the fuming, completely corporeal Eddie out of the way and taking Slim by the hand. “See ya later, Johnny,” she called, slamming the door behind them.

The newspaper Eddie had been holding immediately turned into a crumpled ball of fury. The one and only thing that could have ruined his contentment had happened. His alternate Annabel had fallen for this Prohibition-Era alternate Edgar. The fact that Eddie actually liked them and didn’t mind if they were happy was immaterial. The horrible night he’d almost forgotten about replayed in his head over and over as he paced around the apartment, interspersed with new images of Lily gasping “It was always you” in Slim’s arms.

After what felt like weeks to Eddie, Lily finally returned from her date. “Fine time to get home!” he spat at her the moment she walked through the door.

She had the audacity to laugh at him. “It’s only 8:30, and I can’t believe you’re jealous.”

Eddie was completely taken aback. “I-what? I’m not jealous, I-”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Eddie, you’re a great guy, but I mean, you’re dead. You can’t honestly think you and I could have a potential future together.”

“I don’t- That’s not why I-” he stammered.

“I’m sorry about the brother thing, but he asked me if I was living with you, and I thought he’d be more likely to believe ‘Yes, but he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my brother’ than ‘Yes, but he’s not my boyfriend, he’s the ghost that brought me here from the future.’”

Eddie found his voice. “Exactly! You’re from the future! He’s old enough to be your great-grandfather! That doesn’t bother you?”

Lily shrugged. “Not really. We’re the same age now, and besides, I really like him a lot, and we had a great time, and we’re going out again tomorrow night, and if you don’t like it, you can go haunt somebody else!”

Eddie didn’t like it, but he had a better idea than haunting somebody else. The following day, he managed to sneak away from set long enough to make a few important calls from a phone booth around the corner from the studio. The day after that, American Whoopee’s final day of shooting, several papers reported some dreadful rumors about the film. It was said to be “filth” created to “corrupt the minds of young America” whose cast was “entirely comprised of drunken rabble-rousers who eagerly flout the laws of the land”. Each day that followed brought news of a new scandal involving either the film itself or its cast. By the time the trailer was released, the studio had received hundreds of angry telegrams, and after seeing the trailer, the public took to the streets to protest. Naturally, the film was never completed, and almost the entire cast (with the exceptions of Buster Keaton and John Barrymore, whose reputations had remained unsullied) were fired from the studio, with almost no hope of being hired elsewhere.

Lily was furious. “I can’t believe my life has been ruined by rumors AGAIN!” she fumed. “If I ever find out who fed the media those ridiculous lies, I will literally kill them.”

“Yeah, this sucks,” Eddie agreed, suppressing a smirk. “You want to try another era?”

“What I want is a drink,” she muttered.

“So that’s a yes?”

She sighed. “I guess. Hey, you couldn’t bring Slim along too, could you?”

Eddie managed to hold his temper. “Sadly, I can only time travel with one living person. Are you okay with that?”

Lily wasn’t sure she believed him, but she nodded and let the ghost take her hands. Eddie thought of the mid-Cretaceous period, reasoning that no Edgar look-alike could exist where there were no humans, and that even if he ended up a few decades off, that wouldn’t make much difference. But when they’d completed their journey, the world didn’t look nearly different enough. The streets looked essentially the same as the ones they’d just left, although there seemed to be a lot more homeless people around.

“When were you trying to go to?” Lily asked.

Before Eddie had to answer, a shabby-looking man approached them and said, “Hey, brother, can you spare a dime?”

Eddie reached into his pocket and found a quarter. “I’ll give you two bits if you tell me what year it is.”

The man eyed the coin hungrily, but with a trace of suspicion. “It’s 1934. You a Rockefeller or something? Nobody just gives away a quarter.”

Eddie handed over the coin and turned back to Lily as the man hurried away. “Sorry, I guess we didn’t go very far. Why are you smiling?”

“Because Prohibition ended in 1933 and I can get a drink here!” She hurried into a nearby bar. Shaking his head slightly, Eddie followed her. He was starting to think he would never succeed in making her miserable.

The bartender greeted them cordially. “Welcome to Bixby’s Lounge. I’m Bixby. What can I get you, and why are you dressed like a flapper?” he added, eyeing Lily’s outfit.

“Oh, just had an audition,” she replied casually. “I think I blew it though,” she added. “I’ll have a dry martini.”

“You’re okay staying in 1934 for a while, I take it?” Eddie asked when Bixby had busied himself with other customers, as she drained her martini glass.

“Sure, this is about when we were trying to go the first time, remember? Talkies should be easier for me than silent films. We better think of new names, though. I like the sound of Vivian Nightingale, what do you think of that?”

The name made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t place it, but he thought it was vaguely connected with that horrible night at Poe’s house. “That sounds familiar. Wasn’t that the name of an Oscar Wilde character or something?”

“Not that I know of. I’ve never come across it before. But I think it suits me, don’t you?”

The familiarity of the name still bothered him, but he shrugged it off. “Sure.”

“What will you go by?”

“Eduardo Dantes,” he decided, determined not to let anything distract him from his revenge from now on.

Once again, Lily and Eddie started as extras. This time, however, Eddie did everything in his power to prevent them from booking auditions. They got a couple of bit parts, but nothing that would gain them any recognition. But Lily was more resourceful than he’d given her credit for. After a few years of almost constant failure, she managed to finagle two invitations to a party for producer Roger Haircremé. “If we make a good impression on him, we’ll have this town in the palm of our hands,” she told Eddie.

Eddie accompanied her to the party with plans of creating the opposite of a good impression. As if she had read his mind, Lily suggested they split up as soon as they arrived. “If he sees us together, that might hurt both our chances,” she reasoned.

“You mean it might hurt your chances,” Eddie muttered, but she had already disappeared into the crowd of stars. She was beating him at his own game, and it hurt his pride more than he wanted to admit.

“Cigarette, sir?” asked a voice at his side.

He turned to say “No, thank you,” to the attractive cigarette girl, but before she walked away, he noticed her nametag. “Wait! Your name is Lily Thomas?”

“Almost. It’s actually TH-omas.”

It took Eddie a moment to digest this. “Wait, really?” When she nodded earnestly, he said, “I used to know someone named Lily Thomas.”

“Oh, well she can’t be any relation. The TH-omases and the Thomases have completely different origins. I’m from Minnesota.”

“Really? What brings you to L.A.?” he asked, though he thought he knew, and if he was right, he could still manipulate the evening after all.

“I wanted to be an actress, but it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I thought maybe if I could meet Roger Haircremé…”

“There he is right now!” Eddie exclaimed, spotting him across the room. “Here, I’ll hold your cigarettes, why don’t you go up to him and turn on the charm? Just don’t tell him who you are; he’ll never know.”

Eddie expected her to be suspicious, but she immediately did as he suggested. It worked perfectly; Roger had eyes for no one else the entire evening.

As the party was winding down, Eddie finally found Lily Thomas (not TH-omas) again. “How did your evening go?” he asked her, waiting for her disappointment.

“Fine,” she replied. “Hey, Bill, come here, I want you to meet my brother.”

Eddie froze, preparing for the worst, but the man named Bill looked nothing like Edgar. “Nice to meet you,” Eddie sighed with relief.

“Bill’s a director,” Lily explained. “He thinks I’d be perfect for the lead in his next picture, and he wants me to audition for him tomorrow.”

“That’s great, congratulations,” Eddie managed.

“You can head home now if you want. Bill will drop me off later.”

Vivian Nightingale booked the lead in Bill’s new film, and in his two films after that. Between the second and third, they got married. Annoyed as Eddie was by her success, he knew that Lily didn’t love Bill, and so could never be truly happy. It was almost enough.

Then the inevitable happened. Eddie was having a drink at Bixby’s Lounge when he heard a familiar voice ask for two fingers of scotch and limited eye contact. There, a few seats down the bar from Eddie, was the Edgar Allan Poe lookalike of the 1930s.

Eddie nearly panicked, but he calmed himself with the knowledge that Lily hadn’t met this one, and probably never would, if his anti-social demeanor was any indication. Still, just to be on the safe side, when the Poe doppelganger had left, Eddie asked Bixby if he knew who he was.

“Ford Phillips, private investigator,” Bixby said. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought he looked familiar. He’s not an actor?”

Bixby laughed. “That man hates show business and everyone involved in it. Personally, I love show business, but he’s one of my best customers, so who am I to complain? I’m Bixby, and Bixby never complains about customers.”

“Say, Bixby,” Eddie began slowly, an idea forming on how to keep an eye on this Phillips, “I notice your floor show is a little thin, and I could use a job. Think you could use me?”

“How good are you with puppets?” Bixby asked immediately.

This was not the response he’d anticipated. “Excuse me?”

“I love puppets. If you can do a puppet act, you’re hired.”

“Can you provide the puppets?” Eddie asked.

“Of course. Bixby’s got everything.”

“Then I can come up with an act,” Eddie agreed.

Ford Phillips came into Bixby’s at almost exactly the same time every night, but he never talked to anyone except Bixby. When Lily asked to see Eddie’s act, he told her to come several hours before Ford would be there, and he made sure to hurry her out before he arrived. Still, Eddie had a lingering fear that the more famous she became, the more difficult it would be for even someone who hated show business to avoid seeing her, and if Ford was indeed the Edgar he appeared to be, Annabel’s face could easily change his opinion of actresses. Eddie needed to interfere with Lily’s career yet again. But how?

The answer came with the following morning’s headline: “WILHELMINA VANDERJETSKI WEDS HOLLYWOOD MOGUL!!!” Underneath was a picture of Lily TH-omas, and the article detailed her wedding to producer Roger Haircremé, as well as glowing reviews of her first starring role, in a film which had just been released. Roger was quoted as saying, “Willie’s a breath of fresh air in this tawdry town. I was about to leave Hollywood before I met her, but as long as she wants to star in my films, I want to keep producing them.” So Eddie had done something right at that party after all.

Eddie prided himself on his ability to manipulate people, and Bill turned out to be even more of a pushover than he’d anticipated. It was almost too easy to convince him to switch to Roger Haircremé’s studio. Bill willingly signed a contract on behalf of both himself and Vivian Nightingale. The wife of the director didn’t stand a chance against the wife of the studio head, and Lily TH-omas beat out Lily Thomas for role after role after role.

“She’s not even that good of an actress, and she has to be the stupidest person I’ve ever met!” Lily vented to Eddie. “If I could work for a different studio, I might stand a chance, but that moron I’m married to thinks Roger’s the best producer out there. If it weren’t for that stupid contract-”

“How is dear Bill?” Eddie asked, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Ugh, don’t ask. If I didn’t need his money, I’d divorce him in a heartbeat. What a bore. Luckily, he’s not the only man in the world.” Eddie couldn’t believe his ears. Had she managed to meet Ford despite all his efforts? But then she added, “It’s too bad I haven’t met anyone like Slim in this decade. I can’t find out what happened to him either. Man, I miss the internet.” Eddie started to relax, but she went on, “I’m thinking about finding another job, to save up for a divorce. Bixby’s seems like a good gig for you. Do you think he’d hire me too?”

That was the last thing Eddie wanted, but she wasn’t to know that, so he just shrugged and said, “It’s worth a try.”

When he got to work the following day, Eddie told Bixby, “Listen, I heard Vivian Nightingale was going to ask you for an audition, but I’m not sure she would be the best fit for your place.”

“Why not?” Bixby asked.

“I mean, she’s a film actress. I just think she’d seem out of place in a lounge.”

Bixby had a strange look on his face. “Well, I didn’t think so. She sang so well at her audition this morning that I hired her immediately.”

Eddie’s heart sank. “Oh. Okay. Well that’s…that’s good then. She’s more versatile than I thought.”

Somehow, Eddie managed to keep Lily offstage whenever Ford came in. This was made more difficult by Bixby, who seemed to want Lily and Ford to meet. Eddie noticed that Bixby’s manner had gotten much colder toward him since Vivian Nightingale had started singing there, but he didn’t give it too much thought.

Then Wilhelmina Vanderjetski hired Ford Phillips to find out who was blackmailing her, and her rival Vivian Nightingale was an obvious suspect. So Ford and Vivian met. And even when her name was cleared, they stayed in touch and became friends. Eddie was beside himself with rage.

“Four different men in five different states?” Bill repeated. “How is that even possible?”

“Trust me, it’s possible,” Eddie insisted. There was silence on the other end of the phone. “You still there, Bill?”

“Are you sure? That’s not the Vivian I know.”

“Sounds like you don’t know your wife at all. I thought you had a right to know. But you didn’t hear it from me,” Eddie added hastily.

“I understand. Thanks, Eddie.”

That evening, Eddie was distracted during his puppet act by a loud argument from Vivian’s dressing room. When he was finished, he knocked on her door and called, “You’re on in five minutes, Viv!” A moment later, she burst through the door, slamming it behind her. “Everything all right?” he asked innocently.

“Bill found out,” she fumed. “And what’s more, he has the gall to be angry about it. It’s all well and good for him to run around, but as soon as I do the same thing…”

“You married a misogynist in the 1930s. Shocking.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to sing, and then get drunk. He’ll calm down eventually.”

Eddie waited for Bill to emerge from the dressing room, but he didn’t. Vivian finished singing, and another act started, but still, no Bill. Finally, Eddie knocked on the door. “Bill? You okay?” He opened the door. “Look, buddy, I know it’s tough, but…” He stopped abruptly. Bill was dead. He had ripped the cord off the blinds covering Vivian’s window and hanged himself. “Oh, buddy,” Eddie groaned disappointedly.

This hadn’t been part of the plan. Bill wasn’t supposed to kill himself. But it suddenly occurred to Eddie how to use this to his advantage. He stole the suicide note, which simply read, “I can’t go on, knowing you don’t love me.” Next he untied the cord from the rafters and positioned Bill’s body on the floor. Then he went to see a movie at his favorite theater where the ushers recognized him, to give himself an alibi.

As Eddie had anticipated, the death was deemed suspicious enough to warrant an investigation, with the widow as the prime suspect. As Eddie should have anticipated but didn’t, this prompted Lily to hire private detective Ford Phillips to launch his own investigation. With the help of his sidekick, Fig Wineshine (who Eddie thought bore a nauseating resemblance to Lenore), Ford was able to prove that Bill had committed suicide, reasoning that his body could have fallen to the floor between his death and his discovery, and that not all suicide cases involved a note. Vivian Nightingale was not going to jail and was no longer married, and Eddie waited in trepidation for the thing he most dreaded to come to pass.

About a year later, it happened. Despite booking a few film roles, Vivian and Eddie were still primarily working at Bixby’s. After their last set of the night, Eddie was about to leave when he heard Lily tell their boss that she was taking a two-week vacation the following month.

“Where are you going?” Eddie demanded.

Lily actually blushed. “Well, on my honeymoon, if you must know.”

“You’re getting married again? To whom? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Calm down, Eddie. I’m marrying Ford Phillips next month, and I didn’t tell you before now because I knew you’d get upset and try to stop me. But Ford isn’t like Bill, or any of the others. He has a tough exterior, but he’s kind and genuine and intelligent, and I think he’s my last chance at happiness. You told me once that you needed to help me find happiness. I stopped believing that a long time ago, but please don’t prove me right.”

Eddie was startled. He stared into her eyes, trying to discern how much she had figured out.

“Absolutely, take as long of a honeymoon as you want,” said Bixby, making both Eddie and Lily jump. “And congratulations!”

“Thank you, Bixby!” She hurried off to change out of her costume. Eddie gaped after her, wondering how he could possibly win this time.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

Eddie turned to see Bixby glaring at him. “I don’t know what you’re-”

“Drop the act, Eddie, I know who you are.” To Eddie’s shock and horror, Bixby put his hand through the bar. He was a ghost, too. “That’s right,” said Bixby. “I’m not Bixby.”

For the first time in his crazy, mixed up afterlife, Eddie considered the possibility that he had lost his sanity. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I used to be known as Constable Wesley. I helped arrest the Brontë sisters, but I never caught you. When I died, I was forced to return as a ghost until I brought you to justice. I travelled through the centuries until fate brought us together here. I’ve been keeping an eye on you. I notice you seem to have lost some of your murderous tendencies, since apart from almost allowing an innocent person to be executed for a murder that wasn’t a murder, you haven’t gotten close to murder since you’ve been here. But if you try anything more to ruin the happiness of this person you plucked from the future because of her resemblance to Annabel Lee, I will be forced to make the rest of your afterlife a literal hell.”

Eddie’s head was spinning so fast he had to sit down. “How do you know all that?”

Not-Bixby poured himself a drink. “I’m Constable Wesley,” he replied simply, toasting himself.

Before Eddie could fully appreciate how completely stymied he was, the door to Bixby’s burst open, and a man stormed in.

“We’re closed,” Constable Wesley announced casually, as though he hadn’t just revealed himself to be a time-traveling ghost.

“Where is she?” the man demanded. “Where’s Vivian Nightingale?”

“I’m right here, Edwin, calm down,” Lily said, emerging from the dressing rooms.

The man was shaking, red-faced, and having trouble getting his words out. “You…said…you said…if not for…your husband…you and I…we…”

“Edwin, I’m sorry, but-”

“And now…you’re going to marry…” Suddenly he pulled out a revolver. “I won’t let you!”

“Edwin, don’t!” she screamed, but he pulled the trigger, then dashed out the door as she crumpled to the floor.

Constable Wesley glared at Eddie. “Tell me you didn’t call him.”

Eddie was in shock. “What? I didn’t even know-”

“Good,” Wesley snapped before taking off after the shooter.

“Eddie!” gasped Lily.

Eddie rushed over to her. There was blood everywhere. “You’re going to be okay,” he assured her, kneeling down and taking her in his arms.

“Stop lying to me,” she groaned.

“Lily, listen! I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. I thought I wanted revenge, but really I just wanted-”

“Eddie,” she gasped again. His heart leapt expectantly. “Tell Ford how much I love him.”

The ghost of Constable Wesley helped bring Edwin to justice, which was apparently enough; he was able to move on. Eddie envied him desperately. He had no idea what to do with his afterlife now. He made several attempts to time travel back to that day and stop Edwin from showing up, or at least to take the gun out of his hand, but it didn’t work. He couldn’t be corporeal in two places at the same time. Stupid ghost rules.

He took to haunting Lily’s grave. Her tombstone had the name Vivian Nightingale on it, but no one had been able to find out when or where she was born. Eddie had been disappointed by how few people had shown up at her funeral, and he felt even more disappointed later when no one else except Ford Phillips ever visited her grave, until he remembered that her lack of connections had mostly been his fault. How could he have thought that ruining her life would help him? She deserved better than this pitiful grave that only one man and one ghost ever visited. She deserved some sort of memorial.

And that’s when it hit him. The Vivian Nightingale Memorial Ball. She wasn’t an Oscar Wilde character, but she had effectively introduced him to Oscar Wilde. And there was only one way that Vivian Nightingale could have a memorial ball established in the century before she existed.

He considered not doing it. If the ball didn’t exist, that night could go differently. Oscar Wilde wouldn’t be there to confuse his emotions, and his plot might succeed. He might win, or at least survive, and none of this would ever happen. Lily Thomas would be happy with James Rochester, American Whoopee would be released with actors other than Minta Monroe and Johnny Busterfield, and Lily TH-omas would never meet, marry, and be blackmailed by Roger Haircremé.

Eddie resisted for as long as he could, but ultimately, he realized it was futile. He couldn’t create a paradox. He needed to go back and establish the Vivian Nightingale Memorial Ball so everything could happen exactly as it was supposed to. And then maybe, just maybe, his unfinished business would count as complete, and he could finally move on.