#immortal dorks

[rebelatheartblog]

Ladies and gents... JAM!!😍

credit: @immortal_amc on Instagram

[rebelsandtherest]

Ghost Story

Words: 6,652

Summary: During a vacation to New England, a freak accident leaves Alfred in a tricky situation. Luckily, Matthew is there to help bail him out. Today's Halloween nightmare is tomorrow's urban legend, but sometimes, the truth behind the myth is just two brothers doing their best. A very belated Halloween oneshot.

TW: Death, dead bodies, mention of drunk driving and related accidents, general macabre themes—but it's more the spooky creepy variety than the dark and existential kind

Halloween? In December? It's more likely than you think! I'd meant to finish this in time for Halloween but it just wasn't meant to be. A VERY belated Happy Halloween, everyone!

I know literally nothing about how a morgue/medical examiner's office works. Whatever inaccuracies exist are just pure, indulgent campiness.

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Friday October 30, 1990

Burlington, Vermont

It was a cool and damp Friday evening, as evenings tended to be this time of year. The moon was a middling sliver of light behind a blanket of clouds, which was anticlimactic all things considered.

The cool and the damp had leached indoors, and after a long and tiring workweek, Linda was entirely ready to wash up, hang up her coat, and return home where a pile of green and yellow fleece was waiting for a fairy godmother to turn it into a 10-year-old-sized t-rex costume. She'd promised her son it would be ready, claws, teeth, zipper, and all, in time to go trick-or-treating with his father, but the clock was ticking alarmingly close to midnight.

Linda's coat sleeves were down to her elbows when the phone rang. She sighed and glanced at the clock with equal parts annoyance and resignation before flipping her coat back on and falling into her creaky desk chair with deliberate aggravation.

"What," she griped into the receiver, wrestling with the tangled cord. The voice on the other end told her what, and she rubbed a hand over her face, worried that there would be no fairy godmother for costumes this Halloween..

"Aw, jeez," she sighed into the phone, sounding sad despite herself. She leaned away from the desk to look to where her assistant was packing up to leave. "Don't go anywhere yet, Jen," she said. "Got one coming in from Windsor."

"Oh?" Jen, who'd already done up her lipstick and changed into heels, the poor thing, was clearly trying to be nonchalant through her disappointment. Linda couldn't blame her. It was 8:45 on a Friday night, for Christ's sake, the girl should be out with her friends. Still, Linda hadn't made her take the job. If she was going to stick around, she might as well learn.

"Yeah," she sighed, pausing to let her caller finish his report before hanging up. "They're bound to be here in fifteen, twenty minutes. Go ahead and start filling out the paperwork so we can make this quick."

"Paperwork?" to her credit, Jen was swapping out her heels for clogs once more without complaint. "Did they give you the details?"

"No," Linda said sadly, standing from the desk and going immediately to clear off the exam table. "It's a John Doe." Jen frowned.

"Oh."

"You tag one of them before?"

"No."

"Well, it's depressingly uncomplicated. Grab a new folder and I'll show you how to start. We'll fill out the rest when he gets here."

Pedestrian deaths were, unfortunately, a common enough occurrence that Linda probably could've written the police report herself. Vermont drivers were confident even in the pitch black of an October night, sometimes too confident when rounding blind bends in the backroads. The driver in this particular incident was currently in Windsor county jail after blowing a 0.14 on the scene. But the poor soul who'd got caught on the passenger side headlight was here in Burlington, in a morgue on a slab looking considerably worse for wear.

"His face isn't in too bad of shape… I'm sure they'll want to put out a public notice to see if he's got family," Linda sighed, standing by as moral as well as clerical support as Jen recorded what little details were available. The body was blue-lipped and mottled with bruises, some pre-mortem but most of them wine-red stains of pooling blood. He was tall, handsome, and depressingly young. He also had a graphically broken arm and a skull cracked in two places. bloodying the back of his blond hair.

"Did he really have no ID?" Jen asked, looking up from the typewriter. "It's strange for someone to be out on the roads so late without a wallet or keys or something."

"Maybe he lived in the area," Linda shrugged. "I mean, I hope he's got someone looking for him." She glanced at the body, which they'd only just cut out of its clothes. "No wedding ring, though. Parents, maybe? Looks a bit old to be in school." She sighed. "Any which way, I'm glad I'm not the one who has to make that phone call."

"Yeah," Jen agreed quietly, click-clacking on the keyboard slowing to a stop. She reviewed the page before pulling it free of the machine. "I guess this is it," she handed the report to Linda for review, who trusted her assistant enough to give it only the briefest of skims.

"We'll have to call in tomorrow and ask if there's another photographer available while Jordan is out. But this is good for now. Come on, let's get him on ice and clean up."

"I can do it," Jen said confidently. "I know you wanted to be home tonight, go on ahead and go, I can finish up here."

"You sure?" Linda asked, hesitant to take the young assistant up on her offer, but preoccupied in equal measure by the tissue paper pattern that had been ingrained into her memory since her son told her he wanted to be a dinosaur.

"Yeah," Jen gave her a smile, "don't worry about it, I got it."

Jen cursed quietly, digging around in the top drawer for the White-Out. She'd grown adept at typing during her undergraduate degree, earning higher marks than her peers. Unfortunately, one summer using her boyfriend's desktop computer had ruined her for manual typing, and though she'd only had a "backspace" key for four months, she had no idea how she'd ever done without.

"If you'd gotten better grades in English, maybe this wouldn't be a problem," she grumbled to herself, fingers jittering in frustration. The sooner she finished up her notes, the sooner she could leave. "You know how to type, stupid hands, just do it." It was perhaps a bad habit, talking to yourself, but she worked in a morgue, and tonight she worked in a morgue alone. It wasn't as if her office-mates minded.

"Fuck," she hissed when the "E" key stuck for the umpteenth time. She pried it back to rights and resumed typing. : 5 8. R— the "E" key stuck again. "Oh, for the love of—

BANG

Jen jerked so hard she'd have to use White-Out for half the last line. She didn't notice, head jerking automatically to look at the locked door of the freezer room.

BANG

She jerked again, the creaky office chair wheeled halfway across the room from the force of her standing up.

BANG

Jen reached a shaking hand out toward the coffee mug full of pens and pencils, fishing around until she found the letter opener. The blade was only an inch and a half long, but she wielded it like a dagger in front of her, staring at the freezer room door.

BA—

She jumped again, and rushed to the door, keys in hand. Missing the lock several times, she had to hold her right hand still with her left to fit the key into the lock. Turn, turn, and the bolt unlocked. She pressed the handle down and pulled. Reached around the doorframe with her right hand, hit the lights.

She met eyes with the corpse heaving for breath on the floor, and screamed.

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

It was 1 am on October 31, and Matthew Williams was still sleeping off the inadvisable amount of cinnamon whiskey and chocolate he'd consumed at the office Halloween party the night before. When his phone began to ring, he thought it must've been his hangover headache trying to wake him up, so he dug his head deeper into his flannel-clad pillows and pulled the duvet up over his head.

When the phone rang a second time, he thought it was a phone in his dream, but it was the prime minister's job to answer it. The third time, he realized it was real, and that it was his, and that it might actually be something important. Unwilling to sacrifice warmth for the sake of whoever was on the other line, he shuffled into the kitchen with his duvet as a cloak, eyes opened only by a sliver with which to see. He was wincing when he got to the phone, not sure if the sound hurt because he was hungover or because he was tired. It was probably both. With effort, he yanked the phone free of the receiver, tucking his arm back under his duvet as he smushed it to his face.

"This had better be good," he groused, voice deep and groggy.

"Mattie,"

Matt opened his eyes fully. It was just a name, his name, spoken by a voice who'd usually receive an earful of colorful language for calling at this time of night. But tonight, there was a strange timbre in those two syllables that rang too many alarm bells to ignore.

"Alfred?" He asked, still groggy but now trying to rouse himself.

"Mattie, I need help," and Alfred Jones could utter no scarier words than those. "Thank god you answered, you didn't pick up and I thought–I mean, I only just remembered your phone number, I thought maybe I'd—I'm sorry to call you, I didn't know who else–I'm stuck in here, there's no way I can get out on foot like this, she's going to wake up sooner or later and I'm going to be even more in the shit—"

"Al, slow down,slow down," Matt's head felt like it was at sea, so he pinched the bridge of his nose to anchor himself. "What happened? Who's going to wake up? Are you hurt?"

"I'm in the morgue," Alfred told him. "I broke out of the freezer and scared this woman so badly she fainted."

"The morgue? Al what the fuck did you–"

"I got hit, I think? Didn't see him–look, we can talk when my brain is back online, I was—report said my skull's been bashed in, I'm not doing so hot at the whole thinking thing—god why does this always have to be so fucking cold."

Matthew was fully awake now. Head throbbing, mouth dry, entire body engulfed by a duvet, he looked around for his car keys.

"Where are you?" He asked, testing the length of the phone cord while he rummaged around his countertops.

"The city name is long, my eyes are patchy–starts with a B. Vermont."

"Burlington?" Matt found the keys buried under some potholders.

"Yes, that one. Morgue. Medical examiner's office I think."

"Okay. How long have you been back?"

"I don't know. I didn't–wasn't fully back

Until I turned and saw this chick screaming in the doorway."

"You're not still in the freezer, are you?"

"No, but it's cold as fuck in here. Or in my brain. Borrowed lab coat but they make them cheap and thin now."

"I'm going to be there in a few hours. Hang in there, okay?"

"Hanging sucks, I don't want–oh wait you meant. Yeah. Okay. I'll be here."

Matt hung up the phone and went back to his room, groaning as his headache intensified. Not changing out of his fleece pajamas, he pulled on jeans and a hoodie and shoved his feet into boots, tossing back three advil and a pint of water before he retrieved his keys.

"Honestly," he complained aloud, no real heat in his voice, "couldn't have picked a better time to die, could you?"

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

It was beginning to mist by the time Matt's wheezing Pontiac rolled to a stop outside of the Medical Examiner's office. The night was slowly turning into morning, but the human world would be slumbering for a while yet. Matt turned off his headlights but left the engine running, heat on full blast. Pulling up his hood and tucking some clothes under his arm, he followed the sidewalk up to the front door.

"Alfred?" He whispered into the night, glancing this way and that. As far as he could tell, he was well and truly alone, but this was a morgue, after all. Matt had seen his fair share of ghosts in his life and deaths. He had no doubts this place was home to a handful of unlucky souls, and normally he would've shown more respect than to go right up to the door and wiggle the handle, press his face against the window with hands cupped and leave fog on the glass. However, he was only here to fetch one particular ghost. When the back of his neck burned with the stare of something unseen, he resisted the urge to look over his shoulder and instead ducked down, quietly sneaking around the building.

Past the dumpsters and AC units, he found the back door had already been opened, a clipboard wedged between the door and its frame. Slowly, he pulled it open, not sure what to expect on the other side. The building was dark save for a few safety lamps and the red flicker of a smoke detector.

"Alfred?" He called, and let the slight echo hang in the air.

"Mattie?" came the response several seconds later. Matt followed it into a nearby office, where he found his brother: muddy, shivering, nude but for a lab coat and what looked like a white bedsheet, sitting curled up knees-to-chest right on top of the medical examiner's desk.

"Al, holy shit, are you okay?" Matt rushed forward immediately.

"The floors are cold," Alfred explained, aware of his bizarre perch. He let Matt come to him rather than attempt to move himself. "This building is cold," he added, bringing his legs over the side of the desk, shivering so violently it took a few tries to get his left leg out from under him. "I know I'm a wimp, I know your place is worse, but god I'm just cold, coming back didn't used to be this cold, I swear to Christ."

"You are a wimp," Matt said, shaking out a bulky flannel. "But not today. Come on, this is way warmer, give me the coat." Alfred struggled to do so, so Matt helped him. Absurdly, he was struck with a childhood memory of Alfred doing the same thing for him, when he was small. Alfred shucked the thin lab coat, but the bedsheet remained wrapped around his hips.

"I don't suppose you brought pants, did you?" he asked, nodding at the bundle of clothes.

"I did, actually," Matt looked his brother up and down. "Do you need help putting them on?" When Alfred did not immediately respond with indignance, Matt realized how nasty a return he must've had. Alfred heaved a sigh.

"My brain is still mush, let's just do it before I remember how to feel embarrassed." Normally one to tease Alfred for his puritanical sense of modesty, Matt only unfurled the clothes.

"Okay," he said, glancing at Alfred's bluing toes. "Socks first, though."

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

Matt ended up carrying Alfred piggyback to the car so as not to get his socks wet. He'd tried to lighten the mood by teasing Alfred about his weight, which was familiar and comfortable bickering territory between them. Alfred, to his credit, tried to bicker back, but ended up blacking out in the crucial few seconds where he'd usually be telling Matt that he was a vain bitch.

"Oh hey, there you are," Matt said, and Alfred looked over at his brother, disoriented for a moment to realize he was buckled into the passenger side of Matt's hatchback and they were moving. The outside world was a blur, and not only because of the rain, which was coming down heavier than before. His face scrunched and he rubbed his eyes, which were sore. Everything was sore.

"I want my glasses," he whined, knowing it would do no good.

"Sorry, bud," Matt said, looking over in sympathy but unable to help. "I've got some spares at my place, it's not the same prescription, but–"

"Your place? Alfred looked up, momentarily distracted from his pain. "We're going north?"

"Um, yeah," Matt said, glancing quickly between Alfred and the road, newfound concern putting a wrinkle in between his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't have my passport."

"Alfred, you're with me. It'll be fine," Matt assured. Alfred stared at him for several long heartbeats, blinking as though to clear the blurry world around him, before his brain found the right synapses.

"Oh, right," he said, sinking down in his chair and enjoying the brush of the fleece against his neck as he let the lined flannel collar bunch around his chin. "Right, I forgot."

Matt chuckled, glancing over at him. "Forgot? You were the one who kept pestering me to carry those fancy-ass ID cards around with me in the first place." Matt's laugh faded, and, not hearing Alfred laugh or make some other comment, glanced at his brother. "Al, are you–ah."

Alfred, who'd forgotten that he and his brother were not human, had fallen asleep.

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

When Alfred next awoke, his whole body had woken up, too. They were only just over the border, Matt told him, and had crossed without issue. The Canadian began describing the rest of their route up through Ontario to his house outside of Ottawa, but Alfred was not listening.

His insides felt as though they were on fire, or frozen, or melted, or shot full of lead. He struggled to arrange himself in a position that was not excruciating. Eventually, he settled for sitting in his chair sideways, bent over his knees with one foot underneath him. Unfortunately, his regenerating guts were also stealing the heat he'd been enjoying in his hands and feet, and just as the cramps seemed to have passed, he started shivering again. He stayed huddled in his bent position, no longer out of pain, but against the cold.

It had stopped raining, so the cab was quiet save for the hum of the engine and tires. Alfred's shivering must've caused some amount of disturbance, however, because Mat reached over to him.

"Hey," he gave his brother's arm a gentle squeeze. "You okay?"

"Hungry," Alfred said quietly, curled in on himself. Matt did a double take and frowned at him.

"Are you ready for food yet? I brought a thermos of bread broth if you want some, it should still be warm."

"Bread broth," Alfred huffed out in surprise. "Jesus, Mattie, did I wake up in the Hoover administration? I want real food."

"Alfred, you were dead a few hours ago, you know food is a bad idea."

"I'm hungry."

"Al, you're not ready for–"

"The first vacation I've had in ten months on my property in my states, one of my stupid-ass, careless fucking idiot citizens beamed me in my own fucking driveway and landed me in a goddamn freezer, and now I'm going to be spending my remaining days off regrowing my guts and remembering how to count backwards from 100, I want a goddamn burger, okay?!" The outburst left Alfred winded, but his face remained pink and angry, glaring out at the out-of-focus road.

Matt chewed on the inside of his lip. He knew better. He knew that real food this soon was a doomed idea. He also knew that Alfred's habit of self-soothing with food was not something he ought to indulge. But Alfred hadn't done a very good job of hiding it when he wiped away his tears of frustration, and Matt knew the feeling acutely well.

"How about a breakfast sandwich?" He suggested. "There's a Timmies coming up soon, does that sound good?" Alfred nodded, and then, as if realizing he'd not spoken out loud, said,

"Yeah, that's great."

"Okay. I was wanting some coffee anyway." Matt flipped his blinker on to move into the right lane.

"Thanks, Mattie," Alfred muttered softly. Matt sighed softly.

"Let's just get you home, eh?"

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

In a few days, Alfred would be willing to admit that, in retrospect, the Timmies had been a bad idea. Matt had warned him, and had even talked him out of adding cheese to his order, but even so, Alfred had ordered two of them. They'd tasted divine and he'd felt immediately better after eating. However, even while he tried to drift off into a food-fueled coma, it didn't take very long for him to regret his choices.

Alfred was sitting up straight now, and was warm from head to toes, so Matt could finally turn down the heat (he'd stripped down to his t-shirt). He was coherent and talkative and, despite the lack of glasses, was at least able to figure out more or less where they were as they approached Ottawa.

Unfortunately, coming back from the grave—or freezer, in this instance—always came in fits and starts. It was still dark out, and in the light of the headlights, the trees and grass were like zoetrope figures, slip-sliding this way and that across Alfred's vision in a way that made the world feel tilted.

"Matt," Alfred said, staring at the dashboard in an attempt to ground himself. It wasn't working. "Matt, can you pull over?"

"Huh?"

"Pull over."

"Is something wrong?"

"Now."

Matt did, cursing as cars whizzed past him and honked as he threw on his hazard lights. They'd not yet come to a complete stop on the gravel shoulder before Alfred undid his seatbelt, opened the door, and threw up his hard-bargained breakfast into the grass. In the car, Matt sighed and rubbed his eyes. Undoing his own seatbelt, he reached into the backseat and dug around for a fresh bottle of water. Once Alfred was done retching and coughing, Matt tapped his shoulder with the bottle.

"Careful," he said, instead of the tempting 'I told you so' that rang in his mind. "Don't want you to start choking all over again." Al just groaned and took the water, sitting slumped halfway out of the car staring at nothing and trying not to gag.

"How much farther to your place?" Alfred asked, sounding desperate and exhausted.

"Not far. Little less than an hour." Alfred groaned pitifully, shoulders slumped.

"I know," Matt said, scratching his brow and thinking of his warm bed. "Almost there. You okay?"

"I fucking hate dying," Alfred said, spitting and rising his mouth out with more water. "But I think I hate coming back even more."

"I know," Matt said, not knowing what else to say. It had been a long, long night. "I'm sorry, Al."

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

A little less than an hour later, they were safely back at Matt's house. Alfred carefully tread across the path to the door, trying not to muddy his borrowed socks. By the time Matt followed him inside, Alfred was lying on the couch with an arm thrown over his eyes to stop the world from spinning. They showered and changed—Alfred showered again when he decided he still smelled like the inside of a morgue freezer. Matt dug out a small pharmacy of drugs for Alfred to take, and then made breakfast: waffles for Matt and a plain piece of white bread with a glass of water for Alfred.

Just as the sun was coming up, the brothers turned in for bed. Like they had when they were small, they bunked together. However, in a reversal of their childhood custom, it was Alfred who was snuggling into Matt's side for warmth. Matt, still awake and yawning, combed his fingers through Alfred's clean hair, which sent the American drifting toward sleep as fast as a rocket. Matt yawned again and looked down at Alfred's smushed, drooling face. He paused in his combing for a moment to appreciate his brother like this: alive, warm, close. He resumed moving his fingers and glanced at his clock—and beside it, the calendar.

"Oh, by the way, Al," Matt whispered.

"Mmnh?" Alfred grunted, only barely lucid.

"Happy Halloween," Matt told him. Alfred snorted softly into the blanket that cushioned his face against Matt's side.

"Should I go as a zombie this year?" he slurred. It was Matt's turn to snort, and for a moment both brothers shook with tired, contained laughter.

"I'm going as a bear," Matt decided through a yawn, hand slowing, eyelids heavy. "So I can sleep through the whole thing."

"Mmmm," Alfred groaned, falling alongside his brother towards a much needed rest. "Sounds good."

Matt's hand slipped from Alfred's hair and landed near his shoulder, where it would stay until they woke up in November.

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

Tuesday October 31, 2000

Burlington, Vermont

It was a cool and damp Tuesday afternoon, as afternoons tended to be this time of year. Alfred Jones had camped out at the diner booth for nearly an hour, and had for the past half hour or so been occupying himself with spinning his Nokia on the table like a top. He watched it spin and clatter to the table, before picking it up and trying to make it spin longer. Occasionally, he would look out into the parking lot, craning his neck this way and that.

"Did you want a refill, sir?" Asked a feminine voice, which distracted him from the cars outside. Alfred turned to the waitress, who was wearing striped stockings under her apron and a glittery witch's hat over a stern and uncompromising face. She was also holding a full pot of over-brewed coffee in one hand.

"Oooh, witch's brew, huh?" Alfred smiled up at her. Longsuffering expression unchanged, she blinked at him. His smile wobbled and he winced.

"Sorry, that was. Um, yeah, if you could just leave the pot, actually?" The waitress glanced at the clock—it was nearly four.

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, sliding the pot onto his table. As he was pouring himself a cup, the bell on the door announced a new arrival, who paused to wipe his feet at the door.

"Ayyy, there he is!" Alfred shouted across the diner, not caring if others stared. The newcomer rolled his eyes and took off his scarf and jacket. "Long time no see!" Alfred smiled as he approached.

"It's been ten months, Alfred."

"Is a man not allowed to miss his brother after nearly a year of radio silence?" Alfred asked, feigning magnanimity. He stood and hugged Matt hard before the Canadian could protest. Matt smiled and hugged back just as hard despite himself. Once they withdrew, Matt threw his things into the bench opposite his brother and slid into the booth.

"Radio silence," He scoffed,."You're the one who's been holed away at NASA this whole time, not me—weren't you literally in space last week?"

"Details, shmetails," Alfred waved him off, slurping at his coffee.

"Is that decaf?" Matt asked. Alfred regarded the mug.

"No, why?"

"It's an hour till sunset."

"So?" Alfred took another sip. Matt only tilted his head and gave his brother a quizzical look. Uncomfortable with such scrutiny, Alfred leaned back in his seat. "So, what's up with you?"

"Oh you know, same old hat."

"Aw come on, don't give me that. The Kiwi said you got your ass handed to you in some kind of drunken rugby match against uncle Alisdair?"

"Oh god," Matt winced, "she told you about that?"

"Not nearly enough. Spill."

The brothers launched into conversation as though they'd seen each other yesterday. The waiter came back around and seemed to appreciate Matthew's mild manners better than those of his brother, which gave the two something to argue about while she fetched them both a slice of apple pie. It was beginning to grow dark outside, and in between the ever-present rainclouds, shades of orange and pink peaked through to a hidden sunset.

"Thanks for coming down," Alfred said, drawing Matt's attention from the sky. "I know it's odd timing. I'm flying back down to Maryland on Thursday, Houston on Saturday, but I wanted to say hi before I left town."

"It's no problem," Matt demurred, holding back a comment about how Alfred ought to take a vacation. "NASA must have you busy to make you miss Halloween, you're not even dressed up."

"Ugh, I know," Alfred complained, pausing when the waiter arrived with their pie. "I thought about wearing part of a space suit or something, but apparently that's 'abuse of government property,'" he rolled his eyes, making dramatic air quotes with his fingers. "And 'a waste of taxpayer dollars.'" He took a bite of his pie. Still chewing, he added, "so I just went with this," he flicked the collar of his windbreaker, which Matt only just realized had an Apollo mission patch on the left breast. Behind them, the door bell rang and a gaggle of high schoolers piled into the diner, trying to decide whose parents' house was best suited to host a Blair Witch Project watch party.

"I mean," Matt said, fighting a smirk, "it's a better costume than the last time we did Halloween in Vermont." Alfred squinted at him for several seconds before realization dawned.

"Oh, shit, I'd nearly forgotten about that!" Alfred laughed, covering his mouth politely since he was unable to keep from smiling around a mouthful of pastry. "Oh, man, that was a bad vacation." Matt laughed, cleaning his plate of whipped cream before leaning back and propping his feet up beneath the table.

"Did you ever find out what happened to that assistant you scared half to death?"

"No," Alfred sounded disappointed, "I mean, I don't even remember what she looked like. I hope she wasn't too shaken up about it, I feel bad."

"I mean, I don't know, maybe the bump on the head made her forget about the whole thing."

"Maybe," Alfred continued eating, and did a double take at Matt's clean plate. "Did you finish your pie before me?"

"I had a light lunch."

"Do you want more?"

"God, no, I'm way too full."

"The owner's husband is Canadian, you know, makes a mean fried dough." Alfred told him, "they have some fresh-made beavertails up at the counter. Got little pumpkin and witch hat sprinkles."

"Wait, really?" Matt whipped his head around to look up at the counter. After a moment of indecision, he stood and scurried to the pastry display. The ensuing lack of conversation allowed Alfred to focus on his pie. It also allowed him to eavesdrop on the noisy teenagers who'd piled into the large corner booth at Alfred's back.

"Oh come on, it can't be that scary," a boy was saying.

"Have you seen it?" replied another male voice. "I don't know, man, I like that kind of shit, but it made me pretty jumpy, no joke."

"I didn't even realize how much it freaked me out until nighttime," said a fememine voice. "I got so paranoid, it really does get to you! I think you'll like it."

"I just don't get why fiction is supposed to be so scary," the first voice said. "There's plenty of scary stuff in real life! Like, make a movie about real horror stuff, if you really want to scare people."

"Oh, what, you're going to make a nature documentary about vampires in their natural habitat?" The group laughed at that. "Get real, Jamie."

"No but seriously!" Jamie insisted. "You don't even have to go that far. There's creepy stories everywhere—have any of you guys heard about the John Doe that disappeared from the morgue back when we were in elementary school?"

Alfred choked on his pie. Half the teeangers began to groan.

"Oh, come on, not this again."

"I knew it! I knew it would come back around to this."

"Jamie, it's just an urban legend."

"No! That's where my mom worked, there are pictures, it was like a whole–"

"A whole cover-up, we know,"

"Wait wait wait, I don't know," cut in a new voice, "What happened?"

"Please don't encourage him,"

"Okay so basically," Jamie began,

"Here we go."

"There was this hit and run accident down in Windsor county, and—"

"This thing is as big as my head," Matt announced, carrying over a truly massive beavertail. "You and your portion sizes. You're going to have to help me eat… this… thing…" Matt trailed off as he sat, because Alfred was shushing him with a finger over his lips and waving at him to stop talking. Matt frowned at him, glancing around.

"What?" He mouthed. Alfred, who was smiling and trying not to laugh, pointed over his shoulder at the booth behind him.

"–but in the middle of the night he just… disappeared. Literally walked out the door and was never seen again."

"What, were there like footprints or something?"

Matt took a large bite of his pastry and gave his brother another "what the hell" shrug. Alfred tapped his finger to his lips again and gestured for Matt to wait and listen.

"No footprints, but the freezer door was kicked open," Jamie said, pausing for dramatic effect, "from the inside."

"Oh come on, you can't just kick open a freezer door," complained a friend.

"No, I'm serious, look, there are pictures!"

"Oh my god, of course you would carry pictures around in your backpack."

"Only for Halloween," Jamie said, rifling through notebooks.

"So wait, when was this?" asked someone else.

"Almost exactly ten years ago," Jamie answered, and in the neighboring booth, Matt began to frown. "Midnight on October 30th—or Halloween morning."

"Ooh, witching hour," teased someone.

"Give me those. What the hell?"

"Right?"

"Come on, these have to be faked, right?"

"No one could kick that door open with just their feet," the most skeptical of the bunch said, "they'd break their ankles for sure."

"Yeah, if they were human," Jamie said.

"Oh my goddd," groaned the skeptic.

"So what, a whole ass dead body just. Disappeared?"

At last, Matt's eyes widened, and he fixed Alfred with a look.

"Are they talking about…?" he mouthed. Alfred began to nod his head rapidly, a maniacal smile on his face.

"Oh my god," Matt laughed, trying to muffle his laughter.

"So wait, how do you know it was at midnight?" Asked the girl who was unfamiliar with the story.

"My mom's assistant, Jennifer, she was staying late that night to finish the paperwork on this John Doe, she heard a big BANG, BANG, BANG, from where they keep the bodies," Jamie mimed, "she walked in to see what it was, and there was the dead body out of the freezer, standing up on its own two legs, staring at her."

"Oh jesus, so they stuck him in there when he was still alive?!"

"No, that's the thing, like I said, my mom was the medical examiner back then, they had to take photos whenever they got new bodies in, look at this!"

"Oh, fuck I didn't need to see that," someone complained, gagging.

"Wait is this a real photo?"

"Yeah."

"Oh my god that's so creepy."

"Aww, that poor man!"

"Damn, he was hot."

"Brittney, it's literally a dead body."

"Yeah but he was hot."

Alfred was biting his index finger, trying not to laugh. Matt rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, he'd be hotter if his brains were inside his skull."

"Ugh that's just… so gross—are you even allowed to have this stuff?"

"I mean, not really, but I made scans of it when I found it a few years ago. The police have the original file, but mom has a copy too."

"Wait, so the police investigated?"

"Yeah, but nothing really ever came of it. It never made it to the media, beyond a milk carton "have you seen me" kind of thing, they had a sketch artist do a portrait." Paper rustled as Jamie produced the sketch.

"Oh come on, that looks nothing like him."

"Eh, I see it."

"He's not nearly hot enough."

"Brittney."

"So did the police ever find anything?"

"That's where it gets really weird," Jamie said, dropping his voice to a loud whisper, "they started going through all the evidence—whoever this guy was he left the office a mess. They found hair and even blood, but before they could start testing any of it some people from the FBI showed up and shut it all down."

"Wait what?"

"Yeah, so no one even knows what all the police found, if they found anything. It never even made the evening news."

"Nuh uh," one of the teens snatched paper out of Jamie's hand. "This can't be legit. Someone would know something."

"I mean, my mom knows about it. Poor Jennifer was traumatized–she left mortuary school right afterwards."

"Ugh, I'm still mad he died, he's so cute."

"A reanimated corpse is covered up by the FBI, and you're worried about how cute the zombie is?"

"I have an idea," Alfred said softly, so only Matt would hear.

"What?"

"Just be ready to leave in a second. Not in a hurry." Alfred grabbed his phone and stretched out his right arm to rest on the top of the bench, tapping the Nokia idly on the wood.

"But if he wasn't actually dead, why would the FBI need to get involved?"

"He could be like, an informant or something?"

"He can't not be dead, you saw the photos! You can't fake those kinds of injuries."

"Yeah, unless you work for the F B fucking I."

Alfred dropped his phone over the booth, causing a few students to lean out of the way.

"Ah, shit, I'm so sorry," He said, bringing his knees up to the bench so he could lean over into the teenager's booth. "New phone, kinda slippery," he joked, making sure they could've gotten a good view of his face. The kid who Alfred assumed was Jamie had wide eyes and a suddenly-pale complexion. "Thanks so much, I'm so sorry," Alfred said to the girl who handed him his phone. He could see the moment when she recognized him, because her eyes went wide and darted immediately back to the photos spread out amidst their sodas and snacks. He followed her gaze and winced, which was not part of the act. He'd never seen the images before, and a part of him wished they didn't exist, but then again, this was going to be fun.

"Yeesh," he commented, eyes lingering on the photos. "I always hated those. Camera adds ten pounds, and all that. Anyway," he grinned at the group, "Happy Halloween!" He waved his phone at them and stood completely from the booth. Some of the students craned their necks and leaned out of the booth to see him better.

"Ready to go?" Alfred asked Matt, who to his credit, had somehow repressed his smile enough so that only the dimple in his left cheek gave him away.

"Yup," the Canadian said, holding his partially eaten beavertail in one hand and his coat in the other.

"Awesome," he spoke loudly enough to be overheard. "Just enough time to swing back by the house and change into costume."

"Oh?" Matt was willing to play along. "What are you dressing up as?"

"A ghost!" Alfred answered.

"Oh what, are you not already in costume?" Matt improvised, and Alfred burst out laughing. They left the diner with conspiratorial smiles, taking a moment in the parking lot to spy the group of shocked teenagers through the window.

"You're not going to be able to show your face here for a few years, at least," Matt commented.

"Worth it!"

"Alright, come on, Casper. I'll buy you a drink for your funeral." Alfred laughed as they climbed into Matt's aging Pontiac.

"Here, hold this," Matt said, handing Alfred his beavertail. Alfred took a large bite out of it, smearing chocolate across his mouth. When Matt looked over to check for cars, he caught Alfred's shit-eating grin as he watched the teenagers argue from a distance.

"Never even made the evening news," Matt tutted, ducking his head to follow Alfred's gaze. "It's a damn shame."

Alfred laughed, face and smile stained with chocolate and an errant pumpkin sprinkle. "I fucking love halloween!"

[if-you-like-pina-colada-s]

Haha just wondering. Just curious. Being immortal and all um. What would happen to the nations if they were... say... "killed" by a ghost or something?? Would they get "killed" and then wake up back in their bed like it was nothing but a horrible nightmare?? Would the ghost give em a free pass and let them be on their merry way like "aw shit its just a nation, nvm i guess, no haunting tonight :/" Like... if aph Mexico stumbled across La Llorona one night what would happen to them?? Would they still get kidnapped by her or would La Llorona just be like "aw man, it's just Mexico themself, oh well, no kids to kidnap tonight".

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons I wrote instead of sleeping

Sometimes the boys forget that Nimona isn’t human 

Like they’re used to the shifting into animals aspect of Nimona because she does it as often as she breathes

But sometimes she’ll do some really creepy shit like make her arms longer to reach something when she’s too lazy to get up

One time they shifted just their neck to be like an owl so they could turn their head 180 degrees instead of just turning around cause that was “too boring” 

Or he’ll mimic people’s voices without realizing it 

Sometimes he’ll tell a story and suddenly he’s using Bal’s voice 

The first time she did this Bal searched the whole house cause he was convinced that Todd has snuck in

Or she’ll grow an extra arm to hold more shit and they take a moment to realize “oh yeah we adopted a little weirdo” 

They get used to it after a while and the arguments surrounding it are always funny because both the boys will complain and say “I don’t sound like that” and they have to be told “No love you do you really do” 

You know those videos of babies reacting to their parents shaving their facial hair or putting on glasses 

That’s Nimona's reaction every single time the boys change their appearance even the smallest bit they cant shave or wear their reading glasses because if they do he freaks out 

Talking some “help me Nemesis I heard bosses voice but I can’t find him” while Bal was standing right in front of them 

It was the first time he shaved his face in years and he’s never doing it again 

Mostly cause Ambrosius kept telling him he looked like a teenager and it was freaking him out 

I feel like Bal and Ambrosius are those kinds of people who will tell people about the little injuries but neglect the big ones 

Like Bal mentioned that he thinks he sprained his ankle during the fight at the institute but he won’t mention that he’s pretty sure he got a concussion 

(BECAUSE THIS MAN HEAD-BUTTED TWO PEOPLE WHEN HE HAS A METAL ARM) 

(I’m bout to wrap this man in bubble wrap and give him a helmet because wtf) 

Ambrosius will complain the whole day about the fact that he has a paper cut

But will completely neglect to inform his doctors “Oh yeah I can’t move my left arm higher than my waist without pain and I can’t see that well out of my left eye or hear that well out of my left ear do you think that’ll be a problem?” 

It isn’t until Nimona makes an off handed comment about how this super weird that the laser did basically nothing to him that he told both of them

They literally dragged him to the ER because “Who thinks those symptoms are normal Nemesis what is wrong in that pretty little head of yours!!” 

When Bal tells Nimona she’s being a bit of a hypocrite (cause who refers to an arrow as a splinter?) she turns to him and says “I know you’re not saying something Mr. Human battering ram” 

It took literally everything in Ambrosius not to break down laughing

After that she forces them to have frequent checkups with the doctor because these dorks wouldn’t go otherwise

Honestly I'm fully convinced that some people in the kingdom don't know who Nimona is and are constantly confused why they let this little weirdo follow them around 

And finally the curiosity will eat away at them and they’ll finally ask 

Sometimes the boys will give some “normal” answers like “Oh that’s Nimona” and they won’t elaborate at all

Sometimes they’ll give funnier answers like “Oh that’s a raccoon we found in the garage who turned into a person one day” “I don’t know they just showed up in our living room” and their personal best “You see her too?” 

And their favorite that they only started using a couple of years down the line “Oh that’s our kid”

[quirinah]

girl help! it’s amulet time 

[sophsun1]

#i want to study gale and his acting choices under a microscope

Queer as Folk – 2.14: The Dangers of Sex and Drugs

[thesargasmicgoddess]

Things I learned in England today....🇬🇧

-That my Tumi backpack of 6+ years actually has a space specifically for holding umbrellas! 😂

Prior to this trip, I have never really needed to carry around an umbrella --so I always just thought it was an extra design space 😂😂

I'm a dork! 🤦🏻‍♀️😂😂

#CaliGirlProbs 😂

[sussoro]

❝Please, New Girl… play ‘house’ with me?❞

[gottagobuycheese]

Not only that, she recognised a few familiar faces, too. Such as a short height with bandages tightly wrapped around in one arm…

[Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! Isn't this our little Flame Dragon?!]

Uriel dashed towards the figure of the Abyssal Black Flame Dragon and performed a head-lock.

[Keuk! An enemy's sneak attack?!]

[It's me, your Archangel noonim.]

[Release me at once!]

Hugtober Day 6/? - Good? In My Evil?? It’s More Likely Than You Think!

[ID: A greyscale piece of digital fanart depicting Uriel and the Abyssal Black Flame Dragon from Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint. Uriel, dressed in a black dress with a metallic edge and anklets, stands behind the Abyssal Black Flame Dragon and grins widely as she noogies him. Her six feathery wings spread out behind her, and a simple halo hovers over her head. The Abyssal Black Flame Dragon appears in his human form, wearing a black sweatshirt and ripped dark gray jeans with a black belt around his right thigh and two chains looping from both hips. His left arm is wreathed in bandages, and his cheeks are covered in scales. Two short horns poke out from his ruffled black hair, and his two bat-like wings bunch up behind him as he’s held against Uriel. He glares up at his captor, his right hand tugging at the arm around his neck and his left shoving up against Uriel’s elbow as she digs her fist into the top of his head. /end ID]

[monyrawolf21]

These two...

[itsmefromthatday]

We've all felt the tension between them, don't even try to deny it.

My art was inspired by the Cas x Gabe fanfic "i'm the best mistake you'll ever make" made by the very lovely , amazing, and inspiring author silver_lining_in_gold on ao3. If you're like me and a scavenger for cas x gabe debris of content, do check them out on ao3. And if making anything cas x gabe related content somehow passes your mind, do consider doing it, i'll be the first to wallow in it.

[untitledswanna]

A word of thanks

Greetings, I am Cilon, I have taken over my wife's blog for a bit while she gets some much needed sleep. Our son is doing well, all things considered, and there is hope that he will be back home within the next few weeks.

I thank you truly and deeply for your thoughts, prayers, and adorable Absol pictures you have sent to my son as well as the encouragement you have sent my wife. This has hit her hard and it is nice to know that there are those out there willing to help cheer up a stranger.

Whilst I am holding vigil feel free to ask me questions. My wife has told me that you all seem to quite enjoy that.

[myst1c-gr4nite-r3alm]

im just a silly man whos a dork and likes quantum immortality

[rymoire]

[FANART - BALDUR'S GATE 3] Gale ~ playing card concept

The series of illustrations inspired by Baldur's Gate 3 continues with my favorite dork of a wizard : Gale Dekarios !

Hope you like it !

-> "See more" for the details <-

Side of Wizardry : The symbol you can see is Mystra's star with its 8 ends representing the different forms of magic. I also added Tara, Gale's tressym, friend, confident and voice of reason so to speak. She is often forgotten in fanarts so I wanted to include her in this version !

Side of Godhood : The symbol is also Mystra's star, this time broken and covered by the Crown of Karsus, the artifact which leads Gale to ascension. Here is him as the God of Ambition !

Mystra, the Goddess of Magic : Anyone who played with Gale in their party knows of the Lady of Mysteries and her importance in his personal quest. Therefore I added her in two versions : one clearly link to his choice to remain mortal and continue his life as a wizard, and another showing Gale rejection of her as he embrace immortality.

AND THE ORB (in the middle) ! The cause of most of his personal turmoil.

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling (Masterlist)

"Bestow upon me, my dearest, the fortitude for this journey, and shield me from the shadows of malice. For in your embrace, I discover my sanctuary."

Playlists: » Please. See Me, Darling - “Now, tell me I’m beautiful and we can call it a day.” “By the gods above, you’re beautiful, you magnificent bastard.” » ISY,D; The Soundtrack - "My thoughts go out to you, my immortal beloved… I can live only wholly with you or not at all…"

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

The original prompt

Now on Ao3

Chapter 1 - A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to. Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

Chapter 2 - The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Chapter 3 - As an outsider to most of everyone’s problems, you find your place by helping in whatever way you can. Even if that may be at the expense of your own comfort, but at least it’s been fun so far.

Chapter 4 - A party is being held at the camp in the heroes’ honor, which greets you with a lively crowd that you’ll hopefully meet again soon. And with a gathering this large, you’re bound to garner attention. But with a constitution as poor as yours from the night before, a round of drinks is the last thing you want. 

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

In abit of a rut, so do forgive me for the lack of a proper update. Instead, have this little gift!! Two playlists; taking into consideration the different appraoches to different perspectives.

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, and @izuoyarmin for asking to be tagged for the series.

[ladykailitha]

Batshit Soulmates Part 2

Yay! More soulmates!!!

In this Eddie has nothing but time to think while Steve tries to outrun his problems and runs into new ones.

In Medias Res| Prologue|Pt 1|

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie waited until he heard the sound the maroon BMW fade into the distance before he broke down and sobbed. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that his sheep were involved with whatever the hell happened to Chrissy or the fact that Vecna was real. He couldn’t have imagined finding your soulmate in a worse way then an actual fucking battefield.

Was Eddie surprised his soulmate was a boy? No. He had figured out pretty quick that it was all boys for him. Felt a little bad for Steve through, must have come as shock. Because let’s be fair, Eddie was pretty shocked, too. Of all the dudes in all the world, the universe picked the most diametrically opposed human on the fucking planet.

He didn’t hate Steve or anything. Steve tended to leave the Hellfire Club and its members alone and would stop Tommy and his ilk from harassing them, too. Which made more sense once Eddie had met Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. Those three never shut up about him really. To Dustin he was the old brother he always wanted. To Lucas he was a mentor. To Mike? Hilariously, when Mike was around Dustin and Lucas, he would roll his eyes and sigh dramatically whenever Steve was brought up.

When they weren’t around? Mike talked about the dude in hushed, reverent tones. Mike had an even bigger case of hero worship then the other two put together. But he was also a bitchy teen, so he hid it better then the others.

Eddie had scoffed at their depictions the first time he heard them, but the more they repeated it, the less it began to sound like they were telling tall tales, and more like they actually had a huge amount of respect for Steve. Which really didn’t gel well with the Munson Doctrine.

Jock=bad, rich=bad, popular with girls=bad, added all up together and you get a douche of the highest order. But even though Eddie had threatened to cut his throat Steve had still wanted to help him. Eddie wasn’t sure if their places were reversed that he wouldn’t have thrown Steve off and told him where to stick it. Soulmate or not.

But Steve had stayed. Either the man was a sap or maybe Dustin and them were right about him.

Eddie sighed. Well, he supposed only time would tell which one it was. As much as his inner cynic was screaming that Steve would give up. That he would learn that loving him was too hard and walk away. Leave Eddie to deal with murder charges and monsters. Another part of him was telling him that Steve wouldn’t do that. That Steve never back down from a fight no matter how much a losing battle it was. That loving Eddie was easier than fighting bullies and apparently monsters.

He knew realistically that Steve was a better soulmate then a lot of people got, but seriously whatever immortal asshole up there making the decisions had to have a sick sense of humor. The only things the two of them had in common was their height and their eye color and even that was slightly off. Oh all right, maybe their love three little freshmen dorks.

Protectors. Steve and him were both protectors. They had that too. Eddie could see it his eyes that he was more worried about Eddie would do the rest of them if Eddie actually went through with it. Not that he was going to. He had been trying to. He wanted to so bad. Steve stood in the place of all those people that had hurt Eddie his whole life. His dad. Bullies. Teachers.

Eddie was given an chance to become who they all thought he was. A murderer. He couldn’t tell if it was the look in Steve’s eyes that stayed his hand, or the burning on his arm, or if he just wasn’t built to kill. That he was more like his gentle Uncle Wayne then the violent Al Munson. Maybe it was combination of all three.

The sad (?) thing was, that Eddie could see himself next to Steve’s side. In fact it was too damn easy to imagine. He could feel the rightness of it, even if every other part of him scream at the injustice of it. The King and the Freak. But maybe that wasn’t what the universe saw. Maybe it saw two lonely boys that fit better than it looked on the surface.

After all, wasn’t that what Eddie himself had been preaching for years. That too many people only saw what they wanted to see and not dare to get to know people before making a judgment.

He preferred the easy charm of captain Steve Harrington over the hard nosed oneupmanship of Billy Hargrove and fierce competitiveness of Jason Carver any day. It was only after Steve’s fall from grace that he had even began targeting the basketball team in the first place. Both Billy and Jason would get mad and try and start something with Eddie.

Steve though? Steve would smirk and turn away. Like Eddie was funny and not a freak. And maybe Eddie targeted Steve just to see him smile and smirk. But the only people who knew that was him and Wayne. And he intended to keep it that way.

In fact, Eddie thought straightening up, the more he thought about how Steve actually acted in school the more he realized that Steve was actually a pretty chill dude.

Oh.

Maybe he needed to have a heart to heart with the universe about the Munson doctrine. Because if that was wrong, what else had Eddie gotten wrong?

His stomach growled. He bit his lip nervously and looked up at the house. He wasn’t sure if he could risk going up to the house again, not at night anyway. He was going to have to wait until tomorrow to see if he could at least make something to eat.

Maybe he should have asked them to bring something to do while he hid out. He was starting to get bored out his mind.

There was nothing for it, all Eddie could do right now is sleep and hope his soulmate was the natural caretaker all his sheep said he was.

He carefully rearranged the tarp so that it would be easy to pull back over him once he was in the boat and stepped gingerly into it. He got settled and pulled the tarp back over himself, letting the lapping water against the boat lull him to sleep.

*

Steve would like to say that the nap did him good and that he felt refreshed and ready to take on...what did Dustin and Eddie call him? Vickie? No, that was Robin’s crush. Vacuum? He snorted. Definitely not that. Evil wizard dude. He would like to say he felt refreshed to tackle the wizard dude, but the food he ate made him queasy and it made for a fitful sleep.

He opened his wallet and looked to see how much cash he had on hand. It should be enough to get Eddie some food and drink. Eddie had been fairing well enough, but he could use something a bit more substantial. He took out five bucks for gas and shoved it in his top drawer.

Steve looked at the time and groaned. It was too late to go to sleep, but too early to be awake. He shouldn’t have tried napping that late in the evening but this whole thing with the Upside Down being back, no Hopper, no El and even if they did have her, no powers. They had to rely on him. Well, Nancy mostly.

He would gladly relinquish control over to her, if he was being honest.

Steve pulled up his sleeve and rubbed the soulmark thoughtfully. It still glowed a dark sickening red, almost blood like it’s shade. It seemed to thrum beneath his skin like a melody he couldn’t quite make out. It comforted him. He just hoped it comforted Eddie, too.

He looked out at the dark sky that was hours away from dawn. He got changed into a pair of shirts and a swim team t-shirt. It was going to cold out there, but it wouldn’t matter for long. He changed his socks and pulled on a pair of running shoes.

He grabbed his keys and locked the door behind him. He stretched out on his front lawn in the putrid light of the street lamp. Once he was satisfied that he was warmed up enough not to pull a muscle, he started down the road. At first it was gentle lop, not quite a jog, but soon he was running as hard as he could toward the horizon, chasing a dream that he knew he would never be able to keep.

Steve ran until his lungs burned, his muscles ached, and his cheeks were flushed and sweaty from the exertion. He looked up to find that he had somehow ran all the way to the trail park. It had long since been cleared of police and looked more worn and depressing in their wake. Maybe it was the tragedy that clung to every rock of gravel, every concrete walkway, every panel and tin roof.

“Hey, loser,” Max said from her front step. “Can’t sleep either?”

Steve turned and panted, his hands on his knees as he fought for breath. “Yeah, yeah. What’s got you up before the asscrack of dawn? My excuse is that I’m a barely reformed jock.”

Max opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. She just shook her head. Steve turned to look at the roped off trailer that had been Eddie’s home, before he trotted over to her.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” he asked in hushed tone.

Max nodded. She looked down at her worn out shoes, scuffing the side of her right one on the gravel in front of her. “I hate that you and me only found our soulmates because the Upside Down happened.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “I didn’t even think it would be a boy. Never even crossed my mind. Maybe if it had, I would have realized sooner that it was Eddie.”

The silence stretched on between them as around them the sky began to lighten and the trailer park came to life.

She picked at her nails. “I don’t want anything to happen to him.”

“Lucas?” Steve asked, twisting his neck to try and get a better look at her.

She nodded again, refusing to look him in the eye. “I think bad things just happen around me. Maybe I’m cursed.”

Steve snorted. “This town is cursed. But it’s not good what happened to Chrissy. You know who would be able to figure this all out?”

“Nancy?” Max asked.

Steve ruffled her hair. “Right in one. But first I have a soulmate that needs food and I’ll be damned if I let him starve while on the lam for something he didn’t do.”

Max pushed at him. “Don’t say shit like ‘on the lam’, what are you fifty?”

Steve just shook his head. He got to his feet. “I’m going to go home and shower. Then I’ll pick up yesterday’s rogue gallery and we’ll go shopping. I’ve got enough to cover at least a couple of days worth of food for the guy.”

She nodded. “I am sorry, Steve, that he got dragged into this mess, but isn’t it better that he knows? Because then you don’t have to lie to him?”

He sighed. “Is better that he knows? Sure. But it’s not good.”

Max scoffed. “Nothing in this town ever is.”

Ain’t that the truth, Steve thought bitterly. He just waved his hand at her and started back down the road, back to Loch Nora.

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @vecnuthy @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @irregular-child @oxidantdreamboat @mogami13 @samsoble @xandriumbat @ellietheasexylibrarian