#I’m fascinated by the idea of Eddie’s reaction to what’s going on in his head being the exact opposite of everything you know about him

[morganbritton132]

Oh man Steve’s nightmare on the tour bus 😭😭

How often do our boys get nightmares? I would imagine Steve’s are a grab bag of demodogs, Billy, the Russians, the lake etc. and Eddy’s are Chrissy, demobats, maybe even Jason Carver??

Anyways I love your EMTSS! Reading them helps me relax after a stressful day at work ❤️

I got your other ask about knowing how to spell Eddie’s name and honestly, I didn’t even notice it was misspelled so no worries. Also, happy to help you relax in anyways I can.

 

Nightmares are no stranger to any of the party members and it’s not unusual to receive a check-in phone call in the middle of the night, but it typically comes in waves. There is usually an increase in phone calls and nightmares around the anniversary of Will’s disappearance, the mall fire, or Vecna.

Steve tends to have more nightmares than Eddie, but he also keeps a fairly regimented sleep schedule whereas Eddie has insomnia. There have been times where Eddie won’t sleep or will sleep very little for days just to run himself ragged enough to have a dreamless sleep.

The way they react to their nightmares are also different.

Steve has a more physical reaction. Most of his nightmares are about situations where he had to fight back and it causes him to lash out in his sleep or when he’s trapped in his head. Steve is also a sleepwalker so he will bring the nightmare to you sometimes.

Steve’s nightmares tend to be about the Russians, about Billy, and about the junkyard going all wrong and losing the kids. He has nightmares about the creature that crawled through the wall in Joyce Byers’ living room and drowning in Lover’s Lake. He has nightmares about watching Eddie die in Dustin’s arms and not being able to do anything about it.

He also has nightmares about normal things he’s anxious about. He has nightmares about forgetting, about being forgotten or left behind. He has nightmares about the Upside Down coming back and being in a position where he can’t protect his friends anymore, but the worst are the nightmares about Barb.

They don’t even pop up around the time of her disappearance. He gets them most often around the anniversary of his father’s death. It’s always the same – the way his parents were more angry about it happening at their house than that it happened at all, the weird way that lecture got physical, her nearly empty funeral. He dreamed of her, water-logged and unforgiving, and how he could never find enough words to say that he was sorry.

Eddie’s reaction to nightmares are more subdue.

It’s a juxtaposition to everything everybody knows about him. He spent a lifetime running away, but the nightmares have always froze him to the bone. They play out in vivid detail behind his eyes while his body lays stiff and trembling. He is quiet in a way that is always scary to see, barely making a sound beyond the hitching of his breath.

Eddie dreamed a lot about Chrissy.

He dreamed about saving her, about doing everything right so she walked out of the trailer that night and how it didn’t matter if he did or not. He dreamed about the cracking of her bones and her eyes caved into her head, and it always felt like he was back there again.

He dreamed about the bats. He dreamed about the swarm, about fucking up and Dustin getting bit, but he also dreamed about Rick’s boat house. He dreamed of the basketball team finding him and beating him until he couldn’t feel the punches. He dreamed about Patrick, floating out of the water and knowing that he couldn’t save him either.

Eddie dreamed other nightmares too – about his dad and the time before he lived with Wayne. He dreamed about what his mother might say about her queer son and if it would repeat the echoes of his father’s anger. He dreams about losing Steve and not finding him, about Vecna coming back and ripping away the life he built.

He had nightmares and he’d wake up with a wet gasp in the arms of his husband because even though it’s not obvious, it always seems to be to Steve.

[asbealthgn]

this is for @henderdads. i wasn’t going to write more, but alas. here is steve and eddie figuring out how to haunt dustin (part one here!)

———

“Dustin! Hello!” Steve shouts, waving his hand in front of Dustin’s face to no reaction.

“It’s no good, dude,” Eddie says, sitting back on Dustin’s bed. “Little shit can’t hear you.”

Well, that’s not good. They’d been so excited when they finally figured out how to get to the real world so they could haunt people. Obviously, the first person they wanted to haunt is Dustin. But apparently, he can’t see them. Defeated, Steve perches on the edge of Dustin’s desk so he can watch the kid working on his math homework. 

“Damn,” he says, “This is just like when we were in the Upside Down.”

Expression brightening, Eddie hops to his feet and crosses over to Steve. He grabs Steve’s face in his hands and kisses his forehead. “Stevie, you’re a goddamn genius,” he says. Then he lets go of Steve and rushes over to Dustin’s lamp. 

“What’re you—oh!” Steve says. Eddie’s going to try to use the lights, just like when they communicated with Dustin, Erica, and Lucas at the Wheelers’ house. Eddie sticks his hand into the lamp and it glows brighter. Steve watches Dustin for a reaction. There’s nothing at first, but then he glances up from his homework and over his shoulder. 

“Oh no,” he mutters.

“Yeah, it’s working!” Steve says, “Do the SOS thing!”

“Yeah, yeah, good idea,” Eddie says. He pulls his hand in and out of the lamp to do the Morse code. Steve watches closely as Dustin sticks his hands in his hair, pulling on it and shaking his head. 

“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” Dustin says, “There can’t be anyone in the Upside Down!”

Eddie pulls his hand out of the lamp. “No, c’mon, Henderson, not the Upside Down,” he says, “The fuckin’ afterlife, dude.”

“Why didn’t I buy a Lite-Brite,” Dustin is muttering to himself. Then he raises his voice. “Alright, whoever that is, I’m gonna need more! Do you know any more Morse code?”

“How do you say ‘no’ in Morse code?” Eddie asks, looking at Steve who shrugs.

Maybe realizing the dilemma, Dustin changes tactic. “Okay, how about one for yes, two for no?” Eddie sticks his hand in the lamp and pulls it out quickly to signal yes. “Great!” Dustin says, “And can you show me a no?”

Eddie sticks his hand in twice. No. Nodding excitedly, Steve gives him two thumbs up. “You’re doing great, babe!” he calls. Eddie grins at him.

“Okay,” Dustin says, sounding relieved. He’s out of his seat now, pacing but keeping his eyes on the lamp. “Are you in the Upside Down?”

No.

“No?” Dustin says, eyes wide. “Then where the hell are you?”

“How’m I supposed to answer that?” Eddie mutters.

Steve reaches out to smack Dustin’s head (his hand goes right through it). “C’mon, man, yes or no only.”

“Are you in a different alternate dimension that is not the Upside Down?” Dustin asks. 

Eddie looks at Steve. “What d’you think? Are we?”

Steve shrugs. “Not right now,” he says, “We’re currently on earth. I think.” Eddie nods and puts his hand back to the lamp. 

No.

“What?” Dustin asks, “How is that possible?”

“I know he’s asking rhetorically,” Steve says, “But by God this kid has gotta stop with the stuff we can’t answer.”

“Are you here in the room?” Dustin asks.

Yes.

“Yes!” Dustin says, “Fascinating! Can you see me?”

Yes.

Dustin is still pacing, looking excited. “This is an incredible discovery,” he says, “Beings that can communicate within our plane without being seen. You’re a scientific novelty!”

Eddie grins at Steve. “You hear that, Stevie? We’re a scientific novelty.”

“Man, I was really hoping we were gonna be able to freak him out with ghost shit,” Steve says, “I should’ve known he’d get all excited about it.”

“Okay, I want to figure out more about you,” Dustin says, “I think we’re going to need to go beyond yes or no questions. I have a book on Morse code. Can you see the whole room?”

Yes.

“Great! I’ll grab the book.” Dustin rushes to a shelf and rummages through it, eventually coming up with a book that he flips through until he gets to a page that has all the Morse code letters. “Alright can you see this?”

“I need him to bring it over here, how do I say that?” Eddie says. 

“I can read it over his shoulder for you,” Steve says, hovering behind Dustin.

Nodding, Eddie signals yes.

“Okay, good,” Dustin says, “Now. Who are you?”

Reading over Dustin’s shoulder, Steve calls out the dots and dashes to spell out Eddie’s name. 

“E…” Dustin says, watching the lamp, “D…D…I…E.” Then he drops the book, the pages flipping shut.

“Aw, c’mon,” Steve says, “How’re we supposed to talk to you now?” 

Dustin has sunk to sit on the edge of his bed, hands over his mouth. Eddie shares a look with Steve who moves to sit next to Dustin on the bed, trying to pat his shoulder but mostly just going through it. 

Finally, Dustin moves his hands off his mouth and looks back at the lamp. “Eddie?” he whispers, “Really? Our Eddie? You’re not just fucking with me?”

“How do I answer that?” Eddie asks, “That was like three for yes and one for no.”

Maybe realizing what he’s done, Dustin repeats, “Is it really Eddie?”

Yes.

Shit. Now Dustin is actually crying. Eddie looks sort of panicked, glancing back and forth between the kid and Steve, who’s at a loss. Watching his little brother cry is heartbreaking, especially since he can’t do anything to comfort him. He tries placing a hand on Dustin’s back anyway, and this time it actually stays there instead of sinking through. Dustin jumps about a foot, looking around frantically.

“What was that?” he asks, “Was that you?”

“Wait, hold on—how did he feel that?” Steve asks. Eddie just shakes his head, eyes wide.

No.

“No?” Dustin squeaks about an octave higher than his usual register.

“Why’d you say no? It’s just gonna freak him out more,” Steve says. 

“He deserves to know you’re here too,” Eddie says.

Dustin is looking over his shoulder like he’s trying to see the spot on his back where Steve’s hand was. “Then what the hell was that?” When there’s no response from the lamp, Dustin picks the Morse code book back up and flips it to the right page. 

“Gimme the letters for your name,” Eddie says. Steve reads them off. 

“S…T…E…V…E,” Dustin repeats. Then he starts crying again, harder than before. 

“Shit, dude, you don’t have to cry for me,” Steve mutters. He doesn’t even know if Dustin will be able to tell, but he puts an arm around the kid’s shoulders. It rests there instead of falling through, and Dustin jumps again but doesn’t shake him off. 

“That you, Steve?” he whispers. Steve squeezes his shoulder and Dustin takes a shuddery breath that sounds a little like a laugh. Eddie leaves the lamp and sits by Dustin on his other side, putting a hand on his back under Steve’s arm. Dustin reacts to the touch. “Eddie?”

He looks from side to side, and he’s not quite looking directly at them, but Steve could maybe pretend he is. “I don’t know if I’m just losing my mind here, but I can kind of see you,” Dustin says, “Out of the corner of my eye.”

Steve catches Eddie’s eye over Dustin’s head and they smile at each other. Dustin seems so small and fragile between them, but he’s smiling too. When he speaks, there’s a devastating optimism in his voice.

“Thanks for coming.”

[charming-charlie]

Lunch Break

Title // Lunch Break

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Jealousy mostly? Little bit of teasing and some implied oral too.

Summary // Jealousy rears its ugly head at Station 118.

Word Count // 2.5k

Prompt // Buck's reaction when you ignored him because of something // “Come and sit on my lap, baby.” with bucky pls // “I wish I could tell the world.”- “Go ahead.”- “OKAY WORLD GUESS WHAT *insert name here* IS MY FREAKING BOYFRIEND/DATEFRIEND/GIRLFRIEND AND I REALLY-”*A puts hand over B’s mouth*- “I did not mean literally!” reader x evan omg

It was a perfect, beautifully sunny day in Los Angeles. The birds were singing, the air was warm, and life was good. Then again, you were just in a good mood. You had a romantic meal with your boyfriend, Evan Buckley, and he spent the night at your apartment. Nothing sexual happened, unfortunately, but you were okay with that. The dinner was followed by some hard yet serious conversations where the two of you let everything out and shared the most intimate thoughts. By the time you checked the clock, it was two in the morning and Buck had to get some sleep. He had an early shift the next morning.

When you woke up, he wasn’t there, but he did leave a fresh pot of coffee and a sweet text message saying he was looking forward to seeing you later. You figured it should be sooner rather than later, and you took the rest of the morning to shower, get dressed, and go through your morning routine.

It was around early afternoon when you arrived at the firehouse. Apparently, the crew just returned from a call. Chimney was putting equipment away and when he spotted you, his face melted immediately into shock. “Oh no. Who told you?” Chim asked once you finally reached within earshot.

The phrase lingered with a certain dread and you stopped in your tracks to look at him. Giving him a slight head tilt to emphasize your curiosity, you let out a confused smile. “Told me what?”

Chim couldn’t look more like a turtle if he tried. His shoulders hunched as if he were trying to hide or disappear. He turned back to the equipment, grabbing two very menacingly looking hammers and hooking them into one of the compartments on the firetruck. “Told you about our call. Buck and the girl,” he mumbled into the air. You had to strain to hear him, since he was avoiding your gaze completely.

“What girl?” you couldn’t help but ask.

Chimney pursed his lips and he closed his eyes. It was almost like he was trying to rack his brain for something else to say to you, but he sighed in defeat. He turned to look at you. “Buck scored a girl’s number on the last call. He didn’t deny it or said he was seeing someone.”

You were taken aback by that and the wheels in your brain were already turning. You couldn’t see Buck doing that, not after how close the two of you grew, and the sweet text message that was still on your phone. Yet Chim looked worried. Not for Buck but for you. You couldn’t help but think there was some truth to what Chim was telling you, especially given the fact that he was a terrible liar. This didn’t seem like a lie.

The more you thought about it, the more upset you became. Even though he spilled his guts last night, talking about how he transformed from Buck 1.0 to Buck 2.0, maybe that was all an act. Maybe that was just his move, a ploy to get unsuspecting women to fall head over heels for him. Maybe he was Buck 1.0 the entire time.

You nod at Chim, your way of thanking him without saying anything, and you turn on your heels to leave the firehouse. You tried to ignore Chim’s stare into your back but soon got distracted by seeing Buck walk toward you with a smile. He looked so pleasantly happy that for a second, you wanted to believe he has truly changed, and yet you could not bring yourself to smile back.

“Hey babe. Miss me already?” Buck asked you. He reached out to touch you, but you immediately pulled back and walked around him, like he wasn’t even there.

The smile fell from Buck’s face as you walked away from him. You didn’t even acknowledge him. It kind of hurt when you didn’t text him back but now you’re straight up ignoring him? What gives?

He followed the trail that you left behind, and it led him to Chimney, who was still busy restocking the truck with fresh supplies. “Hey Chim, do you have any idea why Y/N seems mad at me? She just walked off without saying anything.”

Chim shut one of the compartment doors with a loud thud, causing Buck to jump at the metallic sound. “I told her about the girl’s number you got earlier,” Chim said. He was now also avoiding Buck’s gaze. His eyes were staring right at the side of the truck, as though it were fascinating and capturing his attention.

“That—wait, what? That girl gave me her number to give to Eddie,” Buck went on the defense, looking defeated and upset, “how did she—I don’t understand. Y/N thinks I would do that?”

It sounded like he was talking to himself now and Chim used that opportunity to slip away and find somewhere to hide. Sure, he may have made a situation worse by not fully understanding what happened, but it was best to get out of there while Buck sorted through his thoughts. Buck thinking could be dangerous sometimes.

He whipped out his phone and starting texting you at lightning speed. He would send one sentence after another instead of a whole wall of text. He did this, knowing you would get every single notification. Your phone would constantly buzz from the incoming messages. You’d have to talk to him.

An hour went by and Buck was running out of things to send to you. He started sending every emoji individually, one by one. By the time he sent the yellow smiley with the halo, his phone rang.

“Y/N,” he answered with a hesitated smile. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, “I knew that would work.”

“What worked?” the voice on the other line was not you, but rather his sister, Maddie.

The defeated slump of Buck’s shoulders would have made a cartoon noise as he sat down in one of the comfy leather chairs at the firehouse. He lied; his hopes were up but the voice of his sister popped them away. He tried to put on a brave face to help mask his saddened voice, but Maddie wasn’t convinced.

“Nothing, what’s—”

“Are you and Y/N okay?”

Maddie interrupted him and Buck leaned back. He hated the fact that you were ignoring him when there was a simple explanation to the situation. Buck opened his mouth and was about to say something, anything, to get his sister off his back, but Maddie retorted with a smooth and confident, “Don’t lie to me.”

How she was able to read her brother over the phone was a mystery unto itself.

“She’s ignoring me,” Buck replied with a sigh. He didn’t really want to talk about it. He wanted to go back and continue texting the entire emoji alphabet to you. It hit him, then, that if you were trying to call him, the call wouldn’t go through since he was on the phone with his sister. Quickly sitting up, he mumbled a super-fast and hardly audible “I gotta go, Maddie. Talk later,” before he hung up on his sister and went back to staring at the phone.

You didn’t text him back and there was no indication of a missed call.

It took everything in his willpower to not chuck the phone at the wall, purely out of frustration. If he were not on duty right now, he’d be at your apartment and talk things out. His hand tightened around his phone, just in time for his best friend to stroll on by.

“You okay?” Eddie asked, looking at Buck with curiosity.

“It’s your fault,” Buck said suddenly. He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his voice as he rose to his feet.

“What is?” Eddie asked cautiously. He was walking backwards, away from Buck. When Buck was angry, it wasn’t a pretty sight. There was no violence or anything like that, but tensions did rise high when their resident goofball wasn’t his usual self.

“You and that girl flirting on the call today, and I’m supposed to give you her stupid number that she gave me to give to you and now my girlfriend isn’t talking to me because of you and that girl’s number and I’m going craz—”

Bobby was hearing the commotion and he quickly walked over to the scene. As the captain, he had to make sure his firefighters played nice. “Everything okay over here?” Bobby asked, looking back and forth from Eddie to Buck.

“Did you try calling Y/N?” Eddie interjected while ignoring Bobby’s question. He was unfazed by Buck’s tangent to make a point, something he was pretty used to after working at Station 118 for so long.

Buck stopped and immediately shut his mouth. The resentment on his face changed into something else. What was it? Guilt, maybe?

“What did you do?” Bobby asked while turning to Buck, “never mind, I don’t want to know.” After dealing with Buck and Eddie’s antics at the firehouse, sometimes Bobby needed to pick and choose his battles. He wasn’t going to pick and choose this one.

“Cap, can I…” Buck sheepishly started asking a question, like he was about to be scolded or something. He avoided Bobby’s gaze and let his voice trail off.

Bobby looked at Eddie, who shrugged and raised his hands in surrender, wanting no more part of the situation. Eventually, the Captain exhaled and nodded. “You have one hour, Buck. I’m making this your lunch break.”

With that, Evan Buckley was on a mission. He stopped by the farmer’s market and bought a bouquet of flowers and he raced to your place. The elevator in your apartment building was out of order, forcing the young but thankfully in shape fireman to dash two, sometimes three stairs at a time. He was just there this morning and it already felt comfortable, like he could see himself being more familiar with the apartment building as time went on. He hoped he would, but he just recently learned not to get his hopes up.

He rapped a few times on the door and used the flowers to cover up the peep hole so that you couldn’t see he was standing there.

“Who is it?” you asked through the door.

Buck wasted no time. “Delivery.”

“I didn’t order—” you began until you saw him. He was standing there, looking gorgeous like always. Every bone in your body was telling you to look away, shut the door, and go back to ignoring him. You turned away from him, and he held out the beautiful bundle of flowers.

“Delivery,” he said again, this time in a more apologetic and remorseful tone.

You took the flowers from his grip, and your fingertips brushed over his lightly. If you weren’t mad at him, you would be picturing those fingers brushing over other things, like different body parts.

“Today was a misunderstanding,” Buck said. He was giving you a look, a sweet, innocent look, and it was hard to look away. He knew just how to keep you captivated, how to keep you interested, and you found yourself opening the door to invite him in. He smiled a little and walked into the apartment that he was in only hours before.

It was a small place with one bedroom. Nothing like his two-story loft that he got to enjoy when he wasn’t working. However, the smaller apartment made things seem cozier. Even he couldn’t explain it, but he did like being there.

“The phone number was for Eddie, not me. The whole thing is a misunderstanding. Miscommunication at the firehouse, it’s not exactly uncommon. I wouldn’t do that to you,” Buck was saying. You were hanging on his every word. Sure, you may have taken things a bit extreme by ignoring him, and yet here he was, willing to fight for you and fight for a place in your life. You must give him credit for that.

“You really mean a lot to me, Y/N. I wish I could tell the world.”

“Go ahead.”

Buck stared at you, slowing blinking at your sudden permission to share his feelings. While last night’s deep conversations were perfect, it made the two of you closer to each other. Buck was in denial, but after realizing he could possibly lose you, even over something as a simple mistake, it made things a lot clearer to the fireman.

“Okay world, guess what!” Buck started shouting, catching you off guard, “Y/N is my freaking girlfriend and I really—”

You put a hand over his mouth. He was loud and you had neighbors on both sides of you and the walls were paper thin. The last thing you wanted was to deal with the cops over a noise complaint that your man was professing his love for you in a neighborhood apartment complex.

“I did not mean literally!” you whisper-shouted to Buck.

He was grinning behind your hand. You could feel it. His hidden smile only made you smile in return. Yeah, perhaps you were a tad dramatic today but so was he. Maybe it was proof that the two of you just felt fiercely for each other and needed the clarification that things were going to be okay.

Buck moved away from you and plopped down on your cream-colored loveseat. Your whole body turned to look at him as he relaxed. His eyes never left your gaze. He was staring at you, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. There was a swirl of emotions in his eyes. He was staring at you, admiring you, like you were a work of art. In his eyes, you were.

“Come sit on my lap, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You walked up to him and sat down, one leg on either side of him as you straddled his waist, facing him. His hands found themselves pressing into the curves of your waist while your arms snaked themselves around his neck. “Don’t tell me you left your shift for this,” you told him in a whisper. His head seemed to be getting closer and closer to you, and you found yourself gravitating toward his lips.

“I’m on my lunch break,” Buck whispered against your lips.

You pushed your body against him. “Then you better eat something before you go back.”

Buck only smirked as his fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt. Your little daydream from earlier, the one where you didn’t want to imagine Buck’s fingertips going places, was starting to come back the very moment he touched your bare skin.

“I’m working on it,” Buck replied huskily before letting his lips move against yours in a desperate need to claim them.

The drama from the afternoon seemed to evaporate and a bubble started forming around you and Buck. For now, at least for however long he had on his lunch break, nothing could pop the bubble. You two were in your own little world, safely confined within the walls of your apartment. Too bad your walls were paper thin though. Your neighbors might file a noise complaint after all.

[babybuckleydiaz]

For a promt: After like a week or two after 3x15 Buck, Eddie and Chris has a movie night wich ends with Buck spending the night in the Diaz house where Eddie finds out Buck is not okay. He is having nightmares shouting out Chris` and Eddie`s name when the tsunami and Eddie being trapped morphes into one dream with Buck waking up and having panic attacks.

Warnings: swearing, panic attack, drowning, nightmares and spoilers for some of the eps. established buddie, like I always do :)

This kinda got away from me, not gonna lie but I was really excited to get this prompt. It easily my longest one-shot at the moment, but I hope you guys liked it. Thank you so much for the request, it was a really good one to write. Also, every time I read a fic that has a nightmare scene, it’s just a straight up flashback. Also every time I write a fic Eddie seems to be the ceo of nicknames.

  “No, it’s Bucky’s turn to pick!” Eddie rolls his eyes and sits back down, having just gotten up to pick another movie for them to watch but it seems as though his son was going to have other ideas about that. “Don’t feel so bad, Eds.” Buck begins with a laugh from where he had been sitting on the other side of Christopher, who looks up between Buck and his father with a happy expression adoring his face. “If I’m picking the movie, then it actually means Chris is picking it.” Eddie sniggered at what his boyfriend had said and agreed, because Buck was completely wrapped around Christopher’s finger and would so absolutely anything the kid asked of him. It was enduring most of the time.

  “He’s right, daddy.” Christopher adds on with a serious expression, causing Eddie to burst out into laughter as he shakes his head at his kid’s honesty, Buck rolling his eyes with a cheerful smile stretched across his lips. “Hey, the kids honest.” Christopher giggles so loudly when Buck leans over to tickle his stomach before getting up, remembering what movie Christopher had said during dinner that he wanted to watch. “Let me guess. Moana.” Eddie sighs with an annoyed look, he’s been forced to watch that movie so many times since he bought it, especially after the Tsunami happened. Christopher took a fascination with the movie, and Eddie knew it was because it must have helped to see the water as something that he doesn’t need to be scared of anymore. Eddie takes a moment to look at Buck, who he knows has developed such a large fear of water because of the event. The older firefighter doesn’t blame him in the slightest, Buck and Christopher had almost died and that was enough to make him not fond of water either.

  “You’re are correct, Mr Diaz.” Buck says over his shoulder as he takes a moment to search for the movie, grumbling about how Eddie has far too many DVDs when all these movies were online. Eddie smiles, that’s rich coming from someone who has a million CDs when he has the same music on his phone.

  “Ha! Found it!” Buck cried out in triumph and held up the movie case like it was treasure, and Eddie know he’s doing it because it will get a laugh out of Christopher. And that’s what the young boy does without fail, his giggling filling the room as he looks up at his father with the happiest expression on his face. “Bucky’s silly.” He notes and Buck looks over his shoulder to glare at Buck when his boyfriend laughs and agrees with his son. “Wow, betrayed by my own boys.” Eddie can’t help but think about how much he loves this man, who has done nothing but made him and his son’s life so much happier; able to brighten their lives just by being around.

  “You’re silly, but we love you Bucky.” Buck smiles so happily at Christopher when he had spoken. “Well, then you’re both forgiven.” He retorts with a serious look in his eyes, even though there was a sly smile worming its way onto his face. “Oh hey, I don’t here I love you guys, Buck. That’s a bit mean.” Eddie joins in on the joking as well, having a mock expression of disbelief on his face. Buck stands up after he’s put on the movie, returning to his spot on the couch beside Christopher; sticking his tongue out at Eddie in response. To which Eddie just rolls his eyes and wonders why he loves someone who has the personality of a six year old. “I love you guys too.” Buck ends up saying it anyway, and despite the false reluctance in his voice the look in his eyes has nothing but love for the two people sitting on the couch with him.

  “Shh, movie’s starting!”

  Eddie and Buck exchange a look with silent laughs when Christopher had spoken, his eyes fixated to the screen as the movie began to play. Christopher leans into Buck’s side, the older man wrapping his arm around the kid as he too begins to watch the movie. Eddie takes this moment to snap a picture of the two most important people in his life curled up together; making his heart completely melt in his chest. He takes the time to send the photo to Maddie, who loved getting these photos of her brother being content and happy with his family. She said it made her so happy that someone loved his brother as much as he and Christopher did, that he deserved to this type of love more than anyone she knew.

  From: Future Sis-In-Law   they look so happy! Keep up the good work, Diaz!

At the message, Eddie smiles as he phones his eyes and put his phone back into his pocket and begins to watch the movie with his family; both of his boys’ eyes fixated to the screen.

  There was one part in the movie that Eddie was a little worried about, where Moana seems as though she is going to drown and it made him worry about Buck’s reaction to it. So sure enough, when the part came on Eddie found himself turning his head to look at Buck and his reaction to it. He could see how Buck had a deep frown on his face, his mouth pressed into a tight line, his body seeming to tense up.

  Eddie reached out and took Buck’s hand into his own, the younger man looking over at him and giving him a grateful smile as he gave the hand in his a gentle squeeze. The action was a wordless ‘I’m okay’ that he didn’t want to say out loud; but it showed his thankfulness for his boyfriend understanding him easily.

  They got through the remainder of the movie easily, Buck growing relaxed once more as he kept Eddie’s hand in his own the entire time with Christopher still lying against him. The young boy was growing tired, eyes barely able to stay open by the time the credits to the movie rolled down the screen, Buck looking down at the boy in his arms. “Ready for bed, kiddo?” His voice is barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the relaxed and peacefulness they found themselves in. Christopher yawned loudly as he nodded his head but no move to remove himself from Buck, Eddie chuckling at the action. “You wanna put him to bed then?” Buck didn’t hesitate and showed no annoyance at having to do it; instead he nodded his head as he picked the boy up who in turn rested his head against the man’s shoulder.

  “I’ll meet you in bed, babe.” Buck explained as he began to small trek into Christopher, Eddie just sitting there and watching him disappear down the hallway for a moment. Eddie got up and burned off the movie, not bothering to clean up the cups that sat empty on the table and would leave them for tomorrow morning, he was tired and just looking forward to going to sleep. Yawning, Eddie made his way into the bedroom and began to get himself ready for bed with tired movements. Climbing into the bed, he laid there awake as he waited for his boyfriend to enter; which he did a minute after he got comfortable.

  “Kid fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.” Buck noted with a fond chuckle as he began to get ready for bed himself, Eddie noting how tired he looked as he moved around the room. “If it was any other movie he would have fallen asleep halfway through.” Eddie spoke with a smile, one that Buck couldn’t see in the darkness of the room but could hear when he talked.

  Buck was quiet as he climbed into the bed, yawning quietly but dramatically as he lay down beside his boyfriend. Both of them moved without talking as Buck lay on his side, Eddie movie to bring the other flush against his chest and wrap an arm around his waist. Eddie pressed a kiss to the back of Buck’s head, and in turn Buck had reached down to entwine his finger’s wish Eddie’s, already beginning to doze off. “Night, baby.” Eddie said, already beginning to fall asleep once he grew comfortable with the position and Buck humming in response to what had been said. It was obvious that he was already beginning to doze off in the arms of the man that he loved.

  “Wake me up early and I’ll kill you.” Was the last thing that Buck had the strength to say with words slurred with sleep, Eddie snorting as he briefly smiled. They both had a day off tomorrow, something that doesn’t happen that often at the same time and they were going to spend it well; and that meant sleeping all day after Abuela picked up Christopher for a sleepover.

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

  Buck doesn’t know how he found himself back underwater, vision blurred and barely able to see his own hand in front of his own face; surrounded by dirtied water and too much debris. His lungs screamed for him to take a breath as he fought his way to the surface, using everything he had in him to not get dragged down by a force that he couldn’t see.

  He took a giant heap of oxygen when he finally managed to break the surface of the water, splashing around as he managed to gather his own surroundings and what was going on. The Tsunami, he was in the tsunami and all he knew is that he didn’t have Christopher with him. Where was Christopher? He felt as though someone had gripped his heart with their bare hands and gave it a crushing squeeze with the amount of fear that worked throughout his body. “Christopher!” He screamed, as loud as he could despite the aching in his throat and how chocked up it was with the need to break down and sob. He grunted in pain when he felt something knock into him, and for a moment he found himself flailing back underneath the water. He looked down, eyes hurting, and made a noise of fear when he saw a hand gripping his ankle, the person attached to it doing what they could to drag him down.

  With his heart in his throat, Buck kicked at the hand in an attempt to get free and reach the surface, he needed to find Christopher and make sure they kid was okay. He looked at the face of the person holding his legs, seeing huge white eyes with no pupils and mouth open in a snarl. He let out all the air he had trapped in his lungs with with an open mouth scream, the sound muffled by the water rushing into his mouth. He gave one more kick and was able to finally get himself free, moving as quick as he can to get himself free and rush as quick as he could to the surface once again.

  He didn’t even stop as he dragged lungs into his pain filled lungs, moving quickly as he could away from the area that wanted to become his doom. “Christopher!” His voice broke as he screamed, looking around for any sign of the boy that he loved as his own; feeling nothing but fear when he didn’t get a response. “Chris! Please, where are you?!” Buck’s filled with nothing but desperation as he screamed as loud as he could, tears already sliding down his cheeks as he looked around wildly.

  “Buck!”

  Buck’s head turned so quickly in the direction that he heard Christopher’s voice come from, sobbing in relief when he saw the little boy holding onto a light pole in an attempt to keep himself above the water. “Christopher! Keep calling out to me, I’m coming!” As the words left his mouth, the young man was already on the move towards the young boy, ignoring how badly his own body ached as he swam towards Christopher. “Buck! Help!” The fear that was in the boy’s voice broke Buck’s heart to hear, but hearing Christopher was better than not hearing him at all; it meant he was still above water.

  He swam and swam as quickly as he could, just out of arms reach from the boy when he saw Christopher’s grip on the light pole loosen. Buck watched with absolute horror as the kid was dragged under the water once again, one final cry of Buck’s name before he was completely gone. “No! Christopher! No!” He screamed, only to be pulled under the water once again by the grip on his ankle, and he braced himself to be forced under the surface once more.

  Only he hit solid ground.

  He was no longer in the tsunami, instead he found himself standing in the rain surrounded by the team at the 118, each one looking devastated as they stood around. Buck gasped as he realised where he was, Eddie was in danger and Buck wasn’t there to have his back. “We gotta help him! Bobby!” When Buck cried that out he could still taste the salt water in his mouth, it still felt like his lungs had been filling up with water despite being on solid ground.   “He’s gone, Buck! We can’t get to him. He’s gone.” Bobby was speaking to him, but Buck found that he couldn’t accept the words that were being spoken to him. No! They can’t just give up on Eddie, not when he would never even dream of giving up on any of them. “Bobby, we can’t leave him down there. We can’t do that!” The sob was threatening to be torn from his throat when he saw the remorseful look on his team’s face and he felt shocked; they were really giving up on Eddie. “Alright, pack it up. We can’t do anything.” Buck could only watch, completely dumbfounded because this isn’t how this was supposed to go, they can’t just leave Eddie to die.

  “Cap, no! Please, he’s still alive.” He was no longer yelling, in fact he was downright pleading as tears streamed down his face. He momentarily looked down, and he frowned when he noticed that he was wearing the close he wore on the day the tsunami hit. He shook his head, that wasn’t the important thing right now. The important thing was that Eddie was down there and they needed to get to him, but no one was doing anything about it.

  “Even if he’s gone, we can’t leave him.” Buck explained, but it seemed to go on deaf ears as he was ignored by everyone around him; no one bothering with a response to the crying firefighter.

  So Buck did the only thing that he was able to. He dropped to the ground and began to dig into the dirt with his own bare hands.

  “Eddie! Please!” He begged, sobbing as he continued to dig; ignoring the stinging pain in his hands as he refused to give up.

  “Buck, wake up!”

  Buck looked up, looking utterly confused and lost as he heard Eddie’s voice come from somewhere around him, but that didn’t make any sense to his already scrambled thoughts. Eddie was stuck, and he needed to get to him. “Eddie.” He cried out, the word barely understandable in amongst the sobs that didn’t seem to stop.

  “Evan! Come on, I need you to wake up.”

  Buck gave a choked cry of Eddie’s name as he bolted upright into a sitting position, breaths harsh and deep as he looked around him with wide eyes. Eddie was by his side the instant he was up, moving to sit in front of his partner, already knowing that his open eyes weren’t seeing anything that was in front of him. “Hey, hey, hey. You’re okay, Evan. You’re safe, I promise.” Eddie’s own tone was filled with desperation because his loved one was in pain and he wasn’t able to help him right now; and the thought of being useless was tearing his heart up.

  “No... There’s water eve-everywhere. Chris…” Buck’s voice was coming out in a whimper, the sound so incredibly small and heartbreak for Eddie to hear. “No, sweetheart. There’s no water. Come on, Evan. Hear my voice.” Eddie begged, wanting to reach out and touch his partner but knowing that right now it would most likely do more damage than good; he needed his boyfriend to be able to understand him. “Come on, Evan. Come back to me, you’re safe. Christopher is safe. We all are.” Promised Eddie and he saw Buck shift his eyes to him, tears endlessly sliding down his cheeks as he shook his head.

  “Eddie.” Whined Buck with the most hurt sob that Eddie has ever heard, his entire body shaking as he reached out and latched onto the material of Eddie’s shirt. He needed to feel something to let him know that Eddie was in front of him, that he still wasn’t stuck under the ground. “Yeah, baby. It’s Eddie.” Promised Eddie, and since Buck had grabbed onto him and began to reach forward to place his hands on Buck’s cheeks; he needs the other to look at him completely. “Alright love, I’m going to place my hands on your face, okay?” He warned beforehand, not wanting to do anything to frighten the man more than he already was.

  There was some relief he felt when Buck didn’t flinch away or hit his hands the moment the palm of his hand came in contact with the pale skin of his cheeks. “Hey, look at me. And only me, okay.” Buck’s eyes were blinking from Eddie to around the room, shaking it fear at something he could see that Eddie couldn’t. “Water. It’s everywhere.” He explained in a broken voice, still trapped inside his nightmare despite having woken up. “Evan, look at me. Just at me.” Eddie’s voice had taken more of a serious tone, his words still kind and it seemed to work, Buck letting his eye’s fall on Eddie’s own.

  “There isn’t any water, love. You’re in our bed, you’re safe.” There was a tone in Eddie’s voice, one that begged for Buck to trust in what he was saying. “You trust me, yeah?” He asked, and despite the way that Buck’s mind was working against him he didn’t even hesitate before nodding his head, not wanting to reply on his voice right now. “Good, then trust me when I say that there isn’t any water in sight.” Eddie could tell that Buck’s mind was beginning to become his own once again, can see it in his eyes when he looked over Eddie’s shoulder and around the room.

  “There isn’t any water…” Buck whispered, and that seemed to switch something in his mind because the moment he uttered those words he couldn’t help but burst into a fit of harsh sounding sobs. And Eddie didn’t even hesitate for a moment, he pulled Buck into his arms and let the younger man bury his face in the crook of his neck. Buck’s entire body was shaking under the force of his own crying, hands holding onto the front of Eddie’s shirt with a deadly tight grip.

  “I have you, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Eddie soothed in the gentlest voice that Buck has ever heard, the tone deep and vibrations when he spoke helping Buck to accept that Eddie was here and alive. “You don’t need to talk right now, okay? I have you, we’re all safe and okay.” Eddie explained, knowing that Buck wasn’t someone who could find comfort in talking about his nightmares the moment it happened. It helped him to wait, until he was completely calm and not on the verge of passing out because of a panic attack; so Eddie wasn’t going to force him.

  “I-I need to see Chris. P-Please.” Begged Buck, fearing that for some reason Eddie would deny the request to just walk down the hall and look into the kid’s room. But Eddie doesn’t do that, instead he pulls Buck away from his body just enough to smile comfortingly at him; taking a moment to cut the side of his face and use the pad of his thumb to wipe away tears. “Of course we can, sweetheart.”

  Sighing in relief, Buck allowed himself to be helped up out of the bed and down the hall; Eddie refusing to let him go for even a second. Not that it was something that bothered Buck, instead it was something that was helping to ground him in reality. Eddie was quiet as he opened the door to Christopher’s room, beyond glad that the young boy had managed to stay a sleep even despite Buck yelling in his sleep. He turned his attention to Buck, able to see how the other man visibly sagged in relief when he saw that they kid was sleeping in bed; safe.

  “Thank you.” Whispered Buck, looking up at his boyfriend with his eyes shiny with fresh tears, and Eddie smiled at him so softly as he closed the door to Christopher’s room. “You don’t need to thank me, baby. Not for this.” He reminded, not surprised at all when the other man didn’t decide to respond to what had been said. “Do you wanna go lay down, it’s still early?” Questioned Eddie, not moving from the hallway until he knew what it was that Buck wanted to do, what it was that would help him right now.

  “I think I might make a cup of tea first.” Is what Buck had responded with and Eddie doesn’t feel any annoyance at not being able to go back to sleep, not when Buck needed him after the terrible night that he had just had.  “Alright, you go ahead and sit on the couch, I’ll make it for you.” Eddie easily offered, because he also knows that his boyfriend prefers how he makes their tea anyway, always complaining that he can’t make it as good.   “No wait, I wanna stay with you.” Buck quickly said, the panic in his eyes at being alone causing Eddie’s heart to clench painfully inside his chest. “Hey, that’s okay, love.” The dark haired man quickly consoled, not wanting Buck to feel bad for the sudden loud and begging tone. “Come on, then. Do you wanna talk now or in the morning?” Buck seemed to take a moment to think about the question he had been asked as they entered the kitchen, the taller one sitting at the table while Eddie worked away to make two cups of tea. “Uhm, tomorrow… if that’s alright?”

  “That’s perfectly fine, Buck. We can take this at your pace, there isn’t any rush.” Buck couldn’t help but feel tears burn in his eyes again, unable to believe that someone as wonderful and patient as Eddie loved him. He wonders how the hell he got so lucky when Eddie asked him out on that date last year. “You’re amazing, Eds. You know that, right?” The words that Buck had said caused Eddie to smile bashfully, looking so damn handsome as he stood there doing something as making a cup of tea. “And you’re a sweetheart. You know that, right?”

  Buck was so grateful for this, that Eddie was able to understand that he needed to distraction to keep his mind away from the nightmare that his own brain had forced upon him. Eddie was always able to be so understanding of what Buck needed without even having talk about it, because he knew Buck better than anyone else ever has before. And Buck is so deeply in love with him.

  He just continues to listen as Eddie talks enough for the both of them, Buck’s smile soft and loving as he just takes in the scene. Just listening to Eddie ramble about whatever came to his head; a smile playing on his face the entire time.    

[littlemisssquiggles]

👑About what u said to the anon,about oscar doing more on his own,I think that's true as well,Iv seen the joke oscar going missing each volume is his thing,

It was said the hero's would take a detour be for going to vacuo,an I now strongly believe,there going to Becan not for the crown but to get oscar,

Either Salem will take him there to get the crown or he'll get there by him self some how

…Yeahhh, the whole Oscar disappearing each season has become a running gag with him since V6 since it is a repetitive thing that the showrunners like to do with him as part of his story. I don’t mind Oscar disappearing or going missing from the story, my one issue with this gag is that often more times than none, it does little to nothing for Oscar’s development as a character.

Even now with him becoming Salem’s prisoner and the showrunners thinking it’d be a brainiac idea to have Salem physically torture Oscar, it’s a tad overdone at this point. As a matter of fact, allow me to rant here for bit anon-chan because this squiggly Pinehead needs to get something off her chest regarding Oscar’s current predicament in the show.

I think it’s obvious to say that as a Pinehead, I really didn’t “enjoy” the Oscar torture scene from the fourth episode. My rationale for my disdain of that scene doesn’t just stem from a place of that scene making me feel very, very uncomfortable to watch but…I also didn’t like it for the context of it. 

Why would Salem physically torture Oscar? While I understand that Oscar is the current incarnation of Ozma and Salem has her beef with Ozma---I get that part yet I still find myself asking the same question. Why would Salem physically harm Oscar…despite the fact that physical torture of any kind stands the risk of potentially killing him in the process?

As the observant audience member as I try to be, I was of the opinion that Salem…y’know needs Oscar alive in order to get the answers for the relics that she so desperately seeks.

That being said, why use a torture method that could kill your captive who you know is immortal and you just implied in the same scene that you spent years trying to find him...

“...My long lost Ozma...found at last...”

...Even though…Salem knew that Ozma was Professor Ozpin and she knew that he was at Beacon Academy and...she also ordered Cinder Fall to kill Ozpin back at Beacon and even egged the Fall Maiden to confirm that she did in fact kill Oz back in V4...

I mean....Salem didn’t really do anything to capture Ozma when Professor Ozpin was alive but there she is going after him as Oscar so....yeah...?

This is one of the core reasons why I utterly despise the fact that Eddy Rivas---the credited writer for V8CH4--- wrote Salem torturing Oscar physically. It seems so…odd (for use of a lighter word) of her to do especially when you consider the angle that she needs Oscar alive and if Oscar dies from a physical injury that he sustained while being tortured then Salem would have to start from square negative zero with finding Ozma’s next reincarnation, granted that he even returns within the same timeline.

So…yeah the whole physical torture of Oscar to me now feels like it was thrown in purely for “shock value”. Like if Salem were to actively torture Oscar, I always imagined it would be sparingly while her main means of torture would be mentally torturing Oscar cause at least with the mind, Salem can get what she needs without the risk of killing Oscar as her victim. Not to mention that mental torture is a nice way to prove Oscar’s strength since we know that mentally Oscar is more vulnerable given his strained relationship with Oz. Salem mentally torturing Oscar fit more for his character than physical torture. Same for Salem since I always figured Salem was able to keep her pawns on such a tight lease due to her playing off of their emotional vulnerability.

This is what I pegged from her back in V4 with Tyrian Callows. With Tyrian, Salem didn’t need to resort to physical punishment to hurt Tyrian. All she simply had to say was that she was “disappointed” in Tyrian and that was enough hurt the Scorpion Faunus more than any physical pain could. Salem played into a torture method that’s fitting for whoever is in front of her.

So…why use physical torture on a kid who you know is the reincarnation of your “greatest adversary” who you are fully aware is as immortal as you and any attempt at killing him could render your entire scheme of using him to gain knowledge on the Relics null and void. Especially when you also consider the fact that Oscar was weak in that moment and his aura is broken. So he is going to feel every hit and blow that is dealt to him now which adds onto the point that he could potentially die from any injuries he gets while captive.

So again, I ask the obvious sensible question here---Salem needs Oscar alive so she could get him to disclose the information she needs about the Relic which is within his mind. So why the fudge would you NOT use mental or psychological torture means instead which can get you the information you need without the risk of ever killing Oscar.

The more I think about the Oscar torture scene from RWBY V8CH4, the more I hate it. At first it just deeply upset me because it’s my favourite character being hurt onscreen before my eyes in a moment that could be potentially triggering to certain folks given the circumstance---but now I just hate it because of how nonsensical it feels when you consider the characters involved. But as always, this is just my opinion on the matter.

Bottom-line, I’m not looking forward to any other Oscar torture scenes to come from the upcoming two episodes because my immediate reaction is that I’m going to strongly despise them all and I’m going to despise the writers even more for subjecting Oscar to this kind of ordeal yet again for “shock value”.

As if they haven’t put him through the ringer enough as it is. My only saving grace is that Oscar walks away from his imprisonment with a stronger relationship between him and Oz than previous seasons. 

Either that or…Oscar’s captivity ultimately lends to Ruby Rose being captured by Salem too (since she was a person of interest to the Wicked Witch from since V4 as a Silver Eyed Warrior) and what’s worse is that Oscar’s victimization by the villains is even used as bait to lure out Ruby despite the little prince’s efforts to endure the pain at the expense of never giving Salem the satisfaction of knowing that she can break him.

I’ll discuss more on this headcanon in an upcoming Pinehead Headcanon. But for now, that’s it for my rant on that. Sorry for the small tangent there anon-chan. Regarding your point about the group taking a detour for Vacuo, where was that mentioned?

The only thing about Vacuo I got wind of was when Eddy Rivas mentioned that the group will be in Vacuo briefly. Not sure if that was referring to V9 or the small glimpse of the Vacuo Desert that we glimpsed in last week’s episode, but that’s as much as I know about that.

I can definitely gleam that at some point the group will need to return to Beacon---especially since the Crown of Choice seems to be more important to Salem currently than the Sword of Destruction locked away underneath Shade Academy. But I’m not sure if this means that Salem will have Oscar held prisoner for that long. I’m still hoping for the assumption that Oscar is either saved or escapes Salem by the end of V8.

I would rather it be a case where Oscar returns to our heroes and they end up splitting up again---with one group heading for Vacuo to join their allies at Shade Academy to safeguard the Sword of Destruction while another group heads back to Beacon to join their allies there in securing the Crown. And since Oscar---as Ozma’s current incarnate---is the only one with knowledge of the crown’s true location due to his memories, he would need to be present in Vale.

It wouldn’t surprise me if part of V9 will be spent between Vacuo and Vale. Then again, this is all just speculation.

But for now, that’s how I’m seeing it since, as I’ll stress again, I REALLY, REALLY DON’T WANT V8 TO END WITH OSCAR STILL AS SALEM’S PRISONER. 

Not unless Ruby joins him and V9 is about the two smaller, more honest souls surviving imprisonment together before escaping and trying to journey to Vale on their own to meet up with their friends.

Since V8 showed a division in leadership with Yang going off on her own against Ruby’s direction, imagine if…this volume ends with Yang being forced to take up leadership in Ruby’s place since Ruby got taken by Salem and the heroes have no choice but to leave Ruby (and Oscar) behind as they’re forced to make the tough decision on protecting the remaining relics from Salem a opposed to saving their friends. Or…something like that.

Doubt something like this would come to fruition in the canon but…it would be interesting if it did. Seeing Ruby as Salem’s prisoner too and seeing how the little red rose would handle a predicament like that---being far away from her friends in the witch’s tower, forced to behave herself out of fear that Salem would do more harm to Oscar whose life Salem is still using as collateral against Ruby.

Watching a storyline where a lone Ruby Rose is stuck at the mercy of the main series’ villain and forced to use her wits and trust in her own judgement (which was challenged for this season, mind you) to manoeuvre her way through the villain’s labyrinth of a lair as a means of finding Oscar and figuring out a way for them both to escape captivity together and make their way back to their friends in Vale…I think that would be an absolutely fascinating story to watch play out. Like imagine if that was the narrative for the second half of V8 or even V9? Wouldn’t that be interesting?

I mean…I doubt it’ll be canon but…still it’s worth mentioning here cause…what if…y’know what I mean?

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

[har-rison-s]

you've silenced the great richie tozier!

request: I love your writings! You said you will write for all of the losers? Would you write a Richie x reader where the reader is an even bigger trash mouth and he’s like oh thats super hot?

A/N: Bonsoir, ladies and gents. Saturday, 19:45. Starting a little earlier, yay. Really wanna finish this tonight. I've watched 3 horror movies today, jesus christ. + Now I'm home alone. Now it's Sunday, haha. My eyes are tired from crying (I watched Chapter Two again and cried everything out). But I wanna finish this, I hope I do. Yah, lol, I didn't even live up to my own expectations. It's Tuesday and I really hope I actually finish and post this tonight. Happy reading!

warnings: strong language, horrible jokes cause I'm no comedian in all actuality.

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gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me!

“Beats spending it inside your mother.” Richie's exclaims and raises a hand for Stanley to high-five, but the boy brings it down. Last day of school, the boys have emptied their school bags of their contents, and are currently sharing their summer plans.

“Oh, it's Y/N.” Eddie announces, he sees the girl coming towards him and his friends. “Hi, Y/N.” Eddie waves at her and Y/N waves back.

“Hey, virgins.” She greets them with a big smile. The boys respond with quiet “hellos”, and they expect Richie to respond with something in his style of conversation, but there's just a small “hello” from him, too. Bill shows his surprise, looking at Richie with raised eyebrows. Y/N senses the strange silence between the four and scratches the back of her head out of pure nerves. “Why are we all so stiff? Playing manikins?”

“Yeah, haven't heard of the new play? The plot is set in a clothing store.” Richie says, his tongue back to work. Y/N narrows her eyes at the boy.

“And I assume you'll be playing the guy who gets a wardrobe makeover?” She raises an eyebrow, and eyes Richie up and down. His friends laugh, and for the first time in his life, Richie doesn't have anything to say. Even his friends notice. “So, what are you guys doing today? Last day of school!” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows with a grin on her lips.

“W-we have thuh-the Bar-Barrens.” Bill informs her. “Y-You wanna come al-along?”

“Sure. I've got nothing else to do, anyway.” Y/N shrugs.

“You're so sweet.” Richie says sarcastically.

“No sweeter than your dad's tongue.” She shoots right back, which earns laughter from the other three boys. Richie's quite frozen on the spot from her quick response. He adjusts his glasses. There's many things to say, but none of them cross Richie's mind. And he hates to be losing at a conversation of this sort.

The group of five start to head towards their bikes, though Henry Bowers and his friends are unfortunately in the group's way. First Bowers pushes Richie into Stanley, which causes both boys to fall down. Y/N immediately runs over to them and helps the boys to get back up on their feet.

Once they're up again, Richie and Stan both thank her for it. One boy is more flustered than the other, looking at her with deep red cheeks. Confidently, and without shame, Y/N faces Henry Bowers and shows him her clearly pissed off expression. But the bully isn't looking at her yet. “Hey, Bowers!” She calls out to him. Eddie, Richie, Stan and Bill look to her in a contained panic, and the Bowers gang, all four of them, turn their attention to Y/N, and the main bully sees the angry expression on her face. But it doesn't intimidate him in the slightest. “The fact that you're a dick doesn't make yours bigger.”

“Are you crazy?!” Eddie hisses to her, but Y/N pays no mind to the boy. Eddie's clearly in worry about her further well-being. Henry Bowers starts approaching her, and she stands bravely between her friends, not intimidated. And even though she's not afraid of the bully, she knows she should have kept her mouth shut. Just like Richie, this curse of always spitting out jokes and insults, will get her literally killed one day.

“Your summer will be hell.” Bowers growls. “You'll wish you were never born, you slag.” He tells her.

Y/N still looks at the bully, her slight anger rising more and more in his eyes, and feels a tugging at her skirt. It's Bill, signalling for her that it's time to go, but she doesn't notice him yet. “At least I'm not a failure like you.” She shoots right back at Bowers.

“Fuck!” Richie curses and they have to grab Y/N and make her leave with them a bit forcefully. The only way she could survive now is just to run. She and the boys head in a quick pace to their bikes, they're running as fast as they can, the Bowers gang right behind them. Though it's a little hard for Henry to run when his legs are like wooden sticks.

Though Richie is scared to death to actually get caught by Bowers and for Y/N to have the same destiny, he's very impressed by her. She's just like him, but—wait, could that be possible?—a bigger trashtalker than Richie. Could that really be possible?

He's also a bit jealous of her, but mostly he finds this increased, female-version-of-him Y/N quite… attractive. And not just because she speaks the way he does and because their personalities are basically the same, but also because she's pretty. She's very pretty. Though he feels like her personality bests her looks (No offense, Y/N's face, he thinks). She's magnetic.

“Fuck, I forgot my bike.” Y/N realises a big detail.

“You can ride with me.” Eddie proposes, and Y/N nods. They try to get on their bikes as fast as they can, with Bowers right around the corner.

“Be careful, Eddie, she might give you cooties.” Richie says, already on his bike and waiting for his friends to get started.

“You've already got all of them.” Y/N responds before Eddie can, and the boys laugh, despite their situation.

Y/N gets on the back of Eddie's bike, and off they all go. Bill leads his friends the shortest way to the Barrens, they pedal behind him as fast as they can. Y/N hears Bowers yelling profanities after them, threats that he will find them and make this summer their last.

But the girl only laughs at his threats and yells, and that takes Richie's attention once again. He adjusts his glasses and grins at the girl. She's completely untouched by Bowers and what comes with the name, the fear of him is chained to his last name like a dog to a fence. She's reckless, and she's funny. She's got a strong spirit. And Richie digs that. He hasn't met a girl like her before.

At least one that hangs out with him and his friends, and is, on the inside, a good person. Y/N looks over at Richie. “What are you looking at, Tozier?” She asks. “Glasses don't work? I'm not Diane Lane, sorry, sweetheart.”

The other boys laugh, but Richie's reaction is lesser. There's only a smile on his lips. “You wish.” He says to her, and Y/N sticks out her tongue at him.

“You wish you were Matt Dillon, Tozier.” She says, and looks at the road in front of her, and Eddie's hair that gets in the way of this view.

Richie hangs onto her words, and doesn't want to admit the truth in them. He does wish so, Dillon's the biggest heartthrob of this decade. There isn't a boy who doesn't wish to be in his shoes, with his looks and his charm. Cause all the girls dig Matt Dillon.

“You like him?” Richie asks her, and Y/N turns her head back at him. She raises an eyebrow once again.

“What's it to you?” She asks. Richie pretends like he's thinking, thinking deeply. His hand on his chin and a far-away look in his eyes.

“Say, what would you do if I woke up tomorrow and I would be Matt Dillon? Look like him, talk like him.” Richie proposes an idea. “What's your action?” He raises an eyebrow and grins suggestively.

“You'd be in Hollywood, which is a thousand miles away, so… I wouldn't really be able to do anything.” Y/N says, shrugging.

“Take a left!” Bill yells from the front, and Eddie speeds in front of an appalled Richie. The glassed boy only stares after Y/N on the back of Eddie's bike. She's got a big grin on her face, and she even laughs at Richie. Once again, she's made him lose his voice.

“Ha-ha! I'm in front of you!” Eddie brags to Richie. The boy's always been the fastest, but not now. He can't even think of being at the very front of his friend group. It doesn't even seem to matter now, doesn't seem like the most important thing.

What does though, is how to out-smart this girl. But looks like she's always a step--no, correction--a joke ahead of Richie. She's out-sassed him, and Richie is blown away. No one's ever done that before. And a girl? Most girls these days can't even look guys in the eye without fainting or blushing red like tomatoes. But Y/N's different. And Richie can't deny that he finds her hot, and her snapping back and out-smarting him.

Through the time the Losers and Y/N spent together on the last day of school, most of it was spent listening to Y/N and Richie going back and forth with jokes, too-corny-to-be-used-properly pick-up lines and pop-culture references. Though Y/N mostly beat him down, winning the unofficial contest. And she left Richie with his mind blank and mouth hanging open quite often. Bill, Eddie and Stanley had laughed at their friend. They were thankful to have found someone who makes the all-powerful Richie Tozier stutter and actually doubt his superiority in the comedy business.

He became quite fascinated with her, and he couldn't even hide his blush when she spoke to him. Though he did try to hide it, she still saw the pink tint coloring his squishy cheeks. And she had laughed, but to herself. She didn't want to embarrass the boy more than she already had. But it did make her feel a little powerful to be able to do so.

“Oh, no, now I get it.” She had said, and Richie had looked at her. For some reason, he thought she'd have a genuine statement to make. “You're auditioning for the red dress in the play.” She had concluded, and left Richie with his voice stuck in his throat.

“With a pale skin like yours, you'll do great as the white one!” He'd soon replied, which earned him a splash of Derry sewer water on his legs. The boy had only laughed and looked at the magnetic girl with wondering, wide eyes.

“I'll do great as a vampire.” Y/N had responded, and made a face that was supposed to mock the mentioned creature.

“And live off other people's blood? Disgusting, but enticing.” Richie makes an i'm-thinking face.

“I think blood is much more valuable than relying on them to always laugh at your jokes.” Y/N had admitted, and that earned her a splash of grey water on her legs. She'd squealed, but with a smile, and given an even bigger splash back to Richie. He'd gasped, almost covered in the liquid head to toe, and looked at Y/N.

“You're dead!” He'd screamed and pin-pointed the moment all hell broke loose. More specifically, he broke the hell right onto Y/N. An intense water duel had begun then, which no one except Richie and Y/N took part in, finding the activity more disgusting and unnecessary than standing by and watching would ever be.

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[hollenka99]

The Mediary

Summary: Jameson suddenly arrives in the next century and is caught between a feud.

Jameson kisses Madeline goodbye as she wishes him good luck with his audition. On the calendar, showing November somewhat prematurely, a wedding date is marked. He heads out the door, oblivious to the fact he'll never walk though it again. At the audition, he is tasked with demonstrating how to carve a pumpkin. Nothing intricate, just a test to see how he'd go about instructing others. Jameson feels it goes well until he accidentally nicks his finger with the knife provided. Those observing offer him a tissue to help staunch the bleeding. He gladly accepts. However, he feels himself spacing out for a few moments. Odd. He was never affected by the sight of blood before. For god's sake, he'd been a soldier long enough to reach the rank of captain. So why had he experienced such a reaction to a small cut? Never mind that, he had an audition to finish. He mentally brushes himself off and carries on as if there was no accidental injury. He tried his best. However, he doubted he'd hear from these people again. Oh well, there was always another role he could try for. There is no reason for him to be suspicious when he steps out of the exit. He is expecting to be greeted by cuboidal automobiles. The street outside the studio had been rather teeming with pedestrians when he'd entered too. His main concern had been avoiding accidentally getting in someone's way as he left. The gentleman doesn't quite understand how he found himself at an unfamiliar doorstep instead. He should not be here. Best to leave before the occupants noticed his trespassing. He is spotted before he get the chance to make his conspicuous escape. "Hey, are you new?" A man who shares a remarkable similarity to him approaches. 'I may be.' A screen appears, startling the both of them. 'What-?' "Don't worry, you're fine. Just talk normally." He speaks again but the screen intrudes the space between them once more. What on earth had happened to his voice? It was simply... gone. This made no sense. He had only been speaking aloud minutes before. Now suddenly the ability had vanished as soon as he'd left the studio. He begins signing but the stranger returns a slightly confused look. Alright, he supposes that was fair. He only knew the language himself because of Eddie. Jameson opens his palm and acts out the motion of writing on his hand. The man understands he's asking for a pen and paper yet apologises for not having any at his disposal. Damn it all. Fine. As much as he hates it, he resorts to allowing the floating screens to transfer his speech. The sooner he could find himself in a position where he could communicate via British sign language or writing, the better. 'I'm sorry for intruding. I don't know how I got here.' "No, you're cool. I don't live here. But I'm here to collect you. I'm Jack, do you have a name yet?" '...Jameson.' It's intended to be spoken warily but the most his message does to convey this is place an ellipsis directly in front of his name. "Well, great to meet you, Jameson. My house is that way if you'd like to talk more without us freezing our asses off out here." Jack points behind him with a thumb lifted over his shoulder. Jack tells him to make himself feel at home once they arrive. He introduces his Danish girlfriend, Signe. Jameson gets the sense she does not exactly want him in her home. Perhaps she is being polite and hospitable for the sake of humouring her partner. Jack provides a notebook for Jameson to write in. He asks his guest about his life and seems fascinated by the little Jameson discloses. As he and Jack chat, his host explains how there were characters known as the egos. They all shared the same face, albeit how they expressed their appearance varied. The problem was that the majority of the egos harboured great animosity towards Jack. He'd made some mistakes he'd rather not delve into which caused them to feel that way. Unfortunately, these misdemeanours had cost him everything. This was why he had created Jameson, who himself was another ego. Jack had decided to challenge himself by attempting to create someone who was even more fleshed out than the others. So, that was all he was, a work of fiction? All his memories were falsely implanted and never truly happened? No, Jack assures him with vigour in his eyes, he was as real as anyone else. In fact, he was further ahead in that regard than any other of the egos. The following day, there is a forceful knocking as Jack shows him where to find potential sandwich fillings for lunch. Jack seems to have an inkling as to who the visitor may be. With a frustrated sigh, grumbling about requiring more time, he heads to the front door. The visitor sounds unhappy from the fragments of speech Jameson overhears. Despite this, Jack lets the stranger in and directs him to the kitchen for introductions. "Chase, this is Jameson. Jameson, Chase." "Great. Progressed to kidnapping the newbies now? Just when I thought you couldn't screw us over any more." The moment Chase lays eyes on him, bitterness begins to infect Jameson's new life. He berates Jack, calling him Sean, for intercepting Jameson before he could enter the egos' house. Ah, so that's who lived in the building he had appeared in front of. After a brief argument, broken up with Signe's intervention, Chase is granted permission to take Jameson where the aggravated stranger believed he belongs. It is not surprising when Jameson is returned to the house. "Asshole said he was Jack and took him home." Chase announces as they pass through the door. "He what?!" A man with shoulder length hair dumps the cat he was cradling back on the sofa at Chase's return. Chase rants to the other ego about Sean. The tour of the building he gives is rushed, as if Jameson wasn't worth the time it took to provide a decent one. There was the living room, kitchen and the bedrooms which were scattered around the building. Jameson stops him to furiously scribble on the notepad. 'Why do you despise Jack so much? He was more than happy to accommodate me.' "Accommodate, my ass. You wanna know why we all think he's a prick? I'll show you." Chase grabs his arm roughly. Through hallways, they travel to a section of the building he can tell is some sort of infirmary. Laid on a bed is another ego. Around his mouth is a mask which presumably aided with breathing. The only part of him that moved was his chest, steadily inflating and falling along with his lungs, which was only just visible under the bedsheets. "This is Jack. He's a prime example of what happens when you keep trusting Sean and believing he actually cares. We're not shitting on Sean for the hell of it. We do it because he's a dick and we'd rather not force anyone else to lose their friend." Jameson has been here before, caught in the midst of Us versus Them. The gentry against the rest of the population, a son who behaved desirably and his less favourable brother, the British against the Arabs. He has been told which side to be loyal to for the entirety of his life and he is tired of it. He will stay in the middle if that's where he wants to be. And as such, there was someone whom required a visit. Sean sounds defeated when he lets him in. "Let me guess, they told you all about how I'm a terrible guy, worse than Satan or whatever." 'They certainly didn't paint you in a good light.' "I bet they didn't." Sean grumbles. 'There is one thing I cannot understand. Why deceive me regarding your identity? It would not matter whether you were Jack or Seán, I would not know the difference. Or, in fact, that there was a distinction to be made in the first place.' "Yeah, I know." He sighs. "I guess I got so used to them acting as if Jack came from above, I assumed the very mention of his name made you lot trust him immediately. To her credit, Signe did tell me it was a stupid idea." 'It certainly was.' "The only thing I lied about was my name. I can promise you that. And I only did it because the rest of them act like they're hardwired to instantly listen to him. Besides, I was known as Jack long before he ever came to exist. I gave Jack my nickname and he made it his own." 'A manipulation tactic then?' "I... I wouldn't go so far as to call it manipulation." There is a pause where he returns eye contact to Jameson. "Listen, once again, I messed up in a big way. It keeps happening to me but I am doing my best to do right by the egos, which includes you now. It was wrong of me to try force you to side with me without hearing from the other half of the argument. For that, I am sorry." 'As I understand it, you feel you are frequently at a disadvantage when it comes to them?' "Constantly, yeah." Jameson considers his next comment thoroughly. 'As it turns out, your welcome was much warmer than your reputation would have me believe. So, for now, I am willing to accept your apology and move on from this bad start.' And with that, Jameson lets bygones be bygones. He did not have it in him to expend such nonsensical energy on that cause. He has a room in the egos' house and therefore makes himself comfortable. There was a window to allow a good amount of natural light in. A model of radio he was familiar with was provided, as was the clock hanging on the wall. He could certainly admire the craftmanship of the wooden pieces of furniture. This was his last remaining slice of the era he once knew. An Irish painter of dolls who went by the name of Shawn Flynn naturally gravitated to him as they both came from the 1930s. As with all of them, there is a language barrier between the two men. However, with enough ink on paper and newly learned yet limited British sign language, they are able to sufficiently communicate. Shawn even had a television like used to make them in his room. In addition to this, a projector and camera to show Bendy cartoons. They spend an afternoon going through the catalogue Shawn has. Sean recruits a reluctant Chase to his side in November. The two of them co-operate on the channel's videos. Apparently, second in command had once been Jack's role. This also allows for Chase to soften slightly towards Jameson as he gets into the swing of his new schedule. It's a good thing too, given that Chase's friendships were negatively affected by his new affiliations. It hadn't taken long to discover any positive affiliation to Sean caused a demotion in the house's social hierarchy. At the top were those like Marvin, Chase and Jackie whom had a specific introductory video, not to mention were popular with Sean's fans. Then came those who mostly owed their existence to the audience and remained in the good graces of the others. And at the bottom were those like himself who didn't care for this feud with their creator. Perhaps their should be a Tier Zero which solely housed Marvin, apparent ringleader of the anti-Sean cause. It's during the middle of Adventide that Jameson has his first indirect introduction to Anti. It is astounding to see the difference fear could cause in everybody. Jackie, who frequently had a hint of venom about him, was trembling in a manner akin to that of a shell shock sufferer at the sound of Silent Night. Marvin follows Chase's lead as his protective instincts express themselves through comfort rather than defence. This was madness. As far as Jameson could see, it was simply a case of malfunctioning pictures and the carol playing faintly in the background. Chase takes a moment to check Jameson and anyone else unfamiliar with Anti were okay. He was largely unaffected personally by tonight so yes, he was fine. Except... there was a common enemy that seemed to surpass Sean on their antagonist scale. And somehow, deep within himself, Jameson knew that unnerved him more than anything else that happened that night. Christmas is a calmer affair than the charity stream of a fortnight prior. Marvin and Chase had discussed Jackie's wellbeing between themselves. Following explaining their intentions to the rest of the household, they surprise the youngest ego with the generous suggestion. A service dog could be beneficial to the young man. However, there would be a lot of preparation and organisation before this idea could come to fruition. It is wonderful to see everyone do their best to maintain high spirits after what sounded like a dreadful year. When Dr Jacksepticeye finds himself becoming corporeal, Jameson and Shawn are the only ones who welcomes him warmly. It is a bitter household to be brought into. Any alliance this doctor could form would serve him well. The others made it clear they would accept only one doctor as their kin. It went without saying that this doctor was the one Jameson had never met. The outcasts had to stick together. God forbid those against Sean spared any kindness to those who held anything less than hatred towards him in their hearts. The doctor quickly sets off on his duties as the new resident medical professional. He is soon referred to as Jase in casual situations, derived from the JSE abbreviation. This naturally transforms into Jason. Chase wins a personal victory in March when it is agreed that he would see his children during the weekend. Given that this aspect of his life had caused him much strife, there is all the more reason celebrate the good fortune. He volunteers to prepare pineapple upside down cake for the party, to which none of them seemingly object. Chase is completely flattered by his friends' gesture. With the table filled with a variety of good food, they all enjoy the afternoon together. The father deserves it. In early May, Shawn opens the door to a dishevelled man in blue scrubs and a white coat. Jameson witnesses their exchange as he happened to be stood in the hallway. It was him, the missing doctor. The painter of toys offers to lead Henrik upstairs to where his friends were. Jameson, meanwhile tasks himself with procuring water for the new arrival. At the appropriate moment, he delivers the drink to the doctor. As the days pass, Jameson gets the opportunity to acquaint himself with Henrik. There is an obvious language barrier but it is easily resolved with Shawn's presence or, failing that, writing his responses by hand. He comes across as a decent man. Even better, he does not seem so hostile against those whom didn't share his views. Given the evil he'd survived for the past 9 months, potentially instigated by a significant lack of judgement on Sean's part, Jameson appreciated that openness. To the surprise of most, Henrik harbours no animosity towards Jason either. In fact, he is relieved there had been someone even remotely qualified to care for Jack during his absence. The tension the others had felt towards the second doctor gradually reduces after this point. It is little over a week later that the renewed happiness amongst his housemates is shattered. Chase leaves to return his daughter's toy to her then Jackie is discovered to have secretly slipped out. Only one comes home that night. Marvin is too beside himself to properly chastise Jackie for worrying them. Jameson heads over to Sean's home to check in on him. He and Chase had been more than professional collaborators, after all. Unsurprisingly, he discovers the egos' creator is beside himself with stress. As much as Jameson tries, he cannot console his friend. Anti had broken into the home of Chase's children and kidnapped the father. That was plain to see from the video evidence. Sean looks Jameson in the eyes and admits he has no control over the demon. Likely never did. He needed to work out how to rescue Anti's third victim and fast. Jameson had faith that the creator could figure something out. However, he did secretly agree that this whole bleak affair seemed hopeless. Marvin is rarely seen outside of his room. Henrik, who also shared a close friendship with Chase, struggles noticeably with these turn of events as well. The 17 year old superhero acts like a delinquent which certainly doesn't help matters. Jameson knows his parents would have never tolerated such unacceptable behaviour from him when he was that age. Still, everyone reacts to tragedy differently. Marvin, Henrik and Jackie may have been the worst affected by Chase's disappearance but they weren't the only ones missing him. An odd newcomer arrives in June. Sean had been playing a game set 30 years into the future in Detroit. Due to this, an automaton enters their lives. It takes a lot of getting used to on Jameson's part. First he had to accustom himself to the 2010s. Now a piece of the 2040s was showing up too. He's fascinated nonetheless. Chase is a shell of himself when they see him again in July. Whatever had happened to him during those three months, it had caused him to retreat within himself. Worse than Jackie ever did, Marvin claims. Chase's only motivator for leaving his bed is to restock his supply of alcohol. The state he is in can only be described using words such as abysmal and disgraceful. While the rest are mourning on the anniversary of losing Jack, Sean doesn't help his cause by playing a guessing game. He starts off with fictional characters from video games. However, the video's last round centres around Jameson himself. When Sean answers yes to questions such as 'Is your character real?', he is able to brush it off. After all, he is fictional in Sean's world. And if Sean believed he'd enjoy the game, he would have to introduce Jameson to Minecraft. That said, the way Sean obfuscates while answering two certain questions is a major cause for concern. Now, Jameson could understand Sean wanting to respect what his friend did while serving was private and protect that privacy on the internet. However, Sean could have easily picked no and moved on. Furthermore, he was not a puppet. His days of serving a purpose for others were long over. Oh, but it's all for show, isn't it? That is what their lives are, entertainment for the masses. He was different from the others though. While all the rest had fragments of an identity pre-creation, he had 28 years worth of memories. It was what set him apart from the others, regardless of personal ties. As terrible as it sounded, he had hoped his status as Sean's most detailed creation would provide better protection from threats such as Anti. He considers speaking to Sean about it. The part that doesn't want to know if his concerns were valid wins. A German Shepherd joins the household in late August. As far as Jameson understands, she had spent her formative years being trained to help those in need of it. Those like Jackie, to put it plainly. It takes time to adjust to the dog being around. However, she dutifully stays by Jackie's side. In the coming weeks, she gets used to her ward's individual habits and needs. Despite remaining distant from most of his neighbours, Jameson is happy to see potential improvement on the horizon for Jackie's wellbeing. Months of Jackie and Henrik debating the matter between themselves comes to a conclusion. Jackie was to lose his legs. Whatever was below his knees, at least. Jameson joined the rest of the egos in wishing their youngest member good luck with his surgery. The hours drag as they await news of success. It does eventually come. Jackie recovers well from the procedure. However, this was apparently far from the end of it. There were still the matters of physical therapy, prothesis and the teenager adapting to his new life as an amputee. The rest of them vow to support him every step of the way. As Halloween, and for that matter his birthday, approached, the atmosphere in the house grows increasingly wary. Sean promises there will be no pumpkin carving video that year. In fact, he'd really gone off of the concept since the past two attempts had only resulted in disaster. Jameson doesn't see what all the fuss is about. They couldn't permanently die. There was no risk in celebrating the holiday. Should any harm come to one of them, the effects would only be short term. Besides, surely the others could focus on other things that day if they so wished. He hated bringing unnecessary attention to himself but well, his birthday was a source of positivity, wasn't it? "Okay, if we're going to let shit slide on any day, your birthday seems like a good one. We wanna hear about your past life." Jackie unexpectedly announces at the dining table on the last day of October. Well, he'd be happy to oblige. Why not? He could certainly tell them about his family. There were his parents, the British military man and his resentful Irish wife. He had a brother and sister too. Eddie had been 4 years older while Jameson recalled being 7 when Rose was born. For a short while, he deviates on tales of Eton before brushing over his path to becoming a captain. He'd love to talk about Madeline but they didn't need to know every detail. The long and short of it was, he'd been of higher birth, obeyed the path his father had encouraged then planned to be a civilian peacefully following his discharge. His arrival in the present had severely affected those plans of a quiet domestic life. With the arrival of November comes the 100th anniversary of armistice. If the majority of the others had limited respect for him due to his friendship with Sean, then so be it. However, he was not prepared to stand by and allow them to disrespect the significance of this occasion to him. He wants a quiet day of reflection alone. He may not have been old enough to serve during the Great War like his brother, nor did he live through its sequel. However, he still had been in the military and had personally known others who'd chosen that path too. Jackie interrupts his time alone but for good reason. He leaves him speechless once more, pulling up a Wikipedia page about a woman named Madeline Grant. "This is her, isn't it?" And oh, it is. The photograph attached to her profile is from 1954 so she's older than he once knew her but there is no doubt about it. That is his Madeline. He dedicates a portion of his afternoon to reading the article in its entirety. She'd managed to be a successful journalist, written a handful of novels and travelled to far off lands. She'd also found someone else to marry. Most importantly, it sounded like she had been happy. And that was all Jameson could have asked for. He attempts to thank Jackie for his thoughtfulness. The most he gets out of the young man is a non-committal shrug and mumbling. The day after, he tells Sean about Jackie's gesture. Sean's certainly had an eventful 2018, allowing him very little time to allocate to learning BSL. It's not much of a bother to Jameson. So long as Sean is willing to learn, he's happy. As he talks about how he wouldn't mind trying to locate some of Madeline's books, it is clear Sean is a little uneasy. "You... do understand she doesn't exist here, right? On this side of the doorway, nobody you knew personally was ever born. You weren't either. I'm sorry for sounding so blunt. I just thought you already knew that." 'I do! I simply must have gotten carried away.' "No, you're good. Maybe you could do some searching over on your side." Sean's mood perks up suddenly. "Hey, you know what? I don't think I have much else to do or prepare for today. I wouldn't mind learning more about her if you're cool with that." On the morning of Sean and Jack's birthday, the egos collectively agree to confront Sean. When the five of them arrive at his doorstep, they are invited to share cake. The discussion results in their creator agreeing to wake Jack up for their joint birthday. The other egos are not subtle with how much they cannot wait to see their friend conscious once more. It is wonderful to see their joy. Angus, as fatigued as he often was, had run when Chase informed him of what was occurring. Jameson spends the whole day astounded. It's almost like he's surrounded by people slightly different to those he usually knew before this. Jack shows signs of becoming overwhelmed numerous times over the course of the day. It is, however, subtly hidden for the sake of the others. Rounds of both cake and pizza slices later, the sky has long grown dark. Jameson signs throughout the entire evening, talking to Jack while Chase acted as translator. The original ego is fascinated by his memories of a life prior to official creation. Jack offered insightful contributions to the conversation. It is incredibly refreshing to be listened to, free from the other party's grudges. He wonders whether Jack would judge him for his connection to Sean. Then again, it would appear the temporarily conscious man was unaware Sean was the one to orchestrate his coma. A few members of the group have retired to bed by the time Jack begins feeling peculiar. Henrik takes charge of the situation immediately. He is soon escorting his patient back to the medial bay. It is a shame for the night to end with such a low point. At least they can be confident that he is in good hands. The mood the following day is understandably low. A number of the egos had kept him at arm's length since his arrival over a year prior. Then there'd been this enigma, the one everyone talked about and was on their minds frequently. He had accepted Jameson without any hesitation. For the limited hours he'd been granted, it had been a pleasure to get to know the original ego. This home had finally known tranquillity for the first time in too long. If only it could last in Jack's absence.

[oneshots-heaven]

“Would you forget?“

To got your heart broken at a party is one of the worst kinds of heartbreak, and Steve Harrington just got to know that feeling.

Warning: swearing & underage drinking Steve Harrington x Reader Gif credit: (x) 

The music was blasting through the filled living room of Tina’s house. People were dancing close to each other, holding their red plastic cups filled with alcohol in their hands. Ever since the eighth grade, Tina held the most amazing Halloween parties as everyone got too old to still go trick or treating. It was a shame if you missed her parties in general.

The others started slow dancing to the music of ‘The Police‘ as you excused yourself and walked over to the little buffet and bar that Tina had built in her kitchen. 

You swung your hips to the beat of the music. Halloween was special in Hawkins as it was the only time where everyone truly had fun but after all what happened to that poor Byers boy, it felt wrong at first to even celebrate Halloween. You didn’t know why, it was just a weird feeling in your guts like something was still not right in your hometown. However, instead of worrying yourself the whole night, you still decided to come and enjoy the night, to be oblivious and just live your teenage life to its fullest.

Tina suddenly joined you, looking over the crowd of people in her house. Your parents would never allow that but her parents were kind of known to be… quite relaxed in such things. “Oh god, Y/N,“ she laughed while being obviously drunk, “have you seen that new boy? What’s his name again? B.. Bobby?“

You shook your head yet smiling you replied, “His name is Billy. I’m in the same history class as him.“

She laid her arm around your shoulders, pointing outside the big window where a smaller crowd of boys were standing around Billy, shouting his name with pride followed by cheers. “Isn’t he hot?“ Tina slurred in your ears.

“Doesn’t he have a shirt?“ you asked instead.

“Oh buh, Y/N, don’t you realize that that’s exactly what makes him so hot?“

Tina let go of you, trying her best to push herself up on the kitchen counter. You watched her ultimately fail doing it but she was giggling to herself. Good god, sometimes you forgot that drunk people were the funniest and most annoying at the same time. 

She glanced over to you, frowning. “What’s up with Nancy Wheeler and your Steve?“

Your eyes widened slightly but you tried to cover it up, although you believed that she wouldn’t even get it. She was too drunk for that. “Tina, you know he’s not my Steve. He’s just Steve, without anything.“

“Yeah, but you liked him before Nancy even knew him. You’ve literally liked him all your life!“

“Steve and I are just friends, and we never were and will be anything other than that.“ you assured her.

The next second, things started to get confusing. Nancy and Steve appeared in the wrong moment while you were still talking with Tina but Steve was too invested to keep Nancy from drinking more. She was slurring her words, trying to dip her cup in the punch while Steve was trying to take it from her and then the punch landed straight onto her white shirt. Everyone stopped dancing and starred instead at the young couple.

“The hell,“ Nancy murmured, looking from her shirt over to her boyfriend before she turned around walking to the bathroom.

“Nanc,“ Steve tried to stop her to calm her down, yet she was already running away from him and like Steve was, he instantly followed her. 

Your heart sank. 

“See,“ Tina said as both went away, “if you were being honest, you would admit that there is trouble in the air. And I don’t believe it’s coming from Steve’s side.“

She left you alone in the opened kitchen with her words that confused you and on top of that, Eddie Money’s ‘Think I’m in Love‘ had to be blasted. Tina knew Steve and you ever since junior school. Somehow the three of you always had been befriended but it was different between Steve and you. Ever since year seven, he and you had been friends and got the other’s back. Perhaps it was the most pure platonic friendship you ever had in your life, right until high school came around and Steve decided to grow out his hair. He looked like one of those boys from the movies your mother liked to watch and it was weirdly fascinating for you to see how many girls suddenly paid attention to him. In some ways, you had always liked him but back then it felt different than what it felt like now.

It was inevitable that you would end up falling for him.

You frowned as you noticed Steve grabbing Jonathan Byers rather harshly by his shirt, almost yanking him to the side. He told Byers something quickly before he turned away from him, walking outside. In the same moment, your empty cup felt down on the kitchen counter as you followed him outside, pushing yourself through the crowd and past Jonathan. You had no idea what was going on but it had been a long time since you saw Steve like that.

The coldness from the ending fall season hit you as soon as you were out of the house, looking around for a second to find him again. He walked past Billy and all the other guys from your year, ignoring everyone who called after him and before you knew it, you were already following him again. You had to run in order to catch him.

“Harrington,“ you called after him but he didn’t listen. He just kept on walking straight toward his car.

“God dammit,“ you murmured under your breath before calling out again for him, “Steve!“

You slowed down as he stopped and turned around with his hands in the pockets of his black jacket and his sunglass hanging around the neckline of his shirt. At first, he seemed surprised that it was you who was calling after him but then his mood took over him again. “What do you want, Y/N?“ he questioned.

“What the hell happened?“

“I don’t want to talk about it.“ he answered, turned around and started walking again.

You sighed and started to run after him once again. There was no way in hell you would let him drive home like that. Even if you didn’t want to admit it because facing the truth hurt only more, you knew him still well enough. You knew what he was like when he was truly hurt and no matter what just happened between Nancy and him, it had hurt him. It had hurt him badly. 

Steve’s hand was already on the handle of his car door, ready to open it up as you slammed it close, causing him to look up. “What the fuck do you want?“ he asked you again, this time more aggressive but his tone didn’t scare you. You knew his reactions all too well.

“Do you really believe I’m just going to let you drive now when obviously something fucked up happened between Nancy and you?“ you asked back with the same tone. He wouldn’t listen to you any other way.

Steve shook frowning his head. “Just leave me alone, Y/N. I’m not in the mood for talking.“

“I don’t care if you are in the mood to talk or not. You’re upset and you do stupid things when you’re upset and I don’t want to hear tomorrow that you crashed your goddamn car into the next crash barrier!“ your voice raised at him, until you realized how harsh you were being.

You pressed your lips together, looking around for a moment before you mumbled, “Just talk to me, Steve, to calm down. You know me. You can trust me.“

Steve let go of the handle to step back away from you. You couldn’t deny that that little move hurt you in the chest. “This isn’t about if I trust you or if I don’t. Yes, some fucked up shit just happened and I really don’t want to talk about it, can’t you get that?“

“No, in this moment I really can’t—“

Suddenly Steve groaned deeply, interrupted you within seconds, “Nancy doesn’t love me. She just thought that it might was the right time to break it to me. Are you happy now?“

Your hands clutched onto his car as your body stiffened, glancing speechless at your childhood friend. For the first time after years you saw him truly hurt. Steve Harrington wasn’t someone who got easily his heart broken and his head messed up but it only took minutes for Nancy Wheeler to destroy the boy you loved. And there it was again, the weird, empty feeling in your chest and the begging feeling in your lungs that screamed after air.

Tina was the one who broke it to you that Steve started dating Nancy. The whole day you had no idea what to feel or how to feel, what was right and what was wrong. You were so confused. Somehow, you were happy for him because he deserved it to be loved by someone and at the same time you hated Steve for running after that junior girl, instead of going for you. You were quick to realize that it always had been platonic between him and you. How on earth should he knew that his childhood friend might had feelings for him?

You felt a mixture of anger and frustration, and now… now you maybe should be happy to hear that Nancy didn’t love him but that was lie. Maybe it broke your heart just as much as his did. He didn’t deserve that, not after all what he had done for her and how hard he tried to be a good boyfriend for her. You weren’t angry, instead you felt sorry for him.

“She is drunk, Steve. She probably didn’t mean it.“ you managed to say but you knew that that wasn’t helping at all.

You gasped after air as Steve suddenly stepped closer to you. He couldn’t focus on what was happening. His body was trembling, while his hands shook so heavily that you instinctively grabbed them. 

He shook his head, over and over again, pressing his lips together and blink the tears to stop himself from sobbing. “You don’t forget that you love someone when you’re drunk. Tell me, Y/N, you wouldn’t forget that you love me if you were drunk, would you?“

His words hit you harder than Tina’s. This felt more real than your conversation with her. It was easy to deny your feelings in front of her, it was easy to lie straight into her face to keep your feelings hidden and safe. But in front of Steve, you were vulnerable like never before. He knew you better than anyone else yet he never figured it out and still you believed that there was always a chance that someday he will.

You couldn’t lie to him.

You could never lie to him.

“No… no, I wouldn’t.“

Possible a second part if you want? — Here you go: Part Two!

[ciceroisthefamilycat]

My Fiery Heart reread response (my Indigo Spell one here, my first-time Fiery Heart one here from 7.5 years ago)

before I get into it, I remembered looking up the Iolanthe coven name Sydney used; that wasn’t something I looked up until after reading it the first time though, so I didn’t realize the fairy court connection to Sydney recommending Zoe do her literature assignment on Midsummer Night’s Dream... I’m very certain it was an intentional reference to that opera now (even though the purple flower meaning was enough on its own)... if they get around to adapting this one, I half want to see Amberwood Prep put on a production of MND where Jill is helping with the costumes and Zoe gets to play Titania or something; I never got around to reading Richard III (Zoe’s original pick) but it’s interesting that free will/fatalism is apparently a major theme, and that Richard contrived to have his brother Clarence sent to the Tower of London...

also, I’m not sure if I cared about “White Rabbit” by Jefferson Airplane all those years ago, but I got a thrill seeing it referenced this go around.

we get the first namedrop for Cicero (though we had heard about his propensity for killing birds and some other mention in the earlier BL books ETA, 7/19: “My family had a cat back in Utah that I was pretty sure was more responsible than Angeline” pg 31 TGL

Anyway, gosh Sydney makes bad decisions in this one. And it’s not because she has too much to do- she has no real outside strenuous challenges to protecting Jill or her group this go around. The friend group actually had to decide “yeah let’s go hunt down a Strigoi in LA” for there to be a major action scene. I realize she’s in her late teens and the burdens put on her are unfair, but she’s a great example of someone who thrives under pressure and falls apart when she’s given too much free time.

The switch to dual narrators was unnecessary. It wasn’t bad, but it was clearly only to set up for the big cliffhanger at the end, and so feels a bit pointless in this one. Btw, Rose didn’t lose her spirit link into Lissa’s mind after Lissa went on antidepressants. Now admittedly, the chemicals in Adrian’s mood stabilizers would have probably worked differently, or maybe Richelle was trying to retroactively make things more consistent (since alcohol could affect the bond), or maybe it was “Adrian and Jill’s bond is less established, so Jill can’t break through like Rose could”... but the sudden decision mid book (with no repercussions- Adrian doesn’t even bring it up to Sydney to be like “hey, one of your main concerns about having sex is taken care of”) is so pointless and really goes to the minimal page-time of the larger ensemble. I said it the first time I read the book, the absence of Kristin and Julia, and Micah, and even more important characters like Angeline or Trey is so frustrating. I realize Richelle couldn’t write a book that was 900 pages long, but I would have gladly taken any of those characters instead of the completely unnecessary Terwilliger/Malachi romance. Especially to see Jill’s reaction to getting to be a more typical high school human, since I think she would have gotten even more attached to Amberwood than Sydney did. I also just... really, the Alchemists decided to have Sydney’s bio sister on campus... pretending to be a cousin... while she was playing sister to Jill? I get they kind of backed themselves into a corner, but weird. That being said, I was happy to have Rowena and Cassie around. (give me Adrian and Rowena being wlw besties excellence to make me really happy)

Sydney’s coven initiation taking place in chapter 2, then she meets Inez (who gives her the books on charms)... and we never see a witch other than Jackie again in this book? Honestly, why bother with writing the initiation at that rate? I still like the cloak they made Sydney though. On reread, there’s the randomest bit where Trey’s like “is Neil even really British” and I wonder if that was a dropped storyline where Neil was faking. Olive and Nina are still pleasant characters, and I liked that they had a “unique” background, but knowing how those stories end was kind of a buzzkill on reread. Olive, especially, deserved better.

This is another one where I forgot quite a few events- Adrian getting drunk and the pawnshop (I think I remembered that obliquely, but not so much on it), or the trip to Texas (which actually came before the pawnshop but oh well). I was happy to finally get some actual Christian content again, although I regret we didn’t get more from Sydney & Rose or more Sydney & Lissa. On Adrian’s mental health storyline... I am less impressed by it than I was the first time (though I didn’t remember being super-impressed, but according to my first review?). I do actually like Adrian being insistent, once he’s started taking meds, that he’s going to continue, but the diagnosis of bipolar disorder doesn’t actually feel like it fits? I will say, I find Adrian’s “chicken or egg” pondering over whether spirit causes mental illness or mental illness means a predisposition to specializing in spirit is fascinating (though it’s probably for the best Richelle never actually answered it).

The way Adrian spoke (or thought) about Zoe really pissed me off. Like, one, you’re an adult, stop antagonizing the sister of the girl you like and just be cordial (which is less suspicious than suddenly acting like you and Sydney don’t get along at all), and two... Adrian’s super protective over Sydney after realizing the emotional abuse Jared heaped on, but somehow doesn’t realize that this fifteen year old has been spending time with said father’s attention solely focused on her for ages now, and he has no sympathy for her? Instead of seeing Zoe being like “Sydney shouldn’t have to provide for you all the time” and being like “aww, that’s a nice protective sister instinct even if she needs an attitude adjustment” he taunts a 15 year old about drinking from her the way he did to 20-something actual-predator Keith. He could have engaged yet another Sage sister in talking about his awesome car on the drive over, or at least made other good faith efforts.

The dabbling stuff made me more uncomfortable this time around (I think). Especially Sydney comparing her getting Keith’s eye ripped out to Adrian’s assault of a human girl... that was some real false equivalency on Richelle’s part. But other parts of it, like “oh here comes Adrian to save the day and at least he’s changed from these guys he used to hang out with (oh, look at that convenient statement that even back in the day Adrian wasn’t on the same level of bad as them)”  was really frustrating, or the fact that Adrian was very deliberately withholding information from her in his own chapters and it made me question his trustworthiness in her chapters. Or the “oh, hey, he made the concession of getting treatment for his mental illness, so all is forgiven” handwaving. Like, Richelle brought this in to be an obstacle to their relationship, but it’s addressed so quickly (with maybe a pittance effort of later being like “oh, at least Adrian didn’t take advantage when Sydney accidentally absorbed some Moroi endorphins- he learned his lessons!) that it doesn’t merit the actual consideration of so important a topic Idk. I do feel like I enjoy the Sydrian relationship more in this book than the others, but I also have some huge issues with it.

Adaptation-wise, I think genderbent Adrian would definitely mean a change to the dabbling storyline (yes, women can be sexual predators, but I don’t think this storyline would be maintained with different social expectations). Honestly, give me an Adrian who, instead of having victimized someone, doesn’t immediately fully grasp how upsetting this idea of vampires preying on her species (and risking exposure) is to Sydney... Adrian being like “it isn’t sexual, those guys would never consider sleeping with a human” but the consent even to give blood still being critical to Sydney. And you know what? Let Lissa “compelled a guy to almost hit himself over the head with a baseball bat for molesting a Feeder” Dragomir have a spirit freak out moment of rage and go off on these subjects of hers the way that was deserved (and then once she cools down, maybe she can’t punish them fully, but she uses it to leverage their royal families’ agreement to the Family Rule amendment). And just finish that law by the end of the season, so that when the Alchemists pull out Sydney and Zoe, they’re actually closing down the whole Palm Springs operation in a rage. (if I remember correctly Alicia kidnapped Jill between books 5 and 6, but that was a stupid plotline imo- let Sydney and her coven take care of Alicia in the downtime of this book instead) Let Rose figure out that Sydney and Adrian are in love- she’s smart and she would pick up on that; let her celebrate them and encourage them to be happy together. Also the “Sydney and Adrian get three days at an inn to sex it all up” was stupid... like I’m happy for them but am I really supposed to buy that they could afford all that time away from Palm Springs?

As bad as I feel for Syd, and Adrian, and Eddie, and Jill, and Jackie at the end of TFH, I do remember that I’m going to feel worst for Hopper. I’m sorry that demon dragon Calistana has my heart and I remember one scene from Silver Shadows featuring the little guy prominently...

[westallenfun]

A Long Winter's Nap, Chapter 6

Westallen Secret Santa gift from @jade4813 for @westallen94

She was not going to think about the kiss, Iris decided as she strode purposefully down the hall to the break room. It wasn’t like it meant anything. He’d only kissed her because of the mistletoe, after all. (By far the most ridiculous of Christmas traditions. If she had her way, it would be banned.) So it would be absurd of her to get all worked up over a two-second kiss with less meaning than a trip to the dentist. 

And yet her heart had skipped a beat when she’d seen his car in the lot that morning. It was remarkable how quickly she’d gone from ducking into closets to hide from him to looking forward to seeing him in the break room.

As she thought, when she shoved open the door, Barry was sitting at one of the tables. He had two cups of coffee in front of him, and when she took the seat to his right, he shoved one her way. Iris took a cautious sip. It was just the way she liked it.

“Thanks,” she breathed as she took a long pull from the cup. “You’re a lifesaver. I cannot tackle the last day before break without being heavily caffeinated.” 

“Speaking of heavily caffeinated…” Barry nodded at Cisco, who was engrossed in conversation with Patty across the room. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but his gestures were broad and emphatic.

She grinned. “That’s not caffeine. That’s just Cisco. I don’t know how he has that much energy this early in the morning, when I’m over here just trying not to die.”

Barry laughed. “You guys are really good friends, huh?”

She nodded. “The best.”

“He’s lucky to have you.” His words, soft and sincere as they were, made her blush, and she took a sip of coffee to cover her reaction.

“You know,” she began, watching her finger sweep along the curve of her mug handle as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, “I know we started off on the wrong foot, but…you’ve become a good friend to me, too.” She wanted to tell him that she hoped she didn’t lose his friendship when the truth came out. She wanted to tell him that, in a perfect world, she could see him becoming something more. But of course she didn’t.

Because she wasn’t looking at his face, she missed the scowl that crossed his features. “Good friend. Right,” he mumbled, but when she looked up at him, his expression gave nothing away. At her questioning look, however, he said lamely, “I wasn’t being a very good friend I accused you of lying about your engagement.”

Iris lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “You were protecting the people you love. I may be all alone in the world, but I can understand that.”

Although she’d spoken lightly, Barry’s eyes softened. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “You’re not alone. You have…You have Eddie.”

It hurt to see the warmth and compassion in his eyes, almost as much as it hurt to hear the words that were ultimately a lie. Over the last week, she’d allowed herself to pretend that she was – that she could be – a part of his family. She’d fallen in love with him, but she had also come to genuinely care about all the others, as well – Nora, Henry, Cynthia, Martin, and even Joshua. One day, she would have to confess the truth, and when that happened, they would no longer welcome her as they now did. Tearing her gaze away, she said softly, “I don’t have anyone.”

She was almost grateful when Cisco came bounding over, interrupting the moment. “Okay, I have to tell you guys what happened in seventh period yesterday –” 

______________________________________________________________________________________

Shortly before lunch, Iris was on her way to Cisco’s classroom when she saw Cynthia weaving her way through the hall. Waving her over, she pulled the other woman into a quick hug. “You didn’t waste any time stopping by to see Barry, huh?” she teased.

Cynthia’s grin was unrepentant. “I had to make my move before he had a chance to change his mind,” she admitted. “But I’m glad I ran into you, too! I wanted you to meet my friend, Linda. Linda, this is the woman I’ve been telling you about.”

“Ah, the one who’s going to make an honest man out of Eddie, huh?” Linda asked with a chuckle.

She shrugged. “That seems to be the idea,” she agreed, hedging the question as best she could. Because she didn’t want to talk about her fictitious engagement, she asked, “Are you guys headed to the lunchroom now? Barry should be making his way there in just a couple of minutes.” Not that she’d memorized his schedule. Although she totally had.

“Yeah, if this school is anything like mine was, I know you have to get there early if you’re going to get a good table. You know, you’re more than welcome to join us,” Cynthia offered.

With a smile, Iris nodded towards Cisco’s classroom door and replied, “Thanks. I’ll come meet you guys in a few minutes. I needed to talk to my friend Cisco about something.” Just then, the door opened as a group of chattering students streamed into the hall. As the crowd petered out, Iris noticed Cisco standing at the front of the room, talking to one of the stragglers. The girl in question seemed to be hanging on his every word as he turned and drew a diagram on the board.

“Wow. That’s Cisco?” Cynthia asked, following Iris’s gaze. “He’s – ah – he’s really cute.” When Iris arched her eyebrows at her, however, she blushed and tried to backtrack, “I mean, if you’re into that whole sexy nerd thing. Which I definitely am not.”

Linda snorted. “Since when?”

Cynthia glowered at her friend. “I’m giving it up for Lent,” she growled.

Her glower did nothing to diminish Linda’s irrepressible laughter. “Isn’t that in February?”

“I’m getting an early start!’

Linda grinned. “If you say so.”

“So where is the lunchroom again?” Cynthia asked pointedly, ignoring Linda’s continued mirth. Iris smothered her own smile as she pointed the way. As the other women moved away, the student finally darted out of Cisco’s classroom, and Iris could finally duck inside to seek some advice from her best friend.

_____________________________________________________________________________________ 

A short while later, Linda excused herself from the lunch table, claiming she needed to find a restroom. In reality, she was hoping she could find Cisco and Iris and convince them to join them. Iris because she wanted to get to know the woman Cynthia spoke so highly of, but she was hoping she’d be able to catch Cisco, as well. Her usually unflappable friend had found a way to “casually” ask about him four times in fifteen minutes, and so Linda figured it was her duty as a best friend to make sure the two could meet. She of course hoped that they would hit it off, but if it caused her best friend in the world some level of torture, then all the better.

When she got to his classroom, however, the door was ajar and she could hear voices inside the room. “So what are you going to do?” an unknown voice (but she assumed to be Cisco) asked. “And how are you going to explain all of this to Eddie when he wakes up? You know you’re going to have to, one way or another, right?”

“I don’t know,” a woman – she was pretty sure it was Iris – admitted with a sad sigh. “But what am I supposed to do? Nothing’s changed! I can’t exactly explain it to Eddie now. He’s still in a coma!” She groaned. “This is going to be a lot to hit him with when he wakes up.”

Linda knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop, but she couldn’t help herself. Wondering what they were talking about, she leaned in to hear better as Cisco said, “True, but…I don’t know how to tell you this, but you won’t be able to hide it forever. It hasn’t been that long, and…you should see yourself, Iris. You’re positively glowing. It won’t be long until everybody with eyes can see it. You know you’ve always had a terrible poker face.”

Linda stifled a gasp with her hand as she took a step back. It sounded like…had Iris found out she was pregnant since Eddie went into his coma? That really would be a lot to hit him with when he woke up.

Guilt over listening in warred with the feeling that she should tell Cynthia what she’d heard. It wasn’t really her secret, she knew, but it sounded like Iris could use her future family’s support right now. It would be terrible to go through a pregnancy alone, with your fiancé in a coma and no idea when – or if – he’d ever wake up.

With the absolute best of intentions, Linda raced back to the lunchroom and slid into her chair at the table. For a second, she considered waiting until she and Cynthia were alone. Then she figured Barry was a member of the family, too, and so he would also need to know.

“You guys. You won’t believe what I just heard,” she said, pitching her voice low so the nearby tables wouldn’t overhear. “Iris is pregnant!”

Barry’s fork fell onto his tray with a loud clatter. While Cynthia asked Linda how she’d learned this piece of news, he jumped to his feet and stormed away from the table without a word.

Though he’d thought he might have to track her down, he almost ran head-long into her in the hallway just outside the lunchroom. He was grateful to see that she was alone. “Iris, can I talk to you?” he asked, grabbing her hand gently and pulling her aside. The news had hit him like a punch to the stomach and he wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. But right now, Iris needed his support more than his jealousy.

“Uh, sure,” she agreed, a tiny frown of concern forming between her brows. “Is everything okay? You look…” She let her voice trail off.

“I’m fine. I just…I know this probably isn’t the right time. But I wanted to check on you, actually. I…I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We’re here for you. My family, I mean.” He was bungling this badly, and he knew it. But as much as he wanted to help, he didn’t know how. “Should you be standing up right now? Maybe you should be taking it easy! Let me find you a chair.” 

“Ohhhhhkay.” Iris drew out the word with a kind of bemused confusion. “You want to tell me what this is about, Barry? Because I stand on my feet most of the day. It hasn’t killed me yet. So what’s the big concern now?”

He threw her a pained look. “Iris…I know about the baby.”

It took a couple seconds for his words to register, but he could see the moment they did. Iris looked up at him with a degree of astonishment that might have been hilarious if his heart wasn’t breaking into a million pieces. “I’m…wait…what? Why do you…I’m not…Actually, hold that thought.”

Grabbing his wrist, Iris dragged him through the nearest door, which turned out to be to the supply closet in which she’d once taken refuge, not long ago. What was it about Barry that had her constantly finding herself in supply closets?

If only she could take advantage of the moment, but now wasn’t the time. Not when there was a much more important issue at hand. “Okay, what are you talking about? I’m not pregnant! Why do you think I am?” 

He looked confused. “But I – Linda said she heard something like that…”

Iris scoffed, “And you believed her?”

“I-I didn’t have any reason not to believe her.”

It took a second for his remark to set in, and then her heart sank. In a small, resigned voice, she said, “Oh, I get it. You think the only reason Eddie would ever want to marry me is if I were pregnant.” She was so disappointed that she couldn’t even bear to look at him. Her gaze falling, she reached for the doorknob, desperately wanting to flee. She’d known her feelings were one-sided, but it was still deflating to realize that he thought so little of her.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled, ducking under his arm.

“No, wait. Iris, hold on,” he said, following after her. No longer in the mood to eat, Iris turned walked in the opposite direction of the lunchroom, heading back to her classroom instead. Though she’d much rather head home and drown her sorrows in a pint of double chocolate ice cream (with almonds on top – this kind of heartache definitely called for almonds), she had the rest of the school day to suffer through first. Barry followed after her, an edge of desperation in his voice as he explained, “Iris, it isn’t like that. It’s just – I think you and Eddie are a great idea, but…the fact is that you aren’t really his type.” 

“Yeah? Then whose type am I? Huh?” she demanded, whirling on him. Barry didn’t say anything; he just looked at her with sad eyes. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Anger and disappointment left a bitter taste on her tongue as she spun on her heel and headed towards her classroom again.

“Iris –”

She couldn’t take it anymore. She didn’t need Barry to keep reiterating how very much she fell short of being the woman of his dreams. “What do you want from me, Barry?”

He looked so sad as he said, “I just…I want you to be happy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Which is why you never pass up an opportunity to let me know you don’t think I’m good enough.” 

“I never –”

“No?” she cut him off, though she didn’t break her stride. “Every time I turn around, you make it clear that you just can’t believe Eddie would be with a girl like me.” Injecting as much sarcasm as she could into her tone, she continued, “I’m sure that’s because you love me so much, you’re thrilled to welcome me into the family!”

“I am – I do want you to be part of the family!” he stuttered.

“Then what is it?” she demanded, turning on him again. She felt perilously close to crying, though it might have been equal parts anger, sorrow, and humiliation. “Why is it that you always act like I’m not good enough?”

Barry reached for her, grabbing her by the arms and bowing his head so he could stare deeply into her eyes. “It isn’t that you’re not good enough, Iris. I promise you.” 

“Then what is it?” she asked, her voice breaking. With as much bravery as she could muster, she asked, “Is there some reason you don’t want me to marry your brother?” 

She held her breath as she waited for his response. She hadn’t been brave enough to outright ask him if he had feelings for her, but she silently pleaded with him to take the opening she offered. She would give anything for him to say that there was even a chance he might one day return her feelings.

Barry stared at her a long moment, and she wished she could read the expression on his face. “I…No. No, there isn’t.”

With a slight nod of her head, she took a step back, breaking out of his embrace. “Well. I guess that says it all, then,” she said. He tilted his head and threw her a cryptic look, but she turned and strode briskly away.

She supposed she couldn’t pretend it was a surprise, but that didn’t stop it from hurting. He didn’t want her.

[the-royal-courier]

Azeroth Works: Writing is Fullfilling Work

By Sky Stoneseat

(Editor’s OOC Note: This interview was conducted on a real life author who just so happens to find interest in our little roleplaying community. She does not play World of Warcraft but we wanted to share this in the hopes of inspiring all of you out there who write on tumblr or in game. Please take the IC as a little tongue in cheek.)

While we here at  the Royal Courier strive to be the best source of news in Azorth, today we offer up something a bit different. We bring you something that is from another realm in the hopes that you may find it interesting.

We know that many of you write in your spare time, so I sat down with an author from "Earth" who was kind enough to share some tips that she uses. J.M. Frey is an author, fanthropologist and professional smartypants on AMI Radio’s Live From Studio 5. She’s appeared in podcasts, documentaries, and on television to discuss all things geeky through the lens of academia. She also has an addiction to scarves, Doctor Who, and tea, which may or may not all be related. Her life’s ambitions are to have stepped foot on every continent (only 3 left!)Her debut novel TRIPTYCH was nominated for two Lambda Literary Awards,  won the San Francisco Book Festival award for SF/F, was nominated for a 2011 CBC Bookie, was named one of The Advocate’s Best Overlooked Books of 2011, and garnered both a starred review and a place among the Best Books of 2011 from Publishers Weekly.

Lucky for us dear readers that she found time to sit down and chat.

Any tips for getting into the mood for writing?

For me, writing is a full time job, so to get in the mood to write I get up, get dressed, have tea, and basically prepare to sit down at the computer as if it is a real dayjob. That gets me into the headspace required, that “this is work, so work” mode.

But in terms of environment, I like it as uncluttered as possible. Nice lighting, daylight, and only the notes for the project that’s currently on the docket pinned to the board beside me. I really prefer silence, too. I absolutely cannot write in public spaces, and if there’s any noise at all, it’s got to be white noise – either from outside of my window or an online digital generator.

The only raging, noisey mess should be inside my head. When creating a character what are some ways to build an interesting back story's that feel fresh?

There’s a idiom that creatives use about avoiding the low-hanging fruit. The thought is that the first idea within grabbing range might be the most appealing, but it’s also probably going to be the most obvious and the most over-used.

However, sometimes your first instinct is the right one. I always grab the low-hanging fruit, but then – to stretch the metaphor – figure out the best way to turn it into fruit salad. Clichés are clichés because they work, but that should always and only be a starting point.

I like to come at my stories from the perspective of the person who is least often allowed their own voice in common narrative. For example, my series The Accidental Turn is a standard sword-and-sorcery epic fantasy. But instead of making the muscle-bound hero or the scrappy sidekick the narrator, I chose the hero’s overlooked, overshadowed little brother.

The low-hanging-fruit approach to this brother character says that he ought to be craven, cowardly, perhaps even sneaky or secretly the villain. So I thought, yes, okay, let’s give him those traits. Because that’s what’s expected. But let’s figure out a different reason for them. Why does he behave like that? What made him like this? How much is nature, how much is nurture?

Instead of being craven because he’s “just a bad person”, the little brother is quiet and withdrawn because his older brother used to bully him. Instead of being sneaky because he’s plotting, it’s because he’s actually secretly a spy for the king, on the side of good. This led to all sorts of neat things to explore in his backstory – who chose him to be a spy? Why? Who trained him? How? What purpose is there to have a spy planted in the home of the hero?

When you try to find different motivations for common traits, then you start to get into really interesting territory for backstory and character creation. And their reactions are going to be totally different, too – the way these characters address problems or react to violence will be fascinating, because the motivations and backgrounds you’ve created for them is new and interesting.

Any thoughts on a character who a bit go big or go home vs a slow burn sort?

For me, characters fit the kind of story I am telling and the kind of narrative and growth arc they need to have.

Kintyre Turn, the hero of my fantasy series, is defiantly a Go Big guy. He starts out with being gifted a magic sword at the age of eighteen, and the complete inability to ever lose. He’s got a big ego, big muscles, bit personality. And he’s great, he fits what I needed from him perfectly; but I also found with him that there was nowhere left to go. He was too big. There was no upward growth available. I found an arc for him by letting him shrink inside his own skin again. He puts away the sword, and the mantle of the hero, and starts to attend to his own mental health, in repairing and nurturing the relationships around him, and swapping places with his little brother to become the caretaker of their family estate, in allowing himself to stop running from commitment and finding domestic peace and a loving partner. Pulling Kintyre away from the Big and Bold gave him growth.

His brother Forsyth was the opposite. He started small – physically skinny, shorter than Kintyre, swaddling himself in too many house robes and the mantel of the prim, fastidious Lord of the Manor. He even stooped and stutters. He’s the King’s secret Spymaster, but even then he works from behind a desk and lets others do the legwork. He is a Slow Burn character. He grows by increments as he becomes surer of himself and his worth. He stands straight. He learns not to be ashamed of his stutter. He goes out into the world and wields a sword and becomes a hero.

But, going back to what I said about backstory above, his background and motivations mean that he is a Ravenclaw hero rather than a Gryffindor. He would rather talk his way out of things, or think through loopholes, or outwit his opponents than beat them down with a blade.

Both Go Big and Slow Burn types of characters are useful. It’s just a matter of knowing (or learning as you go) which kind is better for the sort of story you’re telling and where you need it to go. And always remember that there’s always an avenue of growth available somewhere; you just need to find it.

Dialogue can be tricky to get right, how do you create conversation that both moves the plot but is not an info dump? My first rule is to completely avoid “As you know…” or “As I said before…” or “I just remembered that…” in dialogue. If the characters already know, then the audience should already know.  And if the audience knows already, there’s no need to repeat it. If they don’t know it already, then you’re telling the story in the wrong order, or writing the wrong moments.

Focus your scenes on the moment when the character learns the information, rather than on the scenes where they report the information.

If you can’t do that, then try to keep as much of a natural flow in the dialogue as possible. Listen to people in coffee shops or pay attention at your own family dinners. Note the natural ebbs and flows, where people interrupt for clarification or pause to gather their thoughts. Watch what they do with their hands, their bodies. Watch how they fidget, or pace, or tap their sugar packets on the table top. Describing the body language will help break up large paragraphs, especially if you can use that body language to convey the character’s emotions or reactions to the news. To show instead of tell.

When I’m not sure if the dialogue is working, I strip it down into a script – dialogue only – and ask a friend to read the scene out loud with me. If it sounds unnatural or repetitive, it trips and jams in my ear. Reading your dialogue out loud, either alone or with a friend you trust to be brutally honest with you, is a great way to catch unnatural errors.

There’s also the trick of giving the characters something to do. They don’t have to be sitting in an office, or in a car, or at the kitchen table. They could be hiking, or chasing a suspect, or fighting off a barbarian horde, or slaying a dragon, or skulking through an abandoned spaceship. There’s nothing saying that the info dump has to come at a moment of stillness and quiet.

And remember that the moment of revelation should be the climax of the scene. Each scene should have its own mini-plot-mountain-rising-action-course. Instigating, rising action, climax, and then either cut to a new scene or a brief denouement. Something should happen in every scene – some information discovered or revealed, a character changes or grows, there’s a scene of action, or the plot leaps forward, etc.

Scenes that do more than one of those things are even better. Info-dump scenes don’t feel so boring if they’re happening in the middle of a sex scene, or a fighting scene, or a scene in a laboratory, or a travelling scene.

Is the look of your characters set before you start writing or do they change as you get to know them? Sometimes my character walk into my head fully formed –Forsyth strolled in one day, prim as you please, a skinny ginger amalgamation of Eddie Redmayne, Mark Gatiss, and David Thewliss. But some characters I deliberately sit down to design to compliment the world and what I need from them. For example, if Forsyth was the skinny ginger kid, then Kintyre had to be big, buff, tanned, and straight from the cover of a Harlequinn novel.

From there they sometimes change as the need arises – like, knowing a certain physical trait would be useful to solve a problem, so I go back and retroactively put it in.

But I try to be deliberate about my choices too. In the final book of The Accidental Turn series, our heroes step off the pages and into “the real world”. So I made a point of making every other character around them non-white. Fantasy tradition, which is what the series is commenting on, dictates that the heroes are always white and the PoC-representative characters are always monsters or half-something-or-other. I wanted the “real world” to reflect the world I actually live in. And choosing a variety of ethnicities for each character meant that I had an idea of how they would look and – stereotypically, based on their social standing, religion, personal culture, and country of origin – how they might dress.

But even then, I had a great time flouting those stereotypes. One of my favorite new characters is a first-generation Indian girl living in Toronto named Ahbni, who is totally into both respecting her parent’s home culture and a rainbow unicorn pastel-punk.

Once the character has been nebulously envisioned in my head, I write down the basics so I don’t forget them – eye color, hair color, height, weight, identifying features like freckles or piercings or tattoos – but then I don’t worry too much about it. If something important to their appearance comes up in the text (like Forsyth’s fear that his little tummy paunch means that he’s getting fat) then I describe it. But after I’ve described the character on the page for the first time, I don’t really bother doing it again.

I know that no matter what I say, the audience will envision them how they like, and I don’t mind that. Though I do make a point of trying to give a really clear, and quick, and immediate description of the character when we first meet them, something that really stands out to the reader.

And I try to avoid describing my narrator characters except in the comments of others. Nobody stands in front of a mirror and describes themselves or evaluates their own bodies for sexiness in real life. Please, can we chuck that narrative trope straight out the window?

There’s no need to tell the reader outright exactly what the narrator looks like, unless it is an extremely important narrative reason. Reveal it through showing, not telling. Reveal it in the character’s choices, what other characters say about them, how they react to situations. Find a way to be active about it, not passive.

Your readership is clever – let them put the clues together themselves. Trust them.

You can find out more about J.M and her work at http://jmfrey.net/books/ or follow her @scifrey here on Tumblr.

Editor Note: Do you have an interesting job? Is your work something out of the ordinary? Do you simply take great pride in what you do?  Columnist Sky Stoneseat wants to interview you!

Reach out today and be a part of this exciting new column. We want to highlight you and your line of work!

(OOC Note: We are looking for individuals who want to share the ins and outs of their RP job. These interviews will be conducted solely over tumblr.  You’ll be sent a set of questions and asked to reply in private to Sky. Once she has your responses, you may get a few follow up question over Tumblr chat. The responses will be used to write up short and sweet profiles of interesting jobs around Azeroth. Contact @skystoneseat today to schedule your profile!)

[mbtizone]

Martin Stein (DC's Legends of Tomorrow): INTP

Dominant Introverted Thinking [Ti]: As an accomplished physicist, Martin is deeply interested in scientific theories, particularly those of Albert Einstein. He has a curious mind and enjoys asking questions. He thinks outside of the box and looks beyond the facts of a situation. Martin enjoys research and wants to understand the world around him. He’s very good at figuring out how something could work better, and once he does, he is adept at improving the system or piece of technology he’s working on. Martin has a keen, analytical mind and is skilled when it comes to thinking critically about whatever situation the team finds themselves in. Martin is very good at noticing logical inconsistencies and frequently points it out when somebody contradicts themselves. He can often be quite detached about things. When he realizes that the conversation he had with his past self has resulted in the birth of a daughter he wasn’t supposed to have, he refers to her as an aberration. He initially refuses to form a connection with her and views her as a problem that needs to be corrected. Martin is able to make rational, non-emotional calls and often admonishes people for making emotional decisions.

Auxiliary Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: Possibilities are endlessly exciting to Martin. He enjoys a good theoretical discussion and likes to ponder what might be or what could be. When he joins the Legends, he is amazed by all of the wonders of the world and is eager to explore every place and time of the universe he can. He is especially fond of taking trips into the future and seeing all of the changes in the world. Martin understands the big picture in most situations and remains focused on that. Because he is so enthralled with the novel and the extraordinary, he can sometimes get so caught up in his fascination with it that he ignores the dangers of the situation. When a particular course of action is suggested, Martin is very good at coming up with all of the possible outcomes, both positive and negative. He is skilled at seeing connections and patterns and using that to generate theories.

Tertiary Introverted Sensing [Si]: When mistakes are made, Martin simply learns from them and reworks his approach. He remembers a large quantity of facts and details, whether it’s something he read, or a statement someone has made, allowing him to easily reference data, theories, and anything else he’s seen or heard in conversation. His ability to recall people’s previous assertions (Si) is what allows him to continually point out other people’s contradictions (Ti). Martin sometimes enjoys reminiscing about the past and is reminded of it by what is happening in his present. He fondly remembers his desire to travel through space as a child and is thrilled to have his dream finally come true.

Inferior Extroverted Feeling [Fe]: Because Martin has such a scientific mind, he can sometimes be callous and bad at relating to people. He is so excited by testing theories that he can sometimes disregard the feelings of the people around him. Martin sometimes sees people as subjects instead of as human beings. However, once he has time to get comfortable in a group, whether that’s with Team Flash or the Legends, he grows to care very much about the group and makes sacrifices on their behalf, sometimes at his own expense (such as making the decision to send Jefferson back to the present time in a pod when his life was in danger). At times, Martin is good at empathizing with his teammates and making them feel good about themselves, as Legends and as people.

Enneagram: 5w6 Sp/Sx (Likely 513 tritype)

Quotes:

Dr. Martin Stein: We just have to track them. Fortunately, Alpha Particles are highly trackable. Ray Palmer: Yet unheard of in the 1970s. It’s like we’re trapped in the Stone Age. Dr. Martin Stein: I’ll have you know that I was researching Alpha Particles when you were eating crayons.

Rip Hunter:Oy! Where do you think you’re going? Dr. Martin Stein: To break into my old lab and bring us back the particle tracker. Rip Hunter:Fine, but perhaps, you should take Jefferson and Sara to as your intermediaries. Look, interacting with yourself in the past can have catastrophic effects upon the future. Dr. Martin Stein: Fascinating. [to Jefferson and Sara] Dr. Martin Stein: Let’s go.

Dr. Martin Stein: According to Well’s calculations, Barry super-speeds inside the accelerator ring. Once Barry reaches optimum speed, we then launch a hydrogen proton into the accelerator. Once the collision happens, a wormhole forms, opening a gateway into time itself. It’s at that moment I plan on shouting something along the lines of “Eureka” or possibly “Excelsior.” I’m uncommitted.

Dr. Martin Stein: We’re dealing with a lot of big scientific ideas today, but you, Mr. Thawne, might be the most interesting thing here at S.T.A.R. Labs. Eddie Thawne: Me? Dr. Martin Stein: What are the odds that Dr. Wells would travel back in time and get stuck in the exact same city as his great-great-great-great grandfather, working in the same profession, the-the same building, and that part of his plan to get home would mean that he’d have to preserve and protect your life. That makes you this rare thing that-that-that no scientist can plan for. Eddie Thawne: Which is? Dr. Martin Stein: Coincidence. There is no science to coincidence. You, sir, are an anomaly, a-a wild card, as it were. You are the only person in this whole story who gets to choose his own future. At least, that’s my opinion.

Barry Allen: Sometimes the world needs a team. Dr. Martin Stein: You call this a team? A girl with wings in a past lives complex. A deceased assassin. A pair of criminals. And a billionaire with more tech than he clearly knows what to do with it. Ray Palmer: I know exactly what to do with it. Most of the time.

Rip Hunter:I know it’s difficult for you to fathom, but where – when I’m from, the year 2166, you and everyone on this roof aren’t just considered heroes… You’re legends. Ray Palmer: Legends? Dr. Martin Stein: I, um, I hate to nitpick, but doesn’t a legend have to be dead? Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: Yeah, see, uh, that’s a deal breaker for me, so I’m gonna pass.

Mick Rory: You don’t seem happy, Professor. Dr. Martin Stein: The intercept might be a success, but… the Waverider is on reserve power. Not to mention the difficulty to re-entering the Earth’s atmosphere. Mick Rory: What are you saying? Dr. Martin Stein: I’m saying that our crew has an infinitesimal chance ever returning home. By “infinitesimal”, I mean… Mick Rory: A snowball’s chance in hell. Dr. Martin Stein: That would look rosey in comparison.

Dr. Martin Stein: I believe I’ve determined a way to more efficiently track the fragments still inside Ms. Saunders’ body. Next time, you’ll be better prepared. Ray Palmer: There won’t be a next time. Dr. Martin Stein: Can’t you fix the suit? Ray Palmer: It’s not the suit. Dr. Martin Stein: Raymond, you… you musn’t be discouraged. We’re scientists. We learn from failure and we keep going. Ray Palmer: Kendra isn’t a lab experiment. She’s a person.

Dr. Martin Stein: I know how it feels. Ray Palmer: What? Dr. Martin Stein: To have a crisis of confidence. As unlikely as it might seem, I know. It was 2002. I was teaching quantum mechanics, and I had one particularly gifted student. He was able to solve the Ehrenfest theorem in less than an hour. He was, quite frankly, the only student in all my years of teaching who ever made me feel inferior. That student was you. You were exceptional. Ray Palmer: And suddenly, just like that, you remember having me in your class. Dr. Martin Stein: I always remembered. I just enjoyed taking you down a peg or two.

Rip Hunter:Gideon. Gideon: Yes, Captain. Rip Hunter:Plot a course for Saint-Lô, France, 1944. Dr. Martin Stein: Why then? Rip Hunter:Because that’s where Kendra is. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: How is that possible? Ray Palmer: She sent us a message through time. Go ahead, say it. Dr. Martin Stein: Astonishing.

Dr. Martin Stein: I figured out how Savage plans to erase time. I believe he intends to detonate each of these meteors in a different time period. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: How can you destroy the world three times in three different times? Rip Hunter: You can’t, it would create a temporal paradox. Dr. Martin Stein: Which would result in a timequake that would return the Earth to the point of the first chronomatic reaction, Ancient Egypt. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: Okay, it’s official. This is the craziest bad guy plan in the history of bad guy plans.

Dr. Martin Stein: Thank you for joining me, my dear. Caitlin Snow: Of course. I wasn’t being much help back there, anyway. Dr. Martin Stein: Well, having powers isn’t exactly a death sentence, no matter who your doppleganger is. Caitlin Snow: I attacked my friends, my best friends. And said horrible, horrible things to them. Dr. Martin Stein: But that wasn’t you. And… and believe me, as a person who sometimes shares a body with another human being, I know the difference, and so do your friends. Caitlin Snow: I’m just so scared. What if she comes back and I can’t keep her out? Then what? Dr. Martin Stein: We’ll all be there for you.

Sara Lance: Lily’s algorithm located a piece of the Spear of Destiny. Ray Palmer: When? I I mean, I know just now, but where are we headed? Gideon: Detroit. The year 3000 AD. Dr. Martin Stein: A journey into the distant future. How exciting. Nate Heywood: Speak for yourself. Jefferson Jackson: Come on, man. Who doesn’t like the future? Nate Heywood: I like history. Yeah, I know it’s filled with terror and violence, but the future just… Dr. Martin Stein: It’s uncertain. Nate Heywood: Yeah. And it freaks me out a little.

Kendra Saunders: So how long will it take to determine a new location for Savage? Rip Hunter:Longer than we have. Fortunately, there is one place in time that we know Savage to be. Mick Rory: You said he conquered the world in 2166. Dr. Martin Stein: You also said it was too dangerous to strike at Savage while he was at the height of his powers. Rip Hunter:That it is. But with your younger selves removed from history, we have quite literally run out of time.

Dr. Martin Stein: Are you homesick? Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: You checking up on me Gray? Dr. Martin Stein: Given what you’ve witnessed, what you’ve endured, would that really be so bad? You know you just witnessed the very worst of humanity. We share a psychic connection, yet I still can’t even begin to fathom what you must be feeling. Must be like your heart is broken. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: Yeah, it is. But I saw something in those people’s eyes I didn’t expect to see. I saw hope, I saw dignity. Those men and women? They were treated worse than animals, but they never let anybody stop them from being people, ya know? Dr. Martin Stein: I suppose there will always be those who will seek to dehumanize us, but I believe there are more that cling to hope, despite the darkness. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: Yeah, that is exactly how they were. Dr. Martin Stein: I was actually thinking of you Jefferson.

Dr. Martin Stein: Unfortunately, this is all my fault. You see, a month ago, I interacted with my younger self back in 1987, and unwittingly motivated him – me – to sire a child. So it’s because of my carelessness that this time aberration exists. Caitlin Snow: She is not an aberration. She is brilliant and funny and a lot like you. Just a little less uptight. Dr. Martin Stein: Please stop talking about her like this. She is not a real person. Caitlin Snow: She is a real person. She’s your daughter. Wait. When we finish fighting the Dominators, you’re gonna go back in time and erase her? Dr. Martin Stein: No. I am going to restore the timeline. Unlike your friend Barry, I have the luxury of fixing my mistakes.

Oliver Queen: We have to keep the Dominators at bay. Dr. Martin Stein: This might help. I’ve mass-produced a small devide that, when placed on individual Dominators, will cause indescribable agony. Not the nicest invention, but this is war. Barry Allen: Nice going. Dr. Martin Stein: The caveat, of course, is that if we activate the weapons before all the devices are placed on the Dominators, they’ll know what we’re up to.

Dr. Martin Stein: This is our Earth. Let’s call it Earth One. And this second Earth, let’s call it Earth Two. This is where Jay claims to be from. And these other Earths – three, four, five, to infinity, all of them – are nearly identical to ours and they all exist at the same time, giving us endless alternatives to what we have here. For example, uh, the Joe West on Earth Two, your doppelgänger, he might not be a detective. He could be a Nobel Prize-winning physicist. And you, the Barry Allen here is The Flash, but over there he could be an electrician.

Dr. Martin Stein: I did not determine that it would be my mind that would dominate our existence, but thank God it was. I could feel your fear and panic, emotions that likely could have gotten us killed in that state. Ronnie Raymond:You kept me buried down. You kept me from her. Dr. Martin Stein: Which is likely why she’s still alive. Now I believe you and I have spent quite enough time together.

Jefferson Jackson: What if when you interacted with your younger self in 1987, you… Dr. Martin Stein: Inadvertently changed my past so-so that my memories from my new life are supplanting the memories from my old life, that’s creating temporal dissonance. Jefferson Jackson: Yeah, that’s exactly what I was thinking. Dr. Martin Stein: Oh, it’s a brilliant theory, which I happen to share with you, but it doesn’t explain… Jefferson Jackson: Who the mystery lady is. Dr. Martin Stein: Or… that I’m fairly certain that I love her. Jefferson Jackson: Man, Clarissa is gonna kill you when you get home. Dr. Martin Stein: Assuming that there is a Clarissa to go home to.

Dr. Martin Stein: I’m having the strangest sensation. It’s like I’m ten years old again. Mick Rory: You do a lot of space travel as a kid, Professor? Dr. Martin Stein: Only in my dreams, after I read my first issue of “Rick Starr: Space Ranger.” Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: Space Ranger Stein? Yeah, I don’t see it. Dr. Martin Stein: I wanted to travel through space, surviving only by my wits and laser guns. I even built a rocket out of cardboard boxes. Rip Hunter:What stopped you? Dr. Martin Stein: NASA has rather strict guidelines regarding nearsightedness. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: And smoking weed.

Dr. Martin Stein: [Vostov is about to explode after Jax rescues Stein from her] I tried to warn her. Without the splicer and myself, her nuclear powers are dangerously unstable. It appears Dr. Vostov is having a bit of a meltdown. It’s, it’s fascinating. Sara Lance: I think what he means to say is run!

Dr. Martin Stein: The calculations. There is a… a danger. Barry Allen: I know. I’m ready to take the risk. Dr. Martin Stein: No, not just to you, but to everyone. Wells didn’t tell us everything. Barry, even if you do reach the right speed, colliding with the hydrogen particle, there is a chance that explosion could create a singularity. Caitlin Snow: What’s a singularity? Cisco Ramon: It’s a black hole. Barry Allen: We could destroy Central City. Dr. Martin Stein: For starters. If we create a singularity here and then cannot control it, we could be looking at a global catastrophe. Cisco Ramon: So long and thanks for all the fish.

Dr. Martin Stein: Keep an eye on the door, and when I get back, stop flirting with me. Sara Lance: You were the one flirting with me. Jefferson ‘Jax’ Jackson: Look, what’s the big deal? I mean, younger you isn’t married yet, so technically it’s not cheating. Dr. Martin Stein: October 1975. This is right when I meet my future wife, Clarissa. So obviously, we wouldn’t want my former self tempted by a sexy assassin from the future. Sara Lance: Aw, you think I’m sex… Dr. Martin Stein: Do not finish that sentence.

Martin Stein (DC’s Legends of Tomorrow): INTP was originally published on MBTI Zone

[kristie-rp]

Christabella, Reforged

Original by @cassandra-rp / @coloredinsanity

Her eyes open to swirling stars, the world a mix of blue-black and violet around her. This place is familiar, and she knows it. She sits up slowly, because her head is aching, and because everything else hurts, too. Memories stir in her mind, and she begins to piece together the facts.

This place – it’s the in between. She has heard Rikku call the idea of it Purgatory, and Paimon calls it Limbo. She knows it as the place that is neither Heaven nor Hell; it is a waiting room, a plane of existence where she has been many times, always alone. It is where souls go to be judged, she thinks, or at least where hers has been sent over and over again. She has memories of waiting, and not much else, in all honesty. It gets boring, here.

She pushes herself to her feet, her entire body a trembling mess. It feels – bizarre. Her legs do not feel like her own. They are longer, for one; and they feel disconnected, almost like they are dead of inactivity. That in itself is even stranger: this place is usually a place of harmony. She remembers that her senses should be dulled, that even the feeling of the ground beneath her feet should not be entirely trusted.

This time, though, it is crystal clear. She doesn’t have time to dwell on this as a sharp pain slides into her skull, forcing her back to her knees. She clutches at her head as she whimpers, fingers twisted into her hair. What was a steady trickle of vaguely relevant memories becomes a flood, and every memory from every lifetime she has lived comes to the forefront of her mind in a rush. It is so much information, more than most people can hold without going insane. It is a string of images and thoughts and conversations and experiences, all overlapping and merging and separating, a river eddying and churning.

She hears the footsteps as the chaos fades ever so slightly. These put her on guard. She is always alone in this place; that is why it is so dull.

Something – someone? – touches her forehead, feather light, and the pain subsides. The thoughts are still there and she peers up at her company, eyes burning in the aftermath of the agonizing experience. The man is tall, clearing six foot with ease. He looks like an alternate version of the love of her lives, Paimon, demon king. Looking at him is a game of spot-the-difference: hair, longer. Blonde, instead of red haired. Clothing, pristine and white, no blood or soot or crimson in sight. Eyes, golden, sclera and all, completely unlike her Paimon’s as he peers down at her, like she is an exhibit in a zoo, something to be studied and pitied.

“It’s alright, child. This face is nothing more than what you wish to see of me.” He speaks softly, helping her stand. He guides her to rest on the bed that she is sure was not present earlier. Perhaps he brought it with him, when he appeared out of the æther? “Although I hardly understand the decision. Perhaps it is a consequence of trauma? No matter. I’m aware you are recalling a great deal right now, but what do you recall of your most recent death, Christabella Lancaster?”

Her breath catches in her throat, a reaction to the name he chooses to refer to her as. It is often irrelevant, as she has existed in so many different lifetimes that she cannot keep track of the numerous surnames she has lived with. But this one – Lancaster is the oldest. There is every possibility that it is her First Name, the oldest one. Paimon would know for sure. Paimon always knows. He also always made casual references to various facts: in witchcraft and the immaterial, he has said in the past, knowing a First Name can be dangerous, because it grants power no one should have.

It is possible that Paimon has obliterated every reference to Christbella Lancaster. He will have done so to protect her as much as possible.

“There was a lot of pain – more than any other death. It wasn’t because they hurt me beforehand. It wasn’t – it wasn’t like being stabbed. That’s nothing compared to this. It was like I was –”

“Burning,” offers her company. There is something in his face that she cannot name: pity, fascination, annoyance, perhaps? “Your soul was burning. That’s why it hurt as you describe. The demon King, Paimon, must have used one of the Knives upon you.”

Her own expression twists, and she glares at him, confusion and anger making her snappy. “Absolutely not. He would never hurt me intentionally.” She says it as though it is face, folding her arms irritably.

“Are you certain? These Knives cannot be used by simply anyone, not for their purpose. It takes immense power to destroy a soul. Demon King, Elite Angel, a god – anything less, and it would have done nothing more than damage your body.”

“Paimon would never hurt me! It wasn’t – I can’t recall what happened, but I know him. I know he wouldn’t.” She is yelling, but falters as the pain flares up. She processes everything she has been told in fits and starts, and fixes her gaze back on her company’s eyes. “My soul – if my soul was destroyed, then how am I here? It doesn’t work that way.” Or at least, it hasn’t based on all of Paimon’s efforts to protect her immortal soul. He would not bother with the worry, otherwise.

“Because I have pieced you back together,” he says gently, almost dismissively, as though recreating a soul from fragments of older ones is a minor feat. “I must understand the cause of your destruction before I can restore your soul to the cycle.” He pauses, considers, goes on thoughtfully: “You will no longer be exactly who you were, by the way. Normally, I wouldn’t tell people these things, but this is a unique case. I think the last soul I recreated was – well, long before even Paimon existed. It is only possible if the subject has lived a long sequence of lives.” He gestures vaguely as he clears his throat, perhaps unused to speaking so much. She has noticed his voice is hoarse.

The void around them seems to pinch and twist, and a mirror appears before her, one out of a memory. She thinks it is from Victorian-era London, because that is the level of detail in the gilt frame. She ignores it, because she does not want to think about what it means that he can manipulate the æther, and instead blinks at the image of herself. Apparently, she too is being created from the existence around them, golden flakes swirling into one form, and then another. Her hair is curly, then it is straight, then it is half-shaved, then it is a mess of braids; she looks down and watches as her bare feet shift from petite to large to slightly deformed. It makes her nauseous to watch, and she looks back at him.

“Enough remains of your soul from various deaths to reconstruct it,” he explains. “Although – because you are made up of old and new parts welded together, you haven’t figured out what you are yet. That will be up to you to decide.”

Christabella hums, as if she understands. He says things in a tone that suggests they’re reasonable, but she is reminded of a few lifetimes ago, when she had the dubious pleasure of witnessing Intella, December and Rikku argue about the best way to resolve a problem. Every person in the room had been acting like their comments made perfect sense, but even what little had made sense to her had sounded completely insane. The memory fades as she looks back at the version of herself swirling in the looking glass. “So – why do you need to know what happened before you send me back?”

She catches sight of him tilting his head as if confused by the question. It is a motion Paimon would never make: part of his attempt to never reveal anything but the upper hand. “I can hardly send your soul back if Paimon is only going to destroy it again, can I? That would be a waste, and I cannot repeat this exercise.”

She huffs irritably, angry. “I told you – he did not intentionally kill me! It’s impossible! I know what he is makes people think he’s bad, but he’s a good person, deep down. I know he is; that’s why I love him. How can I prove that to you?” Most of her memories are restored and lined up in a way that makes sense, and she can remember what happened. But her head cracked against the desk at some point, and everything after that is a blur, one she cannot understand. It’s that conversation all over again.

“Perhaps we may call forth a witness. One who may recall your death and speak to his character?” he suggests. “I shall allow you to choose the person. It has been almost 65 years since your destruction, and I cannot tell you what has happened in the interim. It will influence your return if I do, and that cannot be permitted.”

Christabella sighs yet again, closing her eyes as she considers. He is not interested in giving her multiple chances, that much is clear. Rikku is the closest thing she has to a best friend, one who is not Paimon, in any case, but – Rikku is sharp tongued at the best of times, prone to sarcasm and harsh words, especially when thrust into novel situations. This person, who can manipulate the æther and recreate souls from fragments lost throughout time, does not seem the sort to bother trying to understand sarcasm or harshness. And besides, she cannot guarantee that Rikku will not simply attempt to stab him.

The children, then? Sure. She has plenty to choose from, and most, if not all, will have details about the death to hand. Every one of them has mixed feelings about Paimon, though, and she cannot guarantee they will be willing to say what she needs her company to hear. Gina will paint a picture of blame out of spite, Nicolas will be non-committal. Kate and Tate will talk circles around him and reference plots of a TV show Christabella is going to have to dedicate years to catching up on. Leila and Oriel are of the opinion that people who are not monsters can still do monstrous things, and may well slip that in enough to make him hesitant.  It’s not a bad thing that they have their own opinions; she is glad that they are not sheep, not in this respect. It just isn’t helpful to Christabella’s needs, not right now.

It hits her then. “Lily. Lily Martin-Inferno. She’s Paimon’s adopted daughter, she will know.”

He nods as he gestures again, and a small golden portal appears from nowhere. “I will return shortly,” he informs her, stepping through. Bella is left alone in the in between, staring at her reflection, swirling with golden flakes. He has told her that she will define herself, and she believes him.

She closes her eyes as she focuses.

INTERLUDE

He steps out of the portal alongside what appears to be nothing more than a dodgy club. There’s a woman with dark hair leaning against the wall, exhaling smoke. He’ll never understand the habits mortals pick up, because what sort of ridiculousness is it, inhaling a cancer stick?

A second glance and he realizes she isn’t covered in glitter – or, she is, but that is not the source of her shimmering skin. She’s silver beneath her skin, and it is bright enough that it slips through, and he can see it. “Zita?”

“Hey, Americus,” she says, referencing an old nickname as she drags from the cigarette. Then she seems to register that this is unusual, and lowers her smoke. Her lips part, and yes – it’s definitely Zita. She continues to maintain her Nightbringer appearance, which he knows has been her favourite through many, many pantheons. Her hair is modelled after the night sky, shining as though stars are woven through the strands, and this has long been her stand-out feature. As a goddess, her freckles are stars, as well, covering her skin. Silver light shines from somewhere beneath the surface, and gives her a soft glow. He refocuses, performs the adjustment necessary to see her human disguise. Her hair is the same, much to his consternation, and the light remains only in his sight. Her freckles are dull brown, as is expected of immortals, her eyes dark and skin covered in what appears to be glitter.

“Cigarettes? Really?”

“I’m a bartender in this city. I can hardly have no vices if that’s meant to be convincing.”

“I am judging you so much right now,” he assures her, shaking his head. She smiles, dropping her cigarette. She grinds a heel against it before flinging herself at him, wrapping him in a welcoming hug.

“I thought you were gone,” she says, voice soft. He feels a pang of guilt. She can see him in his original, divine, form. He knows she knows that he is too weak to exist on earth unaided, at least for the duration.

“Only as much as benefits me. I thought you were responsible for the Knives.”

Zita tenses before she withdraws. She reaches up to pluck something from her hair, a blade black as the void. Except it appears to be a hairpin. He quirks a brow at her. “One was stolen from me, years ago. I had the other reforged into something I could keep in my possession less obviously.” She smiles. The blacksmiths of the gods are always good allies, and giving them unique projects always helps. They’re gone now, of course. If she could retrieve the lost Knife from where it has ended up in the librarians possession, she would have to learn how to reforge it herself. It does not appeal, and so she has procrastinated on doing what needs to be done. “Why do you know this now?”

“Christabella Lancaster was destroyed by Paimon the Demon King,” he says. It is a specific explanation. Zita snorts.

“That’s his way of looking at it – guilty conscience. The other way is that one of his supporters manipulated the situation.” Zita has produced a second cigarette from the air, and is turning it in her fingers, rotating it between them. “He’s still got no self-control when he’s mad; he tried to burn the barrier around their home. Demons who attacked her had doused her in demon-brewed alcohol.” She snaps her fingers, and the tip of her cigarette lights with the small flame she sparks. “Woosh. The power behind the flames triggered the Knife.”

Technically, this is a more unbiased witness than he has promised Christabella, back in Limbo. It is good enough to be proof for what he needs to know. Only, she has requested Lily Martin-Inferno as her witness, and he is obligated to fulfil that request. “Where is the Knife now?”

She grimaces, anticipating a lecture. He has always been better at responsibility than her. “A mortal librarian has it. Intella Migratori. She obtained it in her last life, when the event happened, and has ended up with ownership again in this one. I’m fairly sure Axel arranged it – for all he resents being a guardian to her, he seems perfectly happy doing what Topaz couldn’t. Wouldn’t.”

He nods once, a brief gesture. Gold flakes fall from his shoulders like dust. “I need Lily Martin-Inferno to corroborate your story,” he says. It is almost apologetic.

Zita blinks, the solid silver of her deified eyes shining through for a moment. “Tell me why.”

“She is to play the witness.”

The dark eyes of a human settle back into place. Zita nods. “She is Paimon’s favorite, and she is honest. She’s inside.” She considers for a moment, then snorts. He shows to mortals as who they most want to see and he lacks the strength to maintain one consistent guise, the way she does. If he goes into the bar, it will cause chaos. She drops the second cigarette to grind it beneath her heel. “One moment,” she asks, and disappears inside.

She returns with a short woman, one with curled brown hair and vibrant eyes. She is all shy smiles in Zita’s direction, but her brow furrows as Zita introduces him as her brother. “You never said you had family,” says the unfamiliar girl. Her voice is soft, a question on her tone. He pulls on the æther and peers into her: she is seeing double, Zita shining silver, and Zita discoloured, rendered in shades of gold and white.

“I didn’t on this plane,” Zita explains. It is brisk and does not actually explain anything to anyone but the two deities present. “He wants to hear how Paimon killed his wife.”

Lily is instantly on the offensive. “You know that was Mephisto! He tricked dad into doing what he couldn’t.” Her words turn bitter. “Trust a demon underling to think it knows what’s best for its’ King.”

He nods once, contemplating. It lines up with what Zita has said so far. Still. “Elaborate,” he says, “spare no details.”

NINETEEN YEARS LATER

She yawns widely before she opens her eyes, slowly pushing herself upright. Her bones crack satisfyingly as she stretches, yawning once more. There is a smile on her lips as she catches sight of the sunrise in her window, a rare clear view for Port Lyndon.

It has been a challenge to hide her memories from the parents she has been gifted with. They have both proven to be lovely people, and also total pushovers. There had been discussions about having a prodigy for a daughter, because there was no other plausible explanation for how their young daughter knew more than she should at any point in time. Obscure books that were older than her were familiar to her, requested as on birthdays and Christmas. She’d sing songs older than her parents to herself while she did her chores, but they never asked how she knew them. Either they were instinctively avoiding things they did not want to hear, or they were genuinely such oblivious people that they did not think to ask. They accepted pretty much everything without question, and what little they doubted, she talked her way out of. They were gullible, willing to buy even the most outrageous explanations.

She’s made the decision to hide herself away from those who might know her from before. Friends, family, acquaintances, informants; she has kept herself out of their line of sight. Some of them will be upset if and when they learn the truth, but she cannot bring herself to regret it. For the sake of her parents, and for her own sanity, she needed time to adjust to being this new version of herself, and all the memories the man from the in between has inexplicably chosen to let her keep. It is both a blessing and a curse: for all the great things she can remember with near perfect clarify, there are awful things she learned to forget in the past. She knows, now, that there are lies Paimon has told her, and she can understand why.

It doesn’t make the sting any less.

There’s a lot of uncertainty in her, now. It’s probably the worst part of being exactly what she chose to be. She cannot guarantee that Paimon will want her like this, will even like her like this. She might be nothing more than a reminder of the mistakes he has made, and of the suffering he has been through, because of and without her. But she likes who she is now, and if he does not like that, then she will let it be. It is for the best.

She is stronger now, physically and mentally. Her athletic background would appease even Rikku, and she has spent much more time fighting. She has practiced with a range of weapons, much to her parents bemusement. She has told them it is for self-defence, in preparation for when she can’t be their little girl anymore. They do not know it is as much to protect them and her extensive family as it is herself. She looks less of a pushover this time, too: she no longer looks five years younger than her actual age, and she does not get asked for proof of age when she tries to see a mature film. She’s still short, of course – she has never objected to her height – but her shape is more womanly, and more toned.

There are some anomalies, some things she cannot explain. Her hair is a shade of platinum that cannot be dyed to, so close to white that it must have something to do with her time as half a ghost. The ends are soft blue, so bright and light that it looks like a trick of the light caused by the white hair. It’d be a very impressive dye job, if that was what it is. It isn’t. It’s entirely natural. In this lifetime, she has never had to dye her hair, because she likes it, strange as it is.

There are matching birthmarks on her inner wrists, things she doesn’t understand the origin of. They are the symbol she associates with Paimon, the symbol associated with his legacy and his power. She does not know if she made a subconscious decision to mark herself as forever his, or if it is something else entirely. Intella might know, or Paimon might, or December: none of them know she is returned, and thus she cannot ask.

She shrugs to herself as she drags herself out of bed. She has waited long enough, she thinks, and now she is old enough, and prepared enough, and wise enough. She has come to terms with herself and her memories, and that is all she has been waiting for. Now is the time to reach out to Paimon, to reveal herself.

She knows where he is, where she needs to go. Axel is her informant in this, one of very few beings who know her soul has been repaired. His powers told him, alerting him to her presence (and being a demon associated with every possible timestream, she cannot imagine. She can barely handle her own concrete pasts, she does not know how he keeps track of all possible pasts, presents, and futures of all possible people without going insane)(perhaps the answer is that he started out insane before the ability every manifested.); it was only confirmed a week ago when she sought him out. His only condition was that he have permission to tell Intella, who would doubtlessly nag or need to know; her only condition was that he ensure it goes no further than the librarian, not until she has had her chance to supply her Paimon.

She knows it is petty, but she has the perfect outfit planned out. She thinks many of her children would approve of the decision to dress in a more teasing manner than Paimon expects of her, used to lace and modesty. But that is not how Bella dresses now, not if she has a choice. Instead, she has picked out a navy long sleeved crop top, cropped to end a few inches below her bust. Her leggings are pleather, and her boots are black and high heeled. It is all designed to taunt and to flaunt what she knows she finally has.

Her messenger bag is brown canvas, and she slings it across her shoulder and she heads out the door. She knows where he is, has memorised three alternate paths to get there. It’s one of the apartments owned by the Constantine’s, moved into after the destruction of their home nearly ninety years ago. The theory she has gone with is that December is responsible for this event, because she does not recall any other Constantine’s caring about the state of Paimon’s life.

From the outside, Paimon seems perfectly normal. She knows better. She does not need to see his face to know that his eyes will be dead; his stance, tense shoulders and hands buried in the pockets of his slacks, give it away. This is how he reacts when he seeks to investigate something that becomes nothing. One of the times she expressed concern, he had explained that he hated wasting time when it was the one commodity he couldn’t control. It puts him in a sour mood, worse when he is less than content to start the day.

Bella’s breath catches in her throat as she takes this all in, her fingers tight on the strap of her bag. She has a carefully considered plan, years in the making: it goes out the window as her nerves rise.

Has he ever felt nerves like this? she wonders, heels clicking against the sidewalk. She has found him in the past, but never has she known with such certainty what he means to her, not without him initiating it all. The nerves are new. She has told herself it is on him if he does not like her now, but abruptly, she is terrified that this new version of her, the one she is so proud of – it might not be good enough for him.

She falls into step behind him quickly, because if she stops moving forward she will flee backwards, and that is not the point of today. Paimon’s instincts kick in before she can even begin to remember what she has planned to say, and he whips around. He grabs her by the forearms and shoves her against a wall, purely because she has made the mistake of getting too close to him, of having footsteps that sound purposeful instead of meandering. Historically, this does not bode well for anyone in a three-mile radius. He arches a brow as he silently looks her over, staring down the interloper.

The combination of blonde and blue is still enough to give him pause, she feels. She makes no move to escape as his lips part, the deadness in his eyes flashing to pain. For all the ways she has changed, it seems that, to him, she still looks like his Bella.

She slips her left arm from his grip and wraps it around him, pulling herself into his arms. To outsiders, and those who do not know the nefarious edge to Port Lyndon, it will look like the innocent hug it is. She stands on her toes to kiss him, slow and passionate.

Paimon withdraws to stare in disbelief, peering through tears he doubtless has no desire of being seen shedding, not by anyone but her. He runs his fingers through her hair, slowly, wonderingly, and she can feel them shaking against her scalp. To him, it feels right – it feels like a memory come to life in his arms, to turn his terrible day around the way his Bella used to. But he is never certain, not when she appears out of nowhere, and certainly not when she has been gone long enough for him to be sure: the knife was cursed, somehow. His Bella’s soul is supposed to be destroyed; Mephisto had bragged enough before being consigned to the pit, Satan as his warden, in an entirely unsatisfying consequence of Paimon’s vengeance. He withdraws from her arms and closes his eyes, willing the waterworks to stop. It’s not his Bella, he thinks, and even if it is, she cannot provide proof.

Hundreds of beings have told him that it is a miracle he has not lost his mind yet. He wonders if this isn’t the culmination of all those warnings.

He refuses to look at her again, and her brow furrows. He is convinced this is not possible, that disappointment and loneliness and a deep hurt has cost him his sanity. She grips him again, tighter this time, and stands on her toes again. Her breath is warm against his neck and she whispers in his ear, words to describe a secret that even Intella does not know. “You sold Gina to a demon named Jules,” comes the whisper, soft enough that no one but him can hear. “In exchange for ensuring my soul would return again. She objected – still objects, I think. She has not willingly spoken to you in millennia. I’m willing to bet she called Mephisto’s actions karmic retribution.”

His mood flickers and his eyes open, staring at her with wonder. That secret always has him feeling horribly guilty – but it has never sounded sweeter. He clutches at her as though she might disappear at the loss of contact, this time, and lifts her clean off her feet. He spins her in a circle, and bends to kiss her again, the actions having a manic edge to them; he barely remembers to let her breathe.

When he does, he laughs aloud, delighted and disbelieving, despite all the evidence before him. No one who has not paid attention to the past will believe that Paimon Inferno is laughing in anything other than cruel sadism, let alone in such a public forum. Better, for him: no one will ever be able to prove it.

No one will get it to happen again, either, except for the woman he has in his arms.