#once again I definitely recommend watching the actual buzzfeed unsolved

[mxliv-oftheendless]

The Bridge of the Demonic Goatman (Part 1)

I thought of this a while back (specifically in the form of a hilarious mental image), and decided, “What the hell? I’m gonna write this.” It’s basically me combining two things I’m currently trash for (KISS and Buzzfeed Unsolved) into an AU, where my target audience is... well, me. On a side note, if you haven’t watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, I would definitely recommend it! It’s a great show, and they do episodes on true crime as well as supernatural cases. Here’s the link to the original episode if you want to watch it. Hope you enjoy!

Due to the sheer length of this story (it’s twenty fucking pages in the Word document), I’m going to have to post this in two parts. This is Part 1. Part 2 will go up tomorrow because it’s 11:30 PM rn and I’m too fucking tired to deal with this crap anymore.

Basic AU summary: It’s Buzzfeed Unsolved, but hosted by Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, and Vinnie Vincent. Gene is the believer of the supernatural, Paul is the skeptic, and Vinnie is the neutral third party (although he does like to join Paul in messing with Gene when they’re on a ghost hunt). 

Commentary text: 

Paul

Gene

Vinnie (apparently Tumblr doesn’t offer yellow as a color)

Something said in unison (who says it will also be in parentheses)

----

[cold open: camera is in the backseat of a car between the driver and passenger seats, looking through the windshield at the twilight sky. GENE is driving while PAUL is in the passenger seat. Soft haunting piano music plays over the footage]

PAUL: Almost there, Gene… you nervous?

GENE: I’ll probably be more nervous when we get there. How about you?

PAUL: [gestures out at the sunset] How can I be nervous with a sunset like that?

VINNIE: Ah, but remember, Paul. [camera cuts to VINNIE, who is sitting in the backseat] Eventually, the sun will be gone from the sky, leaving us in the foreboding dark of night. Then you’ll be nervous.

PAUL: [turns to look at Vinnie] How poetic.

VINNIE: Thank you.

PAUL: What about you, are you nervous?

VINNIE: Uh… [shrugs] kinda. I mean, we’re potentially going to see a demon.

PAUL: Potentially.

GENE: Don’t worry, Vin. I’ll protect ya.

VINNIE: You say that now, and yet if we actually see it, you’ll probably be cowering behind me and reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

GENE: How can I do that when you’re such a midget?

[Paul laughs. Vinnie leans forward and smacks Gene’s arm.]

[Smash cut: it is now nighttime. Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now walking through a forest, the only light being from the flashlights coming from the night-vision cameras they are holding. Camera focuses on an old-looking wooden bridge with newer-looking red metal ledges. Gene shines his flashlight on a nearby sign that has text and the Texas state government symbol. The title reads OLD ALTON BRIDGE.]

GENE: Well, here it is. The bridge.

[Cut: Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now standing at the foot of the bridge.]

GENE: Ready?

PAUL: Yep.

VINNIE: Yep.

GENE: … Paul, you go first.

PAUL: [scoffs at Gene and steps up onto the bridge] Okay.

VINNIE: [steps up onto the bridge and turns to Gene expectantly] C’mon, Gene.

GENE: [sighs then mumbles] God dammit… [slowly steps up onto the bridge]

VINNIE: [grinning at him] See, that wasn’t so hard.

GENE: Shut up, Vinnie.

[camera follows the three as they walk across the bridge, swinging their camera flashlights around. It is so dark that the only parts we can see of the bridge are what shows up in the beams of the flashlights; the rest can only be vaguely made out. Haunting music continues]

PAUL: I’ll be honest, I was kind of expecting something more… I dunno, intimidating, I guess? But no, this seems like a pretty standard bridge. [jumps up and down on it] Sturdy, too.

VINNIE: It’s a little scary, I guess. Though, the fact that we’re here when it’s nighttime probably has a factor in that. In the day time, this probably wouldn’t be scary at all.

[they reach the middle of the bridge]

GENE: Well, now that we’re on the bridge, I guess I should tell you why this bridge is so notorious.

[Vinnie nods]

PAUL: Okay. Enlighten us, Gene.

[haunting music stops. Gene stares at Paul, who looks calmly back at him]

GENE: Can you even look a little bit worried? Or just… you know what, never mind.

[Intro sequence, then title card]

[Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now sitting on the foot of the bridge. From left to right: Gene, Vinnie, Paul]

VINNIE: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate Old Alton Bridge, aka the Goatman’s Bridge, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, “Are ghosts real?”

GENE: [nods at the camera]

PAUL: [shakes his head at the camera]

VINNIE: [shrugs at the camera] Well, we may find out tonight. Gene?

GENE: Although that is our overall question, this bridge and the woods surrounding it are said to harbor something much more sinister than ghosts.

PAUL: [sounding maybe too light given the context] Demons!

GENE: [rolls his eyes but nods] Yeah, demons. As we’ve stated before, I will only consent to one demon episode per season, and this is that episode.

PAUL: You look pretty nervous. [looks to the camera and points at Gene] I dunno if you guys can tell, but Gene is looking pretty nervous right now. He’s just good enough of an actor that only Vinnie and I can tell.

VINNIE: I think we’re all a little nervous, to be fair. Just sitting on the foot of the bridge is making me feel slightly nervous. [pause in which he looks over at Gene and laughs] You’ve got kind of a glazed look, Genie.

GENE: I just—okay, I am getting kind of nervous. Let’s just get this over with.

PAUL: All right. Let’s get to the background stuff so we can dive right into the summoning part and see if any of us get possessed and/or murdered.

[Gene and Vinnie stare at him]

GENE: … Please don’t put it like that, Paul.

[Paul laughs]

[screen cuts away from the three to a black background with the shape of the state of Texas in white. Text and images appear on screen as Gene’s voice narrates]

GENE [voiceover]: In 1884, Old Alton Bridge was built in Denton, Texas, to connect the town of Alton to Denton. Alton was an extremely small town that consisted of only one person when it was established in 1848.

Wait, there was only one person in the entire town?

Yep.

Seriously? One person? And that was enough for it to be a town?

Yeah. One person.

*wheeze* Ha ha, that’s great.

Also, isn’t Denton the town from Rocky Horror Picture Show? The one Brad and Janet are from?

Oh yeah, it is! Oh my God, what if we did the Time Warp on the bridge?

Oh hell yeah, let’s do that!

*sigh* Dammit.

(Paul and Vinnie) Janet!

It was chosen as the legal center of Denton County. After the county seat was moved to Denton, residents of Alton moved to other towns, and Alton eventually disappeared. Today, the bridge is no longer permitted for vehicle use. But lucky for us, the bridge is available for pedestrian crossing.

*snorts* “Lucky for us”… the sarcasm.

You’re a master of sarcasm, Genie. 

--

[Paul, Gene, and Vinnie are standing by the parked car. The trunk is open, and Gene is rummaging through the contents of the trunk while Paul and Vinnie watch]

PAUL: I swear I’m not trying to scare you, Gene, but… I genuinely am getting a bad feeling about this place.

GENE: I am not listening to you, Paul.

PAUL: No, I’m actually serious this time! Vinnie, you can tell I’m serious, right?

VINNIE: I mean, I am getting kind of a bad feeling as well…

GENE: Don’t worry, guys. [straightens up] I came prepared tonight. [starts to unbuckle his belt]

VINNIE: I’m flattered, Genie, but I thought we were hunting down a demon. Plus, Paulie’s with us. And what would Shannon think?

GENE: [stops and stares at him in confusion] What would she think about… [he slowly realizes what Vinnie means] No! Not like that, Vinnie!

[Paul laughs. Vinnie smirks at Gene]  

GENE: Both of you shut up, that’s not what I meant at all! I mean I brought protection!

VINNIE: [grinning] Oh, well at least we won’t have to worry about that. I still think the setting is rather inappropriate, though.

[Paul continues to laugh]

GENE: I mean—I didn’t—shut the fuck up! This is what I’m talking about!

[Gene holds up a leather holster. In the holster is a squirt gun made of blue plastic]

PAUL: [stares at it, then bursts out laughing again] What the hell, Gene?

VINNIE: [trying not to laugh] Gene… why do you have a squirt gun?

GENE: [talking as he attaches the holster to his belt] It’s filled with holy water. I thought of it yesterday. It started out as a joke, but then I thought about it, and it’s actually a pretty good idea.

PAUL: [still laughing] You’re going to protect yourself against a dangerous demon… with a squirt gun filled with holy water?

GENE: Laugh all you want, Paul, but at least I’ll be safe from any demon that tries to sneak up on us. Just think, our backs will be turned, the demon’s sneaking up on us… [acts out this scene] I’ll just go, “Hey, guys, look at these bushes—[whirls around and whips out his squirt gun] freeze, demon!”

VINNIE: Smart.

GENE: I know, right?

--

GENE [voiceover]: Obviously, we didn’t travel all the way down to Texas to observe just a plain old bridge. What brings us to Old Alton Bridge is the meaning of its nickname, “the Goatman’s Bridge.” There are many legends of bridges acting as gateways to another realm, and perhaps this bridge is one of those gateways. Old Alton Bridge and the surrounding woods are said to harbor a dark entity: a demon, that is half-goat and half-man. The Goatman is said to have, quote, “glowing empty eyes” and goat-like horns. The reason for this entity’s existence is unknown, but has many iterations. One common story is that Satanists have carried out rituals on the bridge, that opened the door for this demon and perhaps many others.

There are actually records of people practicing rituals in the forest and on the bridge.

Really?

Yeah.

Oh, so your kind of people.

My kind of—how am I a Satanist?

Because you believe in all the crap they believe in.

Yeah but—I don’t go around performing rituals to summon demons. I respect it, and stay away from it. That’s completely different.

Okay, you’re right about that. That’s fair.

You also go to the synagogue.

*snorts* Yeah, I also go to the synagogue.

GENE [voiceover]: Another popular story is that a successful African American goat farmer was lynched and hanged on the bridge by Klansmen, returning from the dead as the Goatman.

Fuckin’ assholes…

Do we know why they lynched him?

Yeah, because he was African American and he was doing better than them. That’s it. That’s why.

… Okay, fair enough.

Yeah, that’s fair.

GENE [voiceover]: If this story is true, then it would explain why the Goatman looks as it does, since once again, the African American was a goat farmer. However, there are no records of an African American goat farmer living or even existing in that area anywhere in the 1930s or in prior decades. Furthermore, if this story is true, then the Goatman would simply be the ghost of the goat farmer, instead of a demon like the Goatman has been claimed to be. Additionally, demons are preternatural beings, and therefore not human.

So you don’t think the Goatman’s the goat farmer.

Uh, no, I don’t. See, the thing is, if it was just the ghost of the goat farmer, then the Goatman would be just…

A man.

Yeah, just a man. There really wouldn’t be any reason for him to become some version of a Minotaur.

Yeah, that makes sense.

However, the fact that it’s half man and half goat makes it more likely that it’s a demon.

Plus, aren’t there medieval drawings showing Satan with goat legs?

Yeah, that too.

I just have to object to one thing you said. You said it was some version of a Minotaur.

And?

And that is a false statement. A Minotaur is half-man-half-BULL.

Oh—Oh, well excuse me—

Then it would be the BULLman.

—Mr. Greek Mythology Expert.

Paul, you don’t even think the GOATman is real, why are you so stuck on details?

I’m just trying to make sure everything that’s said is accurate.

You wouldn’t think it was real even if it WAS the Bullman.

That’s true. I wouldn’t think it’s the Bullman. I’d think it’s BullSHIT.

*laughter*

GENE [voiceover]: But tonight, our goal is not to find out why this demon exists. Tonight, our goal is to make contact and try to catch footage of this elusive and dangerous demon, as proof that it is real. We can only hope that this evidence does not come at a great cost…

--

[cut to Paul, Vinnie, and Gene walking on the bridge]

PAUL: Are there any demons here with us? Perhaps a demon formerly known as the Goatman?

VINNIE: Prince reference?

PAUL: Yeah, thanks for noticing.

GENE: Let your presence be known… say something… make a noise…

PAUL: Throw us off the bridge…

GENE: Shut up, Paul. [speaks aloud] Why are you on this bridge?

[silence]

GENE: One of you ask it something.

PAUL: Why are you on this bridge?

[Gene rolls his eyes at Paul while Vinnie snickers]

PAUL: [in a dramatic voice] Goatman! [still silence] Nothing’s happening.

VINNIE: Well, obviously.

PAUL: What if we try yelling at it?

GENE: What?

PAUL: I mean, what if we try and agitate it? To try and bring it out?

VINNIE: Like, egg it into showing itself?

PAUL: Yeah!

VINNIE: Yeah, that could work! Can I do it with you?

PAUL: Yeah, let’s do it. Gene—

GENE: I’m just gonna… gonna let you guys do it. I don’t wanna be part of what you guys are doing.

PAUL: Okay.

VINNIE: Yeah, you stay out of it, that way if anything happens to us you can call our families.

PAUL: You want to go first?

VINNIE: No, you go first.

PAUL: Okay… [a few beats of pause] Fuck you, Goatman!

GENE: Oh my God—

VINNIE: Oh, we’re just gonna go all-out? Okay, let me try. [shouts] Hey! Hey, Goatman! You’re no good, Goatman!

PAUL: You’ll never be shit!

VINNIE: You’re just like your father!

GENE: Oh for fuck’s sake—

PAUL: Goatman! [starts dancing in place] See that? I’m dancing on your bridge!

GENE: Paul!

VINNIE: [also starts dancing] We’re dancing on your bridge because we don’t believe in you! Fuck you, Goatman!

PAUL: This is our bridge now! We claim this bridge for ourselves!

GENE: Jesus Christ, we’re gonna die—

VINNIE: You want us off this bridge? You’re gonna have to kill us! Whatcha gonna do, throw us off the bridge?

GENE: He did throw someone off the bridge once.

PAUL: Nah, he’s not gonna throw us off the bridge, y’know why? [shouts] ‘Cause he’s a CHICKEN! [starts clucking like a chicken]

GENE: I swear to God, both of you…

VINNIE: Paulie, c’mere. [they start doing a tango] See that, Goatman? We’re dancing on your bridge!

PAUL: We disrespect your bridge, Goatman!

GENE: Oh, for Christ’s sake—he’s taking names right now, you two.

PAUL: You ain’t shit, Goatman! We own your bridge now!

VINNIE: You hear that, Goatman?

PAUL: Me, Vinnie Vincent, and Gene Simmons own your bridge!

GENE: Paul, don’t you dare loop me into your shit. Stop it.

PAUL: Well, tell him you’re not part of it!

GENE: [speaks aloud] I’m not part of this! Okay? They’re just being assholes.

PAUL: You’re talking to Goatman now. [Paul and Vinnie grin at him]

GENE: … You son of a bitch—

VINNIE: Goatman entrapment, Genie, you’ve been caught. [high-fives Paul] Goatman!

GENE: Guys, stop it.

PAUL: This is our bridge now, Goatman! [Paul and Vinnie continue dancing and jumping up and down on the bridge]

GENE: I swear to God, you two—

VINNIE: They’re gonna write OUR names in graffiti!

GENE: If something appears and kills you, I’m not giving your eulogies.

PAUL: People will come here and tell tales of US!

PAUL and VINNIE: What do ya say to that, Goatman?

[silence]

GENE: I hate you both.

--

GENE [voiceover]: People have reported a growling voice telling them to “get off the bridge.” One person said that after he and his friend heard the voice, he ran off the bridge while his friend stayed. He then watched as his friend was seemingly dragged off the bridge and thrown into the river below. People have also heard hooves following them across the bridge, as if they were being chased off. It’s often said that the Goatman can be conjured by knocking three times on the bridge.

--

[on the bridge, Gene goes up to one side of the bridge and hesitantly raises a fist]

GENE: All right. I’m gonna… knock three times on the bridge… and we’ll see what happens.

PAUL: What if the Goatman bites your hand off?

GENE: Paul—

PAUL: And then he stuffs it in your mouth and makes you eat it?

[Gene and Vinnie stare at him]

VINNIE: … What the fuck, Paul?

PAUL: What? He might do that. He’s a demon.

GENE: Fuck you, Paul. You’re making this worse.

PAUL: Fine, sorry.

GENE: [turns back to the side of the bridge] Okay… here we go…

[Gene knocks on the side of the bridge three times. They all stand back]

GENE: Now it’s said that when you do that, you can see his glowing eyes. [glances around]

PAUL: [laughing] What a load of horseshit…

VINNIE: Quiet, Paul.

[silence. Nothing happens]

GENE: Well, I’m not doing it again. Either of you want to?

VINNIE: [shrugs] I’ll do it. [goes up to the side and knocks three times. Steps back.]

[silence again. Nothing happens]

VINNIE: All right, Paul, now you do it.

[Paul goes up to the side and raises his fist. Then he stops and looks around in a theatrical way]

GENE: For fuck’s sake, Paul, just do it!

PAUL: [shrugs] Hey, Goatman! [knocks three times]

[silence again. All three look around. The camera passes over parts of the bridge]

PAUL: You know, if you want me off this bridge, you’re gonna have to throw me off.

[still silence. Nothing happens. There is a long stretch in which none of them move or speak]

GENE: Okay, we’re done with that. Let’s go into the woods.

VINNIE: We’re going into the woods?

GENE: Yep. Let’s go.

[they all turn and start to walk off the bridge. Paul turns around and looks out into the darkness]

PAUL: We’ll be back, Goatman. After all, this is our bridge now.

VINNIE: Yeah, remember that, Goatman.

GENE: Would you both shut up?

PAUL: That’s how you get them to come out, Gene.

GENE: That’s not how you get them to come out, that’s how you get them to kill you.

PAUL: Assuming you don’t kill me first, right?

GENE: Exactly.

To be continued in Part 2!

[musinglymuse]

This recommendation list focuses on a popular pairing in Check Please! They bicker, they argue, they fight, they smo-- well, no smooching in canon but that’s what fanfiction is for! Nursey and Dex often embody the ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ trope, sparking constant speculation and hundreds of fanfiction.

I’ve compiled some of what I consider excellent fanfics that feature this couple although it does not contain all of my recommendations. They are in no particular order. I plan on creating more recommendation lists down the line, especially for other pairings in this fandom. You can find other fic recs tagged in my blog.

As a reminder, please make sure to check the tags and any warnings before reading. Take care of yourself!

got those wayfarers on by somehowunbroken Canon Divergence // ~8k // PG-13

It's all Bitty's fault. Indirectly. That's his story, and Chowder's sticking to it.

[In which Chowder does his best to matchmake from the other side of the continent over summer break, and is immensely pleased with the results.]

Petals and Thorns by rhysiana Musician / Florist AU // Series // ~17k // PG-13

Goddammit, Will thought as he dodged around a few strategically tall people and turned down a side street. How had he managed to leave the apartment without a hat? He peeked back around the corner. His fans were less than a block behind him, and he really couldn’t deal with them today. Frantically, he studied the shops around him, hoping for somewhere to hide.

Coffee shop? Too easy.

Ah! Nursery Rhymes: Poetic Floral Arrangements. Perfect. No one would ever look for him in there.

can’t change what the seasons bring by growlery Canon Divergence // ~1.7k // PG-13 They get back after winter break, and Dex has done something to his hair, and he was hot before, but now he’s, like, hot and he doesn’t look like a grumpy old man.“New year, new me,” Dex says dryly, and Nursey might be having kind of a crisis about it.

want to be (yours) anyway by shellybelle Canon Divergence // ~39k // PG-13

Dex learns Nursey’s secret halfway through practice on a cold morning in October.

“What the hell,” someone says, interrupting the Dex's shooting drill. “Is that a baby?”

(Or: Nursey has a secret, Dex has a crush, and things get complicated before they get romantic--which isn't to say they don't get romantic at all.)

Paint Me Like One of Your French Canadians by Denois Canon Divergence // ~6k // R

Lardo hooked Dex up with an extra part time job to help make ends meet back in his frog year. Modeling for the art classes was pretty easy money, and the team never had to know. Until Nursey took an art elective and needed a private model to complete his project and pass the class. Nursey's sure that he can keep it professional and friendly....as long as Dex never sees the completed paintings.

up to 104% perfect by winchysteria The Good Place AU // ~34k // NC-17

Will Poindexter and Derek Nurse finally know what happens after you die. You wake up in Hot God's office, you move into a really nice house, and-- you realize that you hate the person who's supposed to be your soulmate? Join a smug poet, a frigid computer nerd, and the rest of the Scooby gang as they ask questions like: what makes two people right for each other? what does it mean to be happy? does heaven get software glitches? and most importantly, why does this computer have a Southern accent?

Welcome! Everything is fine.

The World Only Spins Forward by Liminal_Space_LLC Soulmates AU // ~63k // PG

Dex and Nursey have been at odds for as long as they’ve been friends, but when Dex’s heartbreaking new soulmark has him turning to Nursey for advice, they will discover they have more in common than they ever realized. Together, they will help each other heal their heartache and become closer than they’ve ever been before. As their friendship grows, neither of them is prepared for newer, sweeter feelings to emerge.

However, Nursey has his secrets, and nothing scares him like the possibility of having his heart broken again. That doesn’t stop him from wanting, though, and as their feelings become stronger, both Nursey and Dex find it ever harder to hide them. Meanwhile, the stakes are becoming higher as the team comes closer and closer to the Frozen Four. Can Nursey and Dex overcome their fears to realize the love they feel, or will their anxieties destroy everything they’ve worked for?

starting to get to me by playingforkeeps Buzzfeed Unsolved AU // ~12k // PG-13

“You’ve been dragging us to bumfuck nowhere with that mating call for three years when you hear there’s a sighting. But we’ve never considered: what happens if Bigfoot answers it? That’s the goal, isn’t it? You’ve been after that good, good Bigfoot dick this whole time!”

Dex sputters. “I don’t want to fuck Bigfoot! Jesus, Nurse!” He glances at the others, disbelieving. “Back me up here, guys.”

Silence. Lardo says, “You do own a Bigfoot mating call, dude.”

All Hail the Underdogs by xiaq Boarding School AU // ~76k // PG-13

Lucifer was an angel once.

That’s what Nursey thinks, the first time he sees William Poindexter.

Because the boy is beautiful even though he shouldn’t be. Even though he’s doubtless the kind of person who would punch you in the face if you said the words “you” and “beautiful” to him in the same sentence.

His skin is choked with freckles. It’s potentially more freckle than skin. Not just his face, where his nose and cheekbones are so hyper-pigmented they look tanned, but his collarbones and forearms and knuckles. The close-shaved dark ginger stubble of his hair should make his ears look too big or his mouth too wide but instead it accentuates the long curve of his throat, the cup of velvet skin between the tendons in the back of his neck.

“You’re the new defenseman?” Nursey asks. “William Poindexter?”

And the boy turns around and considers him with what might be contempt but what might just be the way his face looks and says, “Yeah?” like its a challenge.

And Nursey thinks:

Oh no.

In So Many Words by alocalband Canon Divergence // ~17K // R Derek writes a short story. That's his first mistake. His second is getting it published.

bless this mess and call it a home by pepperfield Magical AU // ~27k // PG-13 The thing is, being able to talk to houses doesn't actually preclude them from conspiring to ruin your life. Dex finds this out a little too late. First comes the Dib Flip, then Nursey's bed, and the water heater...the Haus definitely has it in for him. In which Dex has house magic, Haus has Haus magic, and at least one of them is in love with Nursey.

#mine by rispacooper Urban Fantasy AU // ~17k // R Treasure, Will thought with an angry little snort. Nursey called almost everyone on the team treasure. He called Ford treasure. He’d even called Coach Hall treasure once. He did not call Will that. That was probably Will’s fault. Knowing that didn’t make Will feel any better about it.

love you as the plant that never blooms by sugarybowl & wishingonalightningbolt Canon Divergence // ~27k // NC-17 Dex doesn’t roll his eyes, but only because he’s overwhelmed with the thought that he really does have feelings for Nursey. Gooey feelings. Romantic ones. They see each other every day; they’ve been close, there’s been touching, and maybe—maybe it’s not quite as platonic as Dex assumed it was. From watching Ransom and Holster, anyone could get the idea that that’s just what friends do. But… It feels different.

“I like him,” he says, soft, contemplative. “I like when he’s around and it’s frustrating to watch him go. It’s horrible to think he might be upset at me, or that he thinks I lied to him. It’s killing me.”

Dex doesn't know what it is to want. With Nursey, he learns.

[alittleoptimistic]

Psychic For Hire

A Buzzfeed Unsolved Fan fic

Summary: Shane is a psychic for hire working in LA, and sure, he’s a fake, but at least he's telling people what they need to hear! That is, he thought he was fake. But after a strange accident, he begins to have the oddest dreams... Meanwhile his old friend Ryan is researching his next greatest supernatural horror novel in the underbelly of the LA psychic scene and wondering how on earth you convince someone they actually might be psychic for real?

Trigger warning: violence, car accidents, dead people

___________

Chapter One

The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. Her hair hung in thick, dry tufts on her white blouse, unnaturally red. She was a forty-five-year-old divorcee who wore several rings. Her ear piercings were stretched out like taffy, weighed down by gaudy diamond-shaped earrings. Her voice trembled. “ Jayson ? That’s my- that’s my son! How could you-”

He screwed his eyes shut. “-he wants to tell you he’s... alright. He’s not in any pain. And-and to not worry about…” He opened his eyes and peered at her quizzically. “The game?”

Ms. Snyder wiped her eyes, and he handed her a tissue that was conveniently on hand. She dabbed away, careful to keep from smearing her eyeliner. “I-I missed his last baseball game. And then when he didn’t come home, gosh... what kind of mother doesn’t go to their kids' baseball game...”

“Hey.” He caught her shaking hands and laid them in her lap as gently as he could. Her skin was soft and manicured, the lines in her palms deep. “He forgives you. Do you hear me? He loves you and he knows how much you love him.”

Her lip trembled. A watery sort of smile attempted to find room amid the trembling, and she gave a little embarrassed laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d get so emotional.”

“It’s alright. Of course, you would. He’s your son.”

She nodded once, and again. A deep breath. “Thank you, Mr. Madej. I needed to hear that.”

Shane patted her hand and closed up the notebook he’d had out. It was covered in nonsense scribbles from a small pencil he held in his hand. “Ah,” He waved his hand, “Call me Shane.”

Ms. Snyder sniffed and smiled. “Well, thank you, Shane. That was… astonishing. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure- I just needed something. Some-”

“Closure?” he offered.

She nodded. “How much do I owe you?”

Shane smiled and took out his cellphone, credit card slider already embedded in the charging port. He named his price and she swiped her card.

As she stood up, straightening her clothes, she took another steadying breath. And then quietly, almost to herself. “Goodness…”

Shane stood and led her to the office door.

He conducted sessions in a small portion of his house closed off by glass doors and windows. He called it his office. It was painted in calming shades of white and brown. Very ‘live, laugh, love’. It might have been used as a parlor or a piano room if anyone else had lived there. There was an abstract painting against the back wall that resembled a beach, and fake reeds sprouted from a tall skinny vase in the corner. There was a coffee table between two armchairs and a couch. It could either have been a nice waiting room or a therapist’s office if not for the red neon sign through the blinds in the street facing window. PSYCHIC

Shane opened the glass door and walked her to the front door of his home. “It was wonderful to meet you, Ms. Snyder. If you ever need anything else, you call me?” He pointed at his business card in her hand.

Ms. Snyder nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“And,” He lowered his voice, although of course there was no one else to hear. “Be careful. I know you live a bit of a distance. If you do ever decide to visit another, ah, advisor, I would highly recommend keeping to the list of recommendations I have on my website. They are good people. But there are a lot of not-so-nice people in LA.”

Ms. Snyer blinked at him, almost surprised, and she relaxed even further. There. If there had been any reservation left, she had abandoned it. She trusted him. He had her. “Oh, I’m aware. Thank you. I appreciate the honesty. Your… your gift is incredible.”

Shane smiled, lips tucked in. “It is what it is. And you are very welcome. Now have a-”

There was a knock on the door, just as Shane reached to open it for Ms. Snyder.

He paused, confused. He didn’t have any more appointments today.

Ms. Snyder made a small noise. “Oh dear, I don’t mean to keep you.”

“I don’t think it’s another client,” Shane said, brow furrowed. “Could be an old friend of mine, but he’s not due to get here until tonight.” Shrugging, he opened the door.

Shane was correct. It was Ryan.

Standing on the bottom step, tapping on his phone, stood a young man Shane remembered well, although he had not seen him since, what, graduation? He was older, of course, than Shane remembered. More of substantial weight to him (not that Shane was saying he was fat, cause he wasn’t. Ryan just looked… grown-up. Solid. A man now, not the gangly kid he used to be). But Ryan stood in the same, slightly nervous way, bouncing on his heels.

Ryan looked up. “Shane! God, are you taller ?”

Wonderful. “Nice to see you too. Ryan, this is Ms. Snyder. Ms. Snyder, Ryan. We were roommates in college. Ms. Snyder is a client of mine.”

Ms. Snyder cocked her head, clearly interested, and shook Ryan’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you! What brings you to town?”

Ryan opened his mouth. “Actually, I’m writing a-”

That was far enough. “Here, Ryan, why don’t you come inside? Ms. Snyder, until next time?”

“Oh, yes!” She shouldered her purse. “Most definitely. I’ll leave you two to catch up!” With that, she clickety-clacked in her heels to an inordinately fancy car and drove away down the street of the average, nice, modern neighborhood Shane lived in.

Ryan, joining him on the porch, watched her go. They squinted out into the bright California sun.

There was a beat of silence which Shane didn’t try to break, hands in his pockets.

“Dang.” Ryan finally spoke. “Got her wrapped around your finger. What’d you do, tell her she’s gonna win the lottery?”

Shane hummed. “I told her her son forgives her for staying home with a hangover instead of going to his baseball game the day that he died in a car accident.” He picked at the stitching in the neckline of his sweater.

Ryan blinked. “Holy frick, dude.”

“In nicer words, obviously.” He looked down at him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get here until tonight.”

“Sorry. I’m a fast driver and then I didn’t see the point in hanging out in an empty hotel for hours.”

Another non-committal hum. And then Shane shrugged. “Okay. Cool. Do you want lunch? I haven't eaten yet and there’s a Cuca’s nearby that is frankly divine.”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah! Sure.”

It was odd, how very natural it felt to talk to him. It was like it was just last week they’d been sitting on the floor grumbling through papers they should have written days earlier. And yet here was this distance, years of time spent only occasionally interacting through Facebook likes and Instagram comments.

“Let me grab my wallet.” Shane ducked back in the house, and Ryan trailed in after him. He busied himself searching for his wallet in the kitchen drawers, and pretended he didn’t notice Ryan blatantly snooping, eyes wide.

He popped his head into the kitchen, Shane’s ‘office’, the bathroom, the living room. It was only when he started to knock over one of the fake plants that Shane gave him a look, wallet, and keys in hand.

Ryan stood the plant back up. “Sorry. Just, this is… a really nice house.”

Shane gave him a closed smile. “Thank you.”

“No, but like, really nice. Like, how the heck do you afford this?” Most people might be embarrassed to ask a question like that. Ryan wasn’t and Shane wasn’t offended.

He got this question a lot actually. There was an idea people had in their minds of what a psychic was supposed to be. Creepy little offices in a run-down track mall next to a nail salon that doubled in sex trafficking, or a creepy booth at a carnival with crystals and incense and blah, blah, blah. Shane’s business wasn’t like that. He was clean and shaved and dressed in a brown sweater and he let his clients drink from his Starbucks espresso machine while he told them what they needed to hear. The less he was associated with thieves and liars, the better.

He shrugged. They walked outside, down the steps, and simultaneously got into Shane’s car. “You get in with the right people, the right customers, being a psychic brings in the big bucks. Besides, LA is superstitious as hell.” Shockingly so, Shane thought sometimes. It blew his mind how many hundreds and hundreds of dollars people were willing to give up to hear him spout off some nonsense.

And that’s what it was, of course.

They sat in a red leather booth at the restaurant and the plastic fabric protested loudly as they slid inside. It was past the lunch rush and the place was relatively empty, decorated with colorful paintings of wild animals, sculls, Christmas lights, the distant sound of Spanish radio, banging pots, and the rapid-fire speech of an employee in the kitchen. The food would be delicious, as it always was.

Usually, Shane could hardly wait.

But there was a pit in his stomach, a deep sort of twist that kept him stiff and ready to stand. Was he nervous? Was that what it was? But Ryan didn’t make him nervous. In fact, Ryan only increased exponentially Shane’s ability to be the calm one in comparison to Ryan.

Ryan dipped a chip in salsa and raised an eyebrow.

“So it is then? Just-, just you know, fake.”

Shane looked at him for a long moment, contemplating whether or not he was actually posing a serious question. “I mean, yeah. What else- you seriously think I can talk to dead people? I see the future? I look into the oogly-googly beyond and-”

“Well, fine, not you specifically!”

Shane chuckled. “It's fake, Ryan. I've seen it all. It's all fake.”

Ryan thought about this. He didn’t seem particularly enthused, which Shane would have expected. But Shane wasn’t going to lie to him. There wasn’t any reason to sugar coat it.

Ryan’s voice was quiet. “Last time I talked to you, you wanted to be a magician.”

“Last time we talked I was a dumbass. You can’t make money in LA as a magician. Well, you can. I just didn’t.”

Ryan stirred a chip, ate it, and chewed thoughtfully on the inside of his lip. “So that’s it then? You’re a con-man.”

Shane sat back. He didn’t invite Ryan to stay with him just to be judged. “Says the ‘true paranormal sightings’ author!”

“First of all, I write fiction based on fact, which is not conning."Ryan wrinkled his nose. "It’s just entertainment and research. You are actively lying to people.”

That hurt. A lot. He didn’t need this and on top of that, Shane honestly disagreed. Yes, he was lying to them constantly, but Shane didn’t hurt them! He was telling people what they needed to hear! He gave them closure when there was no other place to turn. And yeah, so the psychic part was rubbish, but it worked! It worked for his clients, and it gave him enough money to own a nice home and a car and gave him the option to eat out twice a week if he felt like it. “It’s better they come to me than to some tiny hovel where some witch will tell them they have to live on butter if they want to survive through the next year. Or worse, make them come back for a reading over and over until they're bankrupt just because they’re grieving and hardly in their right mind.”

Ryan paused at this. “People really do that?”

“Yeah! Happens all the time. And stuff like the stupid butter thing! Made local news. ‘Lady Eats Nothing But Butter to Avoid Death’. She didn’t die but she got super sick.”

Their food came and they took it mutely, neither looking at each other in the eye. Maybe things weren’t quite like how they used to be. Or maybe they were always this way when it came to this subject; a little tense, ever since Ryan told him he honest to god believed in ghosts, all the way back in sophomore year of university. Shane had reacted… less than ideally, he’d admit. It wasn’t his place to judge people, and he was far better at that now than he was at eighteen, but he just couldn't compute how otherwise perfectly sane people could believe in such ridiculous things. Unless they’d been tricked, of course. And he’d rather it be a nice trick, if it came to that, than an evil one.

Shane sighed. “Look, I don’t want to argue about this. You emailed me , remember? I’ll let you see what it's like to be a ‘real life psychic’ or whatever. But I’m not going to play pretend with you. You’re not a client and you can do whatever you want to make yourself happy, but this is just how the world works.”

The knot in Shane’s stomach wound tighter, and he couldn’t imagine eating. He wasn’t hungry anymore. There was something in the air that pulled at his skin, tugging him, making his entire body feel tight and fragile and horrible. His stomach felt sick all of the sudden, and he set his fork down with a rattle of metal on porcelain.

He must have eaten something weird.

“You alright, big guy?”

He hummed. His head buzzed. He took a sip of water. “Yes. Sorry. I started feeling sick for a second there. It’s a little better now.”

Ryan’s face relaxed from indignance into concern. “Shit, dude. Did you ea s.”

Ryan was not put out by the shortcut meal. Shane paid for them both quickly, before Ryan could object, and they took their to-go boxes into the car, setting them on the sun-warmed dashboard. The feeling didn’t go away, even as they eased onto the main road and took a left toward Shane’s house.

“I’ll drive,” Ryan offered. He kept side eyeing Shane. “You look really pale. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Shane didn’t answer, too busy trying to not throw up. This was the worst timing. “I’m fine! It’s fine. Just drive!”

“If we need to pull over-”

“Look at the road, Ryan!” Shane’s stomach lurched again. He rolled down the window frantically as the buzzing in his head became so loud he could hear nothing else.

Then it happened.

He remembered it later in bits and pieces, everything in slow motion. Ryan, mouth open, a hand stretched toward him, looking at Shane, and more importantly, not looking at the truck that barreled toward them. The tacos flew in the air, cheese, and lettuce like dust in a light beam. Shane saw it all in his side mirror, his head out the window. He wasn’t fast enough to pull back inside.

With shocking strength, the truck plowed into the front of the car. Something burned down Shane's legs and then he was flying. There was the sky, the ground, the sky.

The ground.

He woke up to the sound of an ambulance and the smell of vomit. Above him, sunlight trickled through layers of green leaves.

His brain felt like it was stuffed with sand. He struggled to move and found he could, but a hand pushed his shoulder into the ground. Ryan, above him. He was bleeding from a nick on the shoulder, but otherwise looked alright. He was shaking, eyes wide and red. This was gonna traumatize him forever, poor thing. Ryan was so sensitive when it came to danger. He didn’t mesh well with it...

“Can you hear me? Shane? Jeez, Shane, you’re bleeding-”

“S’okay.” Shane managed. He didn’t feel like anything was broken. He tried to wiggle his fingers and toes. They wiggled just fine. He blinked a few times. His whole body hurt. How did he get out of the car? Something in his brain wasn’t lining up, and he couldn’t quite figure out the missing piece that brought him onto the sidewalk in this idyllic, old neighborhood. The light was too bright, the colors too loud. The siren wailed. Shane tried to sit up again. It wasn’t that bad. He was okay. “Why’d you call an ambulance?”

Ryan made some reply in a high pitched shriek that Shane couldn’t understand. There was the siren again. People stood around him now, telling him to stay still, to not move. Why were they being so uptight? He didn’t even feel that awful. They didn’t need to make a whole dumb fuss. Shane remembered glimpses of the ambulance and the people poking and prodding him.

He was tired. He should sleep. Shane closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the sound was gone.

The world was tangibly silent, unlike anything Shane had ever experienced. It felt like noise had never existed in the first place, like he was in space, free-floating in the nothingness of eternity. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat. He sat up. Moving through the air felt like moving through thick, thick water. His arms trembled to keep him upright. The ambulance either moved so quietly and smoothly he didn’t notice it, or they’d stopped. Everything was slippery to the eye. He couldn’t see enough at once.

The light was a dull, fluorescent sort of blue, even though he remembered the sunlight from outside ought to shine inside. He should be frightened also, but Shane wasn’t. A dead calm lay over him like a thick blanket. Even if he wanted to, Shane didn’t think he could summon any kind of reaction. Moving was hard enough, and it was like whatever was pressing in on him, pressed inside him as well.

It took longer than it ought to have to notice the people lining the walls of the ambulance. A pregnant woman. A young boy. A very old man. There were several more unfamiliar people around the room, seemingly random paraphernalia, all staring at him stanchly. Something was very wrong about them, and Shane didn’t know what it was. He tried to open his mouth and break the god-awful silence, but when he spoke, there were no words. This didn’t surprise him, to be honest. The pressure only increased, begging him to lie flat once more.

After a long moment, Shane gave in and his arms buckled. He slammed into the pallet he’d been placed in. The pressure surged, pressing him deeper and deeper into the plastic. He could feel it stretching under him, his ribs creaking. It was going to push him right through the pallet, Shane realized. He screamed silently, terror rushing back to him as the pressure finally forced him into the pallet. He watched the plastic melt around his arms, his body, his neck, his face. He couldn’t see.

Their heads were on backward.

_______________________________________________________________

next

[angrylizardjacket]

’cos i don’t believe in ghosts {Joe Mazzello}

1. Salem

Chapter Summary: SUPERNATURAL CREATURES AU; In which Joe (a demon) agrees to go on a ghost hunt with you (an oblivious human) in Salem because it seems like a good idea, and Lucy (a witch) also comes along because it actually seems like a terrible idea, and knows Joe’s nature far to well to leave him with you unsupervised in this sort of situation.

A/N: Concepts at play; Lucy is a witch and works with sigils and can set up telepathic links between herself and others. Joe is a demon. Gwil, Rami, and Ben, are all also supernatural creatures, but we’ll find out more about them later. Possible Lucy/Reader as well in some chapters maybe. feedback would be appreciated!!

“Text presented like this is a telepathic conversation.”

--

After a long day of sight seeing and interviews, all you wanted to do was flop onto your nice, comfortable hotel bed and watch tacky ghost-hunting shows. Socks and shoes off, snuggled under the covers with a waterbottle on your bedside table and the overhead lights off, you plugged in your laptop and opened up Netflix, scrolling through your recommendations. There was a surprising wealth of conspiracy theory documentaries, ghost-hunting shows, and sensationalised pieces on proof of supernatural creatures all over the world. You, of course, held your own beliefs about this sort of thing, but even though you were travelling all over America for work, and had ample days off to explore the sights that so intrigued you, you knew you were too nervous to go on your own. 

Except that Salem was only half an hour away from your next tour stop, and you had a full day free while there, and yes the witch trials were awful, but part of you feels like it’s the perfect ‘first haunting’ location to visit. 

“What are you watching?” On a break between interviews, it’s Joe who spots you staring at your phone, completely invested in whatever’s going on on-screen, one headphone in.

“Oh, I-” quickly, you remove the headphone, a little flustered at being caught, “it’s just Buzzfeed thing I sometimes watch.” You’d been mentally preparing yourself for going to the Witch House the following day, and had tried to go the lighthearted route of video research; somehow the duo who ran Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural managed to ease your nerves more than any straight-laced documentary would ever manage.

Joe smiles a little at that, at your sudden fluster, and he raises his eyebrows at you, moving to your other side to pick from the plate of sandwiches that had been provided for them.

“Anything interesting?” He asks, his voice surprisingly casual, and you hum for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to tell him what exactly you were watching.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, quite the opposite in fact, as assistant to the PR Manager you’d managed to form quite a solid friendship with the cast on this leg of the Press Tour for Bohemian Rhapsody.

“Depends on what you find interesting,” you give a small smile back, and Joe raises his eyebrows, perhaps in challenge, perhaps in amusement, but you conceded after only a few moments, tilting your phone to show him where the two hosts of the show were trooping towards the Witch House. “They’re, like, semi-professional paranormal investigators.” Is how you chose to describe it. Joe couldn’t hear the audio, since it was still feeding through your earphones, but his lips quirked in a grin. After a moment, the video has a close up of the taller of the two hosts, Shane, and Joe makes an indecipherable noise in the back of his throat that edges on amused. 

“Salem?” He asks finally, and looks up from the phone to meet your gaze, “spooky.” He’s holding back a laugh, you just know it, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’s nearby, I thought I might check it out tomorrow.”

“Extra spooky, a little solo field trip?” He’s grinning like he’s genuinely intrigued, like he’s invested in the idea of your ghost hunt. You tip your head from side to side, deliberating for a moment, before nodding. 

“I mean, you’re always welcome to tag along,” you find yourself offering, and Joe’s eyebrows rise in both surprise and amusement, “I just never pictured it as your scene.”

“If you’re offering, I’d rather come along than have you possibly get haunted on your own.”

“You’ll protect me from the ghosts?” You half smirked, and Joe snickered.

“And anything else that might be lurking in the shadows,” it sounds like a joke, and you laugh it off easily, a little bit flustered that he’d agreed to come along so easily. 

By the time the cast had reset for the next interview, you were back by the PR Manager’s side, and Joe was sitting on the edge of a sofa, though his expression had gone strange, his smile a little tight.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a voice that was not his own filtering through in his mind.

"You shouldn’t play with her like that.”

“And you should know better than to be in my mind like this right before an interview.”

“What? Are you begging to be caught?”

“Are you? At least look at the camera. Anyways, she’s a fan of the supernatural.”

“She’s a fan of ghosts. You’re not a ghost, Joe, incase you forgot.”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of being corporeal- I’m hungry.”

“Focus. You can’t go ghost hunting with her, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“I thought Rami would be much more likely to lecture me.”

“Rami’s not telepathic.”

“Fair point. Listen, if you’re so worried, you can come along too. It’ll be a fun little field trip, team bonding!”

Joe looks over to Lucy, whose eyes have glazed over. She’s got her hands clasped in her lap, but he can see the subtle way her index finger was tracing patterns in the air repeatedly. Though the minute he catches sight of her, Lucy’s attention snaps to Joe, and she gives an eye roll.

“Ghost hunting and team bonding don’t exactly go hand in hand, but fine.”

Joe could almost hear her sigh, despite the smile she wore, and after a beat, she chimed in again.

“You know I hate Salem.”

--

You’d take any opportunity to hang out with the cast, you adored them all individually, so when Lucy made mention that she’d heard you and Joe were going to Salem to do some ghost hunting, you were eager to invite her along. In fact, you’re fully intending to extend the offer to the rest of the cast, but without prompting, Lucy makes mention that the others probably wouldn’t be into it.

“Ben’s afraid of ghosts,” Joe adds, slotting himself into the conversation, and the idea alone of Ben’s weakness being the concept of ghosts is funny enough that you don’t care if it’s real or not. 

But then it’s settled; you, Joe, and Lucy were going to head to Salem the following evening. You didn’t really have anything planned, you were just going to bring your camera and just go exploring, not really expecting to find anything. You’re also not quite sure if either of the cast members are going to show up, but you’d cleared the excursion with your boss, and now it was edging on twilight and you were sitting in the lobby of the hotel you were all staying at, nervously jangling the keys of one of the rental cars the studio had outfitted you all with.

But, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, both Joe and Lucy step out from the elevator, quietly arguing with each other, though that quickly comes to an end once they spot you. Both of them smile, and you feel the relief course through you, and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“You expecting to find anything?” Joe asks during the drive, leaning forward from the back middle seat where he’d been annexed at Lucy’s insistence, while she took the front passenger seat.

“Not sure,” you replied honestly, “I don’t think I’ll catch anything on film, but I’m hoping something spooky might happen.” Laughing a little, you keep your eyes on the road, though you hear Joe snort. “What about you guys? You fans of this supernatural sort of stuff, or just along for a joy ride and to make sure I don’t get mugged while on my lonesome?”

“Honestly, can’t say I’m not a fan of a bit of supernatural shenanigans, but I’ve never held much stock in ghosts,” Joe’s voice has a surprising air of authority on the subject, and Lucy actually has to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“Just because you’ve never seen a ghost,” she snips back at him, and Joe shakes his head.

“If ghosts were real I definitely would have seen one,” he says, voice lofty, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well maybe they just run whenever they see your face,” Lucy teases, and reaches back to pinch Joe’s cheek. You’re still laughing, but Joe’s gone quiet, contemplative. “Cheer up,” Lucy adds, “maybe tonight’s your night.” But there’s a strange quality to her voice that you can’t quite identify, and before you can even try, she reaches over to turn on the radio.

Salem is quiet as a grave. Bring the car to a stop a few blocks away from The Witch House, and it finally hits you where you are, and how strangely dark it’s already managed to get. Your grip is white knuckled on the steering wheel, and it’s all you can do to sit in silence for almost three full minutes.

“If you’re not up for this, we can go back,” Lucy’s voice is gentle, but Joe’s already unbuckling and practically pitching himself from the car.

“This place has such a weird energy, you know?” He announces, hands on his hips, looking down at the street towards the House itself.

“Are you- are you for real? Or are you taking the piss?” You call out the door that he’s left open, and he spins, grinning.

“No, I’m like, being for-real. You know in like, ah, fuck I can’t remember which movie it is, but like, the guy leans down and he touches the dirt,” Joe bends at the knee, kneeling on the soil, his fingertips brushing the ground, “and he’s like, ‘something terrible happened here’,” he grins, looking far chipper than he had any right to, given the circumstance, “you know, it’s like that.”

“Maybe we should go home,” your brow creases in concern, and you shift your grip on the steering wheel nervously. Lucy rests a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel her thumb gently brushing against your jacket, though it goes a considerable ways to calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” Joe calls back, and his smile is bright and yet reassuring, “I was kidding; I told you ghosts aren’t real.” He hums as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “and what are they gonna do anyways? Be mostly see-through and wiggle at us? Tell us to get out? Joke’s on them, I have selective hearing and I can’t hear ghosts.”

The two of them walk either side of you, Joe with his hands in his pockets as he observes the scenery with a smile, and Lucy with her arm tucked into yours, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the palm of your hand as the two of you chatted. Neither of them really looked at you, though you were feeling relatively calm and secure. The surprise comes when you finally realise how tense and on edge Lucy was. When you ask, she gives a tight smile, and says something about how she can’t stop thinking about the atrocities committed here.

“Fair.” You agree, but try not to think about it.

“You see anything?”

“You mean anything extra spooky? No; I told you, ghosts aren’t real.”

“Joe, I know they are; I genuinely think you scare them off. Witch-spirits especially are very aware of vibes-”

“Are you saying I have bad vibes?”

“I’m saying a demon like yourself isn’t one to be messed with, and everything less than corporeal sped off the minute we arrived.”

“Was that a compliment I heard?”

“It was just a statement.”

“You think I’m spooky.”

“I think you’re going a good ways to scaring off Y/N.”

“She’s fine, she’s a champ, and it’s not like she has anything to worry about with us around, even if there was something that wasn’t scared off by my ‘bad vibes’ or whatever you called it, we could take them.”

“I still hate this place.”

“You see any old friends floating around?”

“Shut up. No.”

The tense set of Lucy’s shoulders doesn’t get better, in fact, she glances over at Joe after the two of them had been quite for a very long time, and her jaw clenches. Her grip on you gets just a little bit tighter.

“Anyone specific we’re looking for?” Joe asks out loud, as if it’s a normal conversation to have, while the three of you stood at the gate of The Witch House.

“Tituba,” Lucy answers automatically, much to your surprise, and you extract yourself from her grip gently, stepping down the stairs and into the trench where the house once was.

“You’ve done your research,” you say, a little preoccupied as you move through the space, phone camera held out in front of you.

“What about Hecuba?” Joe asks, sitting himself by the edge of the fence, while Lucy perched herself on the railing itself, the two of them sitting sentinel, like guard dogs against anything that might try it’s luck against your sweet, human soul.

“Hecuba was just a person, I think you’re thinking of Hecate;” Lucy corrects, and Joe nods, thoughtful. However, a moment passes where Lucy turns as white as a sheet, not that anyone else notices, at the idea of Hecate herself appearing in this glorified grave yard. But then again, the Goddess of Witchcraft did both adore and abhor this little town, she had no time for tourists, this Lucy knew. Even tourists with a spicy companion such as a demon.

For a few moments, they just watch you, sitting as still as possible to not interfere with your work, watching how fascinated you get with each little sound and movement. There’s nothing there, not really, but your nervous faith is so enthralling.

“You see anything?” Joe calls, and you tell him you haven’t. He repeats the question to Lucy and is met with a hum of hesitation; when he looks at her with his true sight, he sees her tracing sigils into the air, quiet, disciplined movements. To the natural eye, the sigils are invisible, but when he looks at her like this, he can see them glowing bright in precise shapes and symbols, beautiful in their own way. She’s watching you intently, and when Joe follows her gaze, he sees a translucent dome glowing around you, somehow managing to radiate ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes. Even Joe feels his skin itch just being in close proximity to it.

“No.” Lucy answers, though her hesitation had given you cause for concern, she’s quick to cover, “but it’s pitch black out here, I can’t exactly see anything.” And you have to agree.

It’s been, well, interesting to say the least. You drive back, and thank god Lucy seems to get more relaxed with each mile that you put between yourselves and that town.

“Do you plan on doing this sort of thing again?” Lucy asks as the three of you ride the elevator from the parking garage to the lobby. You hesitate for a moment.

“I mean, yeah, if I get the opportunity,” you say, a little tentatively, “you guys don’t have to come along, I can-”

“Nah, this was fun,” Joe grins, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence, your attempt to unburden them of your presence, your little side project, “now I wanna see a ghost by the time the tour’s up.” 

Lucy raises her eyebrows at him. Joe shrugs helplessly, still smiling. 

And you, you sweet, oblivious human, don’t know why but you feel safer knowing they’re coming along with you on your supernatural side quest.