#like no hate but his character in a quiet place is so similar to eddie in the sense that he cries and is scared the whole time

[steveharrington]

no shade to mr. quinn but it’s so funny how the gladiator trailer dropped and everyone on twitter is like “HIS ACTING RANGE IS AMAZING” just because he’s like. blonde in that movie. i keep seeing pics of him as eddie and him as mr. gladiator side by side being like “HIS RANGE?” well yeah he sure does. have a different hair color and makeup for that role. haven’t exactly seen him act in it yet though

[wibble-wobbegong]

Jack the Ripper and ST: Part 2, ‘Eddy’ Victor and James Stephen

Among the hundreds of suspects for who really was Jack the Ripper, one of the strongest contenders was actually a duo; Prince Albert ‘Eddy’ Victor and James Kenneth Stephen.

In part 1, I emphatically argued for Edward’s role as JTR, but he may not have been working totally alone. Of the four suspects I’ll discuss in these parts, Eddy fits with Edward extremely well and the only reason he wasn’t taken in as JTR was because it would’ve been physically impossible for him to be in the place of the murders. That wouldn’t exactly be an issue for our Edward, would it?

Below the cut, I’ll establish parallels because they’re genuinely just as interesting than the murders themself, the relationship Eddy and James had, how they would’ve functioned as murderers vs how Edward and his partner did function as murderers, and how both of them died.

Establishing Parallels

Edward

First, the most obvious of parallels, names. Prince Albert Victor os the name he’s known by historically, but his full name was Albert Victor Christian Edward and the name the world called him was Eddy.

In his full name we see direct connections to Victor, Edward’s father, Christianity (which is a major theme in the show after the Creels are introduced), and, of course, Edward. The prince could’ve paralleled Victor Creel, but he chooses to go by Eddy. Not Victor, not even Edward, but Eddy. Now, this guy definitely is meant to parallel Edward Creel when we look at his childhood (which we will), but his choice of going by Eddy not only reinforces Eddy being Edward, but it contributes to the theory of Edward becoming Eddie by overtaking his corpse as his own mangled body is unusable after the burns — aka, Eddie puppet theory.

Even more than just the names, there were reports of Eddy as a child that sound eerily similar to our own Creel history. It was said that Eddy had an, “…elegant and possessive mother… ‘want of manliness’… ‘shrinking from horseplay’… [and a] ‘sweet, gentle, quiet and charming’ nature.” That doesn’t sound familiar? Try this one.

“…they would like to make a man of the world of him. Into that world he refused to be initiated.”

Come on.

Eddy also had a younger brother, born so close in age they were treated like twins. They went through education together and the educators refused to separate them because, without his brother, Eddy’s teachers felt like they could not teach him. He was far too “mentally absent”. Broken, if you will.

Again?

thanks em

Another fun little experience Eddy had once he was older was with Oscar Browning, who, “made pets of those undergraduates who were handsome and attractive.”

I’m not even gonna say it because I hate it!

Even moreso, his family held the high expectation for him to marry a woman who was charming, sensible, and pretty. He failed to achieve this goal several times, likely because he was homosexual.

Peter

Yeah. He’s here because god forbid I make ONE post without him working his way in. Here’s a real nice parallel to James Stephen — where Peter is most heavily noticed by the Saint Peter painting in the Russian church, James Stephen was a member of the Apostles intellectual society. Saint Peter us one of Jesus’ twelve Apostles.

James Stephen also has a cousin names Virginia Woolfe! This would also mean that Edward and Peter were likely cousins, seeing as Virginia is Edward’s sister, and then being cousins…. is really fucking funny.

I love it when bad couples parallel bad couples.

One more little thing is that James Stephen was a poet, and much of what he wrote can reflect the show with mentions of curses and melodies,

as well as the concept of twins demonstrating the contrast and similarity as a huge theme in mankind.

Peter’s parallels may not seem strong right now, but it’s hard to draw a ton of parallels to a character who doesn’t yet exist. Just trust me.

Homosexuality

When James and Eddy met, it was because James had been chosen to tutor Eddy before he was to be sent to Trinity College. While Eddy would’ve been 24, figuring out the time this took place in Edward’s life isn’t difficult because of the Brenner figure I mentioned earlier. Eddy met the man who would treat people as his pets during his first semester at Trinity College, which draws the comparison between the lab and the college, effectively placing Peter and Edward’s time right before Edward was sent off to Brenner. Makes pretty damn good sense if they’re meant to be an alternate version of Creelarke.

I’d like to consider this time to be when Peter and Edward were in some sort of summer program together, or something similar. This post by @aemiron-main points out the very likely possibility of Owens being Edward’s father and how, although I have called Peter Owens’ son in the past, the inly information we have that connects him to Owens is that he has Peter’s old school projects. Considering the summer camp is directly connected to both Ruth and Rose being in the same place as Petey McHew, we get this: Rose (Creel), Ruth (Owens), and Petey (Peter) were all in the same place at the same time during the summer.

It’s possible that Owens, as Edward’s father, had Peter help Edward in a summer school before they moved to Hawkins for the new school year.

This relationship is especially fascinating because James was a Christian man who actively participated in Christian activities (see; apostles society) — it’s likely this summer was teaching more than math and science. Where Hames was highly intellectual in comparison to Edward, this may translate to Peter’s greater success at pretending to be normal and straight compared to Edward’s ability to do the same.

Any feelings James felt for Eddy were very intense despite this. Strong enough to write about hating a specific woman and a specific man in his poem Men and Women. He was enraged by everything about this woman and this man was described in grief as his body became vacant of his soul and was nothing more than a corpse. He also mentions a missing eye replaced with glass in this man. Familiar?

It’s all familiar because the duffers fucking hate me and want me dead.

James also killed himself because of Edward’s death. By the way. What normal, heterosexual behavior.

Eddy was also heavily accused of homosexuality numerous times throughout his life by family, friends, press, and even historians. It wasn’t just James either, oh no, the entire Cleveland Scandal (involvement with a homosexual brothel) followed him for the rest of his life.

These bitches gay.

As Murderers

Here’s where things get really interesting.

1886 — two years before the Whitechapel murders — James suffered a massive head injury. He was struck by an object from a moving train, permanently altering his brain.

His behavior quickly devolved and he became deluded that he was a painter of great genius…

…and he eventually proclaimed that the doctors told him he would either die or go completely mad.

He was committed to an asylum in 1891.

Not only is the Phineas Gage parallel coming back, it’s being tied to the time Will was being used as a puppet by Edward. Edward learned that tactic from somewhere.

In the theory that James and Eddy were a murderous duo, it was suspected that James was the one controlling Eddy because his profile matches JtR so well. His hatred for women and mental status are the source of this belief. Their relationship in murder was described as, “…mutually dependent, with Stephen as the dominant partner.”

This dynamic could very sell explain why there’s so much puppetry in Vecna’s image.

i ran out of image room :(

Although Peter is no longer an active participant, Edward is still being guided by his ideals. Puppeteered, even. It isn’t something he rejects.

There are so, so many parallels between characters in ST and JtR’s victims, but this is already long. I’ll simply say that the death of Mary Jane Kelly is extremely similar to what we see in Mother Alice’s bedrooom, and I already pointed out the F in the first part. I’d only recommend looking into MJK if you’re very comfortable with looking at gore.

Also, Eddy’s tomb is surrounded by Saints. Peter follows him to death and beyond (which is about to be really ironic).

Deaths

I’ll keep this bit quick.

James died in 1892 due to mania triggered by the death of Eddy. He starved himself for 20 days as an act of suicide, seeing as he was in an asylum and didn’t have many choices. The timeline would indicate that Peter died in 1964, which also happens to be the year Kali was born in London.

That deserves its own post I think.

More importantly is Eddy’s death. Supposedly, he died if pneumonia, but it is theorized that his death was faked to remove him from his line of succession to the throne, which is cool on its own but what makes it really good is that media chose Eddy to be the one who takes the Dracula persona I mentioned in part 1. There was also a novel written after his death called the The Prince of Mirrors which is about his life with James.

There also happens to be a Sherlock Holmes interpretation of him in Sherlock Holmes: The Hidden Years, which shows him as a tyrannical ming who rules after the mysterious deaths of his grandmother and father. The throne he supposedly died to be removed from.

There’s a lot influencing this after-death image of Eddy in Dracula and kingship, which makes Vecna’s name of the Undying King pretty ironic.

[reikunrei]

fuck it, thought dump about things that would be cool to see in s5

- Will being corrupted or influenced by Vecna in some way.

- in the same vein, Will being influenced to do Vecna’s bidding, most notably trying to harm or kill Eleven for him by catching her off guard when she should be safe around Will.

- Will coming out to Jonathan or maybe his mom very early on in the season, i’m talking episode 1 or 2, so that we as the audience get to live with it for a while.

- byler coming out moment where the two of them are alone, it’s quiet, not super high stakes, and they’re just talking, shooting the shit, but then things get heavy and emotional and everything all spills out.  ideally this would also happen in Not the last episode, so like if the season is 9 eps, it should happen in like 6 or 7 at the LATEST.  again, so that we as the audience can live with it, and so the characters have to live with it.

- Mike being visited by Vecna in a way similar to Nancy, and he has all of his secrets shoved right in front of his face (ie. his potentially untouched, unprocessed romantic feelings for Will).

- Will having some sort of powers, but not in the way El does since he wasn’t part of Brenner’s experiments.  one of my favorite theories is that he’s connected to the Mind Flayer and not just Vecna, and he can somehow control/give orders to the Mind Flayer to benefit him.

- Will and El being the big duo that saves the day in the end.

- branching off of the above, I’d love to have El perhaps not really want to kill Vecna, because she has this history and connection to him and, with the time skip (that i guess is for real happening?), that gives her lots of time to think things over rather than acting on impulse/defense.  I feel like, while she does hate him, she would come to learn that she very well could have become like Henry, and Henry has the potential to become like her, re: the powers of love vs. hatred.  rather than just wanting to find a way to kill him, she’d want to try to reform him.

- continuing to branch off, if Vecna was not willing to be reformed, I think that Will should land the final blow.  if anyone deserves to beat the shit out of Vecna, it’s that kid.

- continuing continuing to branch off of that, Will might not even actually kill Vecna, but instead gravely harm him in a way that there’s no coming back from it.  he’s beat, but he’s still alive. and he either 1) does what El says and stops trying to destroy the world, or 2) continues to be stubborn and petulant and decides to just kill himself, because if his plan is failing, he’d rather die than try to fix the mess he made.

- more scenes with Lucas and the other characters!  i love his dynamic with Max and Dustin, but i would kill for more scenes of him with Mike, and him with Will.  i’m really just excited that everyone is back in one place again :-)

- Dustin remembering Eddie in some way or another, whether it be nods to him, Dustin wearing his handkerchiefs, his shirts, something.  also, as heartbreaking it would be, i feel like it would be sweet to, at some point when one or more of them inevitably finds themselves in the Upside Down, they wander by Eddie’s trailer and see that Dustin (and the others?) had taken the time to give him some sort of burial rather than just leave him there.

- stop giving Steve so many scenes where it’s just him talking about how much he loves Nancy, I’m sorry but i DO NOT care about the Nancy Jonathan Steve thing can we move on thanks.

- more moments with Joyce and El, and moments with Hopper and Jonathan and Will!  mom and dad moments please!

- Antonov and Yuri are there and helping!  as is Murray, of course, but i’d love to see those two running around Hawkins with them, even if it’s just for a little bit while most of their stuff is off-screen.

- i’m not quite sure how they’d do it, but I assume Max will still be in her coma most of the time, but I’d love to still see her in the actual show before the end, whether that be in flashbacks or somehow they find a way to talk to her while she’s trapped, etc.

- continuing that train of thought, i feel like it would be really cool to have El save Max by removing her “soul” from Vecna and taking it into her own mind.  like, if Vecna was trying to harness El’s powers of opening gates, why can’t she try to harness his power of absorbing souls into herself?  it just feels really neat.

- plus!  i have this fun idea where like, if Will is being influenced by Vecna in a more direct way than just feeling his presence, i feel like he could be a conduit for retrieving Max.  ie. if Vecna has Max, and is feeding into Will’s mind, then Will could act as a bridge to make getting Max into El’s head easier.  like, instead of just trying to rip Max out of Vecna, who would be trying to hold onto her, Max can lead herself into the part of Vecna that’s attached to Will, then jump through Will’s mind and into El’s.  another piggyback!

- i would also be super happy to see Max not fully “cured” bc that would be dumb and stupid.  like, we should see her come back partially or fully blind and her body still majorly screwed up, but she’s just so fucking grateful to be alive.  then we can have the fun potential of all the kids helping her with PT and bed rest, and them finding ways to accommodate her being blind by making sure she’s stocked up on music, maybe they even record books that they read aloud so that she can “read” that way, etc.

- Argyle having some big key to fixing the problem/coming up with a plan!  maybe similar to finding the tire treads, he just follows whatever weird feeling he has and it turns out to solve a big part of the mystery.

- Will showing the other boys the painting he made!

- Mike probing Will about the painting in some way shape or form, since he lied about El “commissioning” it from him, when in her letter to Mike, she expressly stated that she knows nothing about the contents of the painting.

- and, most important of all, nobody dies and they all get to live happily ever after in the world that they save :) I also think it should still be a secret like, the whole world doesn’t know bc I think it would be really funny for the truth of the situation to continue to stay in the dark outside of the gaggle of people who’ve lived it.

i have so many thoughts in my head about stranger things and ideas for season 5 but my grubby little hands and my gay little brain can’t articulate them in a way that makes sense enough to share so really i just end up sitting here like this

[yoditopascal]

Heat Of The Moment (Part One)

eddie munson x black fem reader

summary: ‘Adopted daughter to police chief Jim Hopper, Shea has a hard enough time fitting in at Hawkins high, throw in monsters, meddling kids, and alternate dimensions into the mix and she’s not sure how she’ll survive.’

content warning: some angst, character deaths, period-typical racism, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence, possible smut later on??? (honestly we’ll see), cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug use, this is a reader insert but I hate using y/n so your nickname is ‘Shea’

Masterlist//Next Chapter

'86 Baby

The morning sunlight gently warmed her skin as she snuggled further into her blankets, the soothing laps of the lake outside her trailer trying to lull her further into sleep as she tried to rouse from sleep. It was peaceful… too peaceful. Peaking her eyes from beneath the covers Shea cracked an eye open and glared at her alarm clock, which had been far too quiet for her liking.

“Oh SHIT!” 

Flinging the covers off, she jumped from her bed rushing to the bathroom to get ready. Hopping out of the bathroom she shimmed into a pair of dark wash jeans and scrunched her hair up into a tight curly bun before grabbing her keys and a piece of bread and heading out the door.

Pulling up at the Henderson residence about fifteen after, Shea only had time to take a single bite of her breakfast before she was started by Dustin getting in and slamming the passenger door shut.

“You look like shit, what happened?”

“Good morning to you too Dustybuns.” she hummed.

“Please don’t start with that again,” Dustin frowned at her as he buckled in and they pulled off from his street.

“What I think it’s cute!” she said taking a bite from her bread as she drove.

“Is that bread? Why are you eating just bread?”

“I didn’t have time to toast it ok, sue me.”

“Jesus you're a disaster in the morning.” Dustin chuckled which she smiled at.

“So I’ve been told. Be glad I told Steve I’d pick you up this morning for him.” Shea had promised the night before, more like was suckered into as Steve knew she’d never say no to Robin and had had the teen ask her at the end of her shift yesterday as Shea was picking her up, she was beginning to feel like more of a glorified chauffeur 

“Why are you parking?” Dustin asked as he unbuckled and watched her do the same.

“I’m going to the pep rally?”

“Christ, didn't you graduate already? You'd think you had enough as this place.” he held his fce in his hands similar to the way an embarrassed child would to his parent.

“I still have friends here asshole, what if I wanted to see Robin?”

“You literally see Robin all the time!”

“Just get outta the car Henderson!” she yelled back in fake annoyance as she slammed the door shut behind her. The two entered the gymnasium at the same time but Dustin rushed past her as he saw his friends in the crowd and went to go and sit with them.

She thought it’d be weird if she sat on the bleachers with Dustin and Mike, and even though Steve was… somewhere in the crowd with his date (Heidi? Or was in Linda?) she didn’t want to feel like a third wheel so she stood off to the side, leaning on the railing of the bleachers watching the band as the basketball team came out to the court. 

Robin caught her eye as she nodded to her waving figure, she had been best friends with Robin for as long as she could remember and almost never missed when the band played if she could help it. 

Glancing back to the court Shea looked up just in time to see Lucas waving at Max shyly. Max looked away with a hard look on her face, she and Lucas must have been fighting again, Shea thought as she looked back and met eyes with Lucas who had just realized she was there. He waved at her with a small smile which she returned as she wiggled her ringed fingers to him.

“It’s been a tough year for Hawkins…”Jason, the voice of the captain of the high school basketball team, interrupted her from her thoughts as he began his speech over the mic.

“In dark days like this, we need something to believe in!” he continued as he began to pace getting more and more into it 

 “When we were down by ten points at half to Christian Academy I looked at my team, and I said…think of Jack…think of Melissa and Heather…think of Billy…” she rolled her eyes at the teen and looked over at Max who, as she expected, had a dark look in her eyes as she turned away wanting to be anywhere but there.

“Think of our heroic police chief Jim Hopper!” 

Are you fucking kidding me?

Shea felt her stomach drop to her ass the moment the words left his mouth. Angry tears bubbled up to the surface as she felt the recognizable fire of fury boil up in her veins. She almost wish she could’ve slammed the auditorium doors behind her as she stormed out, but the slow-release hinges prevented it.

Yanking her car door open she slammed it shut as hard as she could, desperate to put as much space between her and the school as possible. 

She braced her forehead on the steering wheel waiting for the tears to stop, on her side a mess of warped pink and purple raised flesh tingled. It didn’t hurt anymore but anytime she thought back to that night, the summer of 1984, her scar ached, reminding her of everything she lost that day.

Hearing a tap on the passenger window Shea figured it was either Dustin or Steve that had run out after her, she’d hoped it was neither and kept her head down silently wiping at her eyes.

“I don’t wanna talk right now guys.”

The tapping grew louder and even more persistent.

“Go away! Can’t you guys take a hint?”

“I mean, I've been told my people skills are pretty rusty so probably not, no” a deep voice chuckled, one she knew but couldn’t fathom why he was there at her car. Sitting up to look out her window at neck-break speed she met the soft dark brown eyes of one Eddie Munson, as he opened her passenger door and situated himself in her ride.

“Woah you ok there Hops?” he asked with genuine concern written all over his pale face as he noticed her red puffy eyes. She probably looked like a mess in front of him right now.

Eddie had been her dealer and friend? She didn’t know if that was the right word for it, they really only hung out when they smoked together or if she picked up a shift at the bar his band played at. Her old man used to frequent there when she was a kid, but she honestly couldn’t bring herself to step foot in there since he passed away.

“Yea-yeah I’m fine how’ve you been Eddie?

“Not very subtle, you changing the subject like that by the way, but I’m fine.” he answered as he crossed his arms over his chest and continued “You on the other hand are not fine.”

“I’m good Eddie I swear.”

“It’s about your dad right?” she looked back down at the steering wheel as fresh tears welled up in her dark eyes and the minute he saw that he regretted not being more subtle about blurting that out.

Real smooth dumbass.

“Sorry I-I just saw you storm outta there while that asshole was going on and on and I just-”

His hands itched to touch and comfort her but he didn’t want to cross any boundaries he hadn’t already without her permission. He settled for picking at the callous skin on his palm and fumbling with his rings instead.

“Not to get all heavy on you but I know what it feels like to lose someone you love more than anything in the world.” his mom flashed briefly in his mind before he shook the thought away.

 “Sometimes it feels like it gets easier but most of the time it just…doesn't and fuck.” now she was letting the tears fall freely down her cheeks and she hated it. She hated looking weak in front of anyone, no matter how much she tries to reassure herself that it was ok to cry (hell even necessary at times) she had just never got over that feeling.

“I’m sorry Eddie I’m out here spilling my guts to you and it's not even 9 am yet.”

“Hey, it's cool Hops don’t sweat it.”

There was a pregnant pause as Shea wiped her eyes one more time before anyone spoke up again.

“Look why don’t you and me hang out tonight,” he suggested out of the blue like them hanging out was the most normal, everyday thing in the world.

“Like old times! You bring the snacks preferably nachos because you make the best fucking nachos, I’ll bring some of my finest jazz cabbage and we’ll just chill and veg out.” he enthused as he turned his body towards her giving her his full attention.

“Jazz cabbage?”She chuckled, it was more of a giggle but she refused to believe this white boy had her giggling in the school parking lot like some giddy lovestruck teenager.

“Yeah, you know the devil’s lettuce, palm tree delight, whatever the kids are calling it these days!” he joke, his wild curly brown locks framing his bright smiling face.

“Not the kids, god you make yourself sound so old Munson.” Shea rolled her eyes looking away for a moment smiling, his smiles were always contagious.

Looking back up into his deep eyes she nodded turning her body towards him too, “Aight I’m in, but after the game tonight yeah? I still have to work tonight.”

“Whatever you want sweetheart, I have Hellfire tonight anyways.”

“You’re still doing that? Hellfire I mean,” she remembered when he first formed the club he tried day and night to get her to join back in the day, even helped her make her own D&D character and everything. She still had her own turquoise dice somewhere in her room.

“Yeah… you finally interested in joining us?”

“Yeah-no I wouldn't know the first thing about D&D but thanks for the offer.” she didn’t know the first thing about that game and her doing math outside of school? Absolutely not.

“But you've played before!”

“Yeah in like junior year, and you made me!”

“You had fun!” neither of them realized how close they were leaning into each other but even if they did neither of them would care Eddie’s entire being radiated warmth and comfort and that's all she craved at the moment.

“Because we were high as shit!” she laughed throwing her head back a single coil of hair fell outta her bun and Eddie wanted nothing more than to tuck it back for her. 

Before either could say anything else the bell rang and a rush of students piled out of the auditorium rushing to get to their first class of the day. The pair both spotted Jason, who glanced their way for a second with an unreadable expression, both of their stomachs twisted but for separate reasons.

“I better get going, see you tonight?” Eddie said getting out of the car and stretching his arms and legs. Her car was tiny just like her almost too tiny for him. She got out too, arms crossed, and leaned on the roof of her car which she barely reached.

“You bring the jazz cabbage and I’ll bring donkey kong.”

“It’s a date.” he joked, but he looked back at her shyly through his hair hoping to get a reaction out of her.

“In your dreams Munson!” she yelled back but she couldn’t hide the wide smile that rested on her chubby cheeks.

“Yeah” was all Eddie said as he closed the door and made his way to class with the other students, glancing back once or twice to see if she was still smiling after him.

“Was that Eddie ‘the Freak” Munson I just saw getting outta your car?” A voice behind her startled her, she almost fell out on her ass if she hadn’t caught herself in time.

“You scared the shit outta me Steve!”

“Sorry, my bad.” he didn’t really sound like he meant that but that was just Steve.

“You didn't answer my question by the way. Was that Eddie the Freak you were hanging out with?” he asked again leaning on the roof of her ride giving her a look of an overprotective father or brother, he stood a good 8 or 9 inches taller than her and the look would have been intimidating had she not known him better.

“God don’t call him that.” she rolled her eyes.

“So what are you guys all buddy-buddy now or something?”

“What’s it to you Steve? He’s my friend just like you.” she didn't like the way he was questioning her or how he said Eddie’s name as if it was something sour. Even though he sold drugs he was one of the sweetest people she knew and she’d be damned if she let anyone say otherwise friend or not.

“Yeah alright just… I don’t know be careful, he looked all amped up and there’s just… something about him I dont like.”

“I thought there was something about you I didn’t like either, now look at us.”

“Touche.” Steve signed standing back to his full height with his hand on his hip.

“How was the date by the way? Linda was it? No Tracy! It was definitely Tracy!” She had absolutely no idea what the girl’s name was but Tracy felt right.

“Heidi actually but uh yeah I don't think it's gonna work out,” he said nodding over to his car where the pair saw the girl in the passenger seat, checking herself over and fixing her hair again for the umpteenth time that morning with her compact mirror.

“Again? Damn man I’m sorry.”

“Nah don’t sweat it, I’m about to take her home but I just wanted to check on you first, that Jason kid’s a douche.” classic Steve always the gentlemen, always ready to fix his friend’s problems but never his own.

“I’m cool Steve, don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“Totally sure, I gotta get going I’ll see you guys around yeah?” Steve nodded to her looking unsure at her one last time before going off with his date again.

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful for Shea, she made it just in time for her 11 am shift at the veterinarian’s office, she picked up any odd job she could around town nowadays too keep up with bills, food costs, and the trailer (her dad had definitely done a number on the place back in the day and repairs and replacements weren't cheap) and before she knew it it was already almost 8. By the time she got home, she had just enough time to shower, change and get the chips and all the nacho topping set out together on the coffee table before she started drifting off to the sound of the Little Shop of Horrors soundtrack that was blasting on the tv. 

It wasn’t long before a rapid series of loud sharp bangs on her door snatched her from her sleep. 

Sorry this took so long! I was waiting for vol2 to drop then I had to emotionally process that shit cuz wtf

Taglist: @imatrisk

[roanofarcc]

Okay so I’ve been thinking about something with the spiders and I need to say something lol. Okay so I noticed just how inconsistent the spider situation thing was. With all of the victims seeing the spiders there’s been multiple of them. Like how chrissy, Fred, Patrick (I think they didn’t focus enough on his trauma which hella mad about but anyway), Max, and Henry’s mom they all saw tons of spiders. However when Steve gets the spider on his shoulder at the creel house it’s only one spider on his shoulder which is even more interesting because he was not (at least yet) a victim of vecna so why the fuck did he have a spider on his shoulder? It’s really bizarre especially because I noticed that with Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick they just saw the clock and the spiders came out of them. And with Henry’s mom she got the spiders that spit out of the shower faucet. But with max she had to step on something in her mind in order to see the spiders fleeing away for the first time. Which is even more interesting because she also only saw the spiders when she went into his strange mind place. So nothing makes sense with these spiders yet. I’ve also noticed that Henry also picked out only one spider when looking at the vent which I honestly think is so interesting considering that Henry and Steve’s look at the spiders parallels with each other. Also Henry only draws one spider on his sketch book that we can see. So I wonder if the number of spiders is significant to the plot and how inconsistent they are! But idk how and what the fuck it could mean sooo

And I’m thinking with the whole line of ‘you’ve broken everything’ maybe that just doesn’t allude to el or max or one particular character. Maybe it is about the group as a whole because they’re the ones who have foiled plans over and over again. They keep ‘winning’ but every time it’s just them pushing the inevitable back. And thinking of how Henry (using that name lol he has way too many) reacted to el and what he said to her. He found that they were really similar to each other and yet when she found out what he did and she got the chance to join him: she didn’t. Which is interesting because a reason I came up with for the gang surviving so long is because he finds them all very fascinating and sees himself in the others. Like there are parts of himself that he sees in each of the gang individually. Which also Henry thinks he did a good thing for her with the children/everything else but she doesn’t like it or appreciate it. Maybe this line is really more important because they keep defying him so he is putting the blame on them saying that they’ve ‘broken everything’. Idk I find that line interesting and just some reasoning I came up for that.

My brain is jumping at a hundred miles a minute so this is all over the place. But I also think another reason he resonates with them is because he hates the idea of normal. However the main characters are stuck (which was alluded often in the show) to two sides of being normal. One is being normal teenagers on this ‘quiet’ town but they’re also normal on monster hunting. They’re in between these two sides of normal that they can’t get out of. They’re so used to monster hunting that it comes so easily to them. And while this side of them is unnatural/not the norm for society/their town: it is normal for them. It’s so normal that even things they are going through for the first time (like with Jonathan, Will and mike burying that dead body; the teenagers besides eddie who is having a breakdown in the upside down) comes so easily to them. Some fandom has talked about how the town converges with the upside down and how the town gets swallowed but it. But the gang has already been converted by the ud just by having their unique experiences. Just by seeing the demogorgon and fighting against it they’ve become part of the tragedy of the upside down. I just think how it’s so interesting that this season had a lot of ‘guarded,’ guards,’ and being ‘stuck,’ sentences which definitely go back to the ud being on that date but also I can’t help but think that maybe there’s another reason/symbolism to that stuff.

okay yes the whole spider thing ?? I want to believe that the spider that steve got on his shoulder can't be no reason. I'm pretty sure they mentioned in the show somewhere (?) that the house had a black widow infestation? and henry kept them in jars to observe them and study them and that's what steve found. there's gotta be something there, but I don't know if it's foreshadowing steve being vecna'd? but oh or it was very subtle foreshadowing to nancy getting vecna'd? since she's the one to run into steve right after that and who pulled the spiderwebs out of his hair. idk but it's super interesting.

the more I think about that line, the more I can't help but wonder if you're right and it's not a reference to one character but to all of them. what if the hawkins gang is the reason hawkins crumbles and sucums to the upside down? in a way, it already kind of is. they're the ones who keep putting up a fight, opening and closing gates, poking their nose where they "shouldn't." what if vecna wants them to believe that the destruction of their home that they've been trying to save for many years is the result of their own doing. or, like you said about henry and his whole "conformity is the real killer" ideal, the hawkins gang desperate wanting for their lives to be normal, and their push back against his bigger plans, is what breaks hawkins?

[angerissue]

Character Survey.

Real name: Dr. Robert Bruce Banner, Ph.D..

Single or taken: Single, and this probably isn't going to change anytime soon. He has a number of ingrained emotional issues, and ideological issues that pertain to his condition, that prevent him from seeking romantic relationships and even just becoming close to someone. One-night stands are possible, because they don’t involve emotional commitment from either party, but real relationships scare the hell out of him. The closer that someone gets to Bruce, the more he fears hurting them or being hurt himself.

Abilities or powers: He has an extremely high IQ, almost unprecedented intuition when it comes to the sciences and its numerous technologies, and a great ability to think outside the box and solve complicated, confounding problems. Also, he can turn big and green, which makes him capable of inhuman physical feats and gives him a ridiculous healing factor. This cannot be understated; he can literally recover from decapitation if the conditions are right. It's debatable whether these qualify as gifts or curses, because of the experiences they've created for Bruce in the past, but they're definitely abilities at the least.

Eye colour: Brown. Sometimes green if he’s in a mood.

Hair colour: Dark brown with some grey.

Family members: Rebecca Banner (mother / deceased), Brian Banner (father / incarcerated), Jennifer Walters (cousin / alive), Susan Drake (adoptive aunt / unknown), Elaine Banner (aunt / deceased).

Pets: In The Persistence, he owns a white knockout mouse named Eddie, who came from a selection of ailing lab mice that he experimented on with the Hulk's plasma. He doesn’t have pets in other verses, though he wouldn’t mind a cat, or a dog with a calm and mellow demeanour, as long as his living situation and overall routine is constant and undisturbed. Otherwise, it will never be a possibility. Back when General Ross' squad broke down his door in Brazil, he needed to abandon a mutt named Rick, and it hurt because he’d become very fond of him. He doesn't want to do this to another animal.

Hobbies or activities: He loves hiking and jogging (with trails in forested areas being his preferred location), cooking and baking, gardening, reading textbooks and science journalism, bait fishing, programming and experimenting, travelling, sightseeing, meditation, yoga, collecting and listening to vinyl records, and being a rebel by listening to police scanners and going after bad guys if he doesn't have much else to do. But even if it seems like he's not outwardly doing anything, he's probably still occupied — he tends to spend a profuse amount of time in his own head, ruminating and reflecting on future goals, whether it involves anticipating or dreading them. He also likes to contemplate new concepts and designs for technologies.

Animal that represents them: Definitely a pangolin, because you can’t look at a pangolin and the way it carries itself and not think of Banner from a purely visual perspective. Add on the fact that their bodies are covered in hardened scales for defense, and how they curl up into a ball whenever they're upset and threatened, and you have a metaphorical version of Bruce, who tends to shy away and retreat into himself whenever he's having a lower moment, and has a lot of deep-seated defensive mechanisms on display during social interactions. But seriously, these animals just want to walk around eating ants, minding their own business. They don’t have a bone to pick with anyone... Which is also similar to Bruce. And did I mention that pangolins are endangered, because they're frequently hunted and trapped by humans for their supposed “beneficial properties” in medicine (none of which are proven)? That's similar to how Banner has been followed all over the place by the U.S. military, just because they perceived his condition to be useful somehow.

Worst habits: Take your pick. Distancing himself from other people even when he could use the company, self-flagellation, humouring his guilt complex even when he's not responsible for certain negative outcomes, repressing or suppressing his emotions when he needs to express them (or the opposite, staying as the Hulk so he can stew in those strong emotions and therefore punish himself for whatever he “did wrong”), running away from connections that involve real commitment, especially romantic ones.

Role models: Steve Rogers for his patriotism and overall sense of morality, Neils Bohr for his defense of the Bohr atomic model (which had been a radical theory for the time) and subsequent successes, Ernest Rutherford for similar reasons, and his mother when he was younger, though he doesn’t remember much about her because he was only six when she died. Same goes for his aunt, Susan; while he spent more time around her than Rebecca in total, he was rather emotionally absent by this point because of all the trauma earlier in his childhood. In general, his role models tend to be people who remain strong in the face of adversity and judgement, and stick to their values for the benefit of others. All the above people qualify in that sense, for different reasons.

Sexual orientation: Heterosexual.

Thoughts on marriage and kids: Nope, and bigger nope. He would love to have a close connection with someone, however much he's actually repressed the desire for the time being, and some part of him does want to have a child — however, he always concludes that it wouldn't be worth it. Bruce believes marriage would be a shackle for anyone who's unfortunate enough to become his partner, and it would open them up to potential threats from people who could use them to get to him and his condition. And children are a no-go because Bruce doesn’t want them to have a father like him; he might be absent for a lot of their upbringing, and either unstable or otherwise unaccommodating in temperament if he’s upset. And he'll constantly be trying to hide his condition from them as well, because god forbid they find out their father is a monster, and they feel like a freak because of it. He's been in a position where he felt like an anomaly as a child, and he's not interested in subjecting his children to this. He also loathes the idea of bringing children into the world because he would not be able to ensure their safety — after all, he can’t even ensure his own. So to Bruce, he'd be setting them up for endangerment just because they’re related to him, similar to how his partner would become a target as well.

Style preferences: Safe and conservative, and not flamboyant by any means. He usually sticks to warmer and neutral palettes, and cuts/styles that are classic and unlikely to fall out of style; this includes his suits, jackets, pants, and shirts. We're talking chinos and slacks, poplin dress shirts, wool sport coats and blazers. Most occasions will see him wearing the dress shirt, slacks, and sport coat together. If he's feeling more adventurous, he'll pair a sport coat with a crewneck, or he could even go with a polo shirt and jeans, but the latter is rare. In general, Bruce's most interesting piece is a brown leather bomber jacket, which he usually wears in the warmer months; colder weather will bring out a peacoat (and he loves to pop the collar in lieu of using a scarf). As far as cost goes, Bruce is fairly well-off between the royalties from S.H.I.E.L.D. and other work he's done here and there, but even so, he doesn't purchase outrageously expensive clothing and tends to go for the mid-upper brands. He'll do made-to-measure, but not full bespoke. He finds any further spending to be superfluous.

Approach to friendships: Cautious and uncertain about them, and tends not to approach people first, because he would hate to overstep his boundaries / make someone uncomfortable. Rather accommodating to people he considers friends, but he's extremely quick to duck out if they can’t meet him eye-to-eye regarding touchy topics, like decisions that affect the well-being of many people. This is the reason he shunned his friendship with Tony after they debated about the Sokovia Accords. Being an introvert, he’s one of those people who doesn't like bothering his friends; even if they make it abundantly clear that he's welcome anytime, he'll hesitate, but he’s completely okay and even happy if those friends approach him instead. He doesn't always like when his personal space is invaded, or if someone touches him, but he'll start to make exceptions if he becomes more familiar with someone. He loves the people that he can consider friends, but he always views the friendships as something that could dissolve in a heartbeat. On some level, even unconscious, he's always expecting things to end.

Thoughts on pie: An acceptable desert. Bumbleberry, strawberry rhubarb, and pumpkin are his favourites. He prefers the homemade variety, and because of it, he tends to make his own, butter crust and all, avoiding store-bought unless it’s particularly memorable — or if someone buys a slice for him. He’s appreciative like that.

Favourite place to spend time: Somewhere he can guarantee that he's not being watched; these are most commonly his labs in the Northwind Observatory, quiet and secluded trails, or his chambers in the Crown City citadel on Sakaar. Not only do these locations ease his anxieties about being studied, inspected, or followed, but he feels less of a pressure to put on false pretenses and exhaust himself with social niceties, many of which may be fabricated. He doesn’t need much external stimulation, because he’s fine simply turning inward and thinking, without paying much attention to his surroundings, but he’ll certainly admit to spending a ton of time tinkering with pet projects if he’s in the labs. Obviously, Bruce prefers to be alone in most of these cases. But if he's with someone he cares about, whether a friend or a romantic partner, and can openly express himself around them, that's nice for him too.

Swim in the lake or ocean: Lakes, without question. He has some bad memories of being in the ocean, whether it’s about the time he was tossing and turning in glacial waters after his failed suicide attempt, or clawing his way out of a quinjet that crashed into the water while his alter started to take over. Bruce remembers all that, and it's not pleasant. The openness of oceans perturb him as well; lakes are usually far more intimate and amniotic because they’re often surrounded by forests, which allows him to feel safer and less exposed.

Their type: Someone who is, and is comfortable with showing, some semblance of dependence on him, which would placate his need to fill a provider role and not simply be a charity case; he's had enough of that between begging on the streets and asking Tony Stark for boarding. (This doesn't mean he's looking for someone who's a total pushover, cannot make their own decisions, or is emotionally needy, because those would make him run in the other direction, frankly.) Someone who can hold their own and stand up for their beliefs when necessary. Someone who can challenge him intellectually, though not necessarily in an academic sense; it really just depends on how much they can expand his own perspective by giving their own. Someone who really understands his needs and issues. And obviously, someone who isn't scared of his condition, because it's going to manifest a lot. It needs to; he doesn't really have a choice in the matter. Hulk is another story, but fortunately, he doesn't show up enough to really be an immediate concern, and Bruce and his partner can cross that bridge when they reach it. Physically, he's usually attracted to women who are slightly shorter than him; their hair can be anything from blonde to brown, and he prefers body types that are similar to his own; more on the slender side but not necessarily fragile.

Camping or indoors: He’d rather be indoors. He isn’t extremely fond of camping, if we’re using the most common definition of "pitching a tent, cooking with a fire made from sticks and tinder, and spending the night in the woods with the bears and the bugs". There are indeed occasions where he cannot stand to be indoors, whether because he’s feeling claustrophobic (a common symptom of abstaining a little too long from transformations), or he simply needs some time away from other people in the geographic sense, but in those cases, he’s more likely to go for a walk or hike, not set up an entire campsite and spend the rest of the night outdoors. For him, camping is meant for a survival-type situation rather than a recreational one. The closest thing to camping he'll do is living in a cabin with a wood stove and local water supply, which he’s done a few times over the years. He's even purchased a few cabins by the time his Persistence verse rolls around, so if one of the properties are compromised, he could always retreat to another one.

Tagged by: @mynameisanakin​! Tagging: @fallencomrade​ , @asgardianhammer​​ , @alongingwithin​ , and anyone else who wants to do this.

[kxhlzn]

[i.] the birdwatcher & his lover.

➳ synopsis: it's the summer of '89, and you discover new things about yourself— some good, and some you wish you could swallow and never see again. dealing with the newfound confusion of sexuality, you must learn the ins and outs of friendship and what it means to grow up.

➳ genre: coming-of-age drama, fluff, crack, angst, slow burn romance, lgbtq+ themes.

➳ characters/pairing(s): eventual stanley uris/reader (main couple), unrequited!beverly marsh/reader, eventual richie/eddie (possibly unrequited), eventual bev/ben.

➳ wordcount: 3.2k

➳ warnings: profanity, partial nudity (the lake), slight angst.

➳ song recs: "beverly" from the it soundtrack & "she" by dodie.

➳ author's notes: hi hi hi! this is my first fic on tumblr and honestly i'm a bit anxious about this bc i haven't written in ages lmfao. this is a series, so pls don't hesitate to send in asks and the like! nothing is set entirely into stone yet. please note! the characters are fifteen in this, and pennywise doesn't attack derry at all; so georgie is alive and well and chasing paper boats in the rain. richie & reader are both bisexual, ben & bev fall in love as kids. reader and bill are vv close but platonically.

June, 1989.

the first time you meet stanley uris, he is perched on a oak bench planted in the middle of derry park, his bruised knees pressed together in order to keep his journal steady. his chin is pointed to the heavens, eyes searching the clouds, a curious glow in them; cheeks dusted a light pink, he was angelic, the sun's rays a dull comparison to the golden glow of his messy curls. the boy had a nervous tick of tapping his pencil against the yellowed paper in his lap, followed by the curve of his brow when he noticed a bird flutter overheard.

you, at age eleven, were fascinated by him, and lacked a filter to save you from your mouth. it's almost as if the hinge of your jaw had lost a screw, and you feared if it hung open too long a fly might seek entrance there. of course, it would have been entirely avoidable if you hadn't sat your butt right next to him, and stuck your nose right where it didn't belong: in his journal.

"your handwriting is pretty, but your drawings can use some serious work. is that supposed to be a bird? it looks like it's having a heart attack," you had said, tilting your head, "the wings are too jagged and the legs too... sticky, you know? not like sticky like honey, but sticky like... you know, sticks? are you mute or something?"

your blank stare forces stanley's hand to shoot to the back of his neck as he tries to find the words to attend to all of your commentary. his mouth opens and closes a few times before you roll your eyes dramatically, slumping into the back of the bench. stanley clears his throat, eyes falling to the ground.

a silence ensues, and you glance from his crestfallen expression to the drawings. "and, uh, his eyes are buggy; they look like fat marbles. they're taking up his whole face."

stan releases a breathy laugh, and he raises an eyebrow at the graphite drawing in front of him. "they do, don't they?"

you mirror his laugh, and nod solemnly. "there's no saving them," you say, and decide to tell him your name, outstretching your hand proudly.

"stanley," the boy replies, meeting your grip and giving it a good shake. "uh, you know a lot about drawing. could you fix him?"

you hum, taking the journal from his lap and dropping it in your own. you tilt your head at the sketch, putting your chin in your hand. "it's going to be a tough job, but i think he'll survive. scalpel, sir?"

he hands you the yellow pencil, sharpened down half its original length. "anastesia? or uh," you inquire, not aware of how to spell or pronounce the word, "the stuff that doctors give people during surgery."

"anesthesia," stanley corrects, pulling a pink eraser from his pocket and giving it away.

"yeah, that," you bring the eraser down and the bird lines are soon gone, but the remnants of what was stays behind on the paper. "your lines are really hard. you've prolly got heavy hand, you know. but don't worry, i do too."

the next few minutes are in comfortable silence, save for your absent-minded humming. stanley leans over your shoulder, but not to the point of invading personal space, studying each pencil stroke gracing the journal. he makes a comment about the structure of the real-life bird, and you nod your head in agreement. the two of you synchronize nearly perfectly — you sketch what he tells you to. you aren't very observant to the outside world, but you focus on details in your drawings. stanley will mention that the creature has a stray mark on its beak, and you pencil it in without the graphite being too dramatic, which stanley is quick to do in his work.

after an hour of chatting and working, you are sitting on the back of the bench, feet placed comfortably on the seat. you are talking on and on about a story that happened during your english class, and you don't refrain a single detail. stanley listens intently, body slouched forward over his journal as he writes physical descriptions of the bird next to the drawing. he checks the time on his watch, and nearly jumps out of his seat. he swivels around, eyes blown wide, but you don't seem to notice as your arms wave about, mimicking a girl in your class.

stanley barks your name, which sounds sweet on his tongue, he realizes. when you focus on him curiously, he looks guilty. "i have to go. i was supposed to go to my friend's house so we could go to the quarry together. uh, unless you want to.. go?"

you grin, hopping onto the soil beside him. "for sure!" you hook your arm in his, and skip forward a few steps.

"wrong way," he says sheepishly.

you turn around, now exceedingly confident. "onward, steed!"

the next few years, up until freshman year, you are best friends with stanley uris and his gang of friends; bill denbrough, richie tozier, and eddie kaspbrak. bill was the kindest of all of them, a sensitive boy with a heart of gold. his love for art made him an easy companion, and you grew very close the summer of 7th grade, spending many hours a week at his house simply talking and making art. his little brother is like your favorite person, the little squirt constantly bugging bill about when he'll see you again, and telling bill he likes you better because you'll play with him.

eddie is a mother hen to you, warning you about the dangers you put yourself in on a daily basis. you are more reckless than the other boys, so it's common to see eddie turn an ugly shade of purple when he witnesses you do something exceedingly ignorant. with your asthma, he can relate to you, but you personally believe the inhalers you have are pointless and there's no need to rely on them, but eddie disagrees. when he takes a puff from his emergency inhaler, which is more of a daily one, he tends to shove one in your mouth too for simple sake of anxiety. you've found that he calms down when you play with his hair or give his scalp a light scratch, his voice lost in the serenity of it all.

ah, richie tozier; you two are scarily similar, and everyone is aware of it. he's of course referred to as "trashmouth", and you're known as "loudmouth", as richie has a tendency to speak inappropriate things, and you just keep speaking and can't properly whisper to save your life. a major difference between the two of you is your vulnerability, naiveness, and positive charisma. his talkativeness is characterized by sarcasm and the "class clown" stereotype, while yours relies more on really just being a chatterbox, whose thoughts spill out at rapid speeds without being filtered by your brain. fortunately, it's easier to make friends this way, and you tend to be the ice-breaker of your friends. richie, personally, admires this about you and thinks of you as an "innocent little ball of sunshine", and likes to put his arm on your head to show his dominance.

your relationship with stanley uris is a bit complicated; of course, at first, it was unproblematic being friends with him, as you were easy opposites. you spoke into the space that he was too quiet to fill, and it was comfortable for the both of you; you got to speak your mind without interruption, and stanley was able to have company that didn't force him to interact gregariously. however, as you grew with time, he found your carelessness to be irritating, as he hated feeling he had to be anxious all of the time; stanley enjoys turning his alarm off, and running on low function, and he thinks it is hard to do that when you're jumping off cliffs, climbing on slippery rocks with your eyes covered, and provoking bullies three years older than you. he finds you irrational and childlike, which is difficult for him to grasp as an inherently strategic and analytical person. you are a glass half full, and he is glass half empty. he prefers to consider the consequences, and you have a tendency to wait to find them out after you commit the deed. he has his future planned, and you want to live in the moment; you enjoy surprises, new opportunities, as there is something entirely boring about being sure what you plan to do each day. sometimes, you believe stanley wakes early, dresses in the outfit he put aside the night before, and takes a seat to write down a schedule. you shiver at the thought. unfortunately, the disagreements put tension on your friendship, as hanging out periodically ends with an argument, and one of you stomping out to rant to one of the others. you sincerely care for each other, but also find each other extremely irritating when the situation calls for it; which is becoming increasingly habitual as you grow taller with age.

but you also find him to be beautiful.

you're fifteen when you properly meet ben hanscom, beverly marsh, and mike hanlon. it's also the first time you felt something strike deep in your gut for that particular redheaded girl, and the way her newly chopped locks curled at the ends. she had tucked your hair behind your ear as you wrestled with the button on your overall shorts, and took your hands in hers, pushing them aside so she could slip the button through the hole properly. she was so graceful, elegant even, in the way she held herself. that day, you labeled the twist of your insides as insecurity, nothing else.

it was a mix of many things, you realized a long time after. insecurity, deep-rooted sexual confusion, and jealousy.

beverly is the first to jump off the cliff and into the lake below. after aiding you in your clothing disaster, she slips her creamy overdress from her shoulders, and gives her arms a good shake. she departs with a glance back at you, the sun beating down on her hair like fiery red flames, and her icy eyes contrasting its intensity. suddenly, you feel so small; so plain. before she could see your lip quiver, she was in the air, high like an angel, before falling towards the murky waters.

the stars in bill and ben's eyes, and the admiration in the rest of theirs, erupt a cacophony for you, striking your heart like a harsh note: these aren't your boys anymore.

bill jumps next, and then the others, eddie last. the splash sends spikes in your spine, but it's a warm hand on your shoulder that kick-starts your body. sandy curls appear in front of your face, tilting to reveal the kind eyes of stanley uris. his mouth is shaped in a firm line, a bit disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm. he seems to be at war with himself.

he stays silent for a moment, eyes searching the sky for the right words. "i want to go last," he finally breathes, seemingly triumphed in his verbiage, "i don't want them to see me cross my fingers behind my back before i go."

you laugh softly, relieved. you are grateful knowing he wasn't going to pry in your hesitation, or your brief self-consciousness. even when the two of you bicker, you hold high respect for stan; he's a boy of few words. he isn't shy, and certainly isn't bashful; he simply chooses to speak sparingly, believing that the chattiest voices aren't always loudest. he doesn't word vomit to fill the silence; that is how you know his words are meticulously chosen, like pieces to a greater puzzle.

stanley's thin frame makes no unnecessary movements, but rather awaits yours. his hand has long since abandoned your shoulder, and rather is cuffing his other calmly in front of his hips. the lack of speech isn't menacing or awkward, but instead a bit comforting; it gives you adequate time to finish undressing, tossing aside your socks and shoes. you pull the loose scrunchie from your hair, and give yourself a silent nod in reassurance.

"promise not to tell?" stan says quietly when he's sure you're more stable, curious eyes searching for yours.

"pinky promise," you insist, holding up the smallest finger on your right hand. when his wraps around yours, you toss him a childlike grin. "i never break them."

and then you're gone, cascading down towards the green waters, each wave crystalizing in your descent.

"i know," stanley whispers to himself. little do you know, he has the same epiphany you had just seconds ago, aweing after beverly.

he crosses his fingers behind his back, and steps off the cliff's edge.

air reaches your lungs when you pull your head above the surface, and you gather your sopping hair from your skin, laying it against your neck. you face the sky, and stan's dive is a flash of gold: like a bird, graceful in it's dip, his curls like its wings.

you find yourself wanting to ask him what it's like to fly.

—

on a boiling day in the middle of june, you and the others spend a day in the quarry again, but instead have a picnic by the rocks rather than racing back into town for a snack at eddie's house. it was mike's idea; he hadn't told anyone until he showed up early that day, sweaty and beaming with a quaint basket and blanket tucked under his arm. you felt a bit guilty, honestly— you wish he would've told you so you all could pitch in.

he seemed ecstatic, though, setting it up, so you couldn't bring yourself to mention that.

beverly says she wants to sunbathe with you, so you agree with hot cheeks and position yourself awkwardly next to her, posture straight with your knees tucked under your arms. your stiffness goes unnoticed by her, thankfully, so you're able to admire her form in peace as she stretches her limbs out with a soft sigh. compared to her, you feel unbearably rigged, unbearably not feminine. a thought crosses your mind that her own feminity outshines yours so much that the boys must think of you as one of them, minus the third leg, and with twin petals blossoming on your chest.

the boys are curled around their usual spots, the multiple boulders a few feet from your seated position, chatting carelessly. mike is discluded, lost in preparing the perfect picnic for you all. perhaps if you had noticed the simplicity of it all, you wouldn't have blurted out something ignorant to force a tension in the summer air.

"do you guys think i'm pretty?"

the conversation drops briefly, takes a soft roar, and then entirely ceases as seven pairs of eyes draw to you, including mike and beverly. the red-haired girl has a smirk on her lips, tilting her head ever so slightly as if to test your patience and purpose.

bill clears his throat gently. "u-um, well, yeah of c-course.. w-why wouldn't w-we?"

you shrug nonchalantly, and the others eyeball each other, pleading for another to say something else. eddie and ben slyly play rock paper scissors for a sacrifice.

richie whistles lowly. "this is gonna be good."

your face's temperature soon begins to rival the sun as your breath hitches in your throat, attention turned directly on beverly, as though her presence might calm your nerves. it doesn't. your lower lip is caught between your teeth, as you grow progressively more embarrassed of yourself the longer the others stare.

beverly smiles gently, her intensely blue eyes never straying from yours. "i think you're the prettiest girl in the world."

you sputter suddenly, adjusting your aviators, and spill out something along the lines of "i have to go take a piss", and skitter off in the direction of the woods. you curse yourself the entire way.

richie laughs, breaking the tension. he pats stanley's bare back roughly as the lanky boy stares at the trees you disappeared behind. "and the hits just keep on coming."

"beep beep, richie," eddie scolds, and richie winks at him, suggestively nodding towards him. eddie rolls his eyes and his gaze drops to his feet.

"sandwiches, anyone?" mike whimpers, a lopsided grin as he holds up a loaf of bread. stanley gently pushes past him and disappears into the brush.

"well, i, for one, would like three," richie replies, slapping his thighs as he stands.

eddie mumbles a word or two about richie being "as selfish as ever", and makes his way to mike also. beverly is a bit quiet, and bill chooses to sit beside her; his hands fall to his knees, rubbing them subconsciously.

"u-um, you didn't do a-anything wrong," he says, aware of the deep concentration beverly has. he can usually tell when everyone is upset or has something on their mind. "she's j-just been a l-little self conscious lately."

"please," beverly whispers, lifting her head to the sky, "i can tell she's been different around me. i must have said something to offend her. i should apologize—"

beverly pulls herself up, dusts off her legs, and is yanked down by bill's shaky hand.

"d-d-don't—" when the girl steadies, he continues, "let them b-b-be. if y-you really did s-something to h-hurt her, s-s-stanley will f-find out. trust him."

the greenery is exceedingly massive— miles and miles of towering woodland, filtering in streams of sunlight, rocky terrain around every trunk. you find yourself breathing heavily while seated on a boulder that is tucked away behind a ledge, facing the opposite way of the opening that your friends are at. elbows pressed into your knees, you put your face in your hands.

the air is tightening around your throat, and your uneven breaths become wheezes. you fist your hair in frustration, and smooth it down seconds after. this turns into a cycle, as you calm your wild nerves. fuck. are you allowed to think of her like that? you inhale deeply, the scent of soil filling your senses.

twigs crack in the distance, rapidly approaching feet obliterating the silence that has so graciously aided you in your toxic thoughts. you run your hands through your hair, and then fist a handful at the scalp. you smooth it out tenderly. when the footsteps are extremely close, slow down their pace, and stop entirely, you squeeze your eyes shut.

"go the fuck away, bill, i don't need your lect—" you bark, waving him away, but are cut off by long arms wrapping around your neck. your anxiety washes away, but you make no effort to embrace them in turn. your hands become fists, with no fabric of a shirt to grasp. you don't notice the tears racing down your face until your eyes and cheeks burn furiously, and your throat is caught up in sobs. when you peek, the sight of stanley's dusty curls in your peripheral sends waves of numbness and comfort over your skin.

your thoughts become hazy once you've lain your head against the bone of stanley's bare shoulder, and you feel a weight on your body lift from you— and transfer to him.

you swear you can hear faint whispering, voice cracked and vulnerable: "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

the part that leaves you aching for days in the future, is that you're not sure he was talking to you.

➳ i hope you liked it! it's a bit short but idc cuz i'm tired.

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (6/18)

Chapter 6: Not on My Clothes

In the aftermath of Ticonderoga’s destruction, Madelyn and Deacon seek refuge at Valentine Detective Agency only for their partnership to be questioned. Shaken by her near-death experience, she spends some time away from the Railroad but eventually reunites with Deacon for a heartfelt conversation over coffee. Ultimately, the two are sent by Doctor Carrington to investigate one of the last remaining safehouses but come up short. Later, at her apartment, the two find themselves closer than ever.

“I can afford a blemish on my character, but not on my clothes.” –Shelby Carpenter as played by Vincent Price (Laura, 1944)

x - x

[read on Ao3] x  [chapter masterpost]

February 17th, 1958

What occurred after the explosion was still a blur.

Deacon was quick to usher Madelyn off-site as the fire brigade and police descended upon the scene, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he scurried them away from prying eyes. She was too shell-shocked to resist, even if she knew deep down it was too dangerous to linger behind and risk being cornered by an unknown enemy. You can’t trust everyone—Deacon’s words echoed through her mind as they rushed down the Boston sidewalks to safety—but then, who could she trust?

Madelyn’s fear didn’t subside even as they hailed a cab from a quiet street corner close to Cambridge, noting the way her partner still clung to her side as he kept a careful watch on their surroundings. She felt safe there, tucked against his chest, but simultaneously the thought registered that being by his side was what got her into that mess in the first place. Instead of returning to her apartment, or to the Old North Church (any Railroad safehouse was a dangerous bet at the time), she instructed the driver to head to the Fens.

Deacon clasped her hand, gloved fingers tightening around her own as they watched the billowing smoke ascend into the night sky from the back-seat window. They turned to face each other, Madelyn regarding herself in the reflection of his shades before remembering for a brief moment she had seen what was underneath. But it was neither the time nor place to be swept up in emotions, daydreaming about having his baby-blues locked on her as they were whisked away from destruction. Instead, she looked away and allowed the familiar pangs of guilt to worm its way into her chest.  

It was nearly two in the morning by the time they reached the agency, and while the neon sign outside was turned off, she could see a few lights on inside indicating life. Sunday evening meant Jenny was working the overnight shift at the hospital, leaving Nick to his own devices and with nobody to tell him to go home. As Deacon helped her from the cab her suspicions were confirmed, spotting Nick’s black Cadillac parked along the curbside. Behind it was Piper’s red Beetle—fantastic. Madelyn didn’t feel like explaining herself, but the longer she idled with Deacon’s hand on the small of her back the more exhausted she became. With nowhere else to go, it was time to face the music.

The lobby was dark and momentarily, she thought she could sneak the two to her office on the other side of the room. Deacon caught on, the two quietly shuffling across the floorboards while eying the second, half-closed door with Nick Valentine etched into the frosted glass pane. Soft, echoes of laughter spilled from the room, the sounds of clinking glasses and Nick grumbling about something. There was a different voice, one she couldn’t pin down—but it wasn’t important—she fumbled with her set of keys, desperately trying to remain quiet in her own place of employment like she didn’t have every right to be there.

“What the—oh, hey, Miss Lawyer.”

Madelyn froze, glancing over her shoulder to see somebody she didn’t expect to—Robert MacCready—leaning in Nick’s doorway and opening it wider so more light spilled out to shine across her and her companion’s body. Deacon sidled closer behind her, either to slip further into the shadows or to force himself into her office—she couldn’t tell. MacCready’s eyebrows shot up a little when he realized she had a guest.

“Oh, so you came to have a lil’ fun with your friend?” he asked, clearly inebriated off of Nick’s private stash of too-good whiskey. The poor kid didn’t know what hit him, and really needed to stop talking. Despite the night she had had, she could feel her whole body burning and heard the softest smirk from Deacon behind her. MacCready gave the two an encouraging thumbs up. “That’s awesome.”

“What?” Piper’s excited voice spilled out from the office.

Before Madelyn could think to hide Deacon somewhere—anywhere (where the hell was she supposed to hide a six-foot-plus tall man in less than a second, anyway?)—her friend was standing in the lobby, flicking on the lights to expose them both. She snapped her eyes shut tightly, unprepared for the brightness and not realizing how sensitive they still were from the blast. She stumbled, but Deacon was ever the sturdy protector beside her, keeping her upright.

“Holy shit, Blue!” Piper announced, the shift in her tone worrisome. Madelyn peeked open her eyes to see the reporter staring at her agape, gaze shifting across her form. “What the hell happened to you?” Piper’s stare lingered where Deacon’s hands were still about her waist. “And who the hell are you?”

That’s when Madelyn realized her appearance was less than stellar—her coat was frayed, singed at the edges from the explosion and even though it was black, it did little to disguise the sprinkling of ash. Her stockings were ripped across the knees, and her heels were just as tattered, one buckle broken and missing. She needed a proper mirror but judging by what she could see in the reflection of her office door, her hair was a mess, golden-blonde curls awry. She quickly discarded a glove to touch at her forehead, realizing that there was a bruise, and on the corner of her lip, a small cut. She wondered if there were any other injuries she hadn’t discovered.

“Madelyn?”

Just as she was wiping away the blood from her face, Nick appeared in the doorway of his office, his confusion quickly shifting into one of concern as he noted the state she was in. Her remorse bloomed into full force—she hated to make Nick worry, and she’d been doing a lot of that lately with her newfound partnership with the Railroad. Rather suddenly she moved away from Deacon, noticing how reluctant he was to let her go. She rushed across the agency lobby and straight into Nick, wrapping her arms around his chest in a tight hug. Unable to fight back the tears that clouded her vision she buried her face into his shoulder, breathing in deep the familiar scent of cologne and cigarettes.

“Hey, doll,” Nick shushed her, clearly alarmed by her sudden show of emotions. She hadn’t cried—at least not in front of him—in a long time. One hand slid affectionately along her back as the other cradled her head. His voice was quiet as he mumbled against her temple. “What are you doing here so late? What happened?”

Madelyn didn’t know where to start—a secret mission for the Railroad to smuggle a witness to a crime out of the city that ended in a car-bomb blowing up half a building and left two people dead. At least she figured High Rise and Henry were dead—they had been so close to the explosion, to have survived would be a miracle. Their deaths weighed heavily on her shoulders and her knees practically buckled beneath her as another sob racked through her.  

Nick was quick to pull her into his office, depositing her into her favored armchair before his desk. He hunched down beside her, hands on either side of her head as he inspected her face. She and Nick had a close bond, but even this sort of contact was unusual for them—he hadn’t needed to comfort her so intensely since Nate’s murder. Madelyn tried to lean away but he didn’t let her, thumb softly brushing over the growing bump on her temple before smoothing her hair back into place. She flicked her gaze over the armchair to find MacCready and Piper in the doorway, effectively blocking Deacon from entering the room. However, being more than a head taller than them both, his displeasure was easy to see.

Nick noticed where she was looking and grumbled, leaning back on his haunches as he glanced over his shoulder. “Deacon,” he seethed. “Mind telling me why the two of you have shown up in the dead of night, looking like this?”

Madelyn hadn’t heard that kind of vitriol from the detective directed at anyone but Eddie Winter. She shifted upright, reaching out to place a calming hand on her partner’s shoulder, but he was steadfast, focused on hearing the truth from the other man. MacCready and Piper both shifted, turning to stare at Deacon with similar, questionable expressions—though, Mac was considerably more amused by the situation, fueled by whatever booze they had been drinking before the two had shown up.

“Railroad business.”

Now was not the time for Deacon to be secretive or evasive with the organization’s going’s on, but he didn’t offer anything else, regarding Madelyn with a look that was too hard to read—why couldn’t he just be honest—for once in their brief and complicated partnership? The short answer wasn’t what Nick or Piper were looking for.

“Excuse me?” the reporter snapped, arms crossed. “The Railroad? You mean to tell me that you…” she poked a finger at his chest, prompting Deacon to glance down at her. Piper then gutted a thumb in Madelyn’s direction. “…and Blue are working for the Railroad?”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a smallest of smirks. “We’re partners.”

Nick took full offense to that, standing up in a snap. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I don’t?” Deacon’s brows shot up, not expecting an argument. “That’s what we are, Nicky-boy.”

Madelyn furrowed her brow, looking over at him in alarmed confusion. Where was this animosity coming from? Nick shook his head, hand waving in disagreement.

“Some partner you are, getting Madelyn into danger,” he bellowed. “If you can’t protect your partner, then you’re better off working alone!”

Deacon pushed his way past Piper and into the room. At first he didn’t say anything, mouth twitching like the detective’s words had stunned him into silence—it didn’t last. “How hypocritical, considering the kind of risks she’s facing working with you!” he retorted. “Corruption, gangsters, murderers? I bring her back here with a few scratches but what’s to say you won’t bring her back here in a casket?”

MacCready and Piper both rang out in a chorus of offended gasps. Nick bunched up his sleeves at his elbows and for a fleeting moment, Madelyn wondered what it would be like to see him smack some sense into Deacon. Reality caught up to her pounding head and she pushed herself out of the chair, wedging herself between the two men before they could scrap.

“There’s been enough bloodshed tonight,” she pleaded, the tremor in her voice making it unrecognizable. She pushed at their chests to further separate them, letting her hand linger against Deacon’s coat lapel. “For once Deacon, just shut up.”

He flinched back at her words, expression falling into one of remorse. Before he could cover her hand with his own, she had turned away to frown at Nick. “You should know more than anyone that I don’t need protecting,” she chastised. “I can handle myself, Nick. It doesn’t matter if I’m working with you or with the Railroad or if I’m on my own.”

In a huff she collapsed back into the armchair, reaching up to wipe at the last traces of her tears. From the doorway, MacCready swiftly moved towards Nick’s desk, swooping up a glass tumbler and filling it with a generous amount of whiskey before bringing it to Madelyn with a smile. She was appreciative of the gesture and even though it was—she wasn’t even sure of the time anymore—she took a deep drink. Piper entered the room again, glaring at Deacon as she passed by him to sit in the opposite armchair.

“There was an explosion,” she whispered, finally offering some kind of explanation. She pressed the cold glass to her temple to soothe the headache that had only increased since the bombing.

Nick leaned against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms as he looked to Deacon for confirmation. The detective seemed to be barely containing his anger at the revelation. The Railroad agent gave a little nod. “We were escorting a…friend.”

Madelyn shook her head, sighing as she remembered everything Henry had reluctantly told her in the Cambridge church. “Nick, we were helping a witness to Johnny Montrano’s murder.”

The detective went slack with shock before blindly reaching back for his pack of smokes. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“What does that have to do with the Railroad?” Piper asked, her question directed at Deacon rather than Madelyn. “Do you know how long I’ve been chasing down the rumor that you are behind the disappearances and murders around town?”  

“Likely just as long as we’ve been investigating them,” Deacon replied. “We’ve had our own share of setbacks.”

Madelyn knew that and had divulged some of those obstacles to Nick but Piper and MacCready were in the dark. She didn’t want to reveal too much and compromise an entire operation, even if the Railroad was hardly working at maximum efficiency.  

“We were helping him get out of the city, he said he was afraid for his life,” she explained.

“Was he being threatened by Eddie Winter?” Nick mumbled around his cigarette, his irritation had returned. “Is that why you were targeted? Who else knew you were on the move tonight?”

Deacon was quick to argue, shaking his head. “Eddie Winter is a coincidence. There’s a safehouse with a giant, smoldering hole in it that screams this was an attack against the Railroad.”

“Ever stop to think that it could be both?” Piper quipped, cooling them off before the two men could get into another dispute. “We’ve sniffed out enough corruption in this town that somebody could’ve been hired to knock out two birds with one stone and send us on a wild goose chase trying to figure out the truth.”

Madelyn considered the reporter’s words, knowing what she proposed made a lot of sense. Still, a valuable asset in the agency’s investigation of Eddie Winter had been lost—she flicked her gaze to Deacon, who was pensive—she couldn’t possibly imagine the kind of loss he was processing. First the Switchboard and now Ticonderoga—he had barely survived both—and had saved her life in the process of surviving the second. She kept her eyes on him, the ache in her chest almost too painful to bear. Death and destruction seemed to follow him like he was cursed—maybe she had the right idea to stay away the first time, maybe it was telling she had never properly organized him on her Railroad pros and cons list. If she ran away from the Railroad, from being his partner again, she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to return—regardless of how she might felt for him.

“I’m sorry Nick,” she sighed, looking back to the detective. “I would’ve liked for the witness to help us. He was our last best lead to go after Winter.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” MacCready chimed in, leaning over the back of the armchair. He had been fairly quiet during the entire exchange but was now fully invested and had apparently sobered up. He looked between Piper and Nick before focusing on Madelyn again. “I know you’ve been looking for these handwritten notes signed by Winter himself but what if I told you there’s voice recordings?”

Having an informant was starting to pay off—if the information was accurate. Nick looked at him skeptically. “Where’d you hear this?”

“Pays to spend most of your time in a dive-bar,” the former mercenary laughed. “Off duty cops and the like are always spreading secrets through loose lips.”

Nick and Madelyn locked eyes, but she had already heard enough. It was well enough that they could pretend this was good news, but she was still trying to process the night’s events. She blamed having her brain rattled around on why she ever thought it was a good idea to come to the agency in the first place, looking at the group of people around her. If what MacCready was saying was true, she could hear about it later, after she had time to recover. As he and Piper idly chatted about the details of his eavesdropping, Deacon inched closer to where she was sitting and carefully, subtly offered his hand. She frowned, giving a little shake of her head. The guilt was overwhelming, but she couldn’t—not now.

Instead, she looked to Nick who had observed the entire exchange. Surprisingly, his expression had softened, remembering that Madelyn had once expressed to him that she could potentially hold feelings for the man standing next to her. If the circumstances were different—if the two had returned to her apartment maybe—she would’ve let him comfort her and do more than just hold her hand. She didn’t dwell on the what if.

“Nick,” she barely called for him. “Can you take me home?”

“Sure, doll. Sure,” he answered, not missing a beat as he stubbed out his smoke. As he shrugged on his trench coat and fitted his hat atop his head, he regarded Piper. “Think you can lock up?”

“Yeah,” she replied, glowering at the Railroad agent again. “As soon as I take out the trash.”

“Piper,” Madelyn warned, standing to make her exit with Nick. Beside her, Deacon tensed, and she flashed him one last lingering look. “I’ll see you later, Deacon.”

He didn’t sound so convinced, his solemn tone nearly tearing her apart. “Be seeing you, Charmer.”  

March 4th, 1958

Avoiding the Railroad was a lot easier the second time around.

Madelyn wondered as the days and weeks passed if it was because she had come so close to death and they were allowing her the space, or they had their own mess to clean up and couldn’t be bothered. Either way, they didn’t try to contact her. Other than Drummer Boy passing a note that High Rise and Henry were confirmed as deceased, her neighbor—agent—kept his distance, politely smiling when their paths crossed in the apartment hallway. There were no updates, no dead drops and no secret messages from her partner.

She hadn’t intended to shut Deacon out again, but this time she had plenty of more reasons to be anxious of him and the organization he worked for. It wasn’t confusion over guilt-ridden emotions she was running from, but rather genuine fear that kept her away. While the point had been made that she wasn’t any better off working as Nick’s legal assistant, in the two years she had been at the agency, she had never suffered a mild concussion—let alone survive a car-bomb. It had only taken a few weeks of knowing Deacon for her to come so close to death and it unnerved her. Despite it all, a small part of her missed him—missed their strange connection—and she had spent more than a few nights foolishly wondering what could’ve been.

In his absence, she backslid to sulking about, putting on a front for Nick and Piper at the agency as they worked the Eddie Winter case files, though she wasn’t sure why she bothered when her friends could tell she was faking most of her cheerfulness. With all that was occurring, she wasn’t sure what the point of it all was anymore. Codsworth also noted her shift in mood, the poor robot-butler doing everything he could to cheer her up with elaborate meals and bad jokes, going as far as to deep clean the entire apartment just so she wouldn’t have to lift a finger when she returned home from work. Madelyn stuck to her routines—day-in and day-out, hoping that one morning she would wake up and feel normal, or at least as normal as she had been before New Year’s Eve.

On a day off, she woke to find Codsworth cooking up another too-big breakfast while Dogmeat happily barked, knowing it was highly probable he was to get the extra bacon she didn’t eat. Before she could sit down on one of the empty barstools, she noticed the bouquet of flowers sitting in the middle of the small kitchen island, already in a vase and water.

“Codsworth, honey,” she carefully reached out to touch the delicate petals—daisies and forget-me-nots—her heart was racing. “Where did these come from?”

“It was the strangest occurrence, mum,” the robot answered, one eye looking back at her as he continued his tasks. “There was a knock at the door just before you woke up but when I answered, there was nobody in the hallway. Just these flowers.”

Madelyn inspected the flora, knowing exactly where and who they had come from. She was caught off guard by how disappointed she was that Deacon hadn’t at least tried to charm his way into her apartment like last time. “No note?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Madelyn.”

Suddenly, her own home felt stuffy, and it wasn’t because of the toast Codsworth had managed to burn—again. Madelyn excused herself from the counter and back to her bedroom where she quickly dressed, offering the Mister Handy a speedy apology as she made her exit from the apartment. Maybe if she was fast enough, she could catch up to him before he got too far. She passed Drummer Boy on the way down the many flights of stairs, pausing in her rushed steps to question him.  

“Deacon was just here, wasn’t he?”

The Railroad agent shrugged, but his little smile gave him away. Madelyn didn’t bother to linger, continuing to hurry down the stairwell. Drummer Boy shouted from behind her. “Tell him I was right! He owes me two dollars!”

On the street, she looked down both directions of the sidewalk for a suspiciously tall man in sunglasses. She thought it would be easier to pin him down, but for all she knew he could’ve been disguised as the postman. A few minutes passed and she nearly resigned herself to go back inside, feeling rather silly for her rash decision to come outside in the first place—they were just flowers—it didn’t mean anything. That’s when she saw Deacon standing on the street corner, purchasing a newspaper from the local kiosk before continuing on. Madelyn hurried down the sidewalk to match his stride, and nearly reached out to grab at his arm before stopping herself short.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she huffed out the question, out of breath from chasing him down.

Deacon stopped to look down at her, the surprise quickly molding into one of amusement as he regarded her appearance. In her rush to get out of her apartment, she hadn’t bothered to button her coat, and only then did she notice that she was wearing mismatched shoes. She did well to hide her embarrassment, crossing her arms like she dressed this way all the time. He looked just about the same from the last time she saw him, with a dark coat over his casual attire—like a man on his way to work.

“Slocum’s Joe,” he answered with a smile. “For my morning coffee. Care to join, Charmer?”

Madelyn was taken aback by how relaxed he seemed, considering their last interaction. Instead of reading into it, she nodded, pleased to have heard her Railroad callsign once more. It didn’t sound right coming from anyone but him. Deacon led them around the block to the Cambridge coffee house, the two walking in a strange kind of silence that persisted as they took their seats in one of the tiny, vinyl blue booths. He ordered for her—because of course he remembered her coffee order—and then just stared in her direction. Well, she could only assume so—too much hidden behind those glasses of his.

“You got the flowers?” he asked.

“Yes,” Madelyn answered, tilting her head to the side. The moment felt far too serious. “Well, Codsworth did. He thinks they’re lovely.”

“Good,” Deacon smirked. “A robot deserves something nice now and again.”

The waitress delivered their drinks and Madelyn watched as he inspected his as always before taking a careful taste. She wondered if there was ever a time when he wasn’t paranoid, or if he ever let his guard down. He was a master at pretending to be cool, calm and relaxed—but it was all a façade—something she was very familiar with. Two peas in a pod, they were. As she sipped at her coffee, she thought about her neighbor.

“You owe Drummer Boy money?”

He softly chuckled. “He bet that you would want to see me, and that I should’ve pressed my luck by sticking around this morning.”

“He was right,” she answered, hiding her smile behind another drink. The warmth of her coffee disguised the flush to her face—she wasn’t sure why she had decided to be so forward. “You shouldn’t make a bet against the man who has been observing my behaviors for the last four months.”

Deacon laughed harder, nodding in agreement. “Either way, I’m just glad to hear you don’t hate my guts.”

“You assume too much,” she teased. “Maybe I wanted to see you so I could stick Codsworth on you.”

“Charmer,” he said the name solemnly, harkening back to that last night in the agency. “This isn’t easy, but you deserve an apology. For getting mixed up in our mess. Your ol’ detective was right, about a lot of things. Namely, how piss-poor of a job I did at protecting you.”

She disagreed. “I’d say saving me from an explosion is better than piss-poor.”

Deacon grumbled. “Point being you should not have been anywhere near the explosion in the first place.”

“I said it before and I’ll say it again,” Madelyn protested. “I can take care of myself. While it’s comforting to know that you and Nick are so worried, it’s also incredibly frustrating that you don’t have faith in my capabilities. Wasn’t that why I was recruited to the Railroad in the first place?”

He floundered, filling the silence with a big gulp of coffee. “You got me there.”

Madelyn glanced to the newspaper on the table beside their cups and noticed an article that detailed the investigation into the car-bombing that destroyed the Cambridge street corner was at a standstill—as expected. With a frown, she contemplated the amount of devastation she had faced over the years.

“There’s been so much death,” she started with a whisper. “I’ve seen so much death. I know you have too.” She wasn’t blind to that, wasn’t ignorant. Deacon remained silent, watching her carefully. “Working with Nick and investigating the murders, the disappearances, we’ve seen so much.”

Madelyn glanced down to her wedding ring and fiddled with the band. “I told you I was widowed.”

“He was murdered in Boston Common, two Christmases ago,” she admitted in a shaky breath. “A complete stranger came up to us and held us at gun point and then…shot him. Nate died in the street—in my arms—before help could arrive.”

“Shit, Charmer, I—” Deacon’s mouth skewed aside as he fumbled over the right words to say. “Did they ever catch the son-of-a-bitch?”

She shook her head, gasping back her tears. “No. Nick and I have…” she wavered, unsure why she was divulging information that she typically kept locked up tight. Madelyn found her resolve. “Just know that whatever happens, it can’t get much worse than what I’ve already experienced.”

He nodded and looked as though he was going to say something but changed his mind at the last second. Instead, he finished off his coffee, glancing down at the porcelain bottom. “Understandable why you’d be skeptical of our organization, though.”

“You said it yourself, you can’t trust everyone,” she spoke, voice going soft. His head perked up at that, not expecting her to use the phrase back at him. “I want to know that I can at least trust you.”

Deacon was quiet for a long time.

“My relationship with the truth rubs some people the wrong way,” he admitted with a smirk before it dissolved right off his face. “Charmer, I want—”

Madelyn’s heart strained in her chest at his hesitation, and the tension in his voice. If she were to even begin to think about rejoining the Railroad—again—she needed to know her faith, and feelings, weren’t misguided.  

“If you believe anything, believe this,” Deacon continued, slowly reaching over to place his hand over hers. She welcomed the touch, smiling as she flipped her palm up to cup his fingers. “I’m in your corner. Always have been.”

March 7th, 1958

Stanley Carrington was not what Madelyn expected when she was first introduced to the doctor in the catacombs beneath the Old North Church. Apparently, the Railroad physician wasn’t overly impressed by Charmer—questioning her routine absences, regardless of how much Desdemona and Deacon talked her up.

“I still can’t believe Dez recruited you,” he groused, face in a permanent scowl.

“So, you must be head of the unwelcoming committee,” Madelyn jested, earning a chuckle from Deacon.

Carrington glared at them both. “I can see why they call you Charmer.”

“I don’t mean to get off on the wrong foot, Doctor,” she corrected with a smile. “I hope you’ll look past the risk of me being here.”

“We’ll see,” he replied quietly before sighing. “I understand you helped Deacon retrieve intel from the Switchboard. An extraordinary feat. Hardly the point.”

Madelyn wasn’t sure if there was a compliment buried in his sentence, but she continued to grin, hoping her expression would placate him in some way. She flashed her partner a knowing look. “What will it take for you to trust me?”

Carrington barked a sharp laugh, but considered her question, rubbing a few fingers at his chin. “With the Switchboard and Ticonderoga offline, we need to confirm if any of our other safehouses are operational. If you could look into the current status of Augusta Safehouse—so far, we haven’t made any contact with our agents there.”

Madelyn looked to Deacon who gave the doctor a simple nod in agreeance. “Blackbird and crew moved around a lot, last time I checked, they were holed up in some office building.”

“I’ll have Drummer Boy coordinate the dead drops once we confirm their last known location,” the doctor replied. He focused his attention back on Madelyn. “Have a care, Agent Charmer. Odds are very good you’re walking into something nasty.” 

Augusta is still dark. Location enclosed. Exercise extreme caution.

Deacon and Madelyn picked up the note from a mailbox near Bunker Hill, only to be led back to an old abandoned medical building in Cambridge. The attached hospital was in decline, losing more and more patients to the nearby New England Medical Center, making the area practically deserted, especially for that time of night. And to think she lived not just a few blocks away.

“There’s the railsign,” Deacon mentioned, gesturing to the small etching on the brick wall by the door. To the unassuming, it looked like an unusual piece of graffiti, but to them, it was the marking of a Railroad safehouse. He frowned, motioning to a second, albeit hard to read drawing. “That looks like an x.”

“Danger?” Madelyn asked in a whisper.

He shrugged, moving past her so he could head through the entrance first. She was brought back to the night in which her and Nick had cornered Doctor Crocker in the Fens apartments and swiftly withdrew her pistol, keeping her aim low. While she didn’t anticipate any homicidal doctors jumping out at them, she wanted to be prepared for any possible threat. Deacon walked ahead in the dim lighting, leading the two through a lobby and down a hallway before stopping abruptly.

Something sticky was on their shoes.

She blinked down, hard to see in the dark, but she knew. “Is that blood?”

His next steps were measured, avoiding the stains on the tile flooring as he peered into the open room where the trail led. Without much thought, Madelyn went to follow and nearly toppled into his back as he stood frozen in the doorway, just looking within.

“Shit,” he breathed, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

Quickly he turned to her, trying to shield her eyes in a hug but it was far too late for that—she had seen everything—the bodies stacked in a bloody pile, each with their own gunshot. Judging by blood and the smell, they had been there for a few days. A few cans of gasoline were littered about, but if arson was the end goal, the perpetrators had clearly decided against the action last minute or had been spooked. With the building being abandoned, it wasn’t any wonder the crime scene had gone undiscovered. She leaned away from him, taking careful note of the way his hands trembled—more Railroad agents dead—another safehouse lost.

“Deacon, we have to get out of here,” she urged, glancing down to ensure their feet weren’t tracking anymore of the blood-residue. She didn’t have a lot of faith in the Boston Police Department’s evidence collection techniques but didn’t want to give detectives a reason to come looking for them. “We can call it in.”

“Right,” he replied with a firm nod.

When he didn’t budge, she tugged on his arm, encouraging him to follow. They retraced their steps out the front door, Madelyn only pausing to tuck her weapon back into her purse. As inconspicuous as it was to walk calmly along the sidewalk, elbows linked, she felt like drowning in the adrenaline coursing through her veins. This wasn’t like the Switchboard—certainly not as awful as Ticonderoga—but to walk away from the scene like she hadn’t just been there was a hard pill to swallow. That was the reality of working for the Railroad, she supposed—if they stayed, the Boston police would have questions neither of them would be able to answer. Deacon was a great storyteller, a genius at crafting a lie any schmuck could believe but even Madelyn had a hard time thinking he’d be able to get them out of that big of a mess.  It wouldn’t matter how many lawyers she knew at the District Attorney’s office either—a pile of dead bodies in a storage closet could very well be easily pinned on her and Deacon by a bunch of likely corrupt cops. She called Nick from the payphone outside her apartment building, who was disheartened to hear the news but promptly took the information, promising to alert the authorities in a way that it couldn’t be traced to either the agency or the Railroad.

The elevator was out again, prompting the two to climb the stairwell to the seventh floor. As Madelyn struggled to unlock the door to her apartment, she was thankful that Drummer Boy wasn’t lurking, waiting for some kind of update. Inside, she deposited her keys in the small dish, already working on the buttons of her coat so she could toss it over the back of the couch. Codsworth and Dogmeat were nowhere to be found and with a quick glance to her watch she figured the dog had likely whined his way into a late evening stroll.

Madelyn turned on the small lamp in the living room, circling around the tiny space so she could collapse onto her sofa, uncaring about how undignified she looked. Considering how much walking they had just done—from Cambridge to Bunker Hill and back again—her feet were aching. She reached to grab at the buckles of her shoes, but Deacon had followed close behind, already kneeling down on the ground before her knees to assist. His fingers made quick work of the straps around her ankles, slipping off each blue-hued heel before delicately maneuvering, carefully massaging the arches of her stocking-wrapped feet.

“All that running around and nothing to show for it except sore feet,” he teased in a soft voice, as if they hadn’t just stumbled across the scene of his fellow murdered Railroad agents. Master of deflection, he was—bury the pain deep. She was in no position to judge, feeling the sympathy wash through her—it was no way to live.

She watched him, overwhelmed by the gesture—it was too intimate, too domestic and yet so exactly in character for him that she didn’t pull away. Instead she shifted, thinking that at the angle they were positioned in, she might be able to get a peek at his eyes again. Even when the nightmares from the explosion plagued her sleep, Madelyn was calmed by the memory of cool blue eyes hovering over her—if only for a split second. She didn’t want to call herself desperate, but all she wanted was to see them again.

“I can stop if you want me to,” he said, permeating her thoughts.

Madelyn shook her head, a surprising warmth finding root in her chest. “It’s…nice.”

“I can settle for that,” he laughed, swapping for her other foot.

“This isn’t about you having a foot fetish, is it?” she joked, trying to keep the mood light. If that’s what he needed after what they had experienced that evening, then she could deliver.

“What if it is?”

Madelyn smiled, finding herself a little too exhausted to participate in a battle of wits with him. Better to just lean back and enjoy whatever moment they were sharing. Deacon continued his ministrations, but she noticed that his chin was angled upwards so that he was clearly looking at her from behind his shades. Whatever compelled her to lean forward, she couldn’t say. She wasn’t even aware she had gotten any closer to him until she was reaching out with one hand towards his face, watching his brows knit together in bewilderment before his expression softened in realization. Her fingers brushed against the corner of the darkened frames, causing him to edge closer, his hands sliding up her ankle to her calf.

“Deacon, can you take these off?” she asked, perhaps too quietly.

His lips quipped up in a smirk. “My glasses, or your stockings?”

All of her breath escaped her in one stunned huff, and the heat in her chest spread across her entire body. Her toes curled in his grasp and the way his eyebrow perked let her know he had noticed. She hadn’t been spoken to—flirted with—like that in ages. Her mind was a haze of thoughts and emotions—confusion, anticipation and want. Somewhere deeper was the lingering guilt, and the constant battle she always faced, wondering if she deserved a moment of happiness, even if it didn’t seem completely sensible. She wasn’t even sure if she was reading the scene correctly—where was this leading?

Before Madelyn could lean forward and find out, the front door opened, freezing her still.  

“Oh! Miss Madelyn, you’re home!” Codsworth greeted, promptly closing the door behind him. Dogmeat barked happily as he rounded the room to sniff at the bodies on the couch. “And I see the milkman has decided to join us once again! How delightful!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Madelyn sighed, flicking her gaze to the ceiling.

Deacon softly chuckled, his breath fanning across her cheek as he gradually pulled away. “Adorable.”

“Might I get you anything mum?” Codsworth hovered behind the couch, completely incapable of realizing he had ruined a moment. Madelyn wasn’t sure what kind of moment—but it was lost. She slumped against the back of the couch, pressing her hand across her face in embarrassment.

“No thank you, dear,” she mumbled.

The robot whirred. “Sir, would you like anything?”

“Sir, did you hear that?” Deacon laughed to himself and she peeked out from under her fingers to find him shifting to stand. “No thank you, Codsworth darling. I should be seeing myself out. Wouldn’t want to impose. What would the neighbors think, a strange man occupying a lovely, young woman’s apartment at strange hours of the night?”

Madelyn kicked her foot against his shin playfully. “You’re overdoing it.”

“Me?” he motioned to himself. “Sweetheart, you don’t know a thing about Deacon and overdoing.”

She rolled her eyes, extending her arm so he’d help hoist her off the couch. His hand squeezed against her wrist, thumb passing along the skin there before withdrawing. This time, he meant every word he spoke. “Be seeing you, Charmer.”

Madelyn watched him as he departed, staring at the closed apartment door as her heart continued to race. “I’ll see you later, Deacon.”

[sirsharp-a]

Do As He Says. ❜

Summary:  Never be afraid again.  Recall that you can make even God quiver. Warnings:  None. Parts:  Part 1  |  Part 2  |  Part 3  |  Part 4  |  Part 5 ( here! )

                                                         _____   【 🞮 】   _____

    The words hung heavily in the air for what felt like eons.

    Maybe I misjudged this entire thing.  Maybe I was about to do something reckless.  No matter how much chaos the rogue hybrid had caused, did he really deserve to die for it?  And more importantly, even if he did deserve death, did an innocent woman like Grace Adler deserve the same?  She’d already made it clear that she was willing to follow him if he vanished.  The deity wasn’t used to feeling this unsure…  but he knew that such purposeful violence went against his moral code.  He certainly wouldn’t have entertained the idea of it had he not thought it was necessary.

    “What…?”   Grace asked softly, as if holding her breath, blue eyes shimmering with tears. They made the God feel ashamed.  How could he cause her such pain?  Sure, he had his reasons--  good ones at that--  but now that he was looking at her and not the source of his frustration, he couldn’t quite believe how overzealous he had become.

    Killing Edgar…  yes, undeniably, it would solve problems, but it’s wrong.     Inhumane, even in spite of all he’s done.    And this poor lady…     how     could I frighten her so?

                                       “It feels like  YOU  don’t see the big picture.”

    Perhaps I don’t.

    “... the things you said moved me,”   Raku admitted, form now tiny and timid.   “Something must be done, Grace, but perhaps I…  made a mistake.  I was…  under the impression that nobody would notice.  It seems that Edgar means a lot to you.”

   “I love him,”   she said through clenched teeth, her hands curled tight in the lapels of his jacket.   “Y-You’re God…  why else would I do all I could to oppose you if not for that?”

   She was far from foolish.  She knew that Edgar had been reanimated as a lye for  some reason  -  and that whatever the reason was, it wasn’t a good one  -  but she didn’t care. Whatever he had done back then, in his past life, didn’t concern her.  She hadn’t even been alive then.  His sins had not touched her.  Regardless of what lurked beneath his surface, she was quite certain that her opinion of him would not change.

   Shakily, she raised a hand to wipe at her eyes, trying to find refuge in the gentle grip on her waist.  Meekly:   “... what else can you do?”

    The God shuffled on his feet momentarily, thinking it through.  There are things I can do.  I cannot change the course of the universe, but I can work around it.  But does this creature deserve it, truly...?  Is my pity for her clouding my judgement?

    "Edgar is currently living on a borrowed clock.  Taking him off of said clock is the way to fix the imbalance.  Death, unfortunately, is the most logical answer.  But sustained life…  that is also an option."

    "S… Sustained…?"     "Mm.  Immortality.  That would have similar effects to death."

    "B-But…  how?  That doesn't make sense.  Those options are opposites.  And we...  we're already immortal."

    Raku shook his head gently.   "You are circumstantially ageless.  If a hunter comes along with a gun and shoots you, you die.  Why else do you not want wars to break out? Because lyes fight to the death.  People die.  Your people die."

    She hesitated slightly, then nodded in understanding.  He was right.  It was precisely the reason that even somebody as loose a canon as  Edgar  retreated when dangerous weapons entered the picture;  they could kill him.  At any point, just like anybody else, he could die.

    "Making it so that Edgar is unable to die renders the concept of time obsolete.  A life without end cannot be finished, therefore his pre-determined purpose as a hybrid no longer applies. It is a loophole, at best, but it will technically work.  It is more a burden on the conscience than it is on the universe."

    Fuck your conscience, Edgar thought bitterly to himself.  He was too smart to say anything, knew all too well that he was walking a thin line between life and death.  If he chose to speak now, it could wind up costing him dearly.  He had had enough shame for one night, being forced to his knees like a subservient dog, faced with the knowledge that he would die alone and unknown.  At this point, he'd do anything to escape such a cold fate.

    "But I must warn you, Grace…"   Raku began, tone ice-cold and serious.   "It is a very dangerous concept.  He may escape death but he will never escape pain.  And you…  you will remain as you are.  If you die, he is destined to continue alone.  He cannot follow you."   The explanation was grave, as dreary as rainfall at a funeral, and he fumbled none with his words as he did with his fingers.  Floating gently:   "Immortality is often used as a punishment too, you know.  The absence of an end is sometimes enough to drive somebody insane.  How did Valor put it… 'the journey to death is the point of our being'?  Not having a reprieve from the burdens of life can be far more incapacitating than--"

    "Stop,"   Grace interjected firmly.  Her nails were digging into her arms, body trembling lightly. After a few seconds of tense silence:   "Please, I know that you're … trying to be honest with me, and to help, but…  I don't care about any of that.  At least this way, there's a chance for us to be happy.  There's a chance for things to remain stable, better for everybody."   She hesitated briefly before finishing her thoughts.   "... I can help carry his burdens.  I can’t do anything for a dead man.

    The deity stared for a few seconds, then nodded in understanding.   Her love for him is crystal-clear.  It would be insane to look at her and see anything else.  She would do anything to stay with him, and she would walk to the ends of the realm to salvage what she thinks she has with him.

    Is that what your past wives thought of you too?                That you were a good man? Did they not ‘deserve’ it?

    Perhaps a sadness you cannot escape is a more fitting punishment after all.                 When your guilt catches up with you, there will be nothing you can do.

    Though he didn't comment on it, he made a vow to watch over them closely.  He could only do so much to intervene-- he couldn't control anybody's will, nor could he meddle with affairs that did not concern him--  but he'd make it a point to watch them from the shadows sometimes. There was no way he was granting Edgar a reprieve from the grave without making sure that the one who had appealed for it was safe.  If anything, this proved Grace's formidable character to him and little else.

    “... very well.”   He watched the pair observe him as he ascended a short ways into the air, short form glowing the same ghostly white that his weapon had before Grace had forced it back into its metaphorical sheath.   “I do not like to kill.  I want that to be clear.  I would only ever bet on death if I thought there was no other way.”   His eyes turned to Grace, head gesturing to the space beside her.   “Please step aside.”

    The scout was clearly reluctant to leave Edgar’s side.  For several seconds, she remained clinging to him, eyeing the deity with evident distrust.  Though she didn’t want to complicate the situation further, she was hesitant to place faith in a creature that had been so bent on killing her lover just minutes before.  Just because she seemed to have gotten through to him didn’t mean that he wasn’t trying to appease her--  to get her out of the way so that he could finish the brutal deed--

    “Grace,”   Edgar uttered softly, earning her attention quickly.  He could see it in her face… that  frazzled fear;  her attempt to look strong, even though she looked broken.  I hate that look for you.  I want you together.  I want you to be you.  His hand touched her shoulder tentatively.   “... do it.  Do as he says.  I want to stay with you.”

    “... I--”

    “It’s alright,”   he insisted, a meek smile shaping his lips.   “It’s alright.”

    Somewhat pacified, she did as she was told.  Watching with mounting anxiety as a pale light began to surround the God once more, she fell a little further back, valuing her safety.  He wouldn’t kill Eddie now, she told herself firmly, he wouldn’t.  A strange incantation reached her ears, though she knew not of the words spoken.  A different language, a tongue she could never imagine nor understand, like age-old Latin that had been rendered long dead.

    For just a brief moment, her world flashed a piercing white, pain exploding behind her eyes. Her arms shielded her gaze, a quiet whimper leaving her without much thought.  When she opened them again, she looked for him, searching desperately for his outline in the fading static, eyes still adjusting to the light

                                                                                                    Edgar was gone.

    Evidently confused, heart constricting painfully as the empty space registered in her brain, she looked up at Raku with a helpless sort of desperation, eyes wide and heartbroken.   “... where is he?”   It was asked softly, as if he she hardly dared to utter it at all.  When Raku looked down at her, it was with a hooded gaze.

                                                          You didn’t.  You didn’t.  You WOULDN’T...!

    It felt as if all the strength she once possessed had left her, arms floppy, knees glued to the ground, eyes wet--

                                                                                      “ ... where’s my Eddie?”

[aceeddiekaspbrak]

The gang goes to disneyland

Bill, Bev, and Richie have gone before the return to Derry.

Bill, is a hat collector, but in his defense he doesn’t go Too Often and only gets one set per trip so it’s fine. he has some that are sewed but not all with ‘bill’ some are billy or will yknow. he and Audra have a set of the bride/groom ears with their names on it. he’s not the biggest fan in general but it’s good fun. He liked classic Innovations building and Tom Sawyers Island (the storytelling immersion!). He cried when he went on the train the first time and didn’t know why, just a quiet few tears–later it occurs to him that it was probably because he knew, some where in his head, how much georgie would’ve loved that damn train. I dont think he would ever go on the storybook boats for similar reasons.

Bev goes and enjoys the parades, shows, and cast member costumes. she likes to see how it’s all set up, and compare the costumes to how she might’ve done them separately. she dresses up real nice for Disney but not in a dapper day kinda way just casually. if she had kids who wre into it, she might bound with them. I could see her being a big fan of those keys they’re making now for characters/lands/rides. Her favorite ride is Matterhorn, left side of the mountain.

Richie has gone the most in comparison to any of them, being a So Cal resident. He might pin trade, but he’s a slut for the popcorn buckets he has too many and he complains every time about that but he still get them when he goes. probably has an annual pass so he can get special pins and special popcorn buckets. when he was Sandy they would do a lot of young lovedumb things to see how much they could get away with before getting kicked out (surprisingly a lot, they might have never actually been kicked out). he thinks about that a lot when he has to quietly hold Steves hand when they’re on small world, and gives him a quick peck of a kiss behind the trees during the fireworks (Steve rolls his eyes, because he’s so ready to fight anyone that’ll give them shit in Disneyland of all places, but he gets where Richies coming from and respects that a lot). Richie also eats the plants in Tomorrowland regularly when waiting or line or he wants some Mint for his drink, nbd. His favorite ride is probably changing frequently, he enjoys a nice quiet train ride, Indiana Jones is cool and decorated so cool and also harrison ford,… probably a big space mountain guy too. His favorite ride in both parks is Guardians though.

Ben goes now and then, has probably done one of their runs. I dont see him as a big ride or character guy, but he likes the history of the park, knows some fun facts, like the immersion more than anything. Also was a big fan of classic innovations and the Home of the future stuff. but over all, hes not gonna go a lot to just ol’ Disneyland, has probably been to more international ones (so i cant really speak on that!)

they all hate Pirates of the Caribbean and don’t know why. It’s like it terrifies them, deep down inside, but for no reason they know. Richie throws up in the water the first time he’s on it and he gets escorted off the ride and asked how much he’s been drinking. Bev and Bill cry, and have to try and explain to the partners why without even knowing. Audra never has Bill go on it again but it’s Toms favorite so if they go Bev just try’s to shut her eyes and get thru with it. The dark dank sewer like walls and water, even if it lacks the smell-just strong chlorine- there’s something about it.

>sidebar, Bill and Bev probably go to Disney World as much or more than Disneyland (but I’ve never been there so I can’t chip in on that), Richie is more of a Disneyland guy (bc close) but has been and enjoys it too. Eddie has taken Myra to Disney World, and hated it bc theme parks are disgusting but enjoyed some rides and that Myra for a time enjoyed it, but she also fussed over him a lot. Stanley Does Not Support Walt Disney or His Damn Mouse, but he and Patty have gone to Disney World as the typical young couple thing and it was... fine. They had fun but again, theme parks are gross. The next time they go, some time after they are married, why go dressed up (dapper day?) so Stanley has gloves and feels a little better about the germs, but it hurts a bit to see all the kids and their families, both thinking about when they will be able to bring their little ones.

Mike, Eddie, and Stan never went to Disneyland pre return to Derry.

After defeating IT, the losers take a group trip. Bev, Bill, and Richie want to see how they feel about Pirates now, but keep Mike off because regardless of pennywise, it’s not a good ride for him. So he gets those nice seasonal beignets and a mint julep and watches the train and the people go by as he waits with Ben, who doesnt want to risk it. The food and the people watching are probably some of his favorite things there. (Richie still throws up in the water, but it’s better). Mikes favorite ride…. Im gonna go the new Smugglers Run ride. Its immersive and also so many buttons and they get to squad up.

>bonus: to make a point Eddie and Stan insist they take mike to Disney World too. It’s Florida, it’s bigger, and is a little west coast v east coast Losers Club competition. Stan’s a little upset they’re giving so much to The Mouse but he has a point to make. Mike is probably a bigger fan of Disney World.

[boogiewrites]

Reports & Repertoire 8

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Word Count:  3500+

Summary: Eddie can no longer ignore his physical sexual urges despite his shyness to expressing them around his symbiote. He has to start explaining the nuances of human sexuality with Venom, and they start by taking it slow. Venom learns that making Eddie feel good, makes him feel good. 

Warnings/Tags: Explicit Sexual Content. Symbrock. Eddie and Venom Sex.

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Eddie had texted Candy every day like he promised he would. He didn't know how much longer he could keep Venom a secret as he grew increasingly more annoyed with Eddie and not telling Candy about him. He wanted to be with her like Eddie wanted to be with her and it didn't matter if Eddie admitted it to himself or not, he had an alien voice of reason to call him on his bullshit now.  It'd been two weeks since he'd face timed with Candy and he wasn't sure how long the excuse of medicine making him sick and his apartment being a mess would hold up. Especially with an intuitive woman like Candy.

She offered to come clean, help him patch the place up, patch him up and he could tell she was growing more annoyed every time he turned her down for it. She wanted to see her friend. She wanted to see and touch him to know he was real. She was still upset over thinking he was dead and was trying to remain thankful that he was alive at all but she was starting to need more from him than just texts. She'd lay in bed and think about him, not a past time that she wanted to partake in as frequently as she was. But she was finding it hard not to when she was alone, thinking she'd almost lost him. That simply should push her towards admitting there was something more than just friendship there. She thought maybe she'd felt it from him too, but now she wasn't so sure.

Eddie really dove head first into work those two weeks. After long, pleading and deep conversations with Venom he felt confident he wouldn't slip out in public and ruin their cover. He still asked questions in his head, which made conversations difficult and coming back from being fired and working an event as big as the fall of the Life Foundation, it wasn't good form to be known as being aloof and twitchy. Which is how he knew he could appear. Most of the time he could function just fine but if he was emotional or Venom's natural curiosity took over his will to behave, life became somewhat of a headache. And this was a metaphorical headache, not a literal one, as with Venom he didn't get them anymore. And a body that was running at an almost perfect balance certainly made day to day a lot easier. No more food poisoning, no more colds, no more hangovers. He'd begun to think of Venom as a magical roommate who picked and chose when to use their powers for good or bad. When they were alone, he frequently chose bad or rather mischievous more often than not. The thing that helped Edie out the most, was Venom's growing fondness of him. If Eddie felt poorly, so did he and if he had to put more work into making Eddie and his body feel better, the hungrier he became. And Eddie wasn't fond of eating brains when it could be avoided.

Almost everything was running without issue for Eddie. Everything except one thing and with it being almost two weeks since he'd jerked off coming up, It was becoming more and more of a nuisance. Part of him simply didn't want to have to explain the intricacies of human sexuality to his friend, because that conversation would last days. The other part of him, no matter how intimate he'd become with his symbiote, still felt that human taboo about jerking off with other people watching, which wasn't something Eddie had found himself to be into. Well, the thought didn't appeal to him to do it in front of Venom anyway. Maybe in front of Candy. Yeah, Candy.

He shakes his head hard. Trying not think about her. She tried to keep conversations with him going, sending him pictures of puppies to cheer him up, meme's and tonight asking his opinion on an outfit for a meeting with a network, as he had met the guy before. Her in her well-tailored suits would've been a hard trigger for him before and now his kink for women in power suits was backfiring in a big way. Or rather, not firing at all and that was the issue. After he closes out the night, Venom watches Netflix. He'd let him while he slept so he could learn about earth, and it seemed to be helping curb the incessant, near constant questions from him.

Candy sends him a picture of her celebrating, a caption of 'wish you were here <3', her making a cute face and pouting, hair loose and messy, leaning on a bar in that suit, the tie loose, the top buttons undone and her shape on full display, it leads to impure thoughts immediately. He turns his phone over with a groan, Venom already engrossed in Planet Earth, and he goes to sleep.

It was inevitable really, the lack of release, the almost wet dream he was having of Candy. He's woken up by a concerned Venom.

"Eddie! What is happening?"  he says with a twitching nature to his usual gooey softness. His tendrils are smushing Eddie's cheeks and bapping him about the head. He's pulled out of his dream and so close to getting off he didn't have to look down to know that he was rock hard. He rolls to his back with a groan.

"It's fine, man, I'm fine." he says in a deep, sleep filled voice.

"This has not happened before." He says, his head turning to look at the tent in the sheets.

"Yeah, it has. Lots of times, we just weren't a thing then." He wishes he'd just let him watch some sexual rom-coms so he'd not have been alarmed. But leaving him alone with American Pie level education of sex wouldn't be a good idea. He'd leave the parental controls on for now.

"We were dreaming of taking off our clothes with Candy."

"Yep." he says with a smack of his lips and he sighs. Sure, why not, let's have this conversation right now, in the middle of the night.

"What conversation?" he's asked and he clenches his jaw, remembering in the haze of sleep his thoughts can be heard.  "Why were we taking off our clothes, we have never done that around another human."

"Yeah, we have. With Anne." he purses his lips.

He's quiet a moment as he sees foggy images of a bed and actions of a very similar nature being done with the other female, Anne. "What is this? A human ritual of some sort?" his iridescent eyes shift and catch the light. "This is a mating ritual isn't it?" he says with a quick jerk of his head in realization. Of course, Planet Earth, he would make the connection.  "You would put this into the female. For reproduction." he says in such a scientific way that until he reaches and smooths over the tent where Eddie stood at attention, he had been starting to go soft.

"Hey, man, watch it!" he hisses, swatting him weakly with his hand.

"You want to reproduce with Candy?"

"We call it sex and I do want to have sex with Candy." he with a deeper inflection, nodding his head, rubbing his face.

"We want an offspring to care for?"

"No, no humans do it for pleasure. It feels good. We don't have to do it to make babies. Most people do it just because it's fun and it feels nice." he would've preferred to be more eloquent about his explanation but he was tired and horny and now annoyed.

"It feels good?" he asks, another tendril stroking over the sheets as Eddie grunts and shifts. He liked it when Eddie felt good. It was his favorite thing. When Eddie felt good, so did he.

"Yeah it feels great." he says with a soft huff of laughter.

"Does it feel good when we do this with anyone?"

"It can, but I'm more a romantic myself." he makes a joke his friend doesn't understand. "You can do it when you love someone, you can do it when you hate someone and every emotion in between. Sometimes sex means nothing, sometimes it means every thing." he says, flopping his hands at his sides, feeling almost as confused as the alien did.

"Sex is complicated." Venom states.

"It can be extremely complicated."

"But we felt good in our dream about Candy. This was a good thing. We did not hate it, it did not mean nothing."

"That's right. We like each other so, it can make it better when you do it with someone you like. It makes it not just about feeling good with your body, it makes it feel good emotionally too."

He's reserved, reflecting for a moment, reading Eddie's body, his engorged cock, his full tightened balls and the pulse of the vein that ran up his length. He could feel it all just the same as Eddie did.  "I like you Eddie."

Eddie's eyes open fully. "Well, I like you too." he says, turning to face the bobbing head, not understanding fully what he meant.

"We can do this," he says rather softly, recalling how Candy spoke in Eddie's dream. A tendril slips under the blankets and Eddie feels the warmth and unearthly smoothness running down his thigh. "Would like to make us feel good Eddie." he says, as he feels more extensions of Venom reaching out over his body slowly. "Show us how to do this." he says, the prodding, fluid tips exploring Eddie's body gently.

"Well, I, usually do it myself. With my hand." he stutters, caught off guard by how good the warmth and sleekness of the vine-like fingers felt. He was also so painfully in need of release he imagines most anything would've felt amazing. He felt too tired and too needy to fight it. It also felt so natural, like an echo of a happy purr in his head, Venom feeding off the pleasure and giving it back to him.

"Show us, Eddie." he whispers, watching the light from the streets, blurred by his blinds over the windows reflect off the fluid body that was slowly wrapping around his limbs.

"'Kay." Eddie exhales hesitantly, pushing the covers past his tight boxer briefs. He shimmies out of them, leaving them somewhere on the bed, not that it mattered in his distracted state. He feels that anxious flutter in his stomach, feeling the same as if he were having sex with someone for the first time. He supposes it is like that, in a way. He takes a deep shaky breath, hands clenching and warming up, adjusting himself, testing out the sensitivity of his cock. Spreading his legs just slightly, one foot planted on the bed. He can feel the symbiote squeezing around his thighs, delicate tips of venom's potentially lethal extremities warding him from the cold air of the room, traveling up his hips to his stomach, almost a tickle with how they spread slowly.

Venom let Eddie guide the way but he had learned humans enjoy touch, and wanting to explore how to make Eddie, and thus himself, feel as good as possible, he wanted to explore Eddie's body from the outside. He could feel the tensing of muscles around his hips, a deep twitch that accompanied the bobbing of Eddie's cock. He felt before he would hear every sound Eddie made. The hot, wet tongue that licked over plush lips before a breathy exhale. The deeper groan that tried to escape as his teeth bit down on those same lips.

Eddie pushes down at the base of his cock, rubbing the soft flesh that surrounded it, a tease to himself before he gave in and wrapped his hand around himself. He presents himself in a way, differently from how he would do this alone. Which would have been quick, dirty and to the point, closing the browser as quickly as he could to not face the shame that would be waiting there for him in his sobered mind. He felt watched, his symbiote's head bobbing, a strange silhouette against the pale blinds in his window. Eddie tentatively wraps his fingers around himself, squeezing to test his grip, showing his voyeuristic friend how to be gentle.

"You can start slow... simple like this..." he whispers, a slow tug up to the head of his cock. It didn't take many strokes to have him standing at full attention again. Venom eyes narrow and his head tilts, taking in the sight before him, studying every thing Eddie was feeling and doing. As the precum gathers, the weight of it now sending it in a smooth descent down the tip of Eddie's cock, he takes his thumb and runs it over the head as he continues to stroke himself, a slight bend in his wrist as he subconsciously picks up speed. "You need..." he lets out a breathy exhale. "Lubrication, something to cut the friction." Being instructional and jerking off at the same time was proving more difficult than expected. "The head is the most sensitive." he whispers, a tiny moan as he incorporates sliding his hand to envelope his head completely into his routine. He grunts as he moves his other arm, his hand reaching down to cup his balls, now growing tighter. "But these feel good too." he says softly.

He feels Venom hum in agreement.

"Can't be rough with them though, or it'll hurt." he says after a brief fondling with his fingers, his hand retracting and Venom's tendrils replacing them, rolling them between two extended pliant limbs before his onyx smoothness covers his balls, causing a deep groan to come from Eddie. They're warm and feel wet without the moisture, like they'd been sucked into someone's mouth. The symbiote pays close attention, a gentle back and forth, a squeeze and release as it lightly frisks Eddie's balls.

Eddie lets his head fall back, his breathing growing faster along with his hand. A wince of his face as his eyes roll back in his head. Feeling a pressure grow inside him, Venom still observes him from the inside, see's his glands and ducts react, build and tense, his prostate serving a yet unknown function he'd been curious about.

"It does feel good, Eddie." Venom's deep voice rumbles out, his face close to Eddie's hand that stroked away at him. "Let us try." he says, a long solid arm growing from the shimmering almost-liquid that was prickling across his inner thighs.

Eddie figures, why the hell not. He lets go, and without hesitation, a matching grip is quickly found by Venom. At first, he simply mimics and Eddie is left with fluttering lids, getting jerked off by the symbiote. It soon shifts, causing Eddie's back to arch and toes to twitch as he's encased in an undulating blackness, encasing all of him with the slickness of a human body but with only Venom's unique ability to be everywhere all at once. His hips bucked and as goosebumps ran across his skin, the symbiote's outer layer rippled like the surface of water. The ability to have someone, something else feel exactly what you did as they did it was something afforded to no one else on Earth. At least to no one else that Eddie knew about. HIs hips pushed him up into Venom's softness, still in constant movement. It didn't feel like a human, not a mouth or other orifice, it felt like nothing else he could compare it to. No sex toy, even with the strangest textures inside those sleeves he'd used could replicate it exactly. It was something that was firm, but had give, felt hot without sweat and glided across him without it looking like it was doing anything at all. As he grew closer to climax, Venom's hold on him grew as well. He could see Eddie giving himself over, feel this delicious build that felt almost wrong, he knew something was going to happen, but he didn't know what.

"Is this feeling good, babe?" Venom says quietly, once again showing he was learning from Eddie's interactions with others and his thoughts.

"Yeah..." he whines. "This is...so fuckin' good." he moans. Venom shivers with happiness from the praise, his coverage over Eddie expanding, now between his fingers in an affectionate holding hands gesture, tickling up his neck and ears and making Eddie shudder. Venom notices the flinch as he moves across Eddie's nipples and starts to toy with them, drawing a muscle tensing groan from his wet lips.

"Good Eddie?" he whispers again.

"Yes." he huffs out, muscles starting to twitch, his hips starting to buck up involuntarily. The symbiote watches him vigilantly, seeing the flashes that cross his mind, seeing lips to lips, breasts and strong thighs as Eddie's mind tries to tie this feeling to something he's known before. He moves to hover over Eddie, that feeling close, that mystery that he keeps steadily pumping Eddie's veined and pulsing cock for. He unrolls his long tongue, Eddie's pouted and panting lips showing no signs of fear for anything he did to him now. Venom's grip on Eddie's hips tighten, he flicks his nipples and runs his tongue up his throat, leaving a wet trail behind. It was something familiar to Eddie, a blast of cold from the air hitting his skin as it started to dry. Venom then toys with his lips. Lapping against them until he opens his mouth. A wanton moan released, their tongues then shortly rubbing against the other before Venom tests Eddie and probes away at his mouth. Eddie lets his eyes shut, the groans come as he's so close he whines, balls of his feet digging into the mattress, his hand trying to grasp at sheets but being met with resistance from the symbiotes affectionate hold. Venom watches his host's lips suck away at its tongue, sending a thrill through both of them, something unknown to the alien before this point. A breathy moan is released from the large violent looking mouth that was being anything but. A rumble passes through them both, a warning, Venom thinks. He feels Eddie's muscles start to convulse, pulling away and concentrating on his cock again, as it seemed this area of his body was about to undergo a transformation.

"Fuck, I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum." Eddie gasps and whimpers, lip snarled and head pushed back into the bed, helpless to what was happening and he certainly wasn't minding in the least.

"Yes. Come." Venom says, putting a word to the action now. He feels Eddie's muscle convulse and suddenly he feels it push and force out a pearlescent liquid that started forcefully and died down to a slow pump as he continued his encapsulation around Eddie's throbbing cock. He seized on the outside and in, feeling everything his body did that Eddie couldn't, the veins pumping, the ducts drawing, glands releasing, causing this euphoric feeling that made the both of them in their echo chamber of pleasure mewl and moan.

"St-Stop." Eddie whines, as Venom continued with his same pace. "Sen-senstive." Eddie winces and raises on his elbows, eyes pleading.

Venom stops moving, a slow retraction of the extensions of himself back into his body. Some seeping into Edie's skin, some joining Venom on the extended head that was now moving closer to Eddie's face.

"After you cum it's sensitive to touch for a while. Everything's so...." he lets out a noisy sigh, trying to gather himself after what was the most strange and intense orgasm of his life. "heightened." he managed to sigh out in a high pitched exhale. "Gotta let it rest." he gruffs out, laying open and exposed on the bed, catching his breath.

"It was good Eddie." Venom hums, tongue licking around the sides of its own face. "Why did we not do that sooner?"

"I'm wondering the same thing right about now." Eddie chuckles.

"Why do we not do this all the time? Do all humans feel this way? Why aren't they doing this all the time?"

Eddie laughs and rests his forearm against his face. "That's... those are good questions." he grins, catching his breath. "But do you mind if I answer them in the morning? I'm kinda..."

"We become tried afterward." he says, feeling a yawn build in Eddie' chest before it erupts.

"Mmm Hmm" he nods, wiping his watering eyes.

"We can sleep if we get answers tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, man, yeah. Promise." he says, rolling to his side with a  groan after a stretch.

Venom takes the covers and pulls them back over Eddie who thanks him with a lazy smile and a scratch under the chin, the symbiotes curiosity and perseverance reminding him of a puppy.

"Not a dog." he says despite leaning into the touch. "Sleep now. Questions when you wake." he states again. "Answers in the morning."

"Yeah, tomorrow." Eddie mumbles, pulling the pillow to his face. He's out before Venom even tucks him in. A gesture of affection he'd seen in a movie. He goes back to the television, deciding to watch more, as it was clear he still had a lot to learn.

@hardygal69 @raceylacy @emerald-bijou @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @vale0413 @izzy-the-ginger @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @anrm1  @jademox @nightcraver @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco @chipster-21 

[newt-and-salamander]

Hey! :) I warned you that I would put in my two pennies worth about your thoughts and now I finally have the time. :D I will (try to) make this short because some of my thoughts – especially about Newt – are enough to fill a whole book (if I was disciplined enough to write it down) and I will try to make a post about what Newt means to me and why some time in the future so I will try to not repeat myself over and over.

First of all I wanted to say that I won’t judge you (or anyone else) if they like or dislike a certain character just because I have a different opinion. We all wouldn’t like the same people in real life (if Tina was a real person, I might get along with her and you might not, so what?), why getting angry if somebody likes different fictional characters? Anyway, I just wanted to say that because I know how quickly things heat up and escalate in fandoms, especially this one. So I just wanted to say I’m cool with everything. :D (Also, I ship Newt and Tina but I definitely see why Theseus and Tina could be a thing! We just know so little about Theseus.)

And what you write about Newt… I 100% agree. Newt is my favourite fictional character ever and although I have never been interested in celebrities before, Eddie portrays him just so perfectly that I ended up developing a crush on him too. :D Whoops. Newt also is the first fictional character that actually had an impact on my life, the way I see myself. The ways I treat people and am treated by them. I’ve always been a quiet, introvert person with special interests most other people couldn’t understand. I feel awkward whenever I need to interact with people (mostly strangers but also people I should “know”). I hate noise, I hate crowded places and I HATE it when people just enter my comfort zone. I’m definitely not a huger and it doesn’t get better with the fact that I have siblings that definitely are outgoing, charismatic, social people. I was used to feeling like a spoilsport because I don’t enjoy parties and family gatherings and amusement parks. I sometimes felt like a really strange, but boring person. And this is why I love Newt. Because I see him sitting at the dinner table with the Goldstein sisters and I can relate that much to him in this moment where he just tries to sneak out of the apartment, knowing that it’s rude but he just doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know what to say or where to look. I felt understood. But more importantly, I learned that these are character traits, not flaws. (Maybe it’s pathetic I needed to learn that from a non-existent Magizoologist, but that’s how it went.) We may have strengths and weaknesses but I don’t owe anybody to be a certain way. I love how Newt just is true to himself. His family is most certainly not happy with the profession he chose (and that Theseus isn’t happy with a lot of things Newt does) but Newt isn’t unhappy at all. He is content with his creatures, he has his own way to live. I want to learn from that.

2020 was a tough year for me, as for all people I suppose. I broke up with my boyfriend, left my city, went back to my parents for some time and then left again, this time the country to study abroad. I was lost. I didn’t know anybody and I felt I had left behind the person I had been before everything had happened at once. I was ashamed and guilty and lonely, and at the same time I felt like I had been used. Now I sometimes think, maybe Newt felt similar when he left Hogwarts. But at that point I just, suddenly, found comfort in FB. It came out of nowhere to me (I had seen the films before and I liked them but I hadn’t felt that connection) and it felt like a miracle. From one day to the next, I gained a perspective. I saw what kind of person I am and that I am bad at communicating and easily manipulated because I felt like I needed to hide just how uncomfortable certain situations and expectations made me – and that there was a way out. And Newt showed me that way. - I used to raise my eyebrows at people who said fictional characters had changed their lives, and I am deeply sorry for that now. Maybe those characters are only creatures as well, because I was certainly blinkered. But now, I don’t know where I would be without Newt, or how. You wrote “I know this all sounds stupid and really dumb to most people, and I'm probably a saddo but he really does make me happy” and I really understand. (At least that’s what I think.)

I am deeply touched that you experienced something similar about Newt. Our circumstances and our specific reasons to relate to Newt might not be identical, but I feel like I strongly understand what you see in Newt. I also feel like your situation might be more trying/challenging than my own [here it shows that English is not my first language, I’m trying to be sensitive but I’m afraid I might choose the wrong words; please forgive me if something sounds rude. I do not intend to; it might be the language or maybe I’m just blinkered again. :/ But I don’t want to hurt anybody. Also, if I say “I understand how you feel” etc. I don’t mean that I really understand. I hope you get what I mean and how I mean it. Yupp, did I mention that I am an overthinker?) and I am glad that Newt was “the hero [you] needed to see”!!

Okay, that’s it, I need to stop here. :D Thanks again for answering my questions and for asking back. :) I’m just so delighted that I’m not alone in this fandom, and more specifically that I’m not alone with experiences like this!

PS: I share your thoughts about worrying. :D

Woohoo, I'm curious now! :) What about 9, 12 and 25?

9. I'd rather share a flat with Newt and Theseus. Tina and Queenie are definitely out of the question for me. Queenie because I wouldn't want her in my head 24/7. There'd be no privacy with her around, and she wouldn't hesitate to snoop if it benefited her. I know that in most cases she can't help it, but there are times when she can control it. If she really wanted to look into your head, she probably would. Besides I didn't like her after CoG, she seemed like a whole different person. Again Tina is definitely a no go. I don't really like Tina, I'm not a fan of hers at all. She's too stand offish and cold in my opinion, I don't like that very much. She'd be a nag, spoil sport and a bore. She wouldn't let you have much fun, always nagging. Lol! Not that I'm a fun person, but I'm not exactly sensible either. Lol! I'm about to be flamed after this, and my bums about to burn from those flames isn't it.

But living with Newt and Theseus I probably would prefer them to the girls. Ok I'm not sure about Theseus, I mean he's as much of a nag and bore as Tina, well they are both aurors. Theseus and Tina would make a better couple I think, I ship those two. Anyway I think Theseus would be slightly more bearable than Tina. I don't know, don't ask. He just seems slightly softer, the way he cares for Newt just I don't know. I actually like Theseus. I want to see more of the Scamander brothers bonding, and see their relationship and what they’re like together. And there's the fact that sharing with him, means sharing with Newt. Which comes to my next bit, Newt is my favourite character played by my favourite actor. I like Newt's sweet, soft, gentle, shy nature. His innocence, and childish, boyish charms. Living with Newt I think wouldn't be too bad. I'd get some laughs at his oddities, and he could laugh at mine too. But we're both quiet people, and like our own space. So it could work in a way. I don't know if we'd get alone, probably not. I'm hard to live with, and since we both annoy people, we'd probably annoy each other. But I'd still want to live with Newt, as I love him to bits. Lol! Shush! Don't say it wouldn't work ok! I'll make it work. I'll behave and work hard to please him ok!!!

12. Special connection to FB. That one is a hard one to answer. Mainly because I don't really know how I'm suppose to answer it? Like am I suppose to talk about connections with characters? The film? Memories of watching the film? Parts of the film that I connected with? And the list goes on. The question isn't really clear cut to me. But I'll answer it as best as I can. There is one special connection that I strongly have with the first film, but I don't really want to say too much. All I can say on that front is that both the film and Newt feel like a gift to me, or at least I imagine them as my gifts. I've had a strong connection with the wizarding world for a long time, the moment I held that book and read those first few chapters of the first Harry Potter book, so when the books finished and it was said that JK had finished with that world, I didn't think we'd get anything else from that world. So when we finally got that first FB film, I was so pleased to be getting to dive back into that world and living the magic all over again. It landed on the right day as well, and so the journey began.

The other connection to the film was Newt himself. I felt a strong connection with both him as a character, and Eddie as an actor. As I was watching that film, I was so anxious and worried that the film wouldn't be as good as the books, or that I would love them and fall back hard into that world and my siblings would hate it. I was more worried my siblings would hate it, but I was sitting in that cinema worrying about it, and then I hear Eddie's voice as Newt for the first time and it instantly got my attention and reeled me in, and then I saw his face and watched him talk to his suitcase like a nutcase and instantly fell for his character, because I felt that familiarity of the odd characters from that world coming back. The outsiders, the misfits, I missed seeing these type characters that I could relate to. I relate to a lot of the characters, but Newt for some reason in some small way I could relate to, as I did with Harry. Newt was the hero I needed to see, and I knew that he would walk with me through some tough times, the way Harry did all those many years ago. And I was right, not long after the first film came out, a few months before the second film came out I was told I'd lose my left eye. Newt and Eddie were my comfort, as was the second film. That world is my happy place, and Newt and Eddie have become my happy safe place, they comfort me when I am scared. So yeah there are probably lots of other connections, but these ones are the special ones. I wish I could speak to Eddie and thank him in a way. I know this all sounds stupid and really dumb to most people, and I'm probably a saddo but he really does make me happy.

25. Favourite FB quite? Another hard one. I like so many it’s hard to chose just one. Ok I’ll give you three because I can't decide and I don't even know if I have a favourite, just lots I like.

“Worrying means you suffer twice.” I don’t necessarily agree with this one, I think worrying means you suffer longer, and worrying means you’re prepared for the worst. But it’s funny hearing Newt say that. It’s not a bad quote, and it’s the first one that comes to mind when thinking of quotes. It just sticks in my head, as someone with anxiety shouldn't I like this one, and find it useful like Eddie does? Except it irritates me, but still I like it when Newt says it.

"Well there are no strange creatures, only blinkered people." Ok so this one is one I definitely like, but I change the analogy to this one. Instead of creatures, I think of changing it in relations to disability. Society always see us as strange, odd and socially unacceptable in some ways. We're always told to try fit in, change our behaviours to match socially acceptable behaviours. We're given wide berths, people treat us like we have lurgies etc, not everyone treats us like this, but society still look down on us and disability discrimination still exists, larger than life. It's just done more discretely these days, or people chose to not look. We are strange creatures, and people are blinkered. It is not us that need changing, but societies attitudes and prejudice towards us that needs changing. yes it is true that things have improved, but as Eddie and Felicity said, we still have a long long way to go yet.

"they're currently in alien terrain, surrounded by millions of the most vicious creatures on this planet.... Humans!!" This quote is one I like because I've always said something similar. Humans are said to be the most intelligent creatures on this planet, and yet they're the most stupidest full of violence and corruption. You'd think since we're suppose to be the smart ones, we'd learn to live in harmony without hurting other people etc, but no humans don't seem to know how.

To be honest I don't really have a favourite quote as such, those ones are the ones that just stick in my head and come to mind when people ask about quotes. Maybe my most favourite is "No we're going somewhere" because it's the kind of thing I'd say, just to be cheeky or to have a silly answer when asked "are you going somewhere?" Lol! I have one or two favourite words, like middle head. lol! Because I call myself a middley. Don't ask, that's another story altogether.

Well there you have it, I talk too much I know. And no one is ever going to send me an ask again, or ask me to play one of these ask thingy mi-jigs again! Lol! And everyone hates me probably too. Lol! Ok I'm going now for real, finished!

Next!!

Who dares to ask for more? 😂

[misterrietveld]

So I’m continuing my contemporary romance novel binge. Damn, it’s addicting. I honestly went through so many, I feel like a trashcan. Spoilers below.

Black Rainbow, JJ McAvoy

Reminded me very much of HTGAWM and Suits. I appreciated the characters and dialogue and plot. Fun, easy read. 

It Ends With Us, Colleen Hoover

I’ll be honest, I started reading this book right smack in the middle. I’ve been going through a few novels, reading the first few chapters and nothing really interested me. So I just started reading in the middle. And thank god I did for this one because I don’t think I could stand the freaking heart break!! I mean I eventually read the entire thing but it’s good to prepare myself for what’s going to happen. It made me cry! That doesn’t happen often. But Lily’s complicated emotions and just the grief of it all really got to me. The anger and sadness and yearning. Lily was someone I came to respect. Her way of thinking and actions were inline with each other and her character just made sense to me (which can’t be said for the other protagonists for the books below...). 

The only thing I’d have to criticize about this novel is the title. I think it’s kind of misleading. I saw this story more as of Lily’s instead of Lily and Atlas’s. I’d really like to see a small companion piece about Lily and Atlas though, like them falling in love all over again, just because I wasn’t that invested in their love story here. 

November 9, Colleen Hoover

I liked this. Doesn’t hold a candle to It Ends With Us but I’m glad I picked this one after and not one of Hoover’s other books. The plot of this story really interested me and the story was constantly moving too. For the most part, I liked the characters too. Not much else to say about it but I think it’s a good read. Cheesy ending but eh, what’re you gonna do.

Maybe Someday ; Maybe Not ; Maybe Now, Colleen Hoover

And this is where my regard for Hoover starts falling lol. First off, I should’ve just stopped once I knew where this book was going... cheating!! I hate the story. It’s a story about emotional cheating!!! Which I think hurts more than ‘just sex’. Ugh, the worst thing is that I think I can relate to Sydney a lot too. She’s a likable character/person in that she’s pretty rational and doesn’t have ill will. But these characters were unbelievable; they’re playing with fire and they know it. It’s really not hard to NOT kiss someone.

I hate that Maggie broke up with Ridge. I mean, good for you, Maggie. But her doing that made it okay for Ridge to pick Sydney because there’s nothing holding him back for her now. He should’ve held himself back from her. I think the thing of it all is that the book tries so hard to show Sydney and Ridge are good people, and I almost believe it. BUT, if that were to happen in real life, I’d think they were the shittiest people ever. They’re hiding behind good intentions, but not really because they end up falling for each other. If I were Maggie, I would have been destroyed. Here’s someone you think you can trust and you tell each other everything. But reading through Ridge and Sydney’s conversation and finding out that’s not the case? God. If they/Ridge really had Maggie’s interests at heart, if he really fucking loved her, he should have been fucking honest from the start. 

I think Warren is fucking crazy, especially after reading Maybe Not, because talk about lack of boundaries and anger issues... But I have to give him some credit for giving Sydney and Ridge some shit about their fucked up relationship. Additionally, he points out to Sydney that she could make it easier on the lingering relationship with Maggie and Ridge in the sequel. 

Maybe Now: I’m gonna continue a point I made earlier about how the book tries so hard to make Ridge and Sydney look like good people, because this installment is so shameless. There’s a point in this sequel where it literally starts off ‘Someone on the outside might think Maggie is being selfish...’ What the fuck. I don’t think that at all. Like, I have no idea how anyone would think that. Maggie has a right to be angry, pissy, and the desire to do whatever the hell she wants. I was so pissed at Sydney and her general portrayal, like she’s the saving grace for Maggie and Ridge. It’s not the fact that she’s doing it, it’s the portrayal. Everyone eats it up. I think I just needed a character in this story that hated Sydney and Ridge and would call them out on their shit.

Slammed, Colleen Hoover

I didn’t even get to a third of the way before I gave up because I HATED the characters. They were so dumb. I skipped to the middle of the story to see if it was worth finishing and NOPE. I really am not a fan of the insta-love going on in Hoover’s stories. It was especially prominent in this book and I was super skeptical, and the relationship became serious really fast. They went on one date and they’re fucking talking about waiting for each other or sneaking around. And the part I skipped to made me so fucking angry. It was the scene when Will gives Eddie and Layken detention to talk about keeping his and Layken’s relationship a secret. 1) Eddie and Layken are being fucking infuriating because Will is trying to have a serious conversation and they’re fucking giggling. From where I left off, Layken knows about Will’s situation and should already know how serious Will is about keeping his job and should understand why he’s worried but she’s not encouraging Eddie to keep it quiet. 2) Will is a fucking idiot. He should know not to have fucking messed around with Layken if he’s going to be this scared about losing his job/Caulder. 3) They end up at her place carving pumpkins and then have a normal conversation like their relationship is a-okay... Like him exploding his story about Caulder automatically remedies their fight.

It’s really hard for me to read a story when the characters have no common sense or maturity. It’s disconcerting to see this as one of Hoover’s bestsellers. I chose this one over Hopeless because I read some reviews and their description of the problematic first meeting told me to avoid it. I thought Slammed would have a lot more depth but it just sounds like a lot of sob stories topped onto each other. And in no way am I looking down on people who have gone/are going through something similar, but in Slammed, I saw these sob stories with no interpersonal development. I didn’t understand how Layken and Will’s relationship developed so fast because there was nothing to see. Hoover summarizes Layken’s story about her father to Will. SUMMARIZES. No actual dialogue. I don’t understand why. That seems like a pretty important conversation to have if you’re gonna make them fall in love with each other.

Damn I only read a third of this story but I am so heated. I guess this makes me appreciate It Ends With Us more at least. I can’t believe it’s even the same author to be quite honest. I want to keep reading her books though, solely because of It Ends With Us.