Archie O'Neil

Archibald || 26 || Black Market Coordinator Take second best Put me to thetest Things on your chest You need to confess I will deliver

[archibaldoneil-blog]

(six0fhearts:)

Every word that left Archie’s mouth made so much sense. This Lincoln guy had it out for Matthew, not Sixes or the Hearts. He was just using the secret identity s a way to further fuck ith the businessman but for what reason? Matt cold think of no one who he had annoyed or angered so much that they would go to these lengths to mess with him. To murder someone was a step too far. But when Archie uttered his real name, Sixes blinked and sat back in the chair. Archie was a smart kid, that much was evident. He put every single piece together and came to the conclusion that Matthew was Sixes. 

The man had an idea about who Lincoln was, he seemed so confident on it and he was so close to telling him who it was before he stopped and mentioned money. 

Sixes stood. “How much do you want? I’ve got cash right now. If you give me a name, I’ll give you what cash you want I just need evidence that this person is who you think it is.”

Archie held up a hand as Matthew started speaking. “I don’t give out names until I’m positive I’m right. I don’t guess.” He shifted in his seat, slouching a little further. “But I can have a name within a month, I’m already following a lead.” He paused and his eyes hovered on the mask again. “I expect to be paid in full. You can’t do this without me.” It wasn’t a question, and he believed he had more than proved himself in the past few minutes, and Archie never flaked. He was positive in his abilities.

“Think of the number you think I should be given and add another zero, that should suffice.”

[archibaldoneil-blog]

havenofthepress:}

It was late by the time Haven packed up the radio studio and finally got outside. She was a bit slower than usual today, something she blamed on the hangover from the Halloween party and the complete lack of sleep. There’d been no time for sleep when she got home, since she had to write up an article to go with her Sixes photos from the bar and send it off to her editor. She’d caught maybe two hours before needing to be up again for work. No rest for the wicked after all. By this point, Red Bull was keeping her going. With a can in one hand, her phone in the other, and her bag slung over her shoulder, she began walking to the subway.

Tired and distracted, Haven wasn’t paying much attention to where she was going. She didn’t see the person walking towards her until they knocked shoulders, causing her drink to go flying. “Oh shit. My bad, I’m sorry.”

Archie wasn’t exactly pleased with the way his day was turning out per say. In fact, he was even more mopey and pissed off than he normally was, which was saying something. He had missed the people watching of Halloween because he had been elbow deep in research for damn well most of the month. In fact, he hadn’t really left his apartment at all in about two or three weeks. Deciding to go out to get some air was an easy decision for once, and he even went as far as to do the general public a favor and shower before he left home, which was something he only usually did once every five days or so. That being said, the only shampoo he had in his bathroom was what Nancy had left behind meaning he smelled somewhat like a fruit basket.

Archie had his head ducked and his hood pulled over his forehead, hiding most of the wet hair that was clinging to his face. He wasn’t sure exactly where he was intending to go, but he was positive he’d figure something out. He was thinking of perhaps visiting the book store he looked up online a few days previous, Archie was sure he that was bound to entertain him for an hour or two.

This though process was cut short, however, when someone knocked into his and he felt a cold, sticky liquid roll down the front of his shirt and his eyes immediately clamped closed in frustration. He almost just ignored it and shoved past her anyways, but decided against it. He was kind of an asshole, but he didn’t need other people knowing that. Instead he looked up and waved a hand, his eyes jumping around, looking anywhere but her face. “It’s totally fine, it’s..” He paused with a small sigh, trying to ignore the feeling of fabric sticking to his skin. “-Fine.”

[jeb-abrams]

When Beo jumped up on Archie, Jeb was surprised to see him crack a smile. Not only when he did it to most people he didn’t know they’d get pissed off and shove the dog down themselves, but also the fact that it was the first time he’d seen the guy smile. Up until then, he seemed pretty emotionless, to the point that it literally drove him to breaking point earlier, and to see the semi-stranger crack a smile made him feel somewhat closer to him. He had a heart. Unlike the others Beo did the same to. Hell, he even scratched him behind the ears.

“Fair enough,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets before slowing his pace to match the speed of which Archie was moving. “Tell me a little about yourself,” he suggested, his eyes darting up to look at him in the eyes. He was confident that his eyes were back to their usual colour, or at least almost at that point. Although he went to Will’s all the time, he didn’t look for specific stores around the area, so he was really just following wherever Archie was heading. 

[archibaldoneil-blog]

Archie shrugged as he took the lead, walking through the front door and out onto the cracked side walk. His street was generally a piece of shit which mean there weren’t very many working street lamps which also meant it was pretty fucking dark. He, however was attuned to this specific walkway and all of it’s nooks and cracks. As he side stepped a particularly jagged chunk of concrete side walk he found it in himself to share a small warning. “Watch your step.” 

He was surely being more open than before, but not nearly enough for a question like that. Archie shrugged his shoulders in a slightly defensive way, ducking his head down as to become smaller and hopefully more invisible. “There’s really not much to know. I’m just like.. some guy.” He waved his hand slightly for some emphasis.

[archibaldoneil-blog]

TASK 005: THREE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS

Archibald Holden Buster Williams (Archie’s Final Project)

“You don't love each other, so how can you possibly love me?”

Ah, yes. Archibald, the place from which my boy got his name. In all honestly, he doesn’t get much of his personality from this character, or much of his habits. This is the movie from which I got his backstory. In Archie’s Final Project, Archie’s story is based off the fact he has a perfect suburban life, and that there honestly isn’t much he has to complain about... but that isn’t true, is it? The movie is based around a character who’s making a short film that is set to end in his suicide. Dark, I know, and twisted, sure, but the movie made many points about this character, Archie. He’s not a particularly bad kid, he’s just being driven insane by the mundane nature of his life. His parents were perfect on the outside, but he just didn’t fit in with a life like theirs.

Tate Langdon (American Horror Story)

“The world is a filthy place. It's a filthy goddamn horror show. There's just so much pain, y'know?”

Now this one is obvious, not only did Archie get his charming good looks from Tate, but he also got his heart from him as well. Tate is much more outward with his emotions than Archie is, but they generally have the same internal mannerisms. Archie is secretly a lover and not a fighter, he has a lot of conflicting emotions that he doesn’t know how to handle and he sees the world the same way Tate does. It’s like a prison, it’s gross and ugly and everyone’s suffering, but, unlike Tate, for some reason Archie sticks around. Perhaps it’s because he hasn’t had the chance to love yet, or maybe he’s just a masochist. Who knows?

L Lawliet (Death Note)

"It's not a sense of justice. Figuring out difficult cases is my hobby. If you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes. The same way you all like to solve mysteries and riddles, or clear video games more quickly. For me too, it's simply prolonging something I enjoy doing. That's why I only take on cases that pique my interest. It's not justice at all. And if it means being able to clear a case, I don't play fair, I'm a dishonest, cheating human being who hates losing."

“I don't sit like this because I want to. I have to sit like this. If I were to sit normally, my deductive skills will immediately be reduced by roughly 40%.”

“Being alone is better than being with the wrong person.”

As you can see, I went a little crazy on this one because while L may not have provided Archie’s name or boyish good looks, he provided just about everything else. L is the number one character Archie was based off of, believe it or not. He holds the habits, posture, and outward form of Archibald O’Neil. L is the soul of this character. Archie sometimes plays the role of a good guy, but he knows he isn’t. He has the behavior of a child, he hates to lose and will do almost anything not to and he can admit to it. He can be funny when he wants to be, but often forgoes humor for the sake of intellect. Basically, I ripped L out of Death Note, gave him some TLC, a new face, new name, and some more traits here and there and Archibald O’Neil was born.

[archibaldoneil-blog]

Would you rather be branded with a hot object or jump off a bridge?

It depends. Do I get to choose the brand? If not, what is it? Also, what am I jumping into from the bridge? Is it a lake, the ocean, or just concrete? How high up is the bridge? I’m going to need to know a little more information so I can deduct my chances of survival, but if we’re doing this in the most basic sense, I’d say just do both.

[archibaldoneil-blog]

Do you have any friends?

[archibaldoneil-blog]

Land of stories ∞ Archie&Whitney

[archibaldoneil-blog]

(littlestdiamond:)

@archibaldoneil·

How do you move forward after something like this? How do you cope? I’m at a loss Wendy. We have to learn to live without you and there is no clear path. I keep staring out my window, waiting to see you move up the block with your expensive purse, your pradas clicking away like a clock for each step. Each time it dawns on me that I will never see you like that again. In my land of stories there were always peace. Happiness, serenity. Without you thats gone. I don’t know how to get it back. I don’t know how to accept this. 

Turning over on her blanket Whitney lay on her back, her pen and notebook left on the ground beside her. The clear blue sky staring back, empty of clouds, filled with the clarity her mind lacked. Hearing the leaves rustle in the wind, the distant cries and songs of the birds. She was surrounded by a peacefulness that vividly crashed with her inner emotions and thoughts. Lying there ensured the blank tears forming could not spill over. Keeping them at bay naturally, sparing skin from being rubbed and drawn over and over. 

Neither the sky or her written words had any answers. Speaking to Wendy didn’t provide them either. Her father had called her earlier. The word ‘therapist’ had come up. Just thinking about it once more made her skin crawl and the pit of her stomach tightening. Imagine that, talking to a complete stranger, who was also paid, to solve your own issues. Now as it was, the girl imagined she had, in a sense, already done so. With members. Thought none of the occurrences were planned beforehand. The Diamonds had a great deal of people on their payroll. People it was impossible for the youngest member of the family to avoid or not encounter on a daily basis. Luckily some of them weren’t strangers. And no one, as far as she knew that was, had asked them to go out of their way to talk to her. 

Would talking really make a difference? Most of her life, Whitney had found herself on the receiving end of talk. She was a thoughtful girl, one who did not seek out the company of others. It was not that she minded people. She just wasn’t filled with the need to be surrounded by them at all times. Interactions usually left her a little drained, had her retreating back into her apartment, her room, where she could spend time alone. Solitude was nothing to be feared. 

The sharp crack of a stick had her flipping back over, her gaze searching for a person. Her assigned ‘escort’ for the day was still perched some ways away by a great oak. Immobile. “Hello? Is someone there?” Apprehension caught her as her eyes scanned the nearby surroundings, waiting for someone to step forward. If not, she should certainly call for help.

Archie didn’t go out during the day, especially not on days like this. He and the sun very rarely ever got along, so little so, in fact, that he reserved it a high-scoring place on his list of ‘things to despise.’ He thinks that the vendetta may have started in high school along with his teenage angst-filled vampiric ways of life, or maybe it started that one year in middle school when he was forced to go to the beach with his family and returned home with the sunburn from hell. Regardless where it came from, the distaste remained strongly intact through at least ninety percent of his life. That being said, something about today was different.

If his sister ever found out that her reclusive brother had gone outside during a clear and sunny day by his own will, she would never let it go and he very well knew it. It wasn’t just surprising, it was almost a miracle, but something had been calling him out since the sun rose. At first, he had attempted to get passed the nagging feeling by sitting on his roof, but that had only succeeded in agitating his eyes and making him feel overly exposed, so that solution only survived about ten minutes before he hid back inside. He had then debated just waiting until the sun fell closer to the horizon but his body was itching and he knew he had to escape the confines of his much-too-small apartment soon or he was in danger of crawling out of his own skin.

Leaving was rather simple, much simpler than he had thought it would be but then another problem arose, he had no idea where to go. He frequented quiet bars and secluded alleyways in a true hermit-like fashion, but he had an inkling that those places weren’t as inconspicuous or acceptable during daylight hours as they were at night. This felt like a much bigger issue than he knew it to actually be, but he still found himself pondering other solutions before he finally settled on the one place he knew average people to go on a day such as this; the park. 

Of course, he had no intentions of going to a highly populated park in the city, as the crowds gave him anxiety and he was sure he looked much more strange in the light. Under the cover of night you could still see his pale skin and the bags under his eyes, sure, but just barely. In the light you could see the purple shadows and the reminiscent line of veins under some of his skin that held a translucence. It was in the light that he truly looked like a creature of the undead, and more notable than that, he was sure he looked a lot like a drug addict, despite that never having been that case.

He walked around a circle of trees in an empty patch of grass and found himself feeling surprisingly calm. Between the light filtering through the trees and the cigarette hanging from his lips, he was even bordering on relaxed until he spotted someone not too far away, laid out on a blanket. He didn’t recognize her, not right away, and he subconsciously found himself stepping closer to the trees to hide in the shadows of the trunks when he heard her speak and realized it was none other than Whitney Diamond. 

He debated his options for a moment, he could remain hiding and possibly get his ass kicked by a fairly large giant body guard, he could leave and wander aimlessly for what could be hours, or he could just stop being such a fucking freak for once and talk to her. 

He sighed after a moment, blowing out a breath of smoke before stepping out of the trees with his hands up slightly to show he wasn’t a danger. “Hey,” He started, taking small cautious steps in her general direction, “sorry, I didn’t mean to be all eldritch I just saw you over here and thought I’d say hi.” He said with a apprehensive look in the direction of her guard. Archie knew he looked exactly like the kind of person the man was protecting her from and was more than a little nervous about the very real possibility of getting his teeth kicked in. He hadn't really thought this through and just hoped she remembered their past run in, or this could become very bad for him very quickly. "I don't know if you remember me, we met once before." He threw in for good measure, his eyes wavering from her general direction to his own shoes.

[andthenyourealizethat]

Places where reality is a bit altered:

everywhere

I have psychosis

[archibaldoneil-blog]

(heartsfelicity:)

The silence that ensued felt neither uncomfortable norintrusive, and Felicity found herself relaxing, the tautness leaving hershoulders, so that she could pull them slightly up and closer to her ears anddisappear in the soft embrace of her loose cardigan. Whether he did not noticeher short burst of painfully raw emotions, or simply chose to ignore it –Felicity didn’t know, but she felt grateful for the moment she was offered toonce again recollect her thoughts, take in a few shuddering breaths and easeinto the idea of his presence beside her. She was usually more careful thanthis, and at any other time, any other night, she probably would’ve disappearedback into the building long ago, instead of sitting so close to some strangershe barely knew the name of. But she felt acutely empty tonight, after thedreams that had plagued her mind, and she was afraid of all the monsterslurking under her bed if she returned to her room -  an utterly childish notion, she knew, butwhen was fear ever rational? Andtherefore, even the risk of getting hurt by this strange man here where no onewould witness it but themselves, felt safer than being alone with her mind. Sheturned her head slightly then, leaned her cheek against her knees, arms stillwrapped around them as she tried to minimize her entire being and the space shewas taking up. From this position, she could only see the contours of his body,the hair which seemed blonde under the scarce light of the moon serving as acurtain so that she couldn’t quite tell apart the emotions that crossed hisfeatures. But the indifferent, lethargic rise and fall of his shoulders was anindicator enough that he wasn’t particularly fond of his name, and that perhapshe needed another moment for the thoughts that seemed to plague his mind too.Felicity fell silent then, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of the city inthe distance as she seemed to once again fall into the comfortable, quietnumbness, that was until she saw the man shift again. She tensed for a splitsecond, muscles involuntarily twitching to that alert fight-or-flight statethat she had become all too familiar with over the years – but all of that dissipatedwhen she saw it wasn’t a weapon, but a crumpled cigarette pack, and instantlyshe felt entirely ridiculous. She watched his fingers twist and turn the pack,watched him drag one cigarette out of the case, the sound of paper grindingagainst paper – her senses seemed heightened more than ever, now in the dead ofnight. She fumbled with her own pack then, fingers unused to this feeling ofcigarette between them, and she held it in her hand when the open flamedistracted her, and she felt drawn to look at it. Eyes trained on theflickering light, the only one here in the darkness of the rooftop, she countedthe seconds it took him to exhale for no apparent reason, other than it calmedher. But just as she watched the smoke leave his lips and shift and swirl into unnameableshapes, she was startled once again half by the sudden way his voice filled thesilence, and half by the content of his words. Her hand quivered slightly, theunlit cigarette slipping between her fingers only to hit the edge of the roofonce, and disappear into the darkness beneath. Embarrassment at this mishap wasnot a particularly conscious reaction, and before she knew it, warmth had creptup her cheeks and painted their paleness a fine shade of pink, and she stoppedstaring at him to downcast her eyes to the cigarette package in her lap. Shefumbled with it, nervously trying to get another cigarette out and onlymanaging to dig herself deeper until she saw no other solution than to think about his words. “He wouldn’t havebeen worth it.”, she said finally, albeit weakly, and she succeeded inproducing another cigarette and bringing it close to her lips. When she looked athim again, he seemed tense, like he himself had been surprised by his own wordsas much as she was, and his hair had fallen further to his face and created abarrier between them. That was good, she spoke more easily when she didn’t haveto look and be seen, “An eye for an eyewill only make the whole world blind.”, she bit her lip, to stop herselffrom saying anything more pretentious than that, though it was all in bestintention, “It’s okay. We all have thoughts like those. It’s what we act uponthat matters.” She understood his discomfort, but didn’t know what else to sayto make him feel less uneasy – all she wanted to do was let him know she wasnot the kind of person to judge, violence was a part of us all, and she couldsee why someone would want to hurt the monsters that still roamed this city. Shesmiled then, a slight curling of the corners of her lips, when she noticed himgetting the hair out of the way and finally turning to look at her, but foundthat her smile nearly faltered and fell when she saw him smile. His featuresseemed unused to such genuine display, but it was a nice smile, a warm smile,and she could not help but notice the dimple that appeared there for a moment,before disappearing as solemnness set back in. She smiled back, though herslingered a bit longer – she was always smiling, after all, and she felt ratherstrange when she was too solemn for too long. “Yes, thank you.”, leaningforward she stabilised the cigarette with her fingers, pulled her hair backslightly so it wouldn’t get caught in the flame, and took a long, deliberatedrag once the tobacco caught fire. The smoke drifted into her lungs, pushingitself through the narrowed vessels, poisoning her – and she closed her eyesand enjoyed the sweetness of this particular kind of self-destruction. Noticingshe had not moved from her leaned position, she quickly returned to herhalf-curled form at a safe distance, cigarette slightly quivering, unstablebetween her cold fingers. “That’s alright, I can call you Archie.”, she saidapologetically, still trying to get familiar with the aftertaste of tobacco inher mouth, “I always liked my name simply because my mom gave it to me. But tobe completely honest…”, after taking a long drag from the cigarette, andholding it in for a few moments, she turned her head again to look at him, “Ifind it a bit ironic. It stands for Latin felicitaswhich means luck or good fortune.”, the smile that curved her lips then wasslightly darker than her previous ones, a bit more sardonic, however sardonic agirl like her could get, “Life loves playing jokes on us, don’t you think?”

‘That’s bullshit.’ He thought as an immediate response to her words of seeming pacifism. The guy only got about five years, five years didn’t mean shit. He did things Archie, even being the twisted fuck he was, had never thought of, not even in passing. It took a lot for Archie to get involved in those lives that he spectated, it really took a lot and he couldn’t help but think that five years didn’t even begin to cover it. The man deserved a guillotine, a public execution and the word ‘asshole’ scrawled across his decapitated head. He knew after her reaction he should drop it, just let it go and shrug it off but now he couldn’t. It hadn’t really even bothered him that much, not until tonight, but suddenly it felt like the most important conversation he’s ever had, and he’s had some pretty damn important conversations. He struggled to find the right words, he didn’t want to set her off but she needed to know that it was inexcusable, that killing him would’ve been merciful compare to what he truly deserved. He wasn’t even thinking about the man in the apartment anymore, he was thinking abouther, about the girl sitting next to him who was obviously damaged. Someone did something, something like what the now convicted offender did to that girl. No one deserves that, male or female, adult or child, kind or rude, it doesn’t matter. Nobody deserves that kind of treatment, especially from someone they trust. Archie takes pride in the fact that he’s never hit anyone, not in all his years or through any of his experiences. This, of course, isn’t to say he’d never had his ass kicked, because that wasn’t true, he most certainly had, many times, actually, but he never fought back. He was sure he could if he wanted to, but in a fight or flight situation, he always chose flight. He hated confrontation, and running was easy. It was perhaps also apart of his flaws, he never dealt with anything. He was good at hiding, and he was good at ignoring. It had it’s positive moments, and it’s negative. “You know what saying I find completely idiotic?” He turned his head, gazing at her face for a moment and sucking another breath off his cigarette before forcing himself to look back at the ground. ‘Don’t look at her for too long, Archie. That’s a dangerous thing.’ He reminded himself silently. “Forgive and forget.” He finally stated. “I always thought that was a horrible phrase.” He waited another moment, dragging on the nicotine as if his body depended on it, which if he was being honest, it probably did. “Forgiveness is a construct made to make the guilty feel lighter. The person who was wronged never feels any better after saying the words ‘I forgive you,’ if anything, they usually feel worse.” At least in his experience. Every time he ever heard it, he could feel the reluctance that rolled off of it. The underlying anger that still burned like a coal in the belly of the one who was hurt. It’s like letting a criminal out early for ‘good behavior.’That person who shot that guy in that alley way isn’t any less of a murderer just because he didn’t shank anybody during his punishment. He still killed that man. They’re dead and they’re never coming back. That killer ruined a family and relationships and the entire judicial system knows it too, but it’s okay, because he can hold the cell door open for his fucking roommate at bedtime. His past crime can be forgiven because, well, there’s no fixing it now. “And as for forgetting… Well, we all know that’s a god damn lie, don’t we?” He didn’t look back at her, no matter how much his instincts told him to. They screamed at him to search for her reaction on her face, to look for any signs of disagreement or anger, but he didn’t. He kept his eyes trained on the lights in some of the windows across the street. He couldn’t help but force a short chuckle and he shook his head a little. “I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just a pessimistic asshole who needs to learn to let things go.” He shrugged his shoulders again before looking up to the sky, void of all stars from the light pollution of New York City. He supposed the planes taking off from JFK worked just as well, but the noise tended to detract from the beauty. What an odd thing as that was the case with most people too. They could be beautiful, they could have a perfect construction of bones and skin and yet the second they make noise, they’re ruined forever. All people spew lies, it’s human nature, and yet he felt as if this girl, Felicity, hadn’t lied yet. He could usually tell, he knew what lies felt like, what they sounded like. Lies sounded like a low growl, a tight throat, and empty words, and yet her voice continued to ring clear. He didn’t know what emotions he felt towards her, and he wasn’t sure if it was a positive development. Archie didn’t have friends for a reason, he was toxic. He carried a black cloud around on a string, like the saddest balloon in existence, and whenever the wind blew, those around him tended to get sprayed with the droplets of freezing rain. He knew he couldn’t look back at her face, but instead he spared a glance at her hands, or, well, hand. One was brought to her mouth with the cigarette and he knew he couldn’t follow those fingers with his eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to glance at her small, delicate features, now lit up by the orange cherry of a cigarette as she takes a breath of death. That’s a sight he was sure he wouldn’t tear away from, and he was smarter than to tie himself up in that web, so he kept his eyes aptly on the one hand that strayed from her face. Small, pale fingers and red flush under her nail beds. Somehow they fit her perfectly. Oh, the struggle of being human despite feeling so very far from it. The draw of attraction was a hell of a thing, it caused bias and unnecessary flusters. He knew there was a reason he didn’t talk to people in high school, he was basically a bomb of knotted physical appreciation, he was, after all, an artist of sorts. He couldn’t help but think he should’ve stood up and left when he had the chance, but he couldn’t now, it would hurt her feelings, he knew it would, he could feel it. So he stayed put, dragging his dark eyes to his own hands now. One shaking slightly with a cigarette gripped between it’s fingers and the other laid flat in the space between his legs and hers, his hand had been a support beam, holding him up almost the whole conversation. It’s nail beds where white with pressure and his nails were chewed down. He found himself disgusted because his hands were somehow very much like him as well, but in a much less endearing sense. He was getting distracted, his own brain being jumbled and disoriented by her presence and he silently called himself a little bitch for letting something as trivial as a cute girl scramble his thoughts, the one thing he knew to control and truly prized. He sighed a loud after what felt like another eon of silence with him drowning in his own pool of rambling thoughts before he finally found his voice again. “Life is a joke all on its own, we’re just the punchline every now and then.”

[archibaldoneil-blog]

(jeb-abrams:)

Jeb waited as the man thought. It didn’t bother him if he said no. After all, Archie didn’t exactly seem like the ‘people-loving’ sort of guy that he was, so he wasn’t exactly expecting a positive answer. When he gave him the ‘okay’, he was therefore surprised for a few seconds before he threw away his cigarette bud and stamped on it. “You got any specific store in mind?” he asked curiously, leading him down the steps of his own apartment building.

The apartment block wasn’t dissimilar to his own. It was in a rundown part of the city and you didn’t know what was hiding around the corner, whether it being someone hunched over, taking their first hit of the morning or something as little as a bit of litter scattered about the floor. It was a bit bigger than his, though - his apartment block had several in a small area, and were often seen as a collective entity as opposed to separate blocks. To get Beowoof, Jebediah simply opened the door of Will’s apartment and he came flooding out and immediately jumped on Archie, licking his face and wagging his tail. Jeb had to laugh before pulling him off. “He likes you,” he smirked, leading them further downstairs.

Archie shrugged, as he turned towards the stairwell that would lead back down to the degenerate apartment hallway, just assuming Jeb to follow. He didn’t go shopping particularly often, that much was true as he mostly lived off of pizza and coffee, two things he could just get on a whim and didn’t actually have to make himself, but now, apparently, it was time for a trip to pick up some housing necessities.

Archie didn’t know what he expected when Jeb stopped at the apartment door and opened it, but what came out certainly wasn’t it. He was tackled and almost pinned to the wall by a rather large dog. He would like to say he just shrugged it off, but as soon as the shock wore off he couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the mutt, rubbing his ears quickly before Jeb pulled him off. Archie’s attention was briefly taken by the door still left ajar and through the crack he could see a sliver of living room. The living room of a dead man. It was like a hollow glimpse of a life that was gone, one he would never know anything about. He wondered when the apartment was going to be completely purged of its things, he wondered if he would have time to break in and look around. He was nothing if not curious, but as soon as the glimpse was there it was gone again as Jeb started leading the way downstairs and Archie followed slowly. 

“There’s a shitty pharmacy a few streets down, I’m sure it’ll still be open. Most people in this neighborhood haven’t even slept yet, and aspirin is probably their best seller around this time.” He finally said as they made their way to the decaying front door of his building.

[averycarr]

Homecoming Archie/Nancy

[averycarr]

As he stood up she glared at him. Four fucking years and he wasn’t going to sit on the couch with her? It wasn’t anger, nor disbelief that triggered this reaction, but more of a natural reflex. She knew he didn’t care and she didn’t really want him to. But still, somewhere in her she wanted him to pretend. 

“You haven’t seen me in four years and you have nothing to say to me?” Her eyebrows puckered in the middle as she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. He was probably pissed she changed the channel but she hardly cared about that. She knew he wouldn’t say anything. Archie was always so easy to get along with. 

She stared at him another moment, the pinched eyebrows raising in question. She could of swore he suffered some kind of brain damage, the way he would just stand there and take things. When she was younger, she would question how it felt to be him but as time grew on, she stopped wondering. He had always been a weirdo and for reasons she would never understand, he liked it. 

“Sit down.” Her expression didn’t change as her head nodded toward the place he had just stood from, her eyes not moving from him. 

[archibaldoneil-blog]

Archie’s eyes scanned Nancy’s face when she spoke, but he didn’t reply or move, in fact, he froze in his place. She was being demanding, she usually was, and he hated it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his sister, but he didn’t very much appreciate her intruding unannounced, breaking his house, insulting his cleanliness, or lack thereof, and taking control of his television, all the while expecting to be warmly welcomed.

He didn’t do much, but most of what he did find himself doing was based in his home and now he had to share. He never did particularly like sharing, he had moved to the basement when he was a teenager for a reason. He liked privacy, it was the best way to ensure secrecy and how he felt most comfortable in his surroundings. 

He debated still leaving the room, but while he wasn’t especially happy to have her living with him, he still didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He would never kick her out or make her feel unwelcome, a flaw of avoiding confrontation, perhaps. He turned around and sat back in the place he had just rose from with a rather deflated sigh. This was going to be a rough few weeks, maybe months, depending on how long she could manage to tie herself down, but he didn’t at all think of it as a permanent situation, not knowing her. She would disappear one day in the middle of the night without a word and he couldn’t help but think that he at least had that to look forward to.

“It’s nice to see you.” He said, rather flatly. He didn’t meet her eyes, but turned his body slightly in her direction, just enough to be considered face to face. “I’m guessing college didn’t quite work out.” It wasn’t a question, and he was sincerely hoping she wouldn’t take it as so and tell him about her misadventures and asshole boyfriends. He didn’t like focusing on the past, if anything, he was more interested in what she planned to do now that she was here. However, knowing her, there was no plan.

[musesgonnamuse]

you were SCARED of being H U R T

you R E F U S E D to love others

you chose to be ALONE as you continued forward

but you seek L O V E more than ANYONE

[archibaldoneil-blog]

(six0fhearts:)

Sixes shrugged a shoulder. The precautions Archie took were understandable with Sixes’ reputation. The last thing the man must have wanted was to end up dead in a ditch somewhere with a six of hearts card pinned to him. 

“That’s fine,” he replied. “What I want to know is who Lincoln is. I’m sure you must have heard whispers about him around New York. He’s making quite the name for himself around the gangs, quicker than I did. I’ve overheard things. People saying that he set the bomb off at the gala and the subway that framed me. Shooting an arrow at Wren and Matthew at the last gala… Sending his regards to me from seven of his lackeys. Killing Nora.” He didn’t deny that he killed Wendy. Sixes always admitted to what he did. 

“Do you have any information on who he really is? I’ll pay well for your information.”

Sixes was a lot of things, and he had many reputations, but he certainly wasn't known for being a dumb ass. Archie was honestly surprised that anyone had believed that Sixes would’ve not only killed one of his own members, but fucking signed his name on it. He knew Sixes didn’t blow up that subway, and he certainly knew he didn’t kill Nora Hartwell. He had been on the ‘Lincoln’ case since that bomb went off during the gala all those months ago.

“I do have some idea of who he might be.” He paused, letting a silence pass. “Have you noticed the consistencies? He has his own special brand of marking, like what serial killers do to sign their names without getting caught." He shifted, leaning forward in the seat. “I’ve done a lot of research, and I’ve considered every single possibility and there are some things I’ve been able to piece together. Like the fact he had a vendetta against Nora Hartwell. He knew her, and I mean really knew her, and he didn’t like her.” A small twitch of a smile came to his came to his face. “You remember the gala explosion, don’t you?” It wasn’t confirmed Sixes was there, but he knew that the man had been there unmasked. “Do you remember who was injured?” He didn’t say it out loud, they both knew it was Nora Hartwell. “'Lincoln’ loves framing you, especially when it makes you look bad. He isn’t an entity, he isn’t an enigma, he knows you, and I’m going to cut the shit right now, he knows Sixes, sure, but it’s more than that. He knows you, Matthew Hartwell." His eyes flashed for a moment. “You can’t be surprised can you? You’re careful, but you aren’t that careful. Your wife, your ex-wife, your sisters, your brother... They’re all key points in all of this, they’re all much too important and yet as far as the Hearts go, no one really seems to discuss the rich, top-dog, older brother. Where could Matthew be in all of this and why is his wife so important? Well, that was the easy part. He’s been the man under the mask this whole time.”

He let another lapse of silence fall once again and he sat back, crossing his legs and comfortably lounging in the office. "He hates you, and he hated your wife, but he knows you personally. Well, fuck," His eyebrows rose slightly, "he might have even worked for you." He was getting excited, but he contained it. Archie loved being right, and he knew he was this time. He could feel it. "That's the thing though, isn’t it? No one gets out of a gang unless they're dead, and a dead man can’t kill, right? But what if..." He cut himself off and looked off into an empty corner of the room, seemingly disappearing into his head for a moment. It was clear there was more, he was still with holding information from Matthew and he made it obvious. He wouldn’t say a word more until he had money in his hand, that was just how it worked. Matthew should’ve been glad to have gotten that much without proper payment. “I get paid up front, and I prefer cash.” He said, finally looking back at the masked man.

[archibaldoneil-blog]

Archie eyed her cautiously for another moment before snapping himself out of it. He was diagnosed with psychosis, but he wasn’t a psychopath, and most definitely not a murderer. It wasn’t even necessarily that he wanted her to die, he wasn’t homicidal and was sure her life brought some importance to the world, that wasn’t the problem he seemed to be having. The problem was just that she already looked dead. He didn’t want to kill her, he just wanted her to stay where she should already be.

He was really losing it.

‘Why am I so unsettled? What’s wrong with her and more importantly, what’s wrong with me?’ Questions flicked through his brain as he glanced at her legs, hanging not to far from his before finally answering her question. “Not particularly.” He replied simply, the words falling out as eloquently as the two basic words possibly could. “Everything is always awful here.” He said cryptically. He didn’t even quite know what that meant. It could’ve meant anything. On this Earth, in this city, on this particular roof. Or maybe he just meant near him. How self deprecating.  “And yet here you are.” More cryptic cynicism seemed to make it’s way out of his throat almost against his will. ‘What’s wrong with us?’ He thought finally before speaking again. “Why?”

[archibaldoneil-blog]

(ellisbethany:)

Well she would cross that bridge when she came to it. She watched as he emptied his pockets, eyes briefly flickering over the collection of things, because there was a lot of stuff. At least, in comparison to the pockets in her clothes, which barely had room for anything more than her phone, let alone a wallet, dice, keys and a lighter. She sent a mental thank you up to the heavens, thanking the first person who thought that handbags were a good idea, before her gaze flickered back to the dice. An odd thing to carry around with you as far as she was concerned…but she wasn’t judging. “Don’t worry I believe you” her smile grew a little wider, and significantly more genuine, and slowly the fear that she’d felt just a few minutes previously, ebbing away. She was almost amused by his request, it wasn’t often she was given the opportunity to, as he put it, shrink someone. But, as per his request, she ran her eyes up and down him, the famed “Manhattan once-over”. His clothes said sloppy student, running on a low budget. But the fact that he was in this part of town said something else, and then there was the keys he held and the wallet he owned that suggested money. And then there was the name; Archibald. That was a big name, with big responsibility. A name like that belonged within the Manhattan society, in the pages of newspapers, not skulking around dark corners. Which said one thing: black sheep.

And all the while, as she made her quiet deductions she found herself pacing around him, her cigarette soon forgotten, dropped down the drain, keeping her distance as per his request, but examining him none the less. On a surface level he was an oddball loner, but there was also something else, something not as simple that could be shoved into one box. “I don’t know” she shrugged. “Let’s see, you don’t seem to have any personal items. I mean you have your keys and things and your wallet is quite a nice quality, but it’s not personable. It’s all very plain, very…well very black” she began, finally coming to the end of her pacing. “But then there’s the fact you’re here. And you know about the Heart’s. Which, admittedly isn’t that difficult. And also, you’re not carrying a weapon. Which is nice and means you won’t stab me, but also suggests you are genuinely going for a meeting. But you don’t want to really be identified because, beyond a name you’ve given me no clues to who you really are, which, to me at least, seems like you prefer to sort of fade in and out. You’re not affiliated to anyone in particular, at least not yet…” she trailed off. “And you wanted me to shrink you, so you’re either an egomaniac, or this is like some sort of test” she guessed with a sense of finality in her words, because really, she couldn’t see anything else. She’d shrinked him. She hadn’t given him the standard response.

She stepped away from him, relieving some of the pressure from the balls of her feet by swapping the weight from the front of her foot to the back, retreating to lean back against the brick wall. “Fair play” she conceded with a shrug, he wasn’t wrong in that people could simply not be what you expected, and to place an assumption on someone was only doomed to fail. “Then again, everything is dangerous nowadays. Really, in the grand scheme of things, a little assumption isn’t anything of concern”

Oh, he liked her, at least, more than he liked the average person. She was, what’s the word? “Perceptive.” He said aloud, answering his own question. He couldn’t help but wonder what she did among the Hearts. She could be anything at this point, a hacker, an assassin, a spy, or even something far less, or far more, intense. He mentally noted to research more about her before considering another possibility. He could ask for her last name, or, well, ease it out of her through carefully worded conversation but that would mean she would be put on his list. Yes, his list of names. Every single Heart of which he knew their full names went onto a list in an e-mail that was set to be sent off to the chief of police should he be killed or imprisoned by Sixes during their meeting. It was a standard safety procedure as he was more often than not meeting with people who didn’t very much like the amount of information he had gathered on them as well as their targets, but Archie liked leverage, and he never went anywhere without it. He had obviously never ruined someone’s business this way as of yet because, well, he was alive and very rarely did someone even considering holding him captive because he wasn’t very useful under those circumstances. He barely spoke in general, lock him in a cage and he’s relatively mute. He has few skills, and one of them is most certainly self control and concealing vital information. He gave her one more look and decided. No, he’d spare her the stress of possible jail time. It’s only fair, he’d gotten a cigarette and an interesting conversation out of their meeting, and it would be a shame for a person like her to be locked up just because her boss might not be able to keep his guns down for a simple conversation.

“I appreciate your commentary." He admitted. "I’ve found there are two things a person commonly carries or wears that can tell you a lot about them. One is their wallet.” He said in an almost casual manner. He was getting slightly more comfortable in their conversation, not extremely, but enough that he could speak a little more freely. His guard wasn’t down, not in the slightest, but he was progressively becoming less hunched and his tone less tense as they continued to engage each other. “Do you know what the other is?” He asked, his voice hinting that even if she didn’t know, he’d like her to guess. “I’m not testing you, by the way.” He added, not wanting her to feel like he was putting her under a microscope. “But if I were, I’d say you’re doing above average.” He added a second thereafter, a touch of humor in his tone. He didn’t want her tense, but he still wanted her to think. Besides, a little contradictory statements here and there never hurt anyone.

[archibaldoneil-blog]

would you want to fall in love?

Ah, love. People seem so infatuated with a word based around an idea of an emotion.And I hate to say it but, I’m no exception.

I’m increasingly fascinated by my own emotional capabilities and as someone who’s never even particularly loved my own family I would definitely be interested in finding the type of person able to peak my interest to the point of loving them. Does this necessarily have to be a romantic relationship? No, odds are it wouldn’t be, but would I be open to that as well? Sure. I mean, while I don’t get particularly lonely, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like someone who’s not my sister around every once and awhile. However, the major flaw in that is that I’d have to be comfortable around them. It would have to be someone I can talk to like I talk to myself, or how I talk to you, anonymous.You aren’t a person, you’re more on an entity. I have no problem speaking to entities, but people are a bit more complicated.If I can find someone I’d be comfortable and willing to talk openly with, then I think I’d be able to understand the concept of love, and that would likely be the closest I could get to the emotion people talk so highly of.