#It's gone into the realm of 'really not as cool as Bill thought it would be'

[tswwwit]

If Dipper's not ready to try something kinky in one life, do you think Bill will get him to try it in the next? I feel like Bill gets to try out a lot of different sex things with different reincarnations.

Absolutely! Different incarnations would come with different experiences; a scene that's meh for one might really get another's motor running. Side effects of living a partially different life and all.

[mysterytickingegos]

I’ve Created a Monster

Pairing: Darkiplier x Clairvoyant!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,480

Summary: After a bad date, you made a rather interesting friend. But better yet, you discovered something just as interesting about yourself. This something leads to a very exhilarating part of your life, but you learn the hard way that it’s not quite as glamorous an adventure as it may seem. The last person you’d expect is the one to bring you back to reality.

Anonymous Request: If I may request! :) Can I have a darkiplier x fem!reader fic with the prompts 37, 44, 45? After the events of wkm? Just some hurt and comfort to give me dem feelz 😀👍 Maybe Dark is the one saying it please? Much thanks!

Authors Note: Probably not what you were going for with the prompts but I hope you still enjoy it!

Want to read more?

[Image Description: A Gif of Darkiplier from the “horror” branch of “A Date with Markiplier,” speaking to the viewer at a table, while another image of him leans away and yells. End Description]

Junk mail, bill, wrong address, junk mail...

The usual. You weren’t sure what ‘cool thing’ you were expecting to get in the mail in 2020 but the disappointment was there anyway. Just as you shut your mailbox you heard somebody coming down the stairs and cringed, bracing yourself as you hoped it wasn’t who you thought it was. But of course it was.

Your upstairs neighbor, AKA the worst date ever. “Ah, hey Y/n.”

“Hi Mark...” You gave him a sad attempt at a wave, and he gave you a nod, walking over to his own mailbox.

‘How’s it going?”

“Great, yeah...you?”

“Good.”

And with that the room dissolved into awkward silence, and you took your leave back up the stairs. Funny enough these moments used to be filled with dumb jokes and flirting, that was until he finally asked you out. You had been overjoyed, happy that someone had taken an interest in you and glad that something was breaking your dull everyday routine. Little did you know the highlight of the date would be the end. He had taken you to an expensive restaurant only to reveal that he had ‘forgotten’ his wallet (which ended up falling out of his pocket in front of you in the theater.) Then he had been upset with you for accidentally falling asleep to what must’ve the most boring Rom-com you had ever been subjected to. You both seemed to be in silent agreement that this should never, ever happen again.

But unbeknownst to you and Mark, somebody else had been lingering around. That was the first time that specific somebody had decided to visit you, making a sucky date the least of your concerns. You spent the rest of your night watching compilations on YouTube and eating chocolate Ice Cream. You kept going from sad to angry over your horrible day in your head.

Were you only worth asking out for a free meal? A meal that for you took about half your grocery budget. You should’ve given that ass a piece of your mind.

You sniffed, wiping your eyes and scarfing down even more ice cream. “Damn it.”

“Aw, don’t cry, darling. It wasn’t that bad.”

You screamed and nearly jumped out of your skin, scrambling away from the man now next to you on the couch. The moment your feet hit the ground you grabbed your phone and locked yourself in your bedroom. “Who the fuck are you?!”

“Let’s say I'm a... friend of a friend. I thought I’d check up on you after that train wreck.” He spoke through the door. You heard a laugh layer over his voice, and wondered if somebody else was there.

“I’m calling the police!” You shouted back.

Then you heard the same voice just in front of you, clearly amused with the situation. “You’re welcome to do so, though I’m not sure they’d believe you.” It was the same man from the couch, smiling at you. You noticed how he seemed to be glitching, and how as his head tilted to the side his figure had duplicated in blue for a split second. “As I’m sure you can tell by now, I’m not exactly human.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I’d like to get to know you, Y/n. Is that so much to ask?”

The first few nights that you had stayed up a little too late and wound up speaking that deranged spirit again, you had been terrified. But soon enough you learned to enjoy his company. Sure, he could be a little unsettling at times, particularly when he was irritated and got...cold. Not just figuratively, which he was, but literally. The temperature in your apartment would drop a significant amount and you would change subjects shivering. But all in all, from what you could see behind that wall he had up, he was simply lost at worst, not exactly evil. And it was nice to not have to be so lonely all the time.

But during one of these visits, early on, you had decided to ask why.

“Why me, of all people?”

The man you had come to know simply as ‘Dark’  leaned in, lighting up as though he had been waiting on you to ask that this entire time. “Oh, Y/n. Don’t you know?”

“Why would I ask if I already knew?”

He let out an impatient sigh. ‘That’s...I was being...” He glanced up at you just in time to catch the smile playing at your lips after successfully ruining his aesthetic. “You know what? You can stay in the dark.”

“No no no, I’ll shut up, just tell me.” You turned to face him on the couch, tucking your legs under yourself.

He left you in suspense for a few moments, before dropping his voice down low when he spoke so you would have to lean closer in just to hear him. “Let’s just say you are...spiritually attuned to my world.”

“Spiritually attuned?”

“Yes, you are psychic, a medium, clairvoyant. Whatever you want to call it.” He explained. “You are a magnet to things outside the realm of the natural. A strange pair, aren’t we?”

And that was all it took, so many unexplained events from your past were now explained, and a world of possibilities was opened to you. You must’ve spent weeks researching how to harness your abilities, starting the second he left. Sure, most sites and blogs were absolutely full of it but you got the gist. With that and some common sense, how much could go wrong?

You started to take silly jobs on the internet, from old women who thought something was off with their mirrors to amateur ghost hunters who wanted a ‘consultant.’ It took you a while to gain some confidence that you weren’t just pulling this stuff out of thin air, that you hadn’t lost your mind. But after a few months, once you hit that learning curve, man it was fun.

Your latest job was a little more hardcore, a young family wanting help to push a poltergeist out of their new home. Their stories had chilled you to the bone, but you were happy to help. Your evaluation at the house went fine, nothing too far past what you were used to. Except, the entire time you were there you felt as though you had weight sitting on your chest. You could barely listen to the poor couple tell you what they experienced due to a faint scratching feeling at the back of your mind. You weren’t an expert yet but you could tell that whatever this thing was, it did not welcome you there. Worse yet, the feeling of being drained that the couple mentioned was certainly affecting you as well. Perhaps worse.

But all that accomplished was making you even more determined to rid the house of it. You took notes for your research later, tried to communicate in the most active part of the house (with no results,) and gave the couple the best advice you could at the moment.

“Until this thing is gone, it’s best you stay somewhere else.”

A few nights later, you had just finished packing your bag and begun heading for the door when you heard Dark just behind you. “Good evening, Y/n.” His voice was layered, followed by a subtle echo bouncing off the walls of your small apartment. When you turned to face him you saw he was already frowning, having realized you were on your way out. “Where are you off to so late?“

“I’m going to hang out with some friends. So I’m sorry, you’ll have to find some other way to entertain yourself tonight, instead of ya know, slowly but surely turning me into a nocturnal hermit.“ You joked, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.

He chuckled, bringing his hands behind his back. “I hate to break this to you my dear, but you were there well before we met.”

“Ha ha.” You turned to leave but were stopped short when you saw that he had apparated directly in front of you.

“What’s in the bag?” He asked, starting to reach for it curiously before you stepped back.

“Nothing.” You said, a little too quickly. “Just some party supplies, alright?”

He raised his brow, no longer amused. “...Convincing. Is it really so difficult to be honest with me?”

“Oh don’t even try and pull that card, you won’t even tell me why you’re haunting that jerk upstairs.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you. “That’s different. Bringing such things to light would only do more harm than good.”

“Well, I may be wrong but...my thing is kinda the same. And I like what we’ve got going on so just let it go. Please?”

Dark stayed quiet, peeved off and clearly even more curious than he was before. Finally, he side-stepped out of your way, “Just be careful.”

When you got to the house, you were careful. Keeping lights on and keeping quiet while you did everything your research said you were supposed to. As you did, the spirit was also quiet, too quiet. And on your way home, you kept waiting for that heavy feeling on your chest to fade away.

Your apartment was freezing when you stepped out of the bathroom after your shower. Cold air brushed over your shoulders as you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Dark?” You called out, looking around for him. This wasn’t like him. He usually made you aware of his presence as soon as he showed up. You walked into your bedroom and when you locked eyes with another in the mirror, you froze.

This wasn’t like Dark, because it wasn’t him.

Instead, the person standing behind you was a very decrepit and very angry old woman, seemingly fading in and out of reality as she glared at you. “Y̸o̵u̶ ̴s̴h̷o̵u̶l̶d̸ ̸h̵a̵v̷e̷ ̵l̸e̴f̷t̶ ̷w̶e̶l̵l̶ ̸e̴n̵o̷u̶g̷h̶ ̶a̸l̶o̴n̸e̷.̴“

The mirror shattered and you whipped around to face her, but she wasn’t there. The air whirling around the place started to pick up, and picture frames flew off the wall at you, then other objects that had decorated your room. You tried to flee but your front door wouldn’t budge. You started to bang on it, crying in fear and praying that anyone would hear you. Next thing you knew though, you were flung towards the wall.

Finally, everything settled. The weight was off your chest, but there was plenty of pain there in it’s place. You slowly pulled yourself into a sitting position, then wiped the tears off your face with one hand and held the other over your ribs. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, waiting for something to happen and your heartbeat overpowered the ringing silence in your ears. You wanted to get your phone, to call for help but you were terrified of gaining attention again. You didn’t even really stop shaking until you heard a familiar voice.

“...Y/n?” Dark didn’t see you when he first showed up, just the disaster area that was your living room. Once had seen you, he was beside you in a blink of an eye. You didn’t even think about it before you wrapped your arms around him. He only gave you a moment of comfort before he pulled back, looking over you in concern. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

You couldn’t really get much out between pained wincing as he scooped you into his arms. “It was a -Ow- s-spirit.”

He laid you down on the couch as gently as he could, and you could see his face change from confusion to recognition to irritation. “Why, pray tell, would a spirit be here?”

“I may have taken a job to get rid of it...” You muttered under your breath.

“Unbelievable.” He shook his head, about to say something else before he stopped himself. Instead he moved his focus to your hand, moving it to reveal the dark bruise over your ribs.

“See, I knew you weren’t gonna like it.”

“You going off and messing with things you haven’t even begun to understand? Of course I don’t like it.” His figure glitched and layered itself in different colors before he got up and went to the kitchen.

You scoffed at his remark, trying to sit up. “Hey I understand more than you think, I’ve been doing this crap for months!”

He came back around the corner with an ice pack from your freezer in his hand. “Months?” He apparated in front of you, gently placing the pack down on the bruise, allowing you to squeeze his free hand until the shock wave from the pressure passed over you.

“I started looking into all this after you told me the truth.” You confessed. “I mean with the internet it wasn’t difficult, and I do my due diligence alright? I don’t know what went wrong.”

The aura behind him flashed pure red for just a moment, he approached his next words much softer than usual. “You can’t navigate things like this using the internet, Y/n.”

“Well I didn’t think you’d want to help me help everyone else get rid of their ghosts.”

He scoffed at you, beginning to raise his voice as the aura swapped back to blue. “You were right! I don’t understand why you would want anything to do with this, anyway. Why would you do this to yourself??” 

“I thought...I thought it’d be fun-”

“This isn’t a game!”

“You know I really don’t get you, why-”

“Of course you don’t! Do you even know what I am?”

“Well, no...”

“Neither do I.” He growled. His words truly sunk in once you saw the pain behind his eyes. He collected himself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “What I do know, is that I was human once. And people screwing with things that they shouldn’t have for selfish reasons is what turned me into this. Over the years I’ve had to see other terrible things happen to well meaning people. I’ll be damned if you throw yourself into the fire for fun.”

You nodded softly, breaking the intense gaze between you to look as your hands. “...Okay.” You opened your mouth to speak again after that, but decided against it.

“What is it?” Dark asked, trying and failing to hide the impatience in his voice.

“I just didn’t think...well I really didn’t think you’d care. Well, about this part I guess-”  You sighed, cutting yourself off this time, rather than rambling.

He was quiet for a moment, placing his hand under your chin and tilting your head up to look at him. “I care...more than you know.” It was the silence after that, that spoke volumes, and even more so the way he moved forward to press his lips to yours. “Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a poltergeist to take care of.”

[yhmisun]

*//𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒆: introducing 𝐘𝐄𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍!

hi petals 🥰 i'm so thrilled to be here with you all and bringing you this gullible little lioness!i promise i'll get to all ims soon, but my alias is penny, my pronouns are she/her and i'm in the est tz! this is my bby misun - the very soft-spoken principal of kwangsook academy. despite the shady way she ended up with it, she quite loves her job, as well as all the students and faculty at kwangsook :D i will have her full bio up sometime soon, but for now, you can find some relevant links and some bullet points under the cut! if you'd like to plot something out, feel free to hit the heart so i know and i'll come buzz you in ims! tw - brief mentions of death cw - workplace affair

statistics. // bio. // headcanons. // plots. // musing blog. // pinterest.

━  ❖ (kim ahyoung “yura,” cis female, she/her) hey thank you for coming to town hall to update your information yeo misun! you’re a citizen correct? good to know! are you enjoying yourself around yunhwa? you’ve been staying here two years right? i’m glad! remind me, are you born on 14/12/1992? we’re so lucky to have someone so dedicated around as a principal at kwangsook academy even if sometimes you can be credulous. hope to see you around the house #3034, hwesakgu!

born and raised in busan, the city was imbued in misun's veins. she was in love with how the highest skyscrapers mingled with the clouds on overcast days and how life always seemed to be racing by. her childhood was a happy one, as she gained a younger brother and sister along the way.

her mother was a science teacher and her father a commercial fisherman at the local dock. it wasn't uncommon for him to be gone for weeks at a time in order to bring an income into the household, so misun was often left in charge of her younger siblings. it was something she thrived at honestly, as she'd always had this nurturing way about her. she didn't even argue with her siblings much, she mostly just played peacekeeper when they fought amongst themselves.

she ran through the typical cycle of dream occupations as any child would. she had a particularly tight grasp on astronomy for awhile, but she also always appreciated her mother's work in the field of education.

misun could be be rather mild-mannered, but she loved to run free in the yard, as if the fence that boxed it in existed in another realm entirely. as she grew older, she picked up several hobbies that always seemed to lend to a tranquil state of mind, as it was her favorite feeling in the world. painting and surfing were two of her favorite things to do, once she learned the basics of them. some of her most cherished memories of her father were the trips they took to the beach whenever he was home for the week so that he could see what she had learned for himself. she'd never forget the proud smile he wore.

[tw:death] she was fourteen when her father's boat sank in the korea strait, he and all of his crew being lost in the tragedy. they were at least able to hold a funeral for him; and misun always knew it was something that could happen in the logical side of her brain - but that was rarely the side she wanted to agree with. it was extremely hard on the family for his already too brief presence to have lessened to nothing, and it was years before any sense of normalcy was felt. [end tw]

it was fortunate that misun was so prone to being a parental figure in the household, as she was able to help her mother with her brother and sister while the woman grieved. it was simply in misun's nature to forego her own feelings to give another what they needed.

there was a desperate need for the lost income to be restored in some way, as her father had been the primary breadwinner for the family. her mother's salary as a teacher simply wasn't going to hold four people afloat in the city for very long. misun spent years juggling her workload in school along with working part-time, putting her all into not only bringing home good grades that her mom could be proud of, but helping to keep the family's bills paid, as well.

by the time she graduated, misun had excelled so much in her studies, that she was offered two different scholarships, both of which would have easily covered the expenses of attaining her degree, a miraculous offer for the family who had no way to afford college for any of the three children in it.

the college experience was everything misun had hoped for; a chance to better herself, find herself and take a bit of a break from the full workload she'd been carrying for so long. she still worked part time, so that she could slowly add to the college funds of her brother and sister while she attended school herself, but it was nice to have such a heavy focus on her studies.

she'd come to find that she wanted to go beyond teaching. she enjoyed the thought of administrative duties in the school system; fighting the good fight so that students could always have the help they needed to prosper. it wasn't just about filling their brains with meaningless facts they'd forget over a summer anymore - it was about making sure they had the tools to make it in life.

while she did receive some brief classroom training as a teacher in her initial transition, once misun got her master's degree, she was able to fill the position of principal at one of the schools in the city. she fell in love with it immediately, as it fit right in with her facilitating nature. she had a knack for keeping the peace around the school and making sure things ran smoothly so that all the teachers and other faculty could do their jobs properly.

she even had a positive working relationship with the local school board and her superiors, one of whom seemed to have taken quite a shine to her. he'd find any opportunity to speak with her, even about the silliest things. it was quite odd for misun to see him go back and forth from a very personable man to a very stuffy superintendent on an almost weekly basis, but there was definitely something charming about him.

before she really knew it, he'd swept misun off her feet entirely. suddenly they were sharing their lunch breaks at romantic cafes and making excuses to see each other during inconvenient times. misun always saw the best in people, and the things she saw in him made her feel love on an intense plane. she felt special with him; wanted. she might have said he'd broken down all her barriers, if she'd ever bothered to put them up.

as sweet as the feelings were, she supposed she knew the relationship was inappropriate considering that he was practically her boss. still, she didn't want to let go of the happiness she felt, and that she thought he had felt to.

it wasn't long before he informed her of his suspicions that some of his co-workers had an inkling he was having an affair with one of the school faculty members in the area. he seemed to know it was only a matter of time before the truth would come out, so he would cover his tracks. he would make sure no one ever found out.

initially, they were only meant to 'cool things off' a bit so that the suspicion would die down. admittedly, if word got out about them, misun knew it would be quite the scandal, and he may have to step down from his position. it seemed like the logical thing to do to lay low for awhile.

she didn't see the next part coming, though; apparently it had been decided that she would take the hit entirely, in order to save them both. her superintendent had crafted the brilliant plan to transfer her to kwangsook academy out in the small town of yunhwa and away from the city that she'd always known and loved. she wouldn't have to worry, he'd told her. the job was all but hers after the glowing recommendation he gave her. 'thank goodness, right? now you won't have to face any humiliation.'

she was confused, hurt and more angry than she had ever been in her life. as lovely as yunhwa was, it wasn't her home back in busan. it wasn't her school district. why was it her life that had been uprooted, and hers alone? was he suffering any undesired changes in his life in the city? did he even care at all that she was gone?

still though, misun's resilience remained steadfast, even after her heart was broken. as bitter as she was about the forced move, she'd been given a job to do, and she was going to going to do it right. getting used to the small town lifestyle has been a major adjustment for her, but she's not really one to complain about her circumstances.

two years on, and she remains in yunhwa, functioning as the head of kwangsook academy. as lost as she'd felt initially, she's come to fit in at the school at last. she's a rather amicable person who gets along well with the other teachers and staff members. she's always willing to lend a helping hand when it's needed, and is extremely dedicated to making sure the school has everything it needs in the way of funding, materials, healthy lunches and meaningful extracurriculars. as unassuming as misun can be sometimes, she's very protective of her students!

[iamrealbuilder]

Bill Buchalter interview

Bill Buchalter was a level designer for Sunstorm Interactive. He’s worked on 3 official add-on of Build Engine games: Cryptic Passage for Blood, Suckin’ Grits On Route 66 for Redneck Rampage, Caribbean Life for Duke Nukem 3D. Interview, November 2020: Corentin: Can you introduce yourself?

Bill Buchalter: My name is Bill Buchalter. I’m an avid gamer of all kinds – video games, board games, and especially tabletop RPGs. I’m currently a freelance writer for AAW Games (Adventure A Week Games) writing mini adventures for Dungeons & Dragons 5E. I live outside Indianapolis, IN with my wife Jane, our three kids, and our dog Roxi. When I’m not gaming, I also enjoy music, playing guitar, hiking, and camping.

C: With Sunstorm Interactive, you're credited for level design on Cryptic Passage, Caribbean Life and Route 66. How did you start working with Sunstorm and what do you remember from that time?

BB: In the mid 90’s, maybe around 1995 or 96, I was very into playing Duke Nukem 3D. Like most PC gamers at the time, I had played Castle Wolfenstein and Doom, and Duke Nukem just blew me away. Back in those days, when we played online, we would use a 3rd party program called KALI. You dialed up on your modem, logged onto the internet, and then used KALI as a portal to chat with other gamers and find someone to play with. The KALI software would then allow you to network together over the internet and play PVP matches. It was crude, and the lag could be horrible, but we didn’t know any better at the time and we loved it!

I remember I was in a B. Dalton bookstore in the mall one day (another relic of the 90’s that is long gone!) when I found a book called the “Duke Nukem 3D Level Design Handbook”. I was intrigued, and as I flipped through the pages it talked about a program on the Duke Nukem CD called Build, which allowed you to create your own levels. I had no idea Build existed, let alone how to use it. I bought the book and spent the next couple weeks diving into learning how to use Build. I was hooked!

Making my own maps quickly became an obsession. I would share them with my friends on KALI and I quickly earned a reputation for making user maps. I remember there was a map building competition, but I don’t recall who sponsored it. A guy named Robert Travis won the competition. When I saw his maps, I was blown away! His designs were so much more advanced than mine. He was using tricks I had never thought of to get lighting effects and set moods. I had to reach out to him to pick his brain.

Robert responded and we began talking and quickly figured out that we both lived in Indianapolis. He was working for Sunstorm at the time and invited me to come to their office to discuss level design. I met him there one evening, and he showed me some of the stuff he was working on. We ended up playing Duke all night on Sunstorm’s network with some of the other guys in the office. I was in heaven!

Robert introduced me to Anthony Campiti, the lead producer on Sunstorm’s next project – Cryptic Passage, an add-on for a Build engine game called Blood. They invited me to design some levels for the game and I jumped at the chance. Robert assigned me to design an opera house level and immediately I got pictures in my head of the theater scenes from Interview with a Vampire. I went home and worked furiously on designing the level. I was still rough, but with Robert’s help I tweaked things here and there and slowly learned his techniques. In the end I was really pleased with the level I’d designed. Robert and Anthony were happy too and asked me to design a second map specifically for deathmatch.

The next project Sunstorm was working on was Suckin’ Grits on Route 66, an add-on for another Build engine game called Redneck Rampage. Robert again asked if I’d like to be a part of that team and assigned me to build a truck stop level. Using a lot of the things I’d learned on Cryptic Passage, and the campy feel of the Redneck Rampage game, I had a lot of fun designing that level.

The last project I worked on for Sunstorm was Duke Nukem Caribbean Vacation. By this time Duke’s popularity was beginning to wane, and Quake was taking over. Robert was already starting to experiment and learn how to use the Quake engine. I was a new dad at the time (my first daughter had just been born) so unfortunately, I didn’t have the spare time to devote to learning a new engine. I barely had the time to design my level for Duke Caribbean, but I did manage to finish the casino level for that project. I do recall that Robert ended up going through in the end and changing a lot of the aspects of my level to fit the theme they had in mind. I remember being a bit disappointed and not really feeling like the level was “mine” because of so many of the changes. It was the last project I worked on for Sunstorm.

I kept in touch with Robert and Anthony for a while after that. They were branching out, working on other projects, and even trying to develop their own FPS game that I don’t think ever really got off the ground. Sunstorm was having the most success with their Deer Hunter line of games that at the time were selling well in Wal-Mart. Sadly, I eventually just lost touch with those guys.

I’m sure this is WAY more information than you were wanting (I’m a writer… I can’t help but go off the deep end!) but you dusted off some fond, old memories for me, so I apologize for walking so far down memory lane!

C: I see that you're still making maps, different kind of maps! This makes me wonder if maybe you were involved with W!Zone (a pack of maps for Warcraft 2 released by Sunstorm). Can you tell us a bit about that if possible?

BB: I didn’t have any hand in the W!Zone project for Sunstorm, but I loved the Warcraft series. As was common for many video gamers like me, who had roots in fantasy games like D&D, I played a lot of Warcraft and eventually got sucked into the world of MMOs with Ultima Online, Everquest, and World of Warcraft! If only I had back the time I sunk into those games!

These days I’m exclusively writing and designing for Dungeons and Dragons. I started about ten years ago writing for D&D Organized Play in a campaign called Living Forgotten Realms. I co-authored two adventures for that with my good friend, Michael Pearman, and authored a third adventure on my own. As you know from tracking me down via AAW Games, I’ve now authored six adventures for them, five of which are already published and one that is still in the works but should be released soon.

When I do manage to find time for video games, Diablo III is my game of choice these days. I’m looking forward to Season 22 starting here shortly, and like many others, I’m really hoping for something great with Diablo IV. I’ve been a huge fan of the series since the beginning, and even wrote an entire campaign for D&D 5E that translated the story of Diablo III into Dungeons and Dragons for the players in my home game! Thanks again for the opportunity to share some of this history. It was fun putting it all down and reliving those days!

C: There are two signatures in the Truck Stop level for Route 66. Do you remember anything about that ? There also several levels with no known credit : Fun Park, House of ill Repute, Mystery Dino Cave, Bigfoot Convention.

The signature on the truck stop is Route 66 was a joke! I was the only designer on that one. I just signed it "Billy Joe Jim Bob Buchalter" as a joke for bad redneck name. I wasn't the kind of guy that had to sign my maps the EXACT same way every time. :)

Other than the truck stop, I don't recall designing any other maps for Route 66. I pretty sure none of those you listed below were mine, but I don't recall whose they were.

Finally, here are some final comments Bill made after reading through some forum posts:

Wow, I am really quite humbled that you guys looked so deeply into my work! The fact that you could recognize my build style is pretty cool - I didn't even know I had a style! LOL. The truth be told, the reason you probably had so much trouble telling my levels from Robert's is because he was a big influence on me. I learned a lot from him and incorporated a lot of that into the stuff I built.

Its funny how reading through that thread you linked brought back memories... I remember now that my biggest disappointment from Duke Caribbean was that my only level in the game ended up being a secret level - that some people wouldn't even find it or ever play it. I was actually pretty excited about that level. I was the one that suggested a casino because my folks had retired to Vegas, so I'd been in a lot of the casinos there and had some great ideas for the map. I'd forgotten all about the restaurant I worked into it, and the big fish tanks.

There seems to be some debate about Robert. From what I remember, he was a really good guy. Maybe a bit tough to work for, but only because he really strived for our designs to be the best they could be, and he demanded that of both himself and the other designers. As I said before, I learned early on to accept criticism and critique and not take it personally. It was just Robert doing his job. I'll be the first to admit that I designed better levels thanks to the stuff I learned from Robert.

Someone on the message board made a very astute comment, basically to the effect that "Bill had to have other work out there. Sunstorm wouldn't hire an unproven guy off the street." But truth be told, that's exactly what they did! I hadn't done a single thing before working there. But I think a few things played in my favor. First, I lived in Indy, just 15 minutes from their office, so it was easy for me to go in and work directly with Robert. Second, while I didn't have anything officially published, I did have a disk full of the maps I'd designed on my own, and Robert thought I showed promise. I would design at home a lot, then go into the office a couple times a week and sit with Robert while he critiqued my work and offered advice on how to improve it.

I'll be honest - I'm blown away at the number of people STILL playing these old maps we made so many years ago. I watched a couple YouTube videos of a guy playing and reviewing Duke Caribbean and Blood Cryptic Passage. His high praise of both Full House and the Opera House really made my day. It's nice to know that people enjoyed my work.

_____________________________

Thanks a lot to Bill Buchalter for taking the time to answer these questions! Thanks also for sharing... “Big City” !

A Duke Nukem 3D map he created back in the day before joining with Sunstorm Interactive which was never released before! Screenshot:

Map download:

https://msdn.duke4.net/bigcity.zip

______

External link: Duke4 forum blog megathread: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/11471-blog-interviews-of-build-engine-video-games-developers/page__pid__353013#entry353013 The forum posts Bill read, mentionned above, can be found here: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/9418-duke-caribbean-multiplayer-levels/

[klove0511]

Welcome to Your Future

Title: Welcome to Your Future Author: klove0511 Artist: ncdover1285 Pairing: Sam/Dean Rating: T Warnings/Spoilers: Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, season 9/10 Sam Winchester, Mutual Pining, implied unrequited sam/cas, Show level violence, Demon Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Suicide (no actual suicide) Summary:  When Dean is suddenly pulled through time, he's confronted with a broken little brother a decade older than he should be. With Sam determined to send Dean back to his own time, will Dean be able to figure out where his present day counterpart is and fix things for Sam? Art: Tumblr  Story:  Ao3

Dean checked his hand, checked the pot in the middle of the table, then glanced at his fellow players. Two had folded already, and he was sure the last guy was bluffing. So was Dean, mostly. A pair of tens wasn't a phenomenal hand but it was better than nothing. He glanced again at his cards, put on a calculated grin and said, "Raise," as he tossed another few bills into the pot. 

The guy's eyes did the same dance between Dean, his cards, and the pot, and he took a swig of his beer before he tossed his cards down. "Fold. Congrats, kid."

Dean grinned but tried to keep it out of the realm of cockiness. He'd won fair and square, but there was no need to rub it in their faces. He collected his winnings and straightened the bills, estimating that he had at least $500 in his hand. A good place to call it for the night. No need to play until they got desperate enough to pick a fight. He tossed back the rest of his whiskey and took his leave, relieved when none of the guys looked too disgruntled. It had been a good night, and he wasn't looking for trouble. 

The cool night air was refreshing after the smoky atmosphere of the bar. He took a deep breath and made his way to the Impala. He'd drive back to his motel, then check in with his dad in the morning. They were on separate hunts at the moment, and Dean had finished his early. Tomorrow, he'd find out if Dad needed backup in Arizona or if he had another case for Dean to work. Tonight, he'd count his winnings and get a good night sleep for once. 

He was maybe ten steps from the car when his stomach lurched, and the world tilted sideways. Throwing his hands out to catch himself, he fought down nausea as his vision blacked out momentarily before resolving into a dimly lit room that he didn’t recognize.

When the world stopped spinning, Dean took stock. He was in a library with heavy oak tables and stone pillars, filled with low half bookcases and a variety of swords. Someone was passed out in one of the seats. Not a public library, then, but some rich asshole's house. His gaze flicked around, searching for a threat or an explanation, before settling on the figure slumped over one of the tables. His instincts tingled. Long hair, but tall and built like a guy. Plaid flannel shirt. Smelled like cheap whiskey. At least a dozen books were strewn across the table, and at the next table over were a bunch of herbs by a beaten-up copper bowl. Dean’s eyes danced over the guy, noting at least two bulges that probably indicated concealed weapons. Make that a rich, armed asshole. And maybe a witch.

He didn't know what a witch would want with him, but he was sure it wasn't good.

He pulled his own gun from the small of his back before slowly approaching. He considered just shooting the bastard, but he could use some answers. Where he was, for starters. He got close, almost close enough to touch, when the guy groaned and rolled his head to the side, one hand fumbling for the empty tumbler just out of reach. Dean stepped back out of the guy's range and flicked off the safety.

The soft click was obviously enough to alert the witch, though, because he froze, hardly even breathing. The hair moved, revealing a beard and a jawline that sparked recognition deep in his gut. But his dad would never let his hair grow that long. And it was hard to tell when he was sitting, but Dean was pretty sure this guy was longer and leaner than John Winchester had ever been. Never mind the spell ingredients. John Winchester wouldn't be caught dead using magic.

"Who are you?" he asked, lowering his voice to a growl in an attempt to intimidate.

If possible, the guy in front of him stilled further. He was statuesque, could have been carved from marble for all he moved. Finally, an eternity later, the guy breathed out a name, reverent and disbelieving. "Dean?"

He didn't recognize the voice, but the guy clearly knew who Dean was. Which made sense, given the circumstances. The evidence pointed to Dean being summoned via some spell this jerk had done. He hadn't heard about anyone summoning a person before, but he learned new things every day.

The guy never answered the question, just turned slowly and sat up until Dean could see his face. The familiarity lurched against his consciousness again. He didn't know this guy, but... he did. He was older, bearded, and broken, but he thought he recognized his kid brother under there. He faltered, lowered the gun minutely. "Sam?" he asked, unsure.

The guy's eyes widened in what might be surprise or fear, but he nodded.

Nausea threatened to overtake him again. Dean may not have an explanation yet for what the hell was going on, but he believed this guy. Sam. He believed Sam. Instantly, he dropped his aim, turning on the safety and holstering the gun in one smooth motion. Still, he was wary. This wasn't his little brother, not really. Not unless school had aged him a decade or more.

This Sam was gaping at him like a fish, or like he was some kind of fucking miracle, which sat all kinds of wrong with Dean. He didn't seem like he was going to start supplying answers on his own any time soon though, so Dean was going to have to take the initiative.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings in light of this new information. "Want to tell me what's going on, Sam?"

Sam swallowed hard and dropped his eyes. "I don't know." He glanced back at Dean with a shrewd look. "What year is it for you?"

That confirmed one thing, anyway, though he was sure Sam was lying through his teeth about not knowing what was going on. "2004.”

Sam started, leaning back in surprise.

Dean waited, cocking an eyebrow. Sam needed to give him something. Some explanation.

Sam's jaw worked and a furrow appeared between his eyes. He gave a weird half smirk that Dean couldn't interpret and said, "Welcome to 2014."

 Alone in his room, Sam couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. The spell had worked. Just not how he'd intended. Certainly not how he had expected it to work. Dean at 24 was a sight to behold, all confidence and cocky attitude, full of easy grins and so much optimism. Dean had thought he was being skeptical, sure, but the second he knew he was talking to Sam he'd dropped his guard. Sam's Dean would never. Not now, not after having met too many doppelgangers of themselves or people they knew. It stung, but it was safer, and he breathed easier knowing that his Dean would have asked for proof that he was really Sam.

It felt good, though, knowing Dean was in the bunker again, even if it was the wrong Dean. Tomorrow he was going to have to figure out how to send him back to 2004, and then go back to figuring out how to find his brother, or, more likely, his brother's dead body. He still had nothing more than a shitty note to go on, and he had already been scraping the bottom of the barrel with this spell. Cas had told him it wasn't likely to work, and Sam just hadn't cared. A slim chance was better than no chance. Of course, it hadn't worked. Had instead yanked his brother (his gorgeous, alive, never gone to Hell brother) from the past. Even younger than the version that had pulled Sam back into the life, the version Sam had been entirely unable to resist.

He closed his eyes and willed away his erection. His brother was dead, and this vision from his past needed to go away before he did something truly inappropriate. Worse, before Dean found out just how bad things got in the next decade of his life and decided Sam wasn't worth coming to Stanford for. Or... No. They'd learned, painfully, that messing with the past did nothing. Warning Dean of all the problems Sam would cause in the future wouldn't do anything good. Wouldn't stop the Apocalypse. Wouldn't bring Sam's brother back. It would just erase the trust that he had maintained in Sam for years, warranted or not, and it had been that trust that kept Sam going after losing Jess and Dad.

 Dean sat alone in the room Sam had given him. It was bare and musty, like it hadn't been used in years. He had a lot of questions that Sam hadn't been willing to answer, and honestly, Dean thought they were both probably too drunk for a useful Q and A tonight. That was why he'd agreed to go to bed and figure things out in the morning. The problem was that he couldn't sleep, and the questions circling his brain were getting louder with every lap. Chief among them was what the hell was going on with Sam? Even factoring in the extra decade that Sam had lived, he looked old. Worse, he looked desperate. Dean just wondered what he was desperate for. The question that followed naturally from there was where the hell was 2014 Dean? He should be here taking care of his brother when he was such a mess. Sam hadn't denied that he'd been doing spell work, which, best case scenario, meant that he was hunting again. What had happened to the Sam that wanted out of the life at any cost? Who had turned his back on his family to go to college? Something had gone down, and Dean was absolutely sure he wasn't going to like it when he found out. No matter how mad he was that Sam had wanted a normal life more than he'd wanted his family, no matter how much he resented that Sam got a shot at college and a life that wasn't hunting, Dean had been proud of his brother for making it into Stanford. 

The way Sam had looked at him—it was unsettling. Dean wasn't sure where the present version of himself was, but with that look... Well, Dean had suspicions. He wasn't going to get any sleep until he had some answers, so it was time to do some digging. He padded out into the hall, careful to keep his footsteps quiet. Sam had said he was in room 21, and a quick check of his door revealed that Sam had put him in 15. Heading away from Sam's room, he started checking doors as he went. Three rooms identical to his, down to the mothball smell, and then he hit the jackpot with room 11. Weapons were mounted on the walls, the bed was rumpled, as if it had been used recently, and the air was fresh. Reasonably fresh. Ok, it smelled like old pizza and gym socks, but at least it smelled like something besides dust and stale air. His eyes were drawn to the box of magazines on the desk as he flicked on the light, and he knew he was in the right spot. A box stuffed full of Busty Asian Beauties could only mean that he was in his room. Dean's room. Current him's room. Whatever.

There were photos on the bedside table, and he grinned as he flipped through them. He didn't recognize most of them, but he knew why they lived in a prominent place. Happy memories, all of them. It was weird, watching Sammy grow up in stutter stops across the four pictures he was in, and Dean frowned, realizing nothing looked recent. The last picture of Sam was easily years younger than the Sam he'd met tonight. Replacing the pictures on the table, he did a slow inventory of the room. There was a note on the bed, and on closer inspection, there were stains on the bedspread. Blood. Diluted blood, like someone had cleaned wounds here and never bothered to clean up. A touch revealed that it was dry and stiff. Days old at least, no telling if it was more than that. He checked the note.

Sammy, let me go.

He recognized his own handwriting but felt nothing other than confusion. Why would he write a note like this? This place was awesome, and he knew, instinctively, that no matter what else had changed in the intervening decade he would kill to have his own room. The decorative touches spoke of someone who had settled in, who wanted to be here. Not a Dean that was planning on leaving his brother. He frowned harder. How could this have happened? He managed to get his brother back, despite years of no contact while Sam was at Stanford. A decade later and they were still together, living in the same weird mansion with no windows. They had made it. Hell, they had both made it past their thirtieth birthdays, a feat he hadn't even dared to hope was possible.

So why had he left?

Blood on the sheets. Note saying to let him go. A profoundly messed up little brother. A room so untouched it may as well be a shrine to present day Dean. If it hadn't been for the note in his own handwriting, he'd say 2014 him was dead. With the note... Hunt gone wrong? Dean must have blamed himself, so he took off. Which meant it had probably been Sam hurt. Judging by the quantity of blood on the comforter, it had been bad. He cursed himself. He'd probably patched Sam up and ditched as soon as he was stable enough to leave alone.

The thought of patching Sam up in this room, rather than taking him to his own spoke volumes to Dean. They had separate rooms, but this Dean obviously loved his brother as much as Dean did. He shuddered at the thought that maybe that affection had been given voice, and that was why he'd fled.

He turned off the lamp and closed the door. Time to see the rest of this place.

 Sam stumbled into the kitchen and was surprised to find it smelled of freshly brewed coffee. It cut through the hangover fog enough to jolt Sam into confusion for a moment, and then he remembered. His brother (not his brother, not his brother) was sitting at the table, contemplating his cup of coffee and picking at a plate piled high with bacon. Dean looked like he was nursing a mild hangover himself, which made Sam wonder what he'd been doing before the spell had caught him.

Dean smirked at him, which Sam ignored, then said, "Interesting place you got here, Sammy."

Sam groaned internally. He should have known Dean would go exploring if he left him alone for two minutes without any answers. Still, he didn't want to give anything away that might screw up the timeline. It would be his luck to accidentally change something and find himself in a future that was even worse than the hell he was currently living in. 

When his silence continued past the limits of Dean's patience, Dean made a frustrated noise. "Come on, man. I know last night wasn't the time, but you've got to tell me what the hell is going on. You were wasted and doing spells powerful enough to pull me through freaking time. Talk to me."

Sam sighed and relented, if only slightly. He poured himself a cup of coffee and said, "If it makes you feel any better, I didn't do the spell drunk. Got wasted after it didn't work."

There was a pregnant pause, then Dean said softly, "What was it supposed to do, Sam?"

Sam's heart broke all over again, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and grip the counter to ground himself. "It was supposed to find you. Just not you from 10 years ago."

The silence in the room was oppressive, and Sam waited for Dean to ask the obvious question. When he didn't, Sam steeled himself and turned around to face his brother. Dean was staring into his coffee mug, unreadable expression on his face.

Sam stumbled over his thoughts, wanting to fix this, to make it better somehow. He'd just ripped his brother out of time and then told him that he wasn't supposed to be here. No way that hadn't hurt. "I—Dean, I'm glad you're here. It's good to see you again. It's just—"

"I'm not him," Dean said quietly, firmly. He didn't sound upset, exactly, but Sam had been around Dean long enough to hear the layers of emotion hiding in his brother's voice. "Why did he leave?" Sam shook his head in denial, but Dean continued, "I found the note."

Sam blanched. "Honestly? I don't know." He gripped his mug and moved to sit across from Dean. "I don't know why he left. Or why he just left that shitty note." He paused. "Sorry," he said, as an afterthought.

 Dean watched Sam bend over the books, trying to figure out a reversal spell that would send Dean back to his own time. They hadn't really talked at all, and Dean didn't know what to make of it. Sam refused to talk about the bloodstains on the comforter, and he seemed to be telling the truth when he said he didn't know why his Dean had walked. That said, Sam was definitely hiding something. He may not know the exact reason, but he knew a lot more than he was letting on. Unfortunately, the guy was dead set on "preserving the timeline" and nothing Dean had said over breakfast seemed able to dissuade him. 

He tried to distract himself from checking out Sam by instead checking out the library. It was tough, though. Sam had filled out over the years and barely resembled the scrawny kid he'd driven to the bus station on his way to Palo Alto and a normal life. Dean clenched his jaw and turned back to the bookshelf in front of him. He recognized a few titles from Bobby's library, but most of the books he'd never heard of. There was no organization that he could make sense of, but that was probably because half the books were in languages he couldn't read. Sam probably could. He'd always had a better head for language than Dean, and with a decade to practice and pick up new ones, Dean would have been surprised if there were any books here Sam couldn't translate. 

Peeking behind him, he studied Sam's broad shoulders. They were gorgeous, even if they were tense. Sam had obviously kept himself in shape over the years, and Dean wondered if getting wasted like last night was the norm now or not. Their dad had started going soft in the middle when his drinking kicked up after Sam had left, and it didn't look like that was happening to Sam's waist. But if it was new... It didn't matter because Sam didn't want his help. It had hurt when he'd realized that this morning, that Sam wanted the brother who had abandoned him. 

It just didn't make sense. Sam hadn't hinted at anything, really. Just that the blood on the bed had been Dean's, not Sam's. Still a hunt gone wrong then, but Dean couldn't fathom what had possessed him to leave. Dean had been hurt before, plenty of times. He'd even been hurt because Sam or their dad made a mistake. But that's all they were, mistakes. He'd never held a grudge so hard that he'd walk on his family like this. It all spoke to something far more broken than he wanted to think about, because how could things have gone this wrong between him and Sam? Even in his own time, he would do anything to stay near Sam if his brother would let him. 

Sam was muttering to himself and mixing ingredients. Looked like he'd found the spell he needed then. 

Dean moved over to the table. He didn't do chick flick moments, but he couldn't just leave without saying something to comfort Sam. He cleared his throat, already feeling awkward. "Look, Sam. I—" He sighed, frustrated. "I don't know what the hell would make me walk out on you like that, but I can tell you this: I have always been proud of you. No matter what. Ok? I, uh, don't know that I'd ever have the nerve to tell you that if I wasn't currently Marty McFly." He hoped Sam understood. He knew he was never going to tell that to his little brother when they joined up. Too many emotions too close to the surface, still too fresh for both of them. But this Sam, well. He had distance from college, and it seemed like in the end he'd chosen Dean anyway. It made it easier, somehow.

Sam's eyes were wide, his expression something Dean wasn't sure how to interpret. Sad? Shocked? Relieved? Some bizarre combination of all that and more. Yeah. Clearly their family was still great at communication.

"Dean—" Sam stopped, obviously biting back whatever he'd been about to say. After a moment he started again. "Stanford was never about leaving you."

He pasted on a cocky grin, suddenly desperate to not show Sam how much his leaving still hurt, even two years later. Even if he had already known that it wasn't about him, that it had been about Sam needing to assert his independence from Dad and just the way those two personalities conflicted. Sam always needed an explanation for things; it was part of what had always made him great at research. Dad expected his sons to follow his lead, and Dean could admit that he provided explanations far less often than he maybe should. The difference had always been that Dean trusted their dad completely, and Sam didn't.

 Sam had no idea how to explain to his brother how devastating it was to hear that parody of his Dean's dying words, spoken just a few weeks ago. It—He couldn't. Not without risking everything. For a moment he thought about it. Telling this Dean everything. There was no way his life could get worse than this miserable existence he was currently living, after all. But no, there was too much at stake. He might not end up in a worse version of his existence, but the world might. Lucifer, at least, was safely locked away, and Abaddon was dead. They had done that. No matter what he wanted personally, he had to keep the bigger picture in mind. Besides, his Dean had left him a note. While he couldn't fathom an explanation for that, he wasn't going to rest until he had one, until he found Dean.

He swallowed and clenched his jaw to keep himself from spilling everything. The only thing he trusted himself to give Dean in answer was a short nod, and he knew it wasn't enough. But it was all he had, so Dean would just have to deal with it. They could talk it out in a decade.

Turning back to the spell, he continued mixing components, narrowing his eyes as he tried to remember if he'd added the yarrow root yet or not. He surveyed the contents of the bowl. He... had. That powder looked like the yarrow. Moving on, he continued adding ingredients and chanting under his breath. He didn't look at Dean, didn't want to watch him disappear back to his own time, even though he knew it had to happen. With a flourish, he threw in the final herb and watched the surprisingly small puff of smoke rise and dissipate into nothing. It was done.

From behind him, he heard Dean ask, "Was that it? Because I'm still here, dude."

Sam's eyes flew open as he spun to see Dean still standing there, arms crossed and looking deeply unimpressed. "What? How—?" He turned back to his spell book and ingredients. The damn yarrow. Of course. Only.... No, he looked at the bottle, and it looked like he had definitely added it. Sam rummaged through the ingredients for a few more minutes, eyes darting between ingredients, bowl, and spell, until Dean put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Sam, stop."

Sam stilled, about ready to throw something in frustration. No wonder he hadn't been able to find his Dean. He apparently couldn't do any magic right these days.

Dean spoke gently. "Look, you're tired, and you're obviously stressed out. Bobby always told us that magic is best done with a clear head, right? If I had to guess, that's about the worst description for you right now. Take a day. Let me help if I can. And then we'll figure out a way to get me home together." He paused, giving Sam a chance to answer that he didn't take. Dean sighed. "I'm sorry it didn't work."

Sam hung his head and leaned heavily on the table. "I'm sorry I keep letting you down."

He could almost feel Dean working to unpack that, trying to figure out what Sam was referring to. There was a long pause, and Sam wondered what Dean was thinking, if he was going to push Sam to talk again. After Jess's death, Dean had been a strange combination of pushy and hands off with Sam, trying to give him space until Sam pushed himself or Dean too far and Dean felt the need to prod answers out of him. It hadn't been overly effective then, and Sam didn't think it would work on him now. 

Dean let his hand drop, though, without a word. Sam fought the urge to watch his brother leave the library, instead forcing his gaze to remain on the table in front of him.

 Dean avoided Sam for the rest of the day. He prowled through the entirety of the bunker, exploring every nook and cranny he could find now that he wasn't drunk and exhausted, looking for any further clues as to his counterpart's whereabouts. He found the shooting range, the garage full of old cars (notably missing the Impala), the infirmary, and the archives. There was also the herb garden outside that looked like it had been recently plundered for Sam's spells. But mostly there were just seemingly endless dorm rooms, identical to the one he had slept in last night. One other looked and smelled like it had been used in the recent past, but it was just as plain and boring as the rest. No one had stayed there long enough to move in. Dean longed to see Sam's room, but there was a decent enough chance of finding Sam there that he didn't try. 

Eventually, though, he found himself back in present Dean's room. It felt like home, even though he hadn't yet laid hands on most of the personal items in here. It still felt right, like it was tailor made to make him feel comfortable. He supposed it had been. 

A simple survey wasn't going to cut it this time, though. He needed answers, and Sam was too reluctant to give them up. Looking around the room for the best place to start, he decided to be methodical. Each desk drawer was opened and rifled through, carefully catalogued and replaced before he moved on to the next one. There wasn't much. By the time he was done, he'd been most impressed by just how many shirts he'd managed to accrue now that he didn't have to cram them all in a duffel bag. But he also noted just how many things had been left behind. It hadn't caught his attention yesterday, but those pictures, at the very least, should be gone. This wasn't the room of someone who had decided they'd had enough and moved on. This Dean had left in a hurry. He wasn't sure what it meant, yet.

Further investigation yielded a lot of nothing. It looked more like future Dean had vanished than packed a bag, and Dean was struggling to come up with an explanation. Turning back to the bed, he did another survey. The whole thing was slightly rumpled, like someone had been laying on it. Ok. The blood was everywhere, but maybe more concentrated at the head of the bed. So, wounds, probably in the chest area. Dangerous, if they were deep enough, but there wasn't enough blood here to kill a man. He lay down, hoping by some miracle that looking at the room from his counterpart's perspective shortly before he'd left would provide some insight he'd been missing up to now. 

The mattress molded itself to his body, easily the most comfortable thing he'd laid on in his entire life. For a moment he lay still, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what would make him leave a sweet place like this behind. Rolling over, he buried his head in the comfortable pillow, feeling exhaustion and the lingering effects of his hangover pulling him toward sleep, despite the weirdness of the situation. He breathed in deep and promptly gagged, rolling away from the pillow and coughing to clear the putrid smell. "Holy shit. What the hell is that?" he wondered to himself. Another, much more cautious, sniff revealed a lingering rotten egg smell. That was... weird. Everything here was weird. This, at least, was a weird thing he could take to Sam and demand an explanation for.

It took a while, but he eventually found Sam in the library on his third try. Wherever Sam had been before that was someplace Dean hadn't found yet. Maybe this place had magic changing rooms like Hogwarts. 

Sam looked even worse than he had at breakfast. His hair was lank and greasy, and the bags under his eyes were darkening into bruises. Dean watched him quietly for a few minutes, keeping himself out of sight. He wasn't spying per se, just....observing. Who knows what secrets this Sam might reveal when he thought he was alone? In this case, just another indication that Winchesters were prone to alcoholism. After Sam poured out his third shot in ten minutes, Dean decided he needed to intervene before his brother wouldn't be able to answer any questions, at least not intelligibly. 

"Day drinking? Seriously? I thought you didn't want to be like Dad," Dean said, putting on his most affronted face and voice. 

Sam just lolled his head towards Dean, mind clearly already slowing down. Damn it. Sam must have had a few before Dean found him.

He sighed in frustration. "Fine. Look, just tell me why your Dean's bed smells like something died there, and I'll leave you to your liver poisoning, all right?"

A pained look crossed Sam's face, so grief-stricken that Dean almost told him to forget it. But then Sam said, "Because you died."

He continued babbling, but Dean wasn't listening anymore. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears as he tried to process that, and in the meantime the rest of the world took on a surreal quality. In a decade, he would be dead. He always expected to die young, he did, just. Hearing it felt different somehow. Seeing his little brother like this was different. After Sam had left for Stanford and made it clear he didn't want or need his family to contact him Dean had made assumptions. Like how he would probably die in his twenties because he didn't have backup, or how Sam may never even know he was dead. Confronted with a grieving Sam who had been living with Dean for years was something unexpected and much more painful. The thought of Sam not knowing or caring had hurt, of course, but it was a different animal to see him grieving. He couldn't help but put himself in Sam's position. How well would he be handling it if Sam were dead?

Then he came back to the note. Sammy, let me go. He frowned, putting pieces together and not liking the picture that was emerging. Future Dean hadn't packed or taken anything, left those pictures behind too, and those had to be some of his most prized possessions. Left a note. And... had died. Shit.

"Sam? Did—" He swallowed, trying to figure out how to ask if he'd killed himself and if so, why.

Sam's brow furrowed in confusion, clearly not following Dean's train of thought. 

He gave up. He couldn't ask. More than anything, he didn't want to know, but besides that he didn't want to make Sam relive it if he had committed suicide. He didn't want to watch Sam reliving it. And it didn't actually explain the smell. The Winchesters were familiar with death and the smells that went with it, and sulfur wasn't one of them. Another horrible thought crossed his mind, and he stumbled away from Sam. 

"Dean?" Sam asked, instinctively reaching to stop Dean's retreat. 

"How long were we on the road together?" His voice was shaky, praying that it wasn't true. The only things he could think of that involved sulfur in their lives were demons, and he'd heard plenty about what happened after you made a deal with one. 

Sam hesitated, reticent as ever to divulge information about his past if it wasn't something Dean had experienced yet, but whatever expression Dean was wearing must have convinced him. Or maybe he just didn't care as much because of the alcohol, who knew. "Nine years. I started hunting again in 2005."

Dean racked his brain. That wasn't long enough, he thought. He certainly didn't have Sam's talents for encyclopedic knowledge, but he was no slouch when it came to knowledge about the supernatural. Everything Bobby or Pastor Jim or Caleb or their dad had said about the monsters out there was stored somewhere in his brain, and he was pretty sure he remembered something about ten years in connection with demons. Maybe he was wrong, though, because if he had died, and his pillow smelled like sulfur, there weren't a lot of other explanations.

"Dean, talk to me. What's going on?"

He couldn't chicken out of this question. "Did I make a demon deal to get you on the road with me?" His words came out in a rush, leaving him breathless and edging ever nearer to panic. No way would he do that. Right? He had accepted that Sam had left them. Had left him. 

Sam looked shocked into silence, his mouth working to form an answer. When nothing appeared to be forthcoming, he resorted to slamming the shot of whiskey he'd poured before Dean interrupted him and pouring himself another. When he finally found his voice, it was rough and broken. "Why do you think you made a deal?"

Dean winced at how Sam refused to meet his eyes. He may not know this Sam as well as his own, but he knew how to read body language. Sam's Dean had obviously done some stupid shit in the past. "The pillow smells like sulfur. I know they're pretty far out of our league, but that means demons, right?"

Sam barked a laugh that was in no way funny. Dean swallowed hard, just a little afraid of the person his brother had turned into. Sam eventually knocked back a swallow of his whiskey and said, "Yeah, it does. The pillow smelled?"

Dean nodded and watched as Sam stalked to his brother's room. 

 Sulfur. But Crowley had no-showed that night, hadn't he? Sam had waited and waited in the dungeon, until finally he accepted that the demon wasn't coming and returned to his brother. Only Dean was long gone, leaving only that note behind. But if Sam had summoned Crowley to the bunker and he'd been in Dean's room... why would Dean's pillow smell? He flung open the door to Dean's room and grabbed the pillow, breathing deep. Gagging, he threw the pillow back on the bed. Definitely sulfur. It didn't make sense, but it was a lead that he didn't have before. 

Sam's phone rang, the shrill noise piercing the silent room. Sam flinched at the sudden noise, but he pulled out his phone to glance at the caller ID. Cas. He sighed and dismissed the call. It was the third or fourth call he'd ditched from the angel today, and he knew he couldn't avoid his friend forever. He just wasn't ready to hear the "I told you so" that was inevitably coming his way. Besides, Cas couldn't help. Or if he could then he shouldn't. Sam wasn't sure exactly how stolen grace worked, but he'd seen how weak Cas was these days. He'd even caught the angel sleeping a few times, to his dismay. If Cas offered to fix Sam's mistake by sending Dean back to the past where he belonged, then Sam would have to stop him. Dean needed to go back, of course, but not at the expense of the last of Cas's strength. Besides, Dean wasn't supposed to know about angels for a few more years. If he met Cas, who knows what would get screwed up. Later. He'd call Cas later and fill him in, tell him to make himself scarce until he heard from Sam. 

Sam turned back to the bed. Reverently, he touched the comforter, the last place he'd seen his brother's body. He had to check. Drawing close, he sniffed. Yes, buried under the metallic tang of blood and the gun oil smell Sam always associated with Dean there was sulfur. He closed his eyes. That was probably a really bad sign.

For the next few minutes, Sam sniffed everything in the room, finding more sulfur on the chair beside the bed but nowhere else. Crowley must have been in here. Sam could practically see him in his mind's eye, sitting in the chair beside Dean's dead body. The options for why Dean's body had disappeared and left behind the smell of sulfur on the sheets were disappointingly limited. Ok, there was one that Sam knew of, and even thinking about some demon riding Dean's dead body around the world being Crowley's lackey made his blood boil.

He sighed and clenched his jaw in frustration. Before he could fix that he needed to deal with his mistake and get this other version of Dean out of here. 

"What did you find?" Dean's voice behind him startled Sam badly, and he spun, eyes wide in panic. 

After a moment during which he tried to bury his reaction as far down as he could, he said, "Not much. Just confirmed what you said." 

"Sam, what the hell did I do?" 

Sam didn't turn and look at Dean, couldn't stand to. This Dean sounded so young. Like it was barely conceivable that he would make a deal to keep his brother close, and he looked devastated at the thought that he'd done just that. Sam wanted to comfort him, but he couldn't find the words. Because Dean did do those things, had made deals like that. Just not the one he was currently accusing himself of making. "You didn't make a deal to get me out of school." That, at least, was a true statement, and it made Sam breathe a little easier. If he had made that deal, then he wouldn't have had anything left to bargain with when Sam died in Cold Oak. Now he just needed to figure out how to break the rest of it to him. Or not. This was still a terrible idea. 

Dean made a noise of frustration, slamming his fist into the wall and making Sam flinch hard. "Damn it, Sam, I know I did something. And don't give me that crap about not changing the timeline, because seriously? You want to preserve this? You're miserable and drunk, and I'm dead. Who knows where Dad even is since you won't talk about him. What exactly are you trying to protect here?"

Sam closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. Dean didn't know. He couldn't know. But... he needed to know. Sam was always being told how strong he was, but he knew the truth. He was a weak man who would do anything for the brother he loved more than anything else in the world. "There's always a chance it turns out worse. You understand that, right? If I tell you anything, there's a chance that it all goes to hell faster and worse than it did anyway."

"I don't care. I can't help you if you keep me in the dark like this." He sounded determined, confident. Sam knew it was mostly bravado, but it confirmed his own resolve to throw caution to the wind.

"We should get comfortable then. This is a long story."

 Dean was numb, trying to process everything Sam had told him. They had saved the world—that, he finally understood, was the outcome Sam was most concerned about preserving. But the cost had been... He scrubbed a hand down his face. They'd lost so many people. There were holes in the story, of course, and Dean didn't want to ask, didn't want to know for sure, but he was pretty sure their dad was long dead. Sam had stopped talking about him early on. It was good to know they'd killed the thing that destroyed their family, at least. That was something. And they'd met their mom. Because apparently time travel was a thing they did now. Dean was not thrilled to hear that they'd already tried to change the past without success, but maybe this time it would work? Maybe not. Sam had made it sound like there had been a lot of manipulation going on behind the scenes by both Heaven and Hell, and Dean had trouble believing Heaven actually existed. According to Sam it was a pretty shitty place, though. Which was another thing. Sam hadn't said it explicitly, but Dean could read between the lines well enough. At some point Sam had died too. 

That was the worst part. 

He couldn't imagine it. Sam had implied that deals had been made, people brought back to life, and he knew. If his little brother had died, then he would absolutely make that deal. Leaving Sam dead, living without him, was not an option. It was different with him at school. Dean might be lonely, but he could see Sam on campus whenever he was in California. Had, more than once. It hurt, but not like this. Which was ridiculous, because Sam was sitting across from him, perfectly healthy.

Sam was also patiently waiting for a response beyond deafening silence and complete shock. 

Dean tried to pull himself together. "Remind me again why you didn't want to mess up the timeline?"

Sam chuckled darkly. "We're alive. Or, we were. And we saved the world against all odds. That's worth something."

"Yeah. But." Dean closed his eyes again, let himself really feel the grief over losing his brother that he knew Sam had to be feeling right now too. "What happened before I got here? Where am I? You said I died, but you were doing a summoning spell. Where did you think you were summoning me from?"

Sam looked away, chagrined. "I don't know. I was desperate. Considering the sulfur you found, I think a demon took you." Or your body. Sam didn't have to say it for Dean to hear the unspoken caveat.

He nodded. "One more question, then I swear I'm done asking. You never mentioned—" He trailed off, unsure how to ask. "After your—After you left Stanford. Was there anyone—?" He needed to know, though he wasn't sure why. It was hardly important in the grand scheme. Still, the two of them had been together, living and hunting and sharing space, for almost a decade. And Dean hadn't met anyone else yet in this place. It gave him hope that he wasn't sure he deserved to have. 

Before Sam could answer, the door at the top of the stairs crashed open and a man in a beige trench coat shouted, "Sam?"

Sam startled badly at the sound of the door opening, but he didn’t look surprised when he heard the voice. Interesting. 

Dean followed Sam out of the library reluctantly, keeping his distance.

"Hey, Cas," Sam said. 

Dean appraised the new guy. He looked disheveled, tired. Almost as worn out as Sam. His dark hair was a mess, and even from a distance Dean could see the worry on his face dissipate when he spotted Sam. Even more interesting. He didn't think the tax accountant look would be his brother's type, but maybe it was one-sided. The way the guy looked at Sam definitely spoke of something more than simple friendship, anyway.

"You weren't answering your phone." The guy, Cas, sounded out of breath, and his concern was palpable. "I thought—" 

Sam seemed to understand, though Dean didn't. "It's ok. I'm sorry I didn't answer. I've just been busy." He gestured slightly behind him, presumably to indicate Dean's presence. Which meant, what? That Sam hadn't wanted to tell this guy he'd done a spell and dragged his brother ten years into the future? Yeah, ok, that was probably fair. Dean wouldn't have wanted to advertise that either. 

Dean watched as Cas's eyes tracked behind Sam, searching, and when they finally landed on Dean, the difference was startling. Cas's face was slack, totally shocked. "Dean? How? Where—?" He approached a few steps and stopped short, looking sharply at Sam. "What did you do?"

Dean didn't appreciate this guy taking that tone with his brother and stepped forward, starting to say, "Hey—" when Sam cut him off.

"It's fine, Dean. He's right. You don't belong here, and we all know it." He sighed. "I did that spell. The one you said wouldn't work."

Cas searched Sam's face a moment, then turned to get a closer look at Dean. Dean bristled, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny. He wasn't sure what the guy was looking for, but he eventually turned back to Sam with a disappointed sigh. "Sam."

Dean watched his brother crumple at that, and it hurt. Sam managed to recompose himself quickly though, something Dean had seen him do too many times in the last 24 hours. He had never wanted his little brother to turn into this hard man who could break with a single word and rebuild himself in moments, burying whatever pain he was experiencing so deep it was like it was never there. Sam was supposed to be loud and angry about hunting and, more than anything else, happy. "I had to do something. We were out of leads."

Cas pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. This is just—I can't send him back."

Sam nodded, as if he'd been expecting this. "Cas, even if you could, I wouldn't let you. We'll figure something out. Obviously, he can't stay, but we'll find something else. I was never going to let you do that to yourself."

Smiling with weary fondness, Cas replied, "I appreciate your concern, Sam, but I'm fine, I promise."

It was such a Winchester line that Dean had to wonder how long this guy had been part of their lives. 

Sam ignored it, however, and just continued talking. "I think we have something, though." He glanced backwards at Dean, then back to Cas. "Demons. In Dean's room. I assume the night he disappeared."

"Crowley?"

Sam shrugged. "I assume so. I think—" He turned back to Dean, obviously hesitant about saying the next part in his presence. "I think he had someone possess Dean."

Dean started, surprised. That...would explain the smell on the pillow. It was a horrifying thought though, his body running around with a demon in it. "How do we find them?" he asked, surprising even himself when he spoke.

Sam and Cas both turned to look at him. 

"What? I may not know who this Crowley is, but I know I don't want some demon running around in my body. So how do we find them? Demons aren't that common, so it shouldn't be too hard, right?"

Sam and Cas shared a look, then Sam said, "Yeah. You remember how I told you some of what happened to us? I... may have left a few things out." He gulped. "There are a lot of demons out and about these days. They're pretty much the only thing we hunt anymore."

Cas rolled his eyes. "You told him? How much?"

That raised Sam's hackles. "Does it matter? We've never successfully changed history before, why should I expect that we'll start now? And if we did, would that be such a bad thing? Dean is dead, Cas. And I want my brother back. If telling this Dean a little bit of what happens gets me a living, breathing brother, then I'll take it and screw the consequences."

Cas balked. "Sam, you can't mean that. What about Lu-" 

"I beat him before, and I'll beat him again if I have to." Sam's eyes glittered with defiance, and Dean grinned, glad to see that some of Sam's spirit was still in there somewhere.

 The three of them sat around the table in the kitchen, and Dean couldn't stop glancing from Sam to Castiel and back. "He's an angel? You're shitting me, right? Angels don't exist."

Sam laughed at Castiel's scowl. "Yeah, that's pretty much what you said the first time you met him. Hate to break it to you, but they do. So do a lot of other things."

"Unicorns?"

Sam shrugged. "Not as far as we know, but it wouldn't be the weirdest thing we've encountered."

"Do I want to know what tops that list?" 

Sam thought about it for a second. There were a lot of good possibilities, from the Leviathans to actual dragons. But there was one that still made him chuckle when he thought about it. "Fairies. Masquerading as aliens."

Dean blinked. "What?"

"You zapped Tinkerbell in a microwave, dude." 

"You're lying."

"I'm really not. The point is, angels barely even register on the weird scale these days." Sam sat back, relaxing at the normal banter with his brother. He'd missed this. The warm grin Dean sent his way didn’t hurt either.

Grumbling with annoyance, Cas spoke up. "What do we plan to do about Crowley?"

Sam considered their options. There weren't many. "I could summon him again, but that didn't work the first ten times. No reason to assume it'll work now. We might be able to find a locator spell?"

Castiel shook his head. "If there was a useful one, wouldn't we have used it already? You've been through every book in this place twice, at least." 

Dean was unusually quiet as he nursed his third beer. Sam smirked a little at that. He hadn't expected to introduce Dean to his favorite beer. He hadn't realized Dean had only started drinking it sometime after their Dad died. Finally, he spoke. "So we look again. If summoning isn't going to work, then we have to find him some other way. I'm sure the two of you will figure it out."

Sam rolled his eyes. "What, trying to duck out of research? Seriously? When I got back on the road with you, you had a hell of a chip on your shoulder about being able to do research too."

Dean shrugged, grinning. "What can I say? I was probably just trying to make you feel useful, Sammy."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

The nicknames fell easily from their mouths, and Sam didn't bother hiding his grin. God, things hadn't felt like this with Dean in too long. 

"Come on. Fresh eyes might find something I missed. You and Cas are on library duty, and I'll see if I can find signs of demonic activity that might be Crowley."

 Dean tossed another book in a foreign language onto Castiel's pile. "Remind me to call Sam a nerd later. I bet he can read all of these."

The angel didn't even look up, just kept reading the book he was going through, something in ancient Aramaic. "Sam is a remarkable linguist these days, but I am unsure how much is due to his status as a 'nerd'."

Feigning nonchalance, Dean said, "Then what is it due to?"

This time, Cas did look up, his gaze sharp. "Most likely his proficiency with so many languages despite very little time in which to study them is due to his high levels of exposure to archangels and their grace. His fluency in Enochian certainly is. Then again, I am aware that Sam's sleeping habits leave much to be desired. Perhaps he is, as you say, a 'nerd'."

Dean tried to parse Cas's words into something that made sense, because he was pretty sure there was an important revelation in there somewhere. The problem was that the angel was even more cryptic than Sam. Where Sam had simply refused to answer, Castiel answered as though Dean hadn't jumped forward a decade in time. Every damn sentence was full of information that Dean was missing the background for, and it was getting annoying. The angel, of course, seemed to be infinitely amused by it. Deciding to put a pin in it until later—maybe he could ask Sam about the time he spent around archangels or why he didn't sleep enough—Dean flipped open another book. This one was in English, at least, and he settled in to read.

Four hours later, he was ready to throw all the books across the room. Cas was right, there was nothing here. Then again, Sam had been the one to pull these books for them, and as they'd previously established, Sam hadn't been able to find an answer. Dean stood and stretched, then went to find Sam. Holed up by himself in his room, of course. "Hey."

Sam jumped at Dean's voice, and Dean hated it. He wondered if his 2014 counterpart knew how jumpy Sam was, or if Sam did a better job of hiding it when he expected Dean to be around. "Hey, Dean. You guys find anything?"

"Not yet." Dean leaned against the doorframe. "Hey, is there a card catalog or something? I didn't see one in the library, but I figured a giant nerd like you would have some sort of filing system."

Sam looked surprised, but only for a moment. Probably remembering that Dean didn't know everything Sam expected him to. "Yeah. It's just— Let me show you. This place is kind of a maze sometimes."

"What, like Hogwarts?"

Sam shot him a disbelieving look, then said, "Less 'the staircases move' and more 'there might be a minotaur I haven't discovered yet.'"

"Got it. You know, I did find my way around ok earlier. It didn't seem that bad to me."

Sam chuckled despite himself. "Most of the main floor is fine. The basement is where things get tricky."

"Wait, this place has a basement?" Just knowing there was an entire floor to the building that Dean hadn't even found yet set his mind running down a dozen different tangents, at least half of them involving doing inappropriate things to his not so little brother. Maybe there was a sex dungeon hiding somewhere. No. No, he reminded himself. There was no way he and Sam were like that. Sam would have said something by now, right? 

 Dean read the spell three times before he showed it to Cas and made him read it. "I'm not crazy, right? That'll track a demon, any demon, so long as we know their real name?"

Cas nodded, slowly, rereading the spell. "Yes. This will work. Go get Sam."

Sam wasn't in his room, which immediately set Dean's big brother radar into overdrive. Doing a quick lap of the upstairs rooms didn't yield an overgrown little brother, so Dean ventured into the basement. Maybe Sam was looking something up in the card catalog. Or maybe he was bored and thought trying to find a minotaur in his basement would make a good distraction. "Sam?" he called, trying to remember the order of turns Sam had taken last time.

There was no answer, but that didn't mean much. He'd seen himself how big this place was. Luckily, Dean was good with directions and found the card catalog and library overflow pretty easily. Unluckily, Sam was nowhere to be seen. "Damn it, Sammy. Where the hell are you?"

He could search the rest of the basement, but something told him that would be a waste of time. Trying to think like Sam was harder when his information was a decade out of date, but it shouldn't be this difficult. Then it hit him. There was one room upstairs that Dean had skipped over entirely, assuming Sam wouldn't have bothered to go in there. Of course he was wrong. 

Dean's—other Dean's—door was closed, but he knew Sam was in there. It sucked. He couldn't exactly tell his brother not to grieve for him, but at the same time, Dean was here and alive right now. Steeling himself, Dean opened the door.

Sam was curled up on the bed, face buried in the sheets. 

"Found something. Cas thinks it'll work." Dean's voice was rough. No way was he calling Sam on the fact that his shoulders were shaking with sobs as he lay there, even if he kind of wanted to. Without even waiting for acknowledgement, Dean retreated to the library.

Sam joined them a few minutes later. He looked even worse than when Dean had found him last night, but he brightened as soon as he read through the spell. Cas had already started to gather the spell components, and in a matter of minutes they had a location.

Dean drove. Sam protested, but he was in no condition to drive. At the very least, this was a way Dean could help. Sure enough, less than an hour into the trip Sam was fast asleep in the passenger seat. He stayed that way until they arrived at a motel in Beulah, North Dakota. Crowley was in town somewhere, hopefully staying put, but Dean figured they could use a base of operations while they looked. According to Sam, while there were signs that a demon was in the area, nothing suspicious had been reported, which meant Crowley was keeping quiet. You know, for a demon. 

Sam blinked awake when the car turned off, and Dean tossed him a room key. "You still look like hammered crap, but at least you got some sleep."

"Thanks." The sarcasm in Sam's voice rivaled his teenage self, and it made Dean grin. 

"Come on. I figure you can get set up doing your geek thing looking for this Crowley dude, and I'll go grab us some dinner. Saw a roadhouse on the way in that looked good."

Sam didn't disagree, so Dean chalked it up as a win. Maybe his brother had just needed to be on the road again to start taking care of himself again.

 The roadhouse was exactly Dean's kind of place. It was full of people and the smell of beer and fried food, and it even had a karaoke stage. Maybe once they were done with Crowley, he'd be able to drag Sam out for a beer or two. Probably not, but Dean could hope. He'd pay good money to see his brother doing karaoke. Speaking of, Dean leaned against the bar to watch the atrocious singing while he waited for his to-go order. What he saw made his insides freeze.

Up on stage was him. 2014 Dean. Or the demon riding him, anyway. Fuck. He considered calling Sam, but quickly tossed that idea away. Sam was too broken up, never mind sleep deprived and probably malnourished. Then again, Dean didn't exactly have a lot of experience dealing with demons. The song ended, and Dean made his decision. The demon had apparently decided that he was going to perform all evening and stayed on stage as the next song started. Perfect. It gave Dean time to grab some gear from the trunk.

Ten minutes later, the demon was booed off the stage and started to make his way outside, following some girl that had caught Dean's eye too. That was when Dean made his move. Ducking out the door first, he waited until the demon exited the building before dragging him around the corner and out of sight of prying eyes. Shoving the guy away from him, he pulled out his dad's journal and flipped it open to the exorcism he'd bookmarked.

"Exorcizamus te—"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the demon said, glaring at him. 

Dean paused, then against his better judgment asked, "Why the hell not?"

The demon grinned and leaned in to say, "Because I'm not just some random demon, Deano." Then, without any warning he drew his fist back and threw a punch hard enough to make Dean see stars.

Dean rolled across the ground from the force of the punch and scrambled back to his feet, knowing he had made a mistake. He was way out of his league, and he found himself wishing Sam was here to bail his ass out. Rubbing his jaw with the back of his hand, he said, "Sure you are. Just a black-eyed bitch borrowing a body that doesn't belong to you. Time to vacate the premises."

The demon just laughed at his bravado. "See, that is where you're wrong. I'm not borrowing anything. This body is mine, and I don't mean that in a 'finders keepers' way. Welcome to your future, Dean. I'm you."

That stopped Dean in his tracks. "What?"

The pause gave the demon a chance to launch another attack, and Dean was too stunned to properly defend himself. The next minute or so was a blur until he found himself in a chokehold while his phone rang. Sam. No one else in this decade had his number. 

Effortlessly keeping Dean pinned, the demon reached into Dean's pocket, pulled out his phone and answered it. "Thought I told you to let me go."

Dean heard Sam say something, but the response was muffled. 

"Sorry, I'm a little tied up right now. Or is it he? Time travel makes pronouns so difficult, don't you think?" Another pause where Sam shouted something at the demon, and the demon rolled his eyes. "Oh, Sammy, what did you think was going to happen? Did you seriously think the Mark was going to let me die?"

Despite the spots that were starting to dance in Dean's vision, hearing this thing call his brother Sammy made something snap inside him. With an unexpected strength, he broke the demon's grip and slammed his fist into his older self's face. Whipping out the runed cuffs he'd grabbed from the trunk, he slapped them on the demon's wrists and said, "You don't get to call him that."

The shock on the demon's face was almost comical, and Dean reveled in his win for just a moment before picking up the phone from where it had fallen. "Hey, Sammy. I got him. We'll be back in ten."

 Back at the bunker, Dean and Sam walked into the library, and Sam poured them each a drink. 

Dean sipped his and shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you have a freaking dungeon, man."

Sam chuckled. 

"Seriously, though. What're you going to do with him?" Asking for information about his own future was probably asking for more trouble, but he had to know. 

Sam waved him off. "Don't worry. We, uh, we figured out how to 'cure' demons a while ago. You'll be ok."

"Right." Dean took another, bigger sip. "Dude, your lives are weird."

This time Sam gave him a heartfelt laugh. "Seriously, though, thank you. I couldn't have done this without you."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Yes, you could."

Sam smirked. "Yeah, well, I don't want to."

Feeling like he was missing an inside joke, Dean changed the subject. "So, we got your Dean back. What are we going to do about me?"

Dropping his gaze, Sam said, "I actually have an idea about that. There's a blood spell that our grandfather used to time travel to us last year that should work."

"Seriously? Did you just forget about that?"

"No, not really. But I was trying to preserve the timeline, remember? The way this spell works, blood calls to blood, and the person using it walks through a door next to a blood relative."

Immediately catching his brother's train of thought, Dean said, "Yeah, I doubt Dad would take that very well."

"And you didn't pay me a visit in 2004 that I'm aware of, so—"

"What changed?"

Sam shrugged, then he shot Dean a look that was unreadable. "You."

Wondering again if things were that different in 2014 than his own time, Dean said, "Me, huh?"

Sam smiled shyly, then said, "I just need to figure out how to direct the spell so you don't end up at the wrong end of Dad's gun."

"You're sending me to you?" Dean wasn't sure if he should hope or not, but he couldn't help the lightness in his chest at Sam's fond look.

"Yeah, I am." Sam shrugged again, but Dean could hear the unspoken statement that the future might already be screwed over because of everything Dean had learned. What was one more change?

Finding the answer Sam needed on how to direct the spell wasn't hard, and an hour later they were standing in front of a door painted in Sam's blood while Dean chanted. The sigil glowed, and Dean fell silent.

"I guess this is goodbye, huh?" Dean said, not looking at Sam. He wanted to know, wanted to ask, but his older self was down in the basement, and that guy was going to have to deal with the consequences of any revelations Dean made right now.

"Hey," Sam said, placing a gentle hand on Dean's cheek and turning his face until they were looking at each other. Then he leaned in, kissing Dean hard and dirty. For one shocked moment Dean froze before his brain and body got with the program and kissed back. Too soon, Sam pulled back, leaving them both breathless. Smirking, Sam said, "Go get him, tiger."

Dean grinned and opened the door.

He walked into a bedroom he didn't recognize but which didn't scream "Sam" to him. There was a floral comforter on the queen bed and sheer blinds on the windows. The sunlight streaming through the window combined with the yellow paint to bathe the room in a soft summer glow. It was too clean and small for a motel, but too impersonal to belong to someone. And, contrary to what Sam had told him about how the spell worked, Dean was alone. It gave Dean an opportunity to keep things the way Sam remembered them, if he wanted to, but the memory of Sam's lips on his still burned into his skin, and he knew he wasn't leaving here without seeing his little brother. 

There was a choked noise from the hallway, and there was Sam, damp from a shower and looking almost exactly as Dean expected, just a little leaner, a little more mature. A far cry from the broken—but healing—man he'd just left behind. "Dean? What the hell are you doing in my closet?"

Dean laughed and said, "Dude, you will not believe the week I just had." Then he strode over to his little brother and kissed him like his future depended on it.

[orangeoctopi7]

Is this a destiny?

*insert that one meme here*

@forduary is technically over, but they’re still taking submissions into March. Sorry it’s so late, I’ve been distracted by other fandoms and spiders apparently declared war on me. ***

When Stanford Pines was still young enough to believe his mother was really psychic, she’d often read his palm, or look into her crystal ball for him on days when he came home crying after the mockery of the local bullies got to be too much. She’d tell him that his extra fingers were a sign that he was special, that he was destined for greatness. And he believed her. Even as he got older and learned that his mother’s psychic powers were really just a combination of keen observations, good luck, and showmanship. 

He always hung onto the notion that his abnormality made him special, because the alternative was listening to all the people who said he was just a freak.

As he progressed in school and teachers started to recognize that Ford was a genius, his belief shifted. It was his academic intelligence, not his extra fingers, that made him special. He was destined to change the world with his knowledge, invent or discover things that would make people’s lives better. 

If he was recognized for his intelligence then maybe people would think of him as something other than just a freak.

***

For years, Stanford placed all his value on his academic intelligence. It was the only thing standing between him and freakdom, after all. It wasn’t until he got his first Doctorates and started research that his focus shifted again. Rather than working towards some nebulous concept of “Do something great in the field of science in order to gain recognition and rise above the image of a mere freak”, he was going to learn more about anomalies, and what caused them. He was going to make the world appreciate and respect freaks. 

The going was slow at first, and Ford found himself losing confidence until one fateful day when he went exploring in the caves above Gravity Falls. He almost didn’t read the incantation out loud when he translated the warning, but nothing ever got done in science if you didn’t experiment. And he was soon rewarded for his risk.

Bill gave Ford purpose like he'd never had before. Finally, he knew exactly what his destiny was: to bring humanity into a new era of enlightenment by connecting them with worlds beyond. Finally, people would understand anomalies instead of fearing or ridiculing them.

Stanford Pines was destined to change the world, and for the first time, he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

***

Change the world. It had seemed so clear at the beginning, but in hindsight, Ford saw through Bill's purposely vague words. All this time, he'd thought he would change the world for the better, but no! The destiny Bill had shown him was to destroy the world, not make it better. 

Had this always been his destiny? He thought back on all the people who had been repulsed by him in the past. Had they known? Had they somehow sensed he would bring about the end of the world? Were his fingers some sort of omen or early warning of his eventual fate?

He thought back on all the people who he'd driven away over the years. His brother, his parents, even his best friend. Was that for the best? Had he subconsciously pushed them away so they wouldn't become entangled in his mess?

No! No, he refused to believe this was his destiny! There was no such thing, and he was a fool for believing in it for so long! And if there was no such thing as destiny, then he could still fix this, no matter the cost!

But a small part of him didn't want to let go of that belief. Because if he had no destiny, then he really was just a freak. A freak and fool who'd fallen for a demon's tricks.

***

Out in the multiverse, Ford didn't have a destiny as much as part of him still wanted it. He had a mission: Stop Bill. Kill him, destroy him, whatever it took. 

The researcher refused to give up or die until that mission was completed. After that… well, if he was honest with himself, there probably wasn't going to be an "after that". Best not to think past that point.

This mindset got Ford through circumstances he'd never dreamed he'd be able to survive. But eventually, he found himself in a situation he couldn't power through with sheer determination. Caught in a two-dimensional plane, with no way to communicate with its hostile denizens, and no way out. He was trapped, and they were going to kill him before he'd even learned a single thing about Bill's possible origins.

When Ford blacked out, he was sure he was done-for, his mission incomplete. But he awoke in a strange dimension he’d never seen or even heard of before. A towering, seven-eyed humanoid had saved him and healed him. She called herself Jheselbraum the Unswerving, and she claimed to be an Oracle. Ford was skeptical at first. Look what had happened the last time he’d trusted a strange creature claiming to be his muse. Yet, she already knew his name, and his mission. She’d healed him. Most importantly, she was an enemy of Bill, and any enemy of Bill was an ally in Ford’s book. So, he trusted her to perform a dangerous cranial surgery to protect him from Bill’s control in the future.

Towards the end of his recovery, Jheselbraum told Ford he had the face of the man who was destined to destroy Bill. That small part of him that still wished for a destiny latched onto the information. His resolve in his mission had never wavered, but the latest near-death experience did make him wonder if it was a hopeless cause. Now, he knew he was destined to destroy Bill, and nothing was going to stop him!

***

Stanford had lost, and Bill had won. Now the only thing standing between the king of the Nightmare Realm and the rest of the universe was Gravity Falls’ Law of Weirdness Magnetism. And Ford was the only one standing between Bill and the formula to reverse it. 

Well, “standing” in a metaphorical sense. In reality, he was hanging in chains in Bill’s throne room, awaiting further torture. 

Was this the destiny Jheselbraum had told him about, forever locked in a battle of wills with Bill Cipher, so the universe outside this town could carry on? Or was she as fake a psychic as his mother? Ford wasn’t sure which option he liked better. 

If this was all destined to happen, then all that work he’d done to protect his family was for nothing. Sure, he was stopping Bill from spreading chaos throughout the universe, and he’d continue to keep the formula a secret for the rest of eternity if he had to, but his niece and nephew, his brother, his last friend, and the town he’d grown to love, they were what he’d really wanted to protect, and Bill had taken them all from him.

But if this wasn’t destiny, then everything that was happening was his own fault. He was the one who’d summoned Bill, who’d let the demon into his mind. He was the one who’d built the portal and failed to heed his friend’s warnings about the danger it posed. He was the one who hadn’t listened to his brother and just destroyed the blueprints and any directions on how to operate the thing. He was the one who’d failed to seal the rift, all because he’d entrusted its safety to his nephew, who was just a little boy and never should have been involved in something as horrible as this. He was the one who’d upset his niece by asking her brother to stay there in Gravity Falls, which led to her running off with the rift. He was the one who’d failed to tell her what the rift was or what danger it posed.

His choices. His mistakes. His failure to fix things.

Or no choices. No mistakes. No chance to fix things.

Ford was spared from having to think about it further when Bill and his Henchmaniacs returned from lunch.

***

Jheselbraum had said he had the face of the man who was destined to destroy Bill. Now that Ford stood with the memory gun in hand before his dreaming brother, her odd choice of phrasing suddenly made horrible sense. Part of him wished she’d just spelled it out for him earlier, but he knew if she had, he wouldn’t have believed her.

It wasn’t fair! His brother shouldn’t be the one to pay the price for Ford’s mistakes! Destiny or not, his brother shouldn’t even be involved in this mess! Not for the first time, Ford wished he’d never asked his brother to come to Gravity Falls, but for very different reasons than before. 

But they had no other choice. Not if they wanted to save the kids.

Stanford closed his eyes, unable to watch as he pulled the trigger.

***

A few days later, and the kids are busy packing up their things to return to Piedmont. Ford is back from the hospital, and his brother has recovered most of his memories. The old researcher’s mind wanders once again to his destiny. All these years, he’d avoided thinking about what would happen after his final encounter with Bill. He hadn’t expected to survive. But the final encounter with Bill had gone much differently than he’d thought, and Ford finds himself wondering: now what?

“What’s goin’ on in that big head of yours?” someone asks to his left. Ford turns to see his brother take a seat beside him.

“Just… thinking.” Ford answers slowly.

“Yeah, I guessed that part. It’s kinda what you do. I mean what about, genius.”

Maybe it’s the cool night air. Maybe it’s the relief that they all made it through this ordeal in one piece. Maybe it’s the comfort of knowing that he can talk to his brother again. Whatever the case, Stanford finds himself unloading all his thoughts about destiny, about his failures, and how he always seems to push away the people he cares about, or endanger them, or both.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t blame you for wantin’ to have a destiny. Everybody wants to feel like they’re special, right?”

“Yes, but… but Stanley, if I never had a destiny, if I’m not… not special, then I really am just a freak.” Ford laments. “A freak and a danger to everyone around me.”

“Ford, look at me.” Stan demands. He turns to look at his brother. “You know those aren’t your only two options, right? Bein’ destined for greatness, or bein’ a freak. That’s stupid! Sure, you got more fingers an’ brains than most people’d know what to do with, and sure, a lot of jerks’ll call you a freak for it, but that doesn’t make it true! You're a man tryin' to live his life, same as anyone!

"As for bein' a danger to everyone else, you don't think I feel the same way? You don't think I cursed the day I agreed to watch the kids for the summer the very first moment they got into trouble with all this town's weird nonsense!? You don't think I worry that one of these days somebody from my drifter days is gonna figure out I'm still alive out here, and they'll come and make trouble for the whole town?

"So maybe you pushed away the people who cared about you before. It ain't too late to change that. You got the kids, especially Dipper, he seems to think you're some sorta hero or something. Your old pal McGucket seems to wanna make amends. And I-" Stan pauses, like he's choosing his next words carefully. "I'm just happy to have you back."

Ford doesn't have words to reply. He manages a weak smile, nods, and takes his brother's hand. Stan's words help a bit, but it's hard to shake these feelings, like he'll always be alone. Like he'll always end up hurting the people he cares about. But the longer he sits there in the company of his brother, the more those feelings fade away.

At least now, sitting here with his brother and looking out at the night sky, he has an idea of what he wants to do with his life next.

[writers-whim]

Descended from the Stars (III)

II                       III                               IV

Holding back tears I say goodbye to Gran and watch as she starts her hours drive back to the secluded house I've called home for the past six years. I'm left standing in front of the Academy's main entrance, hearing and seeing a few other students saying their own goodbyes as I pass them, entering the Academy. 

The campus is enormous. It could be considered its own town or city with its size. Tall white painted concrete walls separate the campus and the outside world, even though it's in the middle of nowhere. The tall iron gate I'd just come through seems to be the only way in or out.

Closing my eyes I take a deep breathe, gathering the courage to continue walking further into the Academy. Snapping them open I begin my journey through the secluded paradise.

Patches of grass are spread evenly throughout the large space, wooden benches and small trees adding life to the place along with the groups occupying them. A tall fountain sits in the centre of the large open area, roads branching in every direction from it.

Nocte Academy is more than I expected it to be. I'd expected a large modern building at the front where classes would be held, dorms in separate buildings out the back along with sports fields and other classroom blocks. High school has influenced me too much.

I follow the main road to the fountain before turning in every direction, taking in as much as possible. Most of the roads that branched off from the fountain lead to rows and rows of two-story houses in colors ranging from red to white to black and every other color on the spectrum. Cars are parked outside many of them leading to the conclusion that they're occupied by the second year and above students.

One or two of the roads lead to rows of shops selling clothes, school supplies, food, etc. I can faintly make out the green of a football field or park further down another. A large build labeled 'Performing Arts' takes up one side of another road, the other being occupies by an art gallery and more stores.

The main road continues straight ahead to the main campus building, the entrance to the main hall already crowded with first years. As I continue forwards the positioning of the footpath allowed me to get a better view of what I have already seen and observed more of the campus. 

More houses can be seen further out in what seems to be a more secluded area, only these were much larger two-story homes with only a few three-story homes at the furthest point of the road. A large forested area appears on the horizon next to the larger homes, blocking the view of anything beyond.

Pulling my luggage up the stairs leading to the entrance, I huff when I get to the top, blowing a stray piece of hair away from my eyes. Walking inside I look around, people chat with each other, standing diligent by their luggage as more people enter and try to find space in the mass of people in the hall.

A raised stage is at the far end of the hall, a large bulletin board beside it. A boy walks up to the microphone on the stage, clearing his throat before waiting for silence. Everyone quickly complied.

He gives a toothy grin as he begins speaking. "Welcome first years to Nocte Academy! I'm glad you made it on time even though there will always be the stragglers. I am Kim WeiJin and I am the student representative for the fourth years of the academy. I want to wish you all good luck with your studies here and for your future after Nocte."

His deep voice resonates through the large hall, his slight Chinese accent is amplified by the mic. "As you know Nocte is known as one of the most prestigious schools in the world..." He goes on to explain rules and some of the buildings of the academy.

"Now, if you were paying attention as you came through the main road you would have noticed the houses on the Southside of the property. Those are your dorms. At Nocte we don't want you to dread coming here because it is a school, we want you to feel at home and prepare you for life outside these four walls if you don't already have your own house." A buzz arose from the crowd as the purpose of the houses is revealed.

"There will be no bills and no mortgage but you will have to cook and clean the house for yourself. For the first term, there will scheduled checks and throughout the rest of the year these checks will be random meaning you have to constantly manage your home," the buzz grows louder as Weijin revealed more and more.

"Once you are given your dorm number that is it for the next four years, incoming first-years will take residence in the lots left by the graduated fourth years so the living area of each year group will rotate each year. North is fourth years, East Third, South Second and First West. This is not only the direction of the residential areas but also the name of the street you will need to take to get there." Heads tilt as some fail to understand the new information given by the Fourth year.

"The list of where you will be staying is posted on the board next to the stage, the number corresponds to the house you will live in. Move-in, settle down and explore before classes start on Monday. Your time table will be in your letterbox."

People begin pushing and shoving to get to the board and get out as soon as possible with the air becoming quickly humid and stuffy with so many people. I press myself against the wall as thoughts run rampant through my mind. What sort of school is this? Am I not supposed to be here? Was I not supposed to be given a letter?

WeiJin speaks again, yelling into the mic to be heard over the noise that has arisen from the crowd. "Can Avery Lee please meet me outside for a moment." This only amplifies my fears and made my heart beats faster as worry sets in. Those who heard the announcement begin chatting even louder while those who didn't remain oblivious. I glance at WeiJin again only to see him already gone from his place on the stage. I hurriedly grab my bags and speed walk outside. 

The light of WeiJin’s glasses almost blinds me as I advance down the stairs, the reflected light beam hitting me straight in the eye. He looks up as he hears the tapping of my luggage on the steps, looking me up and down as I made my way to him.

"Your an odd case Avery." He looks me straight in the eyes, not at all disturbed by their unnaturally bright green hue.

"Huh? What does that mean?" He laughs, loud and boisterous, attracting attention from those around us.

"Walk with me and I'll tell you as we head to your dorm." He turns on his heal practically skipping in the other direction before pausing and waving a hand at my still frozen form. I scramble to catch up with him as he goes back to his skipping.

"The Principal wanted me to explain something to you. You're a special case and I was surprised to hear that you had been admitted in for several reasons-"

"What reasons?" I interrupt his little rant, eager for answers.

"We'll get to that later. All the other students know what this school is really about and you are the odd one out in that category which is why I'm here to explain and answer any questions you may have."

We pause as we reach the end of the road. In front of us stands one of the large three-story houses I'd seen earlier, the biggest of them all. Large windows and vines loomed over us as we made our way through the front door. Making our way to what I assume is the living room we sit on the leather couches sitting in front of the unlit fireplace.

"Where are we?" WeiJin grins again as I express my cluelessness.

"This is your dorm, well house, mansion thing." I'm pretty sure my eyes bulge out of my head.

"My house? This?" He nods in response. "Wow."

"Yip, however as cool as this place is I still need to explain everything to you so get comfy."

I lean back into the black leather and grip a red fluffy pillow close to my chest as WeiJin completely distorts my view of reality.

"Wait, what?" I ask not understanding anything WeiJin's just told me. WeiJin sighs in either annoyance or frustration. It's more than likely a combination of both.

"We are all summoners." He repeats his words as if he talking to a toddler, staring unblinkingly into my eyes to get his point across.

"Summoners? Like demons and stuff?" I scratch my head in confusion.

"Kind of. Summoner is a general term used to describe those who have the ability to summon entities from a realm outside our own. All those who can be summoned are summoned through a card connected to their spiritual being allowing their master to summon them at will once they have bonded." WeiJin explains.

So many questions I want to be answered float to the forefront of my mind however I'll let him finish before overwhelming him with them all. I nod, biting my lip slightly as a signal for him to continue.

"Everyone here at the academy was brought up with the knowledge of all this so you are a special case that is the first of its kind here, this means because this is all new to you I will need to explain everything which will take a while." Taking his cue I resume I leaned back position, hugging a cushion from beside me close to my chest.

"Warriors, as a general term, are beings from the stars. Each Warrior can harness an ability from one of the five specialties of Fire, Water, Earth, Air and Spirit. Summoners, in turn, use their powers by ordering their bonded Warriors to do as they wish. Warriors are connected to cards by their spiritual essence meaning each card will summon only the warrior it is connected to. You get cards through trials while others are passed through the generations and others are claimed by the victor of a death battle." He pauses waiting for me to absorb the new information.

"Warriors have four ranks Zodiac, Disciples, Descendants, and Desaliars. There are only twelve Zodiac. The Zodiac is the most powerful Warriors and has powers that fall outside or on the extremely more powerful end of one or more of the five specialties. They are one of a kind and are the only one of their constellation. They are believed to be only a myth as they have not been seen by anyone in millennia. 

Disciples are those from the Desaliar rank, which I will cover in a moment, who have chosen to follow the Zodiac as gods, worshiping them and in turn, gain similar but extremely weaker abilities and forfeit their own." He pauses again waiting until I nod to continue.

"Descendants are those who are apart of a constellation and other than slightly stronger abilities nothing is different about them. A single constellation is shared by several Desaliars.  Desaliars are the weakest of the Warriors and are the most common among Summoners. They are not connected to a constellation and are weaker than the other three rankings. The Summoners are ranked instars one to five by their ability to control their cards and battle with them as well as their own  capabilities." 

He pauses again only this time I relent to asking a question as my restraint weakens. "What happens to the Warriors in their cards?" 

He cocks his head at the odd question but answers anyway. "We don't know really. Because they are connected to stars and constellations, we suspect that their spirit returns to their connected star and waits to be called again. Maybe they live in the cards, maybe they are trapped in nothingness, who knows. " He shrugs in nonchalance as if he'd never even thought about it.

"What does this have to do with me?" I tighten my hold on the cushion as WeiJin smiles.

"Avery, this school is for Summoners to learn how to be Summoners and control their Warriors, giving them the chance to gain new ones at the same time through trials set up by the Council."

"That can't be true. I'm not a Summoner. I didn't know anything about this before you started talking." I begin to panic, unwilling to accept this new aspect of the world.

"Avery, I know you don't believe me but let me prove to you then you can bombard me with as many questions as you want, I know you have been holding them back."

I watch as he reaches into a brown pouch at his side, pulling out a silvery grey card with lilac spirals dancing across its surface. Holding it flat in his hand his brow creases lightly as a small flash of light appears next to him, fading to reveal a boy with black hair with white tips, dressed in grey and black with lilac accessories such as his belt and shoelaces.

"You called me Master?" Despite is slight smile his voice is monotone and blank of any emotions, as are his eyes, I note as I look closer.

"See Avery, this is all real." WeiJin leans forward as he places the card back in his pouch, the Warrior standing beside him not moving an inch.

"The fuck is this?! He wasn't there before! What was with that light? What the fuck is going on?" I leap, rapid-fire, into my questions taking full advantage of his invitation.

"This is Shin he is apart of the Spirit specialty and possesses the power of Hypnosis. That light occurs whenever a Warrior is summoned and it takes a lot of training to control its intensity." I stay frozen, almost matching the state of the warrior before me.

"You okay Avery?" No, I'm not okay. My whole world, the last nineteen years of my life flipped on its head. Destroyed. Gone. Unbelievable. 

"This...is all real?" It sounds more like a question as the statement escapes from my parted lips.

"Yes." Damn his calm and collected self. I sigh heavily, recovering from my almost mental breakdown. "This is going to take some getting used to but eventually you'll get used to it." Another encouraging smile is sent my way by the Chinese charmer himself.

"Do you have any other questions?" What don't I want to question is a more accurate question. "How do Summoners and their Warriors usually interact, I mean I need to know if I want to fit in."

"Summoners order their Warriors and Warriors follow. If they disobey or ignore an order they are punished in whatever way their Master sees fit even if it means destruction, which is only achieved through fire by the way. Summoners can do as they wish to the Warriors they have bonded with but if they discipline or do anything to other Warriors, outside of battle, that their Master doesn't like, the Summoner will be punished before the Council. Some get their cards striped, others are whipped." He says it so casually I get goose bumps even imagining having to discipline or punish a Warrior outside of battle.

"Other than that, Warriors generally follow their Summoners command, in order for them to get stronger, their Summoner has to get better at wielding them and giving orders, however, most don't try to help their Summoners improve, settling with just taking orders. Although there are some who do try to help, they are usually shot down before any actual improvements." WeiJin comments, smirking as he looks towards Shin.

"Relax, for now, look around your new place and try to read up as much as you can in the library I was told was upstairs on our world. Take it easy, you might even find a card hidden in this place, who knows." The light shines again as WeiJin sends his Warrior back to his card, standing as he does so. He pats my shoulder as he walks past me towards the door.

"Hang on, you haven't told me how to claim or summon a Warrior." WeiJin spins a look of horror on his face as he misses out likely the most important part of being a Summoner. 

"Right. To bond with a card, you must place a drop of your blood on the face of the card and a Warrior will appear. Once bonded you name them and they are yours to do as you wish. From then on to summon them you can either call to them mentally or verbally by saying something like 'Jeff of Cygnus I summon you' or something like that or you can kiss their card."

"This is sounding more and more like Pokémon." I deadpan taking notice of the fact that he said I would name my Warriors, depersonalizing them even further. I'm not liking the norm of this society so far.

WeiJin chuckles as he turns and begins making his way out again calling back before he left the house completely. "Basically. Good luck Avery." Then I was alone.

Staying curled up on the couch I contemplate moving and only do so once I realize that my luggage is still sitting at the foot of the staircase by the entrance.

Climbing the stairs I drag my suitcase behind me, my smaller duffle bag riding on top of it as the larger is slung over my shoulder. The staircase itself is grand with dark railing and red steps. Cream carpet covers each step and the hallway it leads into on the second floor.

Stopping to explore I leave my luggage at the base of the second set of stairs I open the first door of the hallway revealing a linen closet. I seal the door and push on to the next door. This one opens into a room filled to the brim with books. The library.

The next few doors reveal what seems to be small guest rooms, each with  closet and bathroom, more closets and the main floor bathroom.

Picking up my luggage again I proceed up to the third and final floor of the house. This time instead of leading to another hallway, it spans into an open circular room with one hallway splitting off from it.

The room itself is furnished by three leather couches, a TV, a piano in a corner, small bookcases and photo frames filling the blank spaces on the walls.

Turning I begin down the hallway, opening every door I reach only to quickly realize they're all bedrooms, larger than those downstairs and decorated as if they were on a home and garden magazine cover.

Each has its theme of one or more colors like green, blue, red and brown. Each, like those downstairs, has a closet and bathroom. None of them take my eye enough to call my own.

Moving my way back into the main room I spot a pair of double doors made of the same dark oak as the rest of the house, sitting directly opposite the hallway explaining why I hadn't seen them when I first came up.

Opening them all air is pushed from my lungs as I gape in amazement. The room has the same cream carpet as the rest of the house but the walls are a vibrant purple, matching the rug and some of the smaller pillows on the bed.

Light blue curtains, bedspread, and pillows complement the ceiling that is painted to look like the sky. Small holes indicate to me that once night fell and the room turned dark, the ceiling would go from day to night, the small holes glowing like stars.

White sliding doors reveal a large closet that would fit all my clothing and still have room left over. Another door next to it spans into my own bathroom, an oak vanity, three white walls with a dark tile feature wall, a large bath, shower and toilet in pure white. This alone was heaven.

A set of white doors heads out on to a balcony that overlooks the back yard, forest, pool and enabled me to see a large chunk of the campus. I can't help but wonder why I, the clueless newbie have been given the largest and most private house on campus.

I leave my bags in my room and make my way back down to the bottom floor, going back to opening every door I notice. There are the living room and the ash grey and white kitchen across from it. A large dining room that could seat at least twelve opened on from the kitchen.

Another bathroom similar to my own is tucked next to a small laundry that was hidden away near the back door which leads out to the open backyard where a set of outdoor furniture sits on a paved area facing out towards the forest, while the pool rests opposite from it.

Returning to my room I arrange all my belongings where they should be, then take down some of the empty photo frames to put pictures in them at some point. A few of my trinkets are placed on the mantel of the fireplace in the living room while others end up perched in the bookcases or on shelves within one of the three floors.

I don't touch any bedroom except my own, they're fine as they are.

Three hours later and everything is where it should be, neatly organized and clean. My mind is still reeling from everything WeiJin told and showed me, still not able to process it all. Hoping sleep would help I flop onto my bed, curl up and close my eyes, blocking out the world around me as I fade from consciousness.

[latent-thoughts]

The Pursuit of a Simple Life (Chapter 6 - Goddess of Wrath)

[Co-Authored with @emeraldrosequartz​]

Rating: 18+ (there be lots of citrus here).

Warning: None

Pairing: Loki/Original Female Character

Summary: Three years after returning to Earth with the other Asgardians following Ragnarok, Loki finds himself working for SHIELD, truly just trying to fight the boredom. While on an undercover mission, he unexpectedly begins to fall for his co-worker, Gemma, and she seems to feel the same way…about Dave, his alter ego while in disguise. Can Loki continue a relationship with her while keeping his true identity a secret? How many lies can the ‘God of lies’ spin to keep his pursuit of a simple life?

[Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017); THOR IS A GOOD BRO AND TOTALLY NOT HOW HE WAS IN RAGNAROK, THNX; Infinity War Doesn’t Exist; Everyone lives]

A/N: Gemma shares some sad details of her life with Dave, and then she has to face her boss again.

________________________________

IMPORTANT NOTES:

Bold Text = Loki’s POV

Normal Text = Gemma’s POV

________________________________

Loki wanted to murder Oliver. Painfully.

In the time the pudgy man had taken to humiliate poor Gemma, Loki had thought about twenty scenarios where he could end up dead, with no evidence indicating any foul play.

He could do it. But he knew that it would not work well for the mission. The man would most likely be declared a martyr who had probably leaked important information against the company.

In his three or so years on Midgard, Loki had learnt quite a bit about how the media of the realm worked.

Hence, after considering everything, he lowered his murderous gaze from the man and tried to appear engrossed in his work.

He'd deal with Oliver later...

For now, he focused on Gemma. His poor Gemma...

Once Oliver was gone, Loki slipped from his desk and walked past hers on his way to the printer, dropping a note down to her surreptitiously.

It was a simple note, stating that he thought Oliver a callous and uncouth monster, and that he believed she wasn't at fault. Lastly, he gave her the venue of their lunch date, to uplift her spirits.

Gemma read the note, like, 300 times.

“Callous and uncouth”...? Who TALKS like that? Dave talks like that. Perfect, handsome, wonderful, sexy Dave talks like that.

Not my fault...well of course it’s my fault. I didn’t get the work done, and now I’m in trouble for it. But it’s nice of him to say so...

WOW he wants to go THERE for lunch?!

By the time noon rolled around, she had memorized that note word for word...and she could not WAIT to get out of there.

She clocked out, grabbed her cardigan, and headed over to Dave’s desk.

“Hey, thanks for the note. That was really sweet.” She smiled and wrung her hands together. “So...ready to go?”

Loki rose from his desk, closing his laptop and grabbing his bag and pea-coat.

"Absolutely," he declared cheerfully, grasping her hand to lead her out of the hall. "Also, you'd do well to learn that I don't accept expressions of gratitude for acting with bare minimum decency."

He helped her put her cardigan on once they reached his car, feeling her tremble as he did so. He kissed her cheek softly to ease the tension in her body, and it only made her jump.

"Relax," he stated, holding her close for a moment. "Everything will be fine. Your reports will be done on time. Now forget the work related hassles and try to take a break."

He opened the passenger door for her as he said that last bit, helping her into the car.

She couldn’t believe he actually held her hand the whole way to his car. His incredible, gorgeous, fancy-as-hell car. Ooooh, she loved it.

And she was kind of starting to think she loved him even more. Not like LOVE love, but, you know, like how you love a cool drink of water on a hot day. And Dave was definitely a cool drink of water.

“Ok, I’ll try,” she responded. He was acting so familiar with her, with the kisses and the chivalry. It almost frightened her...she could get VERY used to this, and then it would hurt that much more once reality set in and he disappeared from her life, nothing more than a fond memory.

Because, deep down, she just knew this was too good to last. Stuff like this didn’t happen to her. But in the meantime, she would enjoy it as much as possible.

She clicked in her own seatbelt this time, and giggled as he drove out of the parking lot WAY too fast, grabbing his hand on the stick shift.

He grinned in response as she giggled, really enjoying the lilting sound it made in her throat. He wanted to make her laugh more often. Every day...

But he couldn't get ahead of himself. Not right now...

Once they reached their destination, he led her out of the car and into the restaurant of his choice.

"So, still want to have sandwiches?" he asked playfully as they settled into an intimate corner table with a large window overlooking the sea. "Or can I endeavour to change your mind?"

“Please...change my mind,” she said. Her tone was verging on sultry, and she dared to put her hands on his over the tabletop. She felt tingles radiate from where she touched him. This was their first actual date!

“Um...actually, why don’t you go ahead and order for me?” She watched for his reaction nervously--she’d never asked her date to order for her before. Then again, she’d never dated anyone like Dave before.

This was all becoming so unbearably and fantastically romantic...

Loki ordered for both of them while still holding her hands over the table. He didn't care if the waiter frowned upon it, he just did it because he wanted to.

"So... " he murmured as the waiter went off with their order. "I want to know something about you, Gemma. Will you tell me?"

He saw the hesitance in her eyes, but still, she nodded.

"Why do you work at PAC & Co.? It's not a very friendly work environment, from what I've seen in my three months here. Surely you can find a better place than this?"

Gemma wanted to bring her hands back to her body, to wring the bottom of her shirt like she always did when she was nervous. But he felt so good holding her hand, and she couldn’t bring herself to let go. So she pushed through the nerves.

“I...well, I never thought I’d end up in a place like that, doing that kind of work. I always thought I would be--oh, nevermind, it’s stupid...”

She sighed and looked away. “I just...needed to pay the bills. And a monkey could do that work, so I knew I could do it. I don’t know. Things just didn’t turn out the way I planned, so I kept settling for less and less until...I got here.”

She hated that THAT was the story of her life--giving up on her dreams and settling for the absolutely dull and tedious world she’d built around herself. But it was the truth, and she felt like she owed that to him, at least.

“I know. Not very impressive...but that’s how it goes sometimes, I guess.”

"I see." Loki didn't like that she was letting go of her wants and wishes and just settling. So he pushed for more information. "And may I know what you actually wanted to do?"

He rubbed his thumbs over her wrists, trying to calm her down the moment he felt her growing restless. She was like a little hummingbird in his hands... so tiny and vulnerable. He wanted to protect her with all that he had.

She looked at him, feeling incredibly exposed. But he’d done nothing except be kind and patient with her; he’d shown her time and time again that he harbored no ill will toward her. But instincts and hard lessons learned were difficult to overcome.

Still...she wanted to tell him. And if he laughed at her, well, then it would be just that much easier when he went away.

“Um...geez, I haven’t told anyone this for a long time. I...I moved to New York City because I wanted to act on Broadway. I was in plays and musicals my whole life growing up, and when I could finally move out of that podunk little town, I came straight here and started auditioning. I took whatever classes I could afford, started meeting people, and then...well, then the attack happened...”

She closed her eyes, knowing she was close to tears but doing her best to keep it together.

“I was waitressing when it started...and I almost got killed. Captain America saved my life...along with everyone else in the building. I was so grateful to be alive!

“But then...well, my apartment was destroyed, along with all my stuff. I didn’t have renters’ insurance--it was too expensive. I was barely making ends meet, and I couldn’t move back home--I couldn’t stand the thought of living with my parents again. So I figured I’d get some admin job, just until I could get back on my feet and start auditioning again. But that was...god, it feels like a lifetime ago. And I just...I don’t feel the passion I used to, you know?

“Maybe if the attack hadn’t happened, I’d be where I wanted to be, but now...well, nothing I can do about it but tread water and try to put my life back together. And a steady paycheck is a big part of that, even if I have to sell my soul for it.”

Loki felt as though he had been slapped in the face, several times, with a hand made of uru metal...

While several centuries' worth of experience gave him enough fortitude to keep a straight, concerned facade on, internally, he was wilting. He had not felt this deep a bout of self-loathing in years.

The attack. His attack on New York had destroyed and forever changed many lives. One of them had been Gemma’s life. His sweet, loving, kind Gemma...

He had almost killed her.

Norns, he hated himself so much...

But there was nothing he could do to undo the past. That was the most frustrating part of his life.

His grip on her hands tightened slightly as he spoke. "I understand, though I cannot empathize fully. Being here when the attack happened.... it must've been terrifying. That monster changed your life forever, and he didn't care one bit about it. I'm sorry, Gemma... so sorry."

His voice nearly cracked as he tried his best to apologize for his deeds, though covertly. He knew that he didn't deserve forgiveness, but still, apologizing was the least he could do.

“Yea...” she sighed, finding it hard to meet his eyes. “But it’s not like I’m the only one it happened to. Plenty of people died that day, and I didn’t. So I have to believe there’s a reason for it...even if that reason is pretty far out and I can’t see it from here...”

She was shaken out of her thoughts when the waiter placed a beautiful cut of filet mignon in front of her, with a side of roasted vegetables and a few crostini. She thanked the server and cut off a generous bite of the meat, and as soon as it hit her tongue, her eyes rolled up and she moaned.

“Oh MAN--this is delicious! You ordered me filet mignon for LUNCH?! It’s like you’re trying to impress me or something...”

She giggled, letting the somber moment pass. Her depressing life story wasn’t going to change, and this incredible lunch was in front of her NOW.

“So, Dave...” she said, still chewing. “How did you get into sales? Family business?”

Loki was still feeling shaken, so he just looked down and played around with his food while she spoke.

Even though her little moan was distracting, it couldn't pull him from the pits of despair he was presently wallowing in.

"Not really. I was told that I was very persuasive from a very young age. So I suppose going into sales was a natural progression." He shrugged, trying to give her a little smile. It felt strained.

“Hey...are you ok?” Gemma asked. He had been so enthusiastic before her story, but now he seemed...depressed. She swallowed, then sighed heavily. “God...Dave, I’m sorry. I ruined the mood... Talking about the attack probably isn’t the best way to have a fun afternoon, is it...”

She sighed again. She’d blown it, just like she knew she would. There was still plenty of food on her plate--delicious food, better food than she’d eaten in years--but now, she wasn’t hungry anymore.

“I...I’ll just catch a cab back to the office. Thanks for lunch, Dave. Have a good one.”

She wanted to offer to pay for her meal, too. But she knew she couldn’t afford it, so she had to leave before he asked her to.

"Gemma," Loki said firmly as she tried to rise from her seat. "Sit down."

Norns, he had upset her now. First, he had nearly killed her in New York, destroyed her life, and now he was ruining her day as well.

No, he would no longer be a cause for her misery. He wanted to give her joy... to mend the life he had nearly snuffed out...

He looked up at her with an earnest expression. "I'm sorry. You didn't ruin the mood, I did. I shouldn't have pried into your life like a rampaging bilge--like an untamed bull. It was insensitive of me. Stay, please..."

That look he gave her nearly melted her heart.

Stay, please...

How could she not?

With another nervous gulp, she sat back down and looked at him softly--he looked almost more upset than she had been. What an odd reaction...

“I didn’t really want to leave anyway...” She smiled and took his hands in hers again. “And, thank you...for asking, I mean. It’s been a long time since...well, actually, I don’t think anyone has ever asked me that before, about why I work at PAC & Co. It’s nice that you care.”

Their eyes locked, and she found she couldn’t look away from him. There was so much in his eyes, in his face--sadness and joy, nerves and excitement, concern, desperation, longing...she’d never seen anyone more expressive than him in that moment.

She was lost for words...time stopped. Her universe zoomed in and all she could see--all she wanted to see--was this incredible man who had suddenly shown up in her life and, for reasons she couldn’t even fathom, wanted to be with her.

"I do care," he stated truthfully, picking up the fork and offering her a piece of the fillet. "I wanted to know you better. I still do."

He squeezed her hand, almost afraid that she'd pull it away and run from him. It was an irrational fear, but still, it was there...

He didn't want to lose her.

She didn’t want to lose him.

She squeezed his hand in return and ate the filet off of the fork as he offered it to her. And the next. And the next. Until the meal was over.

She checked her watch, realizing she had gone WAY over her lunch break time, but...it didn’t matter. Let them fire her. What she needed--what she wanted--was to stay here as long as possible, pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

As the meal concluded, Loki paid for it, watching her as her eyes tried to discern the bill surreptitiously. That made him smile.

He didn't let her see the amount.

"I suppose it's time to go back to work, even though I honestly don't want to," he said as the waiter left with the bill and the amount paid. "But we both have things to finish."

He kissed her hand and rose from the seat, pulling her along.

"Do you think that Oliver would've lost his shit over your reports by now?" he asked casually, wrapping his arm around her as they made their way out of the restaurant. "Or would he not care till tomorrow morning?"

“I don’t think he’s even going to be there tomorrow. He’s probably already left for the weekend.” Gemma said drowsily. That lunch was MUCH bigger than what she usually ate, and the extra food in her system was making her sleepy. She curled into him and put her arm around his waist in return as they walked to the car. “He doesn’t like me...so he just tries to make my life miserable. Little does he know I’m a pro at having a miserable life. Sucks for him, right?”

She chuckled morosely as she climbed back into Dave’s amazing car, settling into the leather seat with a contented little moan.

“Thanks for the lunch, Dave. Truly. That was the best meal I’ve had in ages. And the best company.”

She smiled warmly and held his hand, letting him go when he needed it to change gears but otherwise holding on to him the entire way. As they pulled back into the parking lot, she pouted.

“I don’t wannaaaaaa...” she cried sarcastically.

Loki laughed at her childish little whine as he got out of the car and opened her door for her.

"I'd honestly take you back to my place and ravish you in all the ways I want to," he confessed as he pulled her out of the car and pressed her against it with his body. "But I'm trying to practice restraint. We ought to be more responsible, no?"

“No,” she answered cheekily, narrowing her eyes in a scrunchy little smile. “Let’s not be responsible. Let’s run away from this two-bit town and never come back.”

She was joking, of course...wasn’t she? Also...who said “ravished” these days???

Dave. Dave says ravished.

She enjoyed the little shiver that ran down her spine at the thought of it

But as they walked back through the doors with their arms around each other, fielding the raised eyebrows and sudden titters from their co-workers, Gemma just smiled. Maybe, JUUUUST maybe...things might work out.

And then she saw Oliver waiting for her in the lobby, tapping his foot and looking at his watch...

Oh...FUCK...

Loki was feeling elated once again. Gemma was in his arms and she looked so happy. She was glowing.

Because of him. Or Dave... it was the same thing, really, for his affection wasn't any different in either form.

While he was lost in his own thoughts about Gemma, Gemma's step faltered. That brought his mind back to the present, and he saw Gemma's face fall.

Following her line of vision, he saw their boss, Oliver, waiting in the lobby, looking none too pleased.

Oh, what did he want now? He was going to undo all of Loki's attempts to cheer the girl...

Very subtly, Loki stepped ahead of Gemma and tried to shield her from the portly man's renewed ire.

Gemma and Oliver’s eyes locked. She could see the hint of a malicious smirk on his face...he was going to chew her out--AGAIN--in front of the entire team. Twice in one day. For whatever reason, he seemed to love singling her out...he’d done it for years, and for all that time, she had taken it. Just sat there and let him do it...and she was sick of it.

Had she NOT been through enough? Talking to Dave over lunch had helped her put her life in a bit more perspective; just because she hadn’t succeeded in what she’d expected to do did NOT mean she deserved to be abused by a bully.

She. Was. Done.

Gemma felt Dave beginning to move in front of her, and she stopped him. He turned to face her, the same heart melting concern on his face, and she gave him a firm, resolved look. She let him go and walked up to Oliver.

“Have you been standing here waiting for me to get back from lunch, Oliver?” She put her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed.

Loki's jaw dropped. He hadn't expected Gemma to confront Oliver straight away...

That seemed to affect the idiot as well, for he seemed at a loss for words for a few seconds before he responded.

"I was wondering why you had gone out for lunch when you have work left to complete! Do I need to remind you that I want the reports on my desk by Saturday morning?" he asked with malicious glee, most likely expecting to see Gemma wilt against his verbal tirade again.

But Gemma didn't wilt this time. Much to Loki's surprise, she kept staring at Oliver with an even gaze.

Gemma felt a fire in her belly...she didn’t know where it came from, but she liked it. She wasn’t going to let Oliver push her around anymore.

Because if someone like Dave thought she was worth something, maybe she should start thinking that, too.

“Is it Saturday morning yet, Oliver?” she challenged him, a hint of sarcasm slipping into her words. She practically spit his name out.

Oliver sputtered and turned beet red, eyeing Gemma as though she had sprouted another head.

Loki was enjoying this immensely. His Gemma was fighting back! This was glorious...

"No," Oliver finally answered, glaring at her while also knowing that she had him. It was written on his face, clear as the day.

“Then what’s the problem? Seems like I still have plenty of time to finish those reports you asked for--which I’m assuming you must need so urgently that you’re going to meet me here tomorrow, right? Otherwise, this could wait until Monday?”

“What? No, I won’t be here tomorrow...” Oliver’s face turned that purplish-crimson color she despised, and she scoffed at him.

“So why, exactly, do I need to get them to you by then, hm? Could it be that you needed to make yourself feel better by putting me down, just like you have for the last three years? Your fragile little ego needed a boost? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but a TPX report isn’t going to fix that. And I’m not taking your shit anymore.”

She pushed past him, saying quietly so only he could hear. “Now please leave me alone so I can finish the work you so desperately need completed, despite the fact that you won’t see it until Monday when you get back from your weekend of self-destructive binge eating and coddling your porn addiction.”

His eyes went wide and he sputtered as she glared at him one more time.

“You really should clear your browser history more often when you’re at work.”

With that, she headed to her cubicle, absolutely vibrating with nerves.

Loki was absolutely stunned, as was Oliver.

Gemma was... Norns, she was a GODDESS of WRATH!

The way she eviscerated that buffoon, with class and dignity, was breathtaking to watch. Loki had a front row seat to that, and it wasn't at all disappointing.

He was so excited to see her stand up for herself that he wanted to jump up on his desk and give her a big round of applause.

Oliver was now standing there like a man emasculated. And justly so. The absolute wretch that he was, he deserved every word of her scathing response.

As Gemma settled into her chair, the pudgy man made himself scarce, leaving the hall with his tail between his legs.

Loki couldn't help himself. He skipped over to Gemma's desk and grasped her hand.

"That was great, Gemma. I'm pretty sure that he's not going to bother you for the rest of the day now," he said, feeling nothing but pride soaring in his heart for her.

And just as he finished speaking, other people from the hall came rushing to her cubicle to tell her how wonderfully she had dealt with Oliver.

_________________________________________________________

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER]   Ch-1; Ch-2; Ch-3; Ch-4; Ch-5   [NEXT CHAPTER]

[youremyonlyhope]

Spyfall Part 2

Yay part 2! I’m so ready. Give me more.

While on my lunch break at work today, I nearly opened tumblr on my phone. Then I realized it was after 2pm so the episode was currently airing in Britain. I could have been spoiled if I hadn’t stopped myself. 

I see the Doctor is still talking to herself. Old habits die hard. “Don’t panic.” Love Hitchhiker’s Guide. “RYAN.” HUH “RYAN SINCLAIR?” WHAT? This is reminding me of something... what am I being reminded of... BLINK MAYBE??? YES THIS IS JUST LIKE “SALLY SPARROW DUCK NOW.” THIS IS BLINK. IS THIS BLINK? BECAUSE THIS IS BLINK. ...Who in the world is this lady... “Obviously I’m a recording and can’t hear you.” THIS IS BLINK. Also this is throwing shade at Blink with the “Obviously” part...  It is his TARDIS!!!! IT’S A TARDIS. THE HOUSE IS A TARDIS. THE FANS WERE RIGHT. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was a TARDIS or just the Master making a joke by having the house fly by them. But nope, IT’S A TARDIS. I literally screamed “IT’S A TARDIS” out loud. “Magic Apparrating Man! Lady. Apparrating Lady! Every time...” That made my dad laugh. But I mean, 1100 years at least of being a man, not counting the 4 billion years in the confession dial. It takes getting used to. Marooned in the past. Chibnall, I really hate to say this, but this is becoming a little too similar to Blink. Just because of the being trapped in the past and leaving messages for the present thing. The lace bonnet had looked super.... weird in the other realm. In a cool way. A way that made me wonder what material it was made of and if she was really from the mid 1800s or if she was just an alien with clothing that imitated the style. Because the way the lace glowed was cool. Also. Why does Ada seem familiar to me? OH NO. Lol. “O no.” I didn’t even do that on purpose. That face she made as she realized the Master’s not in control was such a Doctor face. “Ada, I really do not approve.” Aww Doctor. Never change. I like the old lady taking a picture with an iPad. Yaz calling her mom is a very Martha move and I approve. The Silver Lady was in the Master’s TARDIS.... “From his master” oh ok. “Multiple time periods” OOoohhhhh. Not multiple Earth dimensions then. I was gonna say that I was thinking of Weeping Angels earlier in the day today... I’m not saying these are Weeping Angels... but getting the vibes from the time travel and pulling people in and out and stuff. Oh and I was right that they can transport people purposefully. Did I say that in the last post? I can’t remember. But when Yaz was transported last episode I was like “So they can transport people places?” and the answer is a definite yes, and also in time. Also. Ada Lovelace. I know that name... I know I know that name... “Deep breath” ok now I miss Twelve. Of course it’s WWII. This music reminds me of like... Star Wars... Something from the sequel trilogy sounds like this... or at least has this vibe... Also. I don’t know how I feel about an Indian man in a Nazi uniform. That just... they wouldn’t have let him do that, first of all. Second of all, can we not? These are all women so far that the Doctor is bumping into... And I feel like it’s meaningful... Why would he do that to his mom? Noor Khan, I feel like I DEFINITELY have heard of her. Important women in science? I’m guessing Ada was a mathematician I think, but I can’t really remember. “They promised us that a war on this scale would never happen again.” “This is not the first time?” Ugh. WWI and pre-WWI people finding out about WWII always hurts. IT’S THE DOCTOR DOING THE SOUND OF THE DRUMS. Just the sound of the drums gives me chills. Is this a Old Who thing? The mind reading? She said it was classic. “Not exactly the Aryan archetype.” THAT’S WHAT I WAS SAYING. OOoooooh a perception filter. So they think he’s white. Ok. Ok that’s better.

Also, I’m sorta glad they’re actually addressing race affecting time travel to different time periods. They didn’t do it with Martha enough/at all. They tried to do it with Bill, and I did appreciate the “History is a whitewash” and London being blacker than Bill thought it was, but because London was diverse it wasn’t really an issue (besides the racist the Doctor punched). But I’m glad this is an actual situation where being another race is genuinely DANGEROUS since that’s how it was.

“Look after my mum” So is she not dead? Or is he mocking them? They can’t have destroyed Gallifrey again. He’s lying It was probably the Master himself that killed everyone if he’s not lying. “How else would I get your attention?” Awwww. That’s almost sweet. It’s sweet by Master standards ok. Ok... letting Nazis attack the Master... for being a spy... while he’s a person of color... is pretty harsh... Of course the Nazis can’t do much damage... And the Master did willing side with them to find the Doctor... But still... Very harsh... I guess after everything the Master has done... Maybe he deserves to be on the receiving end of racism since he hates humans so much... But still. “Forget you heard that word.... Otherwise I’ve just disrupted the whole of history. Again.” Doctor. Babe. Control yourself. Ok so it was people who were important in the development of computers in general. Cool cool cool. I appreciate that Ada and Noor were the ones the Doctor specifically bumped into. “You kept clicking agree” Yeah... yeah... he got us there. “This is like the Matrix” - My Dad. OH wow the Master came the long way round. 77 years. I’d almost say poor dude. Conversion!?!? NO. NOT CYBERMAN! IF THERE’S CYBERMEN THEN IS THIS A 3-PARTER?! “Oh.” “That’s your name.” HA. HA, good one Doctor. “I forgot the plane!” No you didn’t, Doctor. Don’t worry. You can do it anytime, as long as you do it at some point. “Are we being replaced?” Oh Graham. But also, I want the next companions to be from the past. See in Blink we didn’t get to see the Doctor setting everything up like we’re seeing it now. So that’s cool. Imagine if we had seen Martha standing behind the camera annoyed, then running around to say “I gotta support him!” That could have been fun. I think I just want more Martha in Blink. “The Fascists. Do they win?” “Never” Yeah I really hope not, but time is repeating itself. I guess it will also repeat them not winning. That’s sweet that the Doctor still wants her to know that computers are a thing because of Ada. And I appreciate that the show didn’t try to be like “She helped make computers because of the Doctor.” because no, she made them because she was always going to. Oh wow we’re going back to Gallifrey?? We haven’t been in a while. Been wondering if we would.

I didn’t write anything for the last few minutes because I’m just like... HUH.

First of all, I knew the Master did it. Called it.

Second of all. I was like “Oh no. The Doctor just got Gallifrey back, do we HAVE to take it away again? To make her angsty?” Then we heard the Master’s reason for destroying it and I was like ok maybe there’s justification.

Third of all. The Time Lords have always sucked. We’ve known this forever.  The Doctor has said that the Time Lords went wrong at the end of the Time War and that they choose to remember them in a good way and forget the ugly side. So we know the Time Lords suck. That’s not a surprise. What is it that they did that was so bad, the MASTER of all people felt the need to put an end to it? The Master. As in the little boy who was driven crazy because the Time Lords chose to put the Sound of the Drums in his head and use him as a weapon. He didn’t destroy Gallifrey then, so what could be worse than that? Do I even want to know? They’ll tell us, but I don’t know if I want to hear it. We might be going very dark this season...

Fourth of all, yay! They’re asking the Doctor questions and she’s answering! Yay! And Yaz asking “Can we go to your planet?” was the second Martha thing she did.

And fifth, yay! We’re probably getting an overarching theme this season! And maybe the Master isn’t completely evil, since everyone’s so worried about Missy’s redemption! He’s just hurt by what he found, felt he had to destroy Gallifrey, and is still upset about it. When he said the Timeless Child I literally said out loud “OH. OH ok so we’re really doing this then.” because I felt like all the predictions of the Timeless Child being involved were probably right... but not like this.

EPIPHANY. What if he really was just doing all this to get the Doctor’s attention? He wants the Doctor share the burden of the truth, but doesn’t know any other way to get her to listen besides do horrible things. What if he didn’t kill, plot, and plan just for the hell of it and maybe rub Gallifrey in the Doctor’s face, but the ultimate goal was to get that message to the Doctor so the Doctor could find out about Gallifrey.

Honestly I’m concerned about what it is that the Time Lords lied about. What did the Master mean by “who we are as a species” like... I’m scared.

Also halfway through the episode my mom came in (she’s super behind, as in she hasn’t even watched Capaldi’s seasons yet) and she said “You have to stop screaming ‘IT’S A TARDIS IT’S A TARDIS’ of course it’s a TARDIS that’s what she drives.” So apparently my mom heard my freak out over the Master’s TARDIS. She heard me screaming last episode too when I was jumping at the Master reveal.

Anyway. Sorta Blink-esque in that Ryan, Yaz, and Graham being saved is an endless loop if causing itself because of previously planted messages from the Doctor. But also, we got a mini history lesson, which was the point of Doctor Who in the first place. Gallifrey’s gone and apparently Time Lords suck, but what else is new. And we got the Master finding out the effect that race has in certain (or all) time periods. Hopefully the Master’s back soon. We really were spoiled rotten by Season 10 when they gave us Missy in like half of the episodes. I need more Master. Give me more Master.

[skeletonscribbles]

Everything Stays

as promised, an Adventure Time AU! I’ve loved doing this so much.

Pairing: Reddie (as Bubbline/GumLee, for AT folk)

Rating: T

Warnings: breakup discussion, Stan as the Lumpy Space Prince

Other: this is, again, an Adventure Time AU, so if something doesn’t make sense, it’s probably on purpose.

Songs Included: I’m Just Your Problem Slow Dance With You Everything Stays (referenced, but not sung)

Read on Ao3

Tag List: @imrichie​ @mirandonsky​ @lilgeorgie​ @aizeninlefox​ @astronauticallygay​ @callme-eds​ @reddie-boi​  (image from AT comics - Spooktacular 2017)

Being undead was boring as shit.

Richie Tozier had been a vampire for a solid millenium - and heir to the vampire throne, at that; a king of the domain, and as such, he thought it was pretty safe to say that he’d done just about everything there was to do at this point.

In fact, most of the stuff that was happening around him he’d already seen happen, once upon a time. Kingdoms fell what felt like every damn day, adventures came and went. Human travelers passed through the land of Ooo thinking they’d be heroes, and some of them were. Bowers stayed up to his Ice King tricks, and his penguin Patrick, nee Orgalorg, pretended to give a shit. The Candy Kingdom continued to grow, and Lumpy Space continued to be the most bizarre realm in a world full of bizarre realms, and Richie’s father came and went from the Nightosphere intermittently, and for the most part, Richie was left alone to play music in his little cottage and reflect on the fact that his day-to-day felt like a series of re-runs rather than new episodes.

It was...lonely as shit, if Richie was being really honest with himself (not that he was in the business of doing that, but still) and he really had no fucking idea how to make do - especially given that he was overly aware of the fact that everyone he talked to was going to die before he was.

(Well. There were exceptions to that, but…that didn’t bear thinking about.)

(Most of the exceptions left after a while, too - just...differently, in a way that hurt more because it was a choice.)

(But again - that didn’t bear thinking about.)

In spite of all that, he’d managed to connect pretty well with the human hero of the moment. The kid’s name was Bill, and Richie liked his hair, and his tenacity, and how scared of Richie he was sometimes. It was good when the heroes were a little scared of him. The ones that weren’t were usually stupid.

He’d blown down around to Bill’s treehouse on this particular day because he didn’t have anywhere else to be, like most days, and because he was kind of trying to avoid thinking about his dad, like most days...but mostly because he had somewhere else to potentially be that night that was making him a little nervous. (That part wasn’t like most days, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before so he could pretend to pass it off as mundane.) He’d quietly been hoping that Bill would be planning some great adventure that Richie could hitch on to, because that was what Bill was usually doing, but today, Bill was inside on the couch playing video games with his magical dog, Ben. Ben’s Rainicorn girlfriend, Beverly, was coiled at the foot of the couch, and their game system MiKE (Richie assumed that was an acronym of some kind, but he really didn’t care enough to find out what the letters stood for) was patiently leaning up against the television with two controllers plugged in where his arms usually were.

It would be easy for Richie to leave; to fuck off and jam with some of the nastier creatures out on the outskirts of Ooo, or cause trouble for some Princess or Kingdom or something. It would be easy to leave these mortal kids alone - to not get attached to them and instead laugh from a distance as they tripped their way through video game levels and quests and idiot romances until they died.

Unfortunately, he’d outgrown easy centuries ago.

“Hey dudes,” he greeted, floating in through a window that Bill had carelessly left half-open. “Suh Bevvie.”

Bill and Ben jumped, obviously caught off guard by Richie’s sudden entrance. It was a miracle that no monster had crept up on them and killed them yet - they had little by way of sensory instincts. Bev, on the other hand, knew that Richie was coming - she lifted her head slightly and made unimpressed eye contact with him, which meant that she was the first one he approached.

“Missed you, baby,” he said, and found that he meant it. Bev was a pretty unique little Rainicorn, and she and Richie had known each other for long enough that they’d seen each other through some pretty tough shit. The two of them had a similar way of going about things, which was cool - except that now she’d gone and done the whole relationship thing and he was...not about that life, anymore.

She responded with a cheeky joke about his mother in her native Rainicorn language, and he chuckled, settling down on the couch next to Ben.

“Tell me what it m-means,” he could hear Bill hissing - the idiot kid still hadn’t picked up any Rainicorn, in spite of the fact that Bev was always around.

“I will not,” Ben whispered back gleefully.

“So is this what we’re doing today?” Richie interrupted, gesturing to MiKE, who was wiggling the controller wires around. They were getting crazy tangled, which was kind of awesome.

“I mean,” Bill shrugged, scooting forward on the couch so he could look at Richie properly. His hat had slid down and was almost covering his eyes - Richie could see a little bit of his red hair falling out of the back of it, near the nape of his neck. “No one’s c-called for help, and all the Princes and P-p-princesses seem fine, so. I think the Ice K-king isn’t due to strike until like, tuh-two days from now. Usually takes him about that l-l-long to put together a stupid p-plan.”

“Yeah, that does seem about right.” Richie stretched himself out on the couch so that his legs were over Ben’s lap. Ben shoved at him uselessly, and Richie thought about moving, but the only other option for his legs was to stick them on top of Beverly or levitate them, and he wasn’t keen on either of those options so...Ben was going to have to deal. “Still pretty lame, though.”

Richie had expected Bill to react to that - to jump up and declare that he wasn’t lame, and instigate some quest or whatever, but instead, Bill slumped further down into the couch. “L-lame, huh?”

“Yeah. Lame.” Richie crossed his arms over his chest incredulously. “What the fuck is going on with you, man?”

Robotically, Bill slid off of the couch and stood up, abandoning his controller on the floor. MiKE immediately started banging it against the wall. “Do any of you wuh-want ice c-cream? Rich, I don’t think we have stuh-strawberry, but I can ch-ch-check.”

Richie rolled his eyes. No way a little pint of strawberry ice cream could quell even a little bit of his hunger - he’d have to suck the red out of something way bigger than that for it to be noticeable to his body. Luckily, he’d eaten before he came.

“I’m good, don’t worry.”

Bill gave a semi-satisfied little nod and headed towards the kitchen.

Ben turned himself on the couch to face Richie. His expression was skeptical. “Are you good, though? You’re weird today, dude.”

Richie made a show of rolling his eyes. “I’m always weird. It runs in my family.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ben swatted at Richie’s leg. At Richie’s feet, Bev had turned herself around, and was watching the two of them with interest. “Blah blah blah Nightosphere, blah blah Wentworth Tozier. Is he why you’re trying to get us to do something crazy?”

“Nah. Went’s not gonna be around for a while. Nightosphere’s a pretty crazy place to be in charge of. Got his hands way full.”

In fact, Richie had been approached by his father rather recently to potentially take over the Nightosphere biz, but Richie’d shut that down pretty immediately. Ooo was his home - it always had been, and it always would be. The Nightosphere sucked. Demons were dumb and super shitty.

“Did Ashlee come back?” Bev asked in Rainicorn, eyes wide with concern.

“NO. Glob, no. Ashlee knows better than to show her dumb face around here,” Richie scoffed, shuddering a little bit at the mention of his ex-girlfriend. He’d made a metric fuckton of mistakes over the course of his life - he was 1000 years old, after all - and Ashlee still qualified as one of the worst. Fucking bitch.

“Did you not get invited to the ball at the Candy Kingdom tonight?” Ben asked quietly.

If any of them noticed the way that Richie tensed at that, none of them said anything.

“Yeah, no, I got invited,” Richie finally said, tugging at the hem of his plaid flannel. “I’m fine. What’s up with Bill, though? He’s all up in his ice cream sads, huh?”

Bev and Ben let out simultaneous loud groans, and Mike giggled chirpily, wiggling his wire arms as best he could given how tangled they now were.

“You know Audra Phillips?” Bev asked, the natural cheeriness of the Rainicorn language undercut with annoyance. “Flame Princess?”

“Yeah, and you also know how Bill’s a sucker for royalty? Like, major heart-eyes?” Ben added, voice flat. “Well. Fill in the blanks.”

Richie was very capable of connecting the dots with this one, namely that Bill had probably asked Audra to the Candy Kingdom Ball and been rejected (and even if she did like him, he shouldn’t have expected her to go to that, given the relatively low melting points for most types of candy), but that wasn’t the part of Ben’s series of questions that stuck with him.

“Bill’s never had heart-eyes for me,” Richie pointed out sourly. “I’m the Vampire King, remember? Fuck all those useless Princesses.”

“And Princes,” Bev reminded him pointedly.

Richie sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “And...Princes. Whatever. What gives, Ben?”

Ben’s horrified expression was nothing short of hilarious. “Do you….do you like Bill?”

Richie’s howling laugh at that could probably be heard from kingdoms away. Surprisingly (or really...not, knowing Bill), Bill didn’t so much as pop his head back in from the kitchen.

“Oh my fucking glob. NO, Ben, that’s the craziest idea you’ve ever had.” Richie shook his head vigorously, entirely bemused. His curls were in his eyes, now, but he didn’t really care. “Nah, I’m not about that...I just felt left out of Bill’s whole schtick, ya know? You know me - dramatic as shit, as per usual.”

Ben stared at him for another long moment, and after a while, Richie felt rather than saw Bev’s head turn towards him too. He swallowed hard and looked at MiKE...and was not heartened to see that Mike was facing his general direction. Not that there was any way to tell if MiKE was really actually looking at you, but facing front was bad enough.

“Listen--” Richie began, but Ben cut him off.

“Have you ever been in love, Richie?” Ben asked, eyes searching Richie’s face in a way that felt borderline invasive.

The question was enough to get Richie up and out of his seat. He levitated away from the couch a little bit, reeling - where did that come from?

“Why?” Richie asked, defensive.

“Just thinking about it,” Ben said, shrugging. “You talk a big game, but I’ve never seen you with anyone. Meanwhile, Bill’s got like...his royal family member significant other of the week.”

Richie flipped himself a little bit in the air, shielding his face so he wouldn’t give himself away as he thought about whether or not to actually tell Ben the truth.

On the one hand, what of the truth could Ben possibly understand? Ben was a savvy creature, but mortals didn’t know dip about what it meant to see important people rise and fall and die and die and die, and even the savviest creatures were, ultimately, mortal. Ben also wasn’t half demon, hadn’t been bitten by a Vampire King, hadn’t survived nuclear craziness, didn’t have the people around him leaving or losing their goddamn minds all the frigging time. No part of Richie’s story was relatable to Ben at all.

Well. Well, actually.

If Richie went with the simplest possible answer...that would probably be relatable to Ben.

“Once,” Richie said slowly, turning lazily over so that he was completely upside-down. “I was in love once.”

The answer seemed to surprise Ben. It didn’t surprise Bev at all - and Richie had a feeling it wouldn’t, given all of the things that Bev knew about him. MiKE remained neutral, as far as Richie could tell.

“Oh,” Ben finally said. “Dude. What happened? Did she die?”

“Nah.” Richie slid his hands into his pockets and concentrated on keeping a straight face.”I just wasn’t good enough for ‘em, I think, when all was said and done.”

Ben’s expression darkened. “Richie, no--”

“That sounds like how Bill used to feel sometimes,” Bev chimed in. There was a dark, knowing look in her eyes, and Richie narrowed his eyes in immediate distrust. “About the Candy Prince.”

The last two words of Bev’s sentence echoed around in Richie’s brain like bells, and he ran his tongue over his fangs in an attempt to stave off the ugly feeling curling up in his chest. Candy Prince, Candy Prince, Candy Prince….

“Bill and the Candy Prince, huh?” he choked out, forcing a smile on to his face. “Eds did always have terrible taste in men.”

Richie regretted his giant mouth immediately after finishing his sentence. He knew what word Ben would zero in on. That one syllable had some eight hundred years of history jam packed into it, there was no way that no one was going to say anything--

“Eds?” Ben asked, realization lighting up his face, and it was all Richie could do not to groan.

“I’m not going to the Ball tonight,” Richie said loudly, glaring pointedly between Bev and Ben. “He invites me every time, but I never go. I can’t go.”

“Richie,” Ben began sadly, at the same time that Bev sighed out a “Honey, it’s been three hundred years, for Glob’s sake.” Both of them were cut off, however, by Bill’s abrupt return to the room. He was holding two ice cream bowls in front of him and looking more than a little lost.

“Oh. Uh. Wh-what’s up, f-f-folks?” he asked warily, looking between all of them. Only MiKE smiled back up at him.

To Richie’s relief, Ben didn’t seem to be in the business of tattling or telling stories. “Is that for me?” Ben asked without missing a beat, pointing to the second bowl of ice cream in Bill’s hand.

“Oh. Yeah.” Bill offered him the ice cream absently. “And for Bev too, if she wants.”

“Thanks, bud.” Ben grabbed his bowl appreciatively and slid down to sit next to Bev. Bill had forgotten to give them two spoons, but that didn’t seem to be a problem - Bev immediately began licking at the bowl.

They sat in silence for a moment. MiKE began trying to disentangle his controller wire arms, but he was clearly only making the problem worse.

“So Flame Kingdom,” Richie tried, but fortunately, he didn’t have to continue down that weak conversational path. He was interrupted by a loud knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Bill called loudly, setting his ice cream down on an end table and picking up his sword from where it lay sheathed by the door.

“It’s me,” a voice outside snapped, and there was no mistaking that cadence. Richie brightened and floated towards the door. “Open the flip up, I need to ask you something.”

Bill sighed and reached for the doorknob, but Richie beat him to it. He flung open the door, and was delighted to find that he’d smacked poor Prince Stanley right in the face with it.

“If it isn’t the Prince of Lumpy Space,” Richie greeted, cackling quietly as Stan muttered curses whilst dusting himself off. “What’s good, Stanny?”

“Nothing,” Stan spat. “I came here to show you all my outfit and now it’s DIRTY.”

“You came all the way from Lumpy Space to show us the same outfit that you always wear to parties?” Richie asked, feeling light for the first time since he’d gotten the invitation to that stupid ball in the mail. “Nerd.”

Stan yelled something incomprehensible back at him - Richie was pretty sure he heard the words “glob” and “flip” at least five times each and the phrase “your mom” at least once - and Richie gave one final shrieking laugh before folding himself up into his bat form and taking off into the trees.

It didn’t matter that he hadn’t said goodbye. He wasn’t good at that...and they were just mortals, anyway, it was no big thing whether they were mad at him or not.

Besides, he’d been left by choice before. He’d bled all of the hurt out of that particular Bad Thing, hadn’t he?

...hadn’t he?

---

Richie hadn’t had a heartbeat in centuries, but he could have sworn that he felt phantom pressure in his ears and chest and arms when he got home. His whole house felt too big, somehow, like it was gonna swallow him whole.

He knew why. He knew why and he was pissed.

Why had he said all that shit to Ben and Bev?

He let out a frustrated groan and kicked open the door to his little cottage, floating straight across the front room to where he’d tossed his bass the night before after a long and ultimately fruitless jam session with himself. It was always fruitless when he was by himself. He just got stuck on the same words and chords over and over...and wasn’t that just his life?

Frowning, he strummed loosely at the strings. His E string was a little bit out of tune, but he wasn’t in the mood to fuss around and fix it. It seemed fitting that everything would be a little bit off today, anyway.

His hands began to move of their own accord - muscle memory was strong, and Richie’s hands had wanted to play the same damn love song for the past three hundred years or so. It wasn’t the song that Richie’s brain wanted to play, but that had never stopped his traitor hands - no, they slipped back into the same stupid sappy chord progression every time.

Cursing under his breath, Richie adjusted and tried to put the muscle memory song out of mind. He chose harsher, angrier chords, and began to play.

“Well I shouldn’t have to justify things I do,” he sang loudly, spiteful as he flipped over and around erratically, “and I shouldn’t have to prove anything to you…”

If he showed up to the ball tonight, the whole Candy Kingdom would probably have a fucking heart attack. The goddamn Banana Guards would be on his ass in seconds, kicking him right the fuck out, even though he was technically invited because royalty or politeness or whatever lame-ass excuse Eds was using this time.

Well...no. Not Eds, but rather - His Majesty Prince Edward K. Bubblegum. Eds was someone else’s name - the name of someone Richie had loved a long time ago.

Edward K. Bubblegum was a stranger.

Heck, Bubblegum would probably be leading the mob against him if he showed at the party, all things considered. The Candy Prince hated when things got out of control, and Richie was the epitome of wild and free. Never mind that there was no precedent - never mind that Richie hadn’t wrecked a Candy Kingdom ball before because he knew how important they were to the Prince, never mind any of that. Bubblegum would be on the warpath the minute Richie materialized, no matter what.

“I’m sorry that I exist, I forget what landed me on your blacklist…” Richie continued, scowling as he spiraled further and further into his thoughts. It was true - he didn’t know what he had done to make Bubblegum so hostile. He didn’t remember doing anything at all.

Most of what he remembered from the drawn out period in which it all fell apart was the feeling of it - the despair, the return to crushing loneliness. He’d been left before at that point, but everyone else that had ditched him had reasons that Richie could understand: Bowers had lost his mind, his dad had always been more attached to the Nightosphere than to anything in Ooo, Richie included, and all his mortal friends were, well...mortal.

Eds was different. He never gave a reason for drifting away, and there was no obvious answer to why things were changing so rapidly. It felt like one day, Richie had gone to bed with his Eds - his brave, smart, funny, caring Eds, and the next, he awoke to find Bubblegum, who he didn’t know and didn’t care for. It was Bubblegum that bid Richie adieu, finally, with a brisk sweep of his arm and an excuse or twelve about the kingdom; it was Bubblegum that now sent Richie invitations to events because the two of them were supposedly “amicable” and then balked when Richie actually showed up.

Richie had his suspicions about what had happened to transform Eddie. Virtually all of said suspicions involved Richie being at fault or lacking in some way. Needless to say, the whole thing - the whole relationship process, the whole breakup -  hadn’t been awesome for his ego.

“And I shouldn’t have to be the one that makes up with you,” Richie sang angrily, closing his eyes and sinking to the ground. The breakup hadn’t been awesome for his ego, it hadn’t been awesome for any part of him at all, it had sucked, sucked, sucked - and it STILL sucked, right up to this very minute. Just because his heart didn’t beat didn’t mean that it didn’t work, on some fucked up level.

And yet…

“So why do I want to?” Richie’s hands were back to those soft, shitty muscle memory chords, and his voice was almost a whisper.

Glob, he hated feelings.

“Why do I want to…”

The pathetic post-breakup song his hands had been itching to play was bursting out of him, now. He gave up on his anger and let the sadness pour out. It was a day for moping. Bill was moping - Richie could mope, too.

“Slow dance with you, I just wanna--”

He was interrupted by a brisk knock on his door. Frowning, he set his bass down and floated over to a window, trying to parse out who it was. Had Bill and Ben come after him? Had Stan followed him to yell some more? Or maybe it was some groupie that had hunted down his house after last night’s show. He hoped it was the last option. He wasn’t above draining red from groupies, and he could use a snack - it had been a couple of hours since his last meal.

He couldn’t tell who it was from the window. They were too small, or possibly standing too close to the door, or both. Sighing, he reluctantly made his way over to open the door.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asked glumly, swinging the door open and fully expecting to be greeted with Ben, Bill, and Bev’s exasperated faces.

Instead, he found himself staring blankly out at the Candy Prince himself.

“Oh,” Richie said, “it’s you.”

Bubblegum was looking very...Bubblegum on this particular outing. He was decked head to toe in royal formal wear (all pink, of course, save for his small golden crown) and his mouth was drawn into a tight little line. His soft hair was slicked fiercely back into a little pompadour, and the overall effect was very princely - not very Eds.

The stranger with Eddie’s eyes held out a pint of strawberry ice cream towards Richie.

“Bill and Ben asked me to deliver this to you,” he said flatly, looking at the item without any interest. “They said you’d forgotten it at their treehouse, and that it was urgent.”

Richie couldn’t help but roll his eyes. This was absolutely Ben’s idea. Ben loved to meddle.

“And you agreed to do it?” Richie couldn’t help but bait the Prince a little bit. He was so easy to piss off - and that had been true even before he was Bubblegum, back when he had been Eds and able to laugh at himself a little. “What are you, their messenger boy? Don’t you have a ball to prepare for?”

Bubblegum flushed pink. “I always have time to do a favor for a friend.”

“Oh, and you and Bill are really good friends now, huh?” Richie knew he was toeing the line with his next set of comments, but it was all just kind of falling out of his mouth - Glob only knew where his filter had gone, or if he’d ever really had a filter at all. “You’d have to be, in order for him to convince you to come find me. You wouldn’t be caught dead here otherwise.”

“That’s not true,” Bubblegum lied, eyes narrowing. “Don’t assume things about me, Richie. There’s a lot you don’t know now.”

“And whose fault is that?” Richie asked cooly, crossing his arms over his chest and hovering a little bit so that Bubblegum would have to crane his neck to look up at him. He had quite a bit of height on the Prince as it was, so the extra few inches he gave himself by floating meant that he pretty literally had the upper hand on the situation, so to speak.

Bubblegum didn’t seem to have an answer to that question. In fact, his shoulders deflated a little bit, and he looked down at his shiny pink boots instead of up at Richie’s face.

“Ben said that you’d asked for me, that you had something to tell me,” Bubblegum said, and even his voice was lacking in Bubblegum quality now. It was quiet, and had fallen out of its usual princely cadence. “That’s why I’m here. You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have gone if it was just to give you this stupid ice cream that I know you don’t even want.”

Richie slowly sank back down to the ground - not because he was ceding anything to the Prince, but rather to make sure that he was firmly attached to something, because if he wasn’t, even he wasn’t sure what he might do or say.

“I like strawberry,” he offered carefully.

“Yeah, I know. It’s your favorite. ‘Just enough red’, you used to say.”

When the Prince finally lifted his eyes to meet Richie’s, there was so little of Bubblegum in them that Richie almost felt nauseous. It had been so many years since he’d seen Eddie’s face for real that he’d almost forgotten what it looked like.

“Yeah, you never forget anything, do you,” Richie said, twisting his mouth halfway up into a smile he wasn’t sure he wanted to give. “Eds.”

Eddie flinched, but to his credit, maintained eye contact.

“That was never my name, Richie, and you know it.”

They stood in abject silence for a solid minute and a half, just looking at each other. Richie wasn’t big on silence, usually, but he had nothing with which to break this one. He did and didn’t want Eddie to leave in equal parts, which meant that no matter what he said or what option Eddie chose to take, Richie was going to lose.

Finally, Eddie spoke back up - or Bubblegum, maybe, Richie couldn’t tell exactly which personality the Prince was choosing to adopt in that moment.

“Well, if you don’t actually have anything to tell me, I’ll just put this in the freezer and go. Can I come in for a second? You didn’t move the fridge, right?” Eddie peered around Richie and wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Glob, you haven’t moved anything since the last time I was here, have you? Not even your old clothes! It’s been….how long has it been?”

“Three hundred and twenty three years, four-ish hours and some-odd minutes,” Richie responded neatly. “Also, you’re supposed to wait until I invite you in, your Majesty.”

“Majesty is for Kings, Highness is for Princes, Richie, you are the only one in all of Ooo that forgets that, I swear to Glob. And I’m not a vampire, not all of us are vampires, so…” Eddie (he was pretty sure it was still Eddie) pushed past Richie and into his front room, hunting for the fridge. “It is disgusting as fuck in here, Richie, seriously.”

Richie rolled his eyes and situated himself on the couch to watch Eddie’s frantic search. “Language, Bubblegum Boy. You talk to your subjects with that mouth?”

“Where the fuck is your fridge, Richie?” Eddie snapped, glaring at him with all the venom he could muster (which had never been much).

“It’s not here,” Richie admitted, “you’re wasting your time. I donated it to Bill and Ben’s treehouse. Didn’t really need it for myself, so.”

Eddie responded by throwing the pint of ice cream directly at him. It was melted enough that the lid came off midway through its airborne arc, and as such, most of the ice cream ended up spilling down Richie’s front.

Richie knew that he should be mad about that, but instead, he just felt...tired.

Eddie, for his part, looked like he’d frozen solid. His eyes were glued to the ice cream dripping down Richie’s red flannel, and his horrified expression seemed to be etched in stone across his face.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie said, and his voice was small and Bubblegum-less again.

It’s whatever, Richie wanted to say, it’s fine, it’s not like we haven’t made a mess before, it’s not like we aren’t a mess now, no matter how much you’ve been trying to pretend that you have no messes there’s always gonna be me--

“What did you think I was gonna tell you?” he heard himself ask instead. “When Ben said I wanted to say something to you...what did you think I had in mind? Obviously you were hoping for something in coming over here. You’d have skipped out if you thought I was gonna be a dick.”

“You’re always a dick,” Eddie countered, and the banter was so familiar it just about stung, but then Eddie’s shoulders were slumping again, and he was crossing over to sit next to Richie on the couch. “But. I….dunno. Something about the Ball, maybe.”

Richie made a face at Eddie and reached for a nearby article of clothing to begin wiping the ice cream off of himself. It was a little bit embarrassing that it so happened that he’d picked up his black bat boxers, but that was the way this day was gonna go, it seemed.

“You don’t want me at your stupid Ball.”

Eddie turned quickly towards Richie, and Richie almost laughed at the genuine surprise on Eddie’s face. It was equal parts hilarious and adorable, and -

No, no. Adorable was a dangerous path. Best not to start with that.

“Why would I invite you if I didn’t want you to come?”

“Politeness,” Richie guessed, counting off different excuses on his fingers. “Propriety, or whatever the fuck. Some misplaced sense of duty, maybe.”

Eddie shook his head in amazement. “No. I invite you to things because I want to see you. That’s all.”

Richie knew that Eddie was trying to make him feel better, but the whole thing felt forced, and Richie wasn’t falling for it. “You don’t want to see me, Kid Kaspbrak. If you wanted to see me, you wouldn’t have left.”

Eddie groaned softly and curled up on himself on the couch. “The citizens of the Candy Kingdom still don’t know what the K. in Edward K. Bubblegum stands for. They’d be so disappointed to find out that it’s just a bizarro jumble of letters. Most of them think it stands for ‘king’ or ‘cupcake’ or something.”

“Cupcake starts with a ‘c’,” Richie pointed out.

Eddie smiled thinly. “The Candy citizens aren’t always the brightest bunch. I can’t complain, though. I made ‘em.”

“Your mom made them,” Richie corrected, re-examining his shirt for remaining ice cream globs. “Miss her, by the way. She’ll always be my number one gal.”

The mention of his mom had shaken Eddie a little bit. When Richie looked back over, he was sitting ramrod straight on the couch - more Bubblegum than Eddie once again.

“I don’t rule the way my mom did,” Eddie said stiffly.

“I know,” Richie assured him. “You’re a great ruler, idiot. It’s the only thing you love, so I guess you have to be.”

The word ‘love’ brought Eddie back down into himself.

“What?”

Richie shrugged, trying to feign disinterest. He’d been waiting so fucking long to have this conversation - he didn’t want to blow it by losing his temper, even though he was so sorely tempted to yell that he could...well, yell. Instead, he focused his energy on getting up from the couch and trying to locate a shirt to change into. The flannel was going to stink of sour dairy sooner rather than later.

“I said that ruling’s what you love, sweetheart. It’s what you do best - it’s literally what you were formed to do, what your mom made you for. It’s a good fucking thing she made you to be better than her, too - best thing she ever did, in my humble opinion-”

“My mom made me to rule, yeah,” Eddie said, and he was doing a way worse job of keeping his cool than Richie was; his face was hot pink and his fists were clenched. Richie kind of wanted to gloat about that, but the moment wasn’t right, so he kept his mouth shut. “But I’m not just the thing she created, Richie, you know that. Or...I thought you knew that. That’s why I…”

He ducked his head back down into his chest, unable to finish the sentence. For an awful moment, Richie was absolutely sure that he was going to go full Bubblegum, march out, and not speak to Richie again for another three hundred years, but he didn’t move. He just stayed that way - folded over on the couch.

“That’s why you snuck me into your room when your mom wasn’t looking, yeah?” Richie asked, taking pains to keep malice out of his voice for once in his damn life. He located a clean-ish t-shirt and slowly lifted it up into his hands. “That’s why you used me to rebel against her, because you knew I saw you differently, right? And then you left once you got what you needed.”

“I didn’t want you because I was rebelling,” Eddie said into his hands. “I was rebelling because I wanted you.”

For once, Richie found himself without a snappy retort. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing would come out - he had honestly not ever expected to hear Eddie say those words.

“I left you,” Eddie continued, stretching out his words like they were immensely difficult to say, “because my mom was dying, and I needed to be a better ruler than she was, and I couldn’t do that when the whole kingdom was sore over my mom’s dealings with the Nightosphere and I was in love with the son of the guy that ran the damn place.”

Richie found himself grateful that his heart didn’t beat any more, because if it were still ticking, he was sure it would have stopped and killed him outright upon hearing the word ‘love’ pass through Eddie Kaspbrak Bubblegum’s lips.

“You loved that dumbass, huh?” he asked, floating over to where Eddie was sitting on the couch. Eddie didn’t look at Richie’s face right away, but instead settled his eyes on the t-shirt in his hands.

Richie was surprised to see a little smile make its way into the corners of Eddie’s mouth.

“I love that dumbass,” Eddie corrected softly, reaching out to touch the t-shirt. “I’ve tried to stop loving that dumbass, but I can’t, because he does stuff like...he sings love songs at his concerts and takes good care of Bill and keeps the shirts I got him and….” Eddie finally met Richie’s gaze, and his eyes were softer than they’d been in centuries. “You see what I’m saying.”

Richie looked down at the shirt and noticed for the first time that it was a concert tee from one of his early dates with Eddie. He’d snuck Eddie away from his mother and out to the forest, where they’d danced and shouted and swayed to the music of some knockoff demon band with the rest of the woodland spirits.

That Eddie was back in front of him now, but it didn’t seem right to ignore what had happened in between.

“Why haven’t we talked about this before now?” Richie asked slowly, sliding a hand up to cover Eddie’s on top of the shirt. “Why didn’t you explain this shit to me instead of just peacing out? It’s been a garbage couple of centuries trying to deal with the aftermath of all our stuff, and now I’m finding out that you could have just explained the situation right away? I mean, fuck, Eds, I thought there was a problem with me.”

“Yeah I, um,” Eddie laughed nervously, twisting the shirt a little in his hand. “I don’t have a good excuse for that. I really don’t. I thought...I don’t know what I thought you’d do. Undermine me or something, maybe. My mom was still so in my head, then...and I was hurting, too, and maybe I thought it would be easier to just...go? I don’t know. I made up a lot of stuff in that time. I still don’t know how much of it is real.”

“The Prince Bubblegum thing,” Richie told him, “that’s not real at all.”

Eddie nodded. “I know.”

“So why have you been pulling that fake shit with me?” Richie was full of questions, apparently - and Eddie was not being good about providing answers. Glob, he could have had things so nice and neat and tidy - Eddie had literally told him that he still loved him, for fuck’s sake -  and here he was, fucking around and ruining the whole thing. This was the kind of behavior that had kept his dad away all of those years, he was sure of it--

“You mean being mean to you when we’re with Bill and Ben?” Eddie was asking, and Richie was only half cognizant of his own responding nod. “I don’t really know about that either, Rich. It’s been my method of self-defense for a really long time. I just...I don’t...I’m really surprised you haven’t kicked me out yet. I’m so stupid. I should go.”

And just like that, Eddie was up off of the couch, brushing past Richie and rolling his shoulders back into their Bubblegum position.

“Probably don’t come tonight,” Eddie said, audibly burying the hurt in his own voice. “Sorry again about the ice cream.”

“Please don’t go again,” Richie cut in. He hadn’t meant to sound desperate, but he supposed that it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that had happened to him that day. “Eddie, I...I don’t forgive you, not yet, anyway, and I know that’s probably a dick thing to say, but I mean it, so there it is. But. I also still love you, so.” Richie turned his eyes up towards the ceiling, mortified at his own bluntness and general stupidity. “Can I at least maybe go to your party tonight.”

Eddie stared back at him. “I won’t be allowed to dance with you in front of people.”

“It’s allowed if you say it’s allowed,” Richie said, silently begging Eddie to really, really hear him. “You know that, right?”

He could see that Eddie was fighting back the impulse to close off again, and he floated over to him, gripping him by the shoulders.

“Eds.”

“It starts at eight,” Eddie whispered, and then he was backing through the door and disappearing into the forest until he was just a dot of pink against blacks and blues.

Richie took a deep breath and looked again at the shirt in his hands.

He hoped he still owned formal wear.

----

It was a little weird for Richie to be feeling like he was doing something for the first time, but as he approached the ball, he found that he had no memory of ever doing something quite like this. In his whole thousand year existence, he’d never accepted an invitation from a Prince to a ball...let alone accepted an invitation from a Prince with whom he had romantic history.

It was kind of cool, all things considered. Sneaking into Stan’s parties in Lumpy Space had nothing on this. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so...not bored.

Maybe he still had some shit to experience, after all. Even if it was kind of also the same shit for a second time.

“Some things never change,” Bev had sighed when Richie had met her at the palace gates and filled her in on the day’s excitement.

“They change,” Richie had countered, fidgeting with the collar of the stuffy shirt he’d managed to dig out of his floor pile. “But they also stay the same, you know? Like when you leave something somewhere and it’s still there when you go back, but like - it’s melted or faded or something. Things can be both.”

They’d walked inside at that moment, and their presence was informally announced by the slam of the gigantic wooden palace doors behind them.

When the inhabitants of the Candy Kingdom got their first good look at Richie, they didn’t panic, much to Richie’s surprise. They just stood there, limp and wary, waiting for some crazy catastrophe to befall them. They were used to it, probably - Ooo had a new catastrophe every fucking day.

Eddie must have had his hands super full, Richie thought. Would there have been a place for me with him while he dealt with all that shit? Or would I have just gotten bored?

He could so easily imagine himself drifting away from the early Candy Kingdom - there had been so many problems and so much paperwork back then.

He found himself a little less angry about Eddie’s decision upon realizing that.

“It’s chill,” Richie called out to the Candy citizens, raising his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t talk to my dad and I don’t vibe with demons. I just play music and crush on your Prince, that’s all. Carry on.”

Surprisingly, they did. As soon as Richie had finished his announcement, the Candy citizens were shrugging and mumbling and laughing to each other, and then the music was back on, and then it was like he wasn’t there at all - like he was just a normal dude that came to these parties all the time.

“So they’re okay with me having a crush on their Prince?” Richie asked Bev incredulously.

Bev laughed. “Yeah, because they all have a crush on him, too.”

“And they don’t care about the--” Richie began, and bared his fangs to indicate that he was referring to his father.

Bev clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “I think most of them have forgotten about how shitty things used to be with Sonia, honestly. Eddie’s paranoid about it still, but these guys aren’t exactly known for their terrific memories or brains in general. No one’s afraid of the Nightosphere anymore.”

Richie let out a long, obnoxious groan.

“Eddie,” he called, kicking himself off the ground and floating as fast as he could through the mazelike palace. “Eds, are you serious? We could have been - fuck, Eds, you have to be here, right, where--”

“I don’t know if he’ll come,” Richie heard Eddie’s voice - not Bubblegum’s voice, much to his delight, but Eddie’s -  say from around a corner, and he abruptly stopped in his tracks, wanting to hear out the rest of whatever this conversation was.

“Why w-wouldn’t he c-c-come?” The next voice that spoke was unmistakably Bill’s. There was no stutter quite like his anywhere else in Ooo.

Somebody sighed - Eddie, probably, or Ben if he was there, and then Eddie was mumbling. Richie thought he caught the words “complicated” and “history”, but he couldn’t be sure…

“They were in love, Bill,” Ben said loudly, and Eddie let out a loud shriek. Richie cackled quietly to himself, and decided to get a closer look at the situation. He screwed his eyes shut and concentrated, and was soon rewarded with a familiar cold water-esque sensation - he was turning invisible.

He floated out into the hallway and perched himself a little ways behind Eddie, who was clustered up against the wall with Ben, Bill, and MiKE (who looked very cute in a small, ill-fitting tuxedo), and clearly trying to keep things low profile.

“How did thuh-that happen?” Bill asked, bewildered. Eddie blushed a deep pink and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Richie’s dad and my mom used to do business, back in the day. Whenever Went Tozier was around, Richie would always be hovering somewhere, hoping that Went would come talk to him. Went never did...but I wanted to, I really wanted to, so one day…”

“One day I decided to pity the kid with the puppy dog eyes that was following me around and say hey to him. The rest of it, as they say, is ancient Ooo history.” Richie swooped in behind Eddie and materialized to tell his part of the story. Ben and Bill both almost fell backwards at his sudden appearance. Eddie didn’t flinch, but his shoulders were drawn tight.

“Ancient indeed,” he agreed, not turning to look at Richie at all. “I was what, four hundred? And you were five hundred?”

“Six hundred,” Richie corrected. “Had that radical age advantage.”

“Anyways,” Eddie continued, “I seem to remember you being really excited to meet me because, and I quote, ‘there aren’t that many people that don’t die around here, let alone cute people that don’t die’.”

“Like I said, ancient Ooo history,” Richie told Ben and Bill, who were listening with wide eyes. “But tonight is a new era, isn’t it, Eds?”

Eddie turned his head slowly up to look at Richie’s face, as if he needed to determine whether Richie was speaking in earnest. “You’ve seen the Candy People? They’re not afraid of you?”

“They don’t give a single shit,” Richie confirmed. “They trust that you’re gonna keep them safe, and, well, you invited me. So.”

“So,” Eddie repeated, jerking his head back down and twisting his lurid pink cape in his fingers.

“So we dance!” MiKE suggested, and Richie could have sworn that little guy hadn’t been paying attention at all, but he was all there now, and all smiles.

Who were they to begrudge him?

“So we dance,” Richie agreed, shooting Eddie a soft little smile. Eddie returned it gratefully, and Richie felt his chest twist a little at how new it was and also how familiar it was. Things had changed, but they were also the same.

“Dance with me?” Eddie asked, holding out his hand to Richie.

There was still a lot the two of them needed to talk about, but…

“Let’s tear it up, sweet thing,” Richie replied, feeling less dead than he had in a long, long time.

[sitinthelight]

Well Zach just drunk called me at 4 am.

A few years ago, I would have thought that was cute and romantic because he called to say he missed me and wishes I was there.

But current Monica was abruptly awoken and is cranky and didn’t really want to sit through that short phone call filled with slurred words and his inability to even pay attention to what I was saying. 

I’m not a shitty person but boy, do I have shitty tendencies sometimes. 

Zach went to drink with his best friend who lives 30 minutes away and his other best friend who lives in his hometown which is like 4 hours away. They all used to be super pals and always drank with each other in college and were the 3 amigos. Which is cute and sweet and I’m happy he has such good friends who still love to get together for old times sake. Not gonna lie, part of me is a bit jealous because of my inability to keep relationships that aren’t physically in front of me intact. But Zach is a good person and a good friend and people really really love him. Like for someone with such a low self-esteem and who is always doubting how people feel about him, reality is literally the opposite of what he thinks (except in the case of me cause I suck, in this regard). His friends adore him. Fucking love him. Always want him around. He gets phone calls several times a day and is always texting someone.

It’s wild when I get a text. It’s either Zach, Scott, or one of my bills telling me it’ll be due soon. 

So he’s hanging out with them and he invited me out and then they’re hanging out again tomorrow and drinking again so he invited me to that as well. And while it’s been a very long time since I’ve gone out to bars and clubs and had a night out, I said no. 

Social anxiety is really the biggest reason and the fact that I just don’t like drinking with people who make me anxious. Which his friend (the guy) does. He’s a cool dude! Almost always has been nice to me! Almost. Saved my life when I had a severe allergic reaction. We just don’t vibe. I don’t mean we don’t get along. We just have nothing to talk about. No common interests. Nothing. I can stand most silences but the ones when I’m with this friend are just so fucking awkward, even I can’t bare it. So I really don’t want to drink around people who have so much history that I can’t relate to. I’ve hung out with the 3 of them together before. I was a 4th wheel and like, that isn’t fun to me. Also, I’ve been so fucking tired from work because everything is just insane and I think maybe I’m just becoming a more irritable person. That’s probably what it is. I’m not getting enough sleep between Cordelia waking me up at 6 am every single morning and not letting me be and Zach’s awful sleep schedule keeping me up and then there is my insomnia. Like, this bitch already has too many factors against her in the realm of sleep.

Like it’s 4 in the fucking morning. Almost 5. And I’m typing my woes on tumblr. Sure I don’t have work until 2 pm but I like to get up some what early to just feel like my whole day doesn’t surround pleasing people who don’t give a shit about you in retail. A lady physically assaulted my lead last week because she couldn’t get a pair of $50 shoes last week for $18. I was unfortunately stuck in handbags and only saw the multiple police officers in my department from affair as they interviewed customers. This woman attacked my lead in front of her 6 year old child too. I really can’t wait to be done with retail. This is why I don’t really want to work with people anymore. They’re just so unpredictable and while the really nice ones make the world a little better, the awful ones just...they’re awful. 

I’m just rambling and cranky and honestly, I don’t know what I’m doing with my life at this point. I’m in that weird in between stage of recovery but maybe my whole life will be depression recovery. Most likely. It’s not like they have some magical cure for it. I’m just done with this whole situation and I’m ready to be free from this town and this relationship and just, not start over, but like, idk. Takes the first few steps up in making my life a little more tolerable for me. I don’t hate my life. I have more blessings than I can count for but obviously, I’m not a happy person but also it is 5 am and I’m lacking sleep and possibly getting sick with a full weekend of work to look forward to.

At least Oz is consistent. He’s got his little surprises but like, I expect to expect them from time to time. He doesn’t pull anything crazy on me that hasn’t been done before. He’s just a chill little dude, munching on hay and laying around like a bum and like, same. Same. Sometimes he’ll have a little run and some hops but like, just chill. Calm. I am such a rabbit person. Like, I click with their little personalities. 

I just need, peace. Calmness. Predictability. Not forever, but just for the time being. Because I need to get my wits together. Time is going by faster than I can even remember the date and it’s honestly freaking me out. Because I have so much to do and get done and I’m oblivious to the passage of time or just have bad perception of it which is probably a symptom of my mental health or inability to math. etc. etc. etc.

Why am I typing. I’m so fucking tired.

[dreadlegion]

Nero x OC Thing

Things had really picked up for the Devil May Cry agency since the Red Grave Incident, as it was now being referred to. Although it seemed many people knew about demons before the attack against the city, that number had more than tripled since, or so it seemed anyway. Devil May Cry now received a number of calls a day with requests for demon extermination and help. A number of them ending up being bogus, people thinking a family member acting weird was a sign of possession and unfortunately, they had to follow them all up just in case they turned out to be real. Either way there was certainly enough work to keep them busy for a while.

It seemed the portal being open, even for the sort period it was, had been enough to incite some serious chaos. Many demons had snuck through the portal and were now wreaking havoc across the city and its surrounding towns, resulting in a surge of work for Nero and the team.

None of them had seen Dante or Vergil since the incident but Trish said there were rumours floating around of the two seeking to escape the demon realm. Whispers of a “side door” if you will, one that the demons used regularly to get through, although wasn’t big enough for any of the ‘real’ nasties to make an appearance.

Nero hadn’t really allowed himself time to think about the events that lead up to his Father and Uncle getting trapped in the demon realm. To be honest it still felt weird thinking of them like that. Not that he considered Vergil much of a Father figure, ‘deadbeat dad’ seemed to fit the bill better than Father ever would. But he did miss the older devil hunter to a degree.

Even if the two were to come back he wasn’t sure what he’d say to them.

“Hey assholes thanks for leaving me behind to clean up your mess. Again.” or “Thanks for coming back, get your asses into gear and fix this shit?”

His family situation wasn’t the only thing pressing on his mind. Kyrie and he had ‘mutually’ decided to take a break. Mutually meaning Kyrie has asked Nero if they could, and he’d agreed, not being able to say no to her. It had broken his heart a bit but he’d known for a while things weren’t exactly going well.

He was away slaying demons and trying to fix the world, she was still helping Fortuna rebuild after the mess Dante had caused there. He was becoming broody and distant and another guy had come along and been there for her, been what she needed when Nero couldn’t.

He’d let her down and that broke his heart more than any break they were taking. But he needed his space, needed his time to process everything that had happened and heal. She couldn’t wait for him the way he had waited for her after Fortuna. He decided it was best to stay in Red Grave till he had things sorted out with the city and himself.

With a groan Nero gave up on sleep for another night, and climbed out of the RV to get some fresh air and prevent Nico from being woken up by his insomnia again. Nico had been surprisingly amazing since Red Grave, not complaining when he was off moping on his own, or didn’t eat properly, or was grouchy. He needed his space for the most part and she’d been the one to provide it with little to no complaint, which was odd for Nico.

Nero knew he was being a bit of a jerk but after everything he’d gone through, he really couldn’t bring himself to care all that much. He’d get over it. Eventually. But right now he wanted to be mopey and angry and hurt and everything he’d put aside at the time for the better interest of literally everyone on the planet.

It was cool and quiet outside, the air held a sharp sting to it as winter closed in on the city, leaving Nero’s warm breath hanging as mist in the air before him. Wrapping his jacket tighter around him, he wandered off with no real destination in mind. Just an urge to move and try to rid himself of the restless energy that plagued him and prevented sleep.

He found himself in the same place he usually did on nights like this one: Central Park. It'd been badly damaged during the attack, only one seat remained, broken on one half, the stone of the fountain crumbling, the water it once held long since dried up and the shattered remains of Sparda's statue sat upon its perch in the centre.

Sparda, his grandfather, one could argue was the root cause for everything that had happened. Nero would argue it was Dante and Vergil who were the cause but to a degree he could see where others were coming from. If it hadn’t been for Sparda starting all of the nonsense he did with demons, then fathering the twins, well. Things would certainly be different. His Grandfather. Another weird thought for the young white haired man, one he tried not to think about too much lest it cause him a headache like last time.

So lost in his thoughts, Nero failed to notice a thin beam of light coming from above him, directly over his head. He did notice it however when he found it encompassing him completely and he was unable to move from the spot he was standing a few seconds later. Panic courses through him, his heart racing at the possibility of an attack from some unknown entity but as he looked up into the light his panicked turned to curious shock when he was figure slowly drifting down towards him.

As it got lower he could begin to make out the details, it was a human, a woman from the looks of it. Dark brown, almost black hair flowed around her, as if suspended in water not air. She was rather pale and a touch on the slender side, yet with soft curves. Nero felt slightly breathless as he watched her come to halt mid air, at his shoulder level, as if waiting for something from him. Without a second thought, the white haired man held up his arms and gentle  caught the mysterious woman.

She was light, and easy to hold, her bare skin almost cool in his arms which intrigued him. He did his best to be polite and not stare at her naked body, but well, he was a hot blooded young man, he definitely had a quick peek. Nero stood there with no idea what to do as the pillar of light that had brought him such a precious cargo faded as quickly as it had come, leaving him in the darkness of night once more. He supposed his best option would be to take her back to the trailer for now and wait for her to wake up and see if they could gather any information about who she was and why she descended from the heavens into Nero's arms in a ray of light.

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

Ahh i dunno. First time actually posting something like this. Let me know what you think -_- I’m sure it’s rubbish ahahah

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

The Time Page’s Wish: Ch. 12 - The Realm of the All Father

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: G

Summary: It’s been four months and Uncle Joe is still missing. On his twelfth birthday, Joe decides it’s time to track him down. One wish lands them in the middle of a revolution. And it seems the only way to get them home is with the help of some untrustworthy thieves. As long as they don’t take The Book for themselves.

Read on AO3

Joe shuffles his deck of cards as he and Tessa make their way up the stairs to the All Father. The edges are bent and torn from years of use, but he continues to toy with them, furthering the damage.

Tessa glances at him out of the corner of her eye. "You really don't need to be nervous."

"I'm not nervous."

"Then you have the worst sleight of hand I've ever seen. Your fingers are so stiff."

"Sleight of hand is my specialty." Joe's hand slips and his cards scatter all over the stairs.

Tessa rolls her eyes and bends down to help him pick them up. "Of course it is. Sure you're not nervous?"

His face flushes deep scarlet. "So what if I am? This whole situation is very daunting. I'm about to be magically awakened, and it might kill me."

The thought hadn't stopped running around in Joe's mind. What if he wasn't ready for this? What if it killed him like Tessa had warned him it might? She said it was the most incredible experience of her life, and yet, Joe was more nervous than excited. This should be his dream come true. He was on the path to becoming the Warp Wizard, not that he knew what that meant, but it still sounded cool. He would be practicing real magic. No more lame card tricks or pulling bunnies from hats. So, why were his palms so sweaty?

"It might kill you, but it probably won't." She offers him an empathetic smile. "You were chosen to be the next Warp Wizard. You have genuine magic running through your blood. The awakening process has only been known to kill people who don't have true magic within them."

Joe studies Tessa, noting the seriousness within her violet eyes. "You really know a lot about magic. I've never met anyone who's as passionate about it as me."

Now it's Tessa's turn to blush. "Well, I try to pay attention in my lessons, even if they are boring. I just prefer to actually practice magic than read about it."

They gather up the rest of the fallen cards and stand back up, climbing the stairs once more. Joe slips the deck back into his pocket for safe keeping.

"For the record, it's perfectly okay to be nervous about all this. I was terrified when I came here a few months ago. At least you're not alone." Tessa's eyes wander up the staircase, not focusing on any point in particular. Only a few stairs can be seen at a time. The colorful fog is too thick for them to see the summit.

Joe continues to watch Tessa. He'd been so focused on himself, he didn't even think about how she went through all of this by herself. Joe knew what to expect once he got to the top, roughly. Had Tessa known anything at all? He tried to put himself in her position. First, finding out you were next in a long line of powerful wizards, then walking up these stairs to her potential death, not knowing when they were going to end, all while being by herself. A shiver ran down his spine. No wonder she was trying to connect with him. For the first time in months, she had someone she could relate to. He was definitely grateful for her company.

"I haven't seen my uncle in month's," Joe suddenly says.

Tessa blinks, snapping out her thoughts. "What?"

"The reason I've been so 'grouchy' lately," he confesses. He takes a deep breath and keeps talking before he can doubt himself. "A few months ago, my uncle went missing after a warp. I've tried so hard to find him, but no matter where I look, he isn't there. I swore I did everything right when we warped that time, but I'm still worried it's my fault he's missing. He's my favourite family member. We're so close. He taught me everything I know about magic. He was even the one to give me The Book. Now he's gone, and I don't know if I'll ever get him back. On top of all that, getting thrown into Horae Manor hasn't been easy either. I feel like I have a million questions, and everyone refuses to answer them. I get having my powers awakened is important, but a quick explanation for what's going on would have been nice."

Joe hates to admit it, but speaking all his fears out loud takes a huge weight off his shoulders. He feels better already. He holds himself back from saying anything else, wanting to give Tessa a chance to respond.

She nods at his confession. "Losing family is tough. I get it." Again, that faraway look appears in her eyes, dulling their glow.

Joe senses another common thread between them. "What happened to your family?"

Tessa jumps. "Nothing," she answers quickly. "They're fine."

"Okay." He leans away. "I thought you didn't want to keep secrets from each other."

"I-" Tessa stutters. "I just miss them. A lot. They're still traveling with the circus, and I haven't seen them in a while."

"Why aren't you traveling with them?"

"They sent me to Boston a few years ago to live with Arwen and have the chance at a normal life. I miss the circus. Normal life is so boring." Tessa huffs and crosses her arms. "When I got the letter to study at Horae Manor, I was so excited to be living a life of adventure again. I honestly don't know what I'd do without magic." Her hand reaches out into the fog, it reacts to her touch by glowing a bright shade of purple. "It's been both a blessing and a curse, but I would never give it up."

"What's the name of your family's circus?" Joe asks, wanting to keep the conversation going.

Tessa bites her lip. "Um, it's a small troupe. You've probably never heard of us. We're mostly based in the south."

"But I-"

Tess ignores him. "So what questions do you have that your dying to have answered? We've got a bit before we make it to the top."

Joe blinks, not expecting the sudden change in topic. "Um, well, why do I feel drawn to you?"

She stumbles, nearly falling back down the staircase. "Little soon to be confessing your love for me, isn't it?"

His cheeks flame red. "No, no, no. Not like that. It's just... ever since we met, I've felt like something was tugging me to you. Is it because we're magic partners?"

"Maybe." She tilts her head to the side, and starts to move again. "But I don't feel any sort of pull to you. Are you sure it's me you feel connected to?"

Joe nods. "It has to be. I started to feel it as soon as we were in that prison cell together back in Paris. It comes from my gut, and it's pretty strong."

"Ohh." Tessa digs through her pockets and pulls out a gold pocket watch. "Is it this?"

His eyes narrow at the watch. It looked familiar to him. "Is that mine?"

"Yeah." She hands it to him. "I sort of swiped it off you when we in Paris."

He takes the pocket watch. The tugging in his gut subsides as he does, as if the watch is exactly where it's supposed to be now. It takes him a moment, but Joe suddenly realizes what this is. It's the timepiece Uncle Joe left him when he leveled up to a time page. He tucks the gift away. "What do you mean, you swiped it off of me?"

Her cheeks turn pink. "Back in the circus, I use to be a pickpocket."

"I thought you were an acrobat?"

"I had multiple jobs." Tessa rubs the back of her neck. "Ticket sales aren't always enough to pay the bills."

Joe stares at his pocket watch. Honestly, he hadn't even noticed it was gone. He should be paying better attention. Still, Tessa had no right to steal his stuff. She was as bad as his sister. "Why would you take this? What else have you stolen?"

"Oh, look! I think I can see the end." Tessa hops up the stairs, forcing Joe to quicken his pace.

If he squints, he can just barely make out the outline of the top platform. The image gradually becomes clearer as they continue to ascend the staircase. Despite their conversation, Joe still has butterflies in his stomach about the whole thing. Not to mention, a thousand questions.

He stops a few steps short of the summit.

Tessa climbs a bit more before realizing Joe is not with her. She turns around, notices his nervous stature, and rejoins him. She places her hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be okay. The awakening process is quick and painless, and the All Father is super nice. Nothing bad will happen to you. I'll be by your side the whole time. I promise."

He looks at her hand, then slowly gazes up into her eyes. The butterflies settle down as he focuses on the tugging pulling him to her. He takes a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do this."

They break through the mist and emerge into a world of magic.

Flames of every color dance alongside the floor, but leave no scorch marks in their wake. One fire twists and turns through the air, changing from purple to blue to black to white. The other fires move and change in a similar fashion, but with different colors. The same magic symbols that decorated the walls of the catacombs are carved into the floor, creating a winding path through the flames. Blackness surrounds them on all sides. It's as if they are standing on a floating sidewalk.

It's hard to see the ceiling, or if there even is one. The flames disappear high into the sky and begin too far down to see if there is a bottom.

"Woah." It's all Joe can manage to get out. The past few days have thrown an overwhelming amount of beautiful impossibilities at him, but this one takes the cake. The thrum in the air was stronger than the magic he had felt outside. It fills his chest and sends tingles down his arms and legs. His head buzzes from the sensation of it all. He's never felt so alive.

Tessa's eyes are closed. She lets out a soft sigh. It sounds almost melodic in this atmosphere. "I forgot how good this place feels." She opens her eyes to look at Joe. "This is the birthplace of all magic. Where all great magicians and wizards have been awakened. This is where the All Father resides."

Her gaze slides up the path and Joe's follows. He can't see around the bend of fire, but he knows the All Father is close. His awakening is about to begin.

The two young wizards move up the path. As they round the corner of flames, they begin to hear a muttering voice. The words are indistinguishable, so they keep moving forward until they come upon the man himself, the All Father.

Unlike everyone else Joe had met, the All Father looks exactly like he expects him to. His grey beard and mustache are thick, completely covering the lower half of his face, but they're well-trimmed and fall no farther than his neck. His hair appears less kempt, and still has a bit of black in it. The messy strands are short, not fully covering his ears. His skin is a pale white and almost glows from the surrounding fires.

He sits behind a mahogany desk in a simple tan suit jacket. Okay, that was not what Joe was expecting. He was hoping for some long robes and a wizard hat. Why did every magical person have to dress so normally?

The All Father hasn't noticed their presence. He continues to mumble to himself in a smooth, deep voice. "If the rate of decay continues to increase at this current speed, all will be lost in a matter of decades. Unless, I can alter the-"

Tessa clears her throat.

The All Father jumps at the sound. He looks up at them with white eyes. "Who are you? How did you get in here?" His colorless eyes narrow and he pushed himself away from the desk. He remains seated, for now.

Joe takes a step back. Apparently, another common trait among magical people was freaky colored eyes, or lack-there-of in the All Father's case. Despite their lack of pupils, they seem to bore into Joe and Tessa.

Tessa straightens her spine. "I'm Tessa Johnson, the next Aether Wizard." Her voice is calm, as if she anticipated this would happen. "We met a few months ago when you awakened me."

His face softens, appearing almost apologetic. "Ah, yes. The anachronism. You'll have to forgive me. I usually don't meet people more than once." His eyes flare lime green. It was so quick, Joe wasn't sure it had even happened. "And yet, you and I are fated to meet once more."

Tessa scrunches up her face. "Why?"

The All Father either doesn't hear her or ignores her. He turns his attention on Joe. "You, I don't know. Why have you come to see me? Not that I'm complaining. It's always nice to have visitors. No one visits anymore."

Joe's heart is suddenly heavy for the old man. No wonder his mind was starting to slip away. If Cealus had been abandoned years ago, then he probably didn't socialize very much anymore. He didn't know how many people came here to be awakened, but it couldn't have been too many. What was it like to live like this? In total isolation with only your thoughts to keep you company.

Joe clears his throat, his nerves still present despite his sympathy for the All Father. "My name's Joe Arthur. I'm the next Warp Wizard. Tessa and I have come here so that I can be awakened."

The All Father grins. "Ah, an awakening. I love these. Come, let's not waste time. After all, your time is the most precious of all." He chuckles to himself as he stands and steps back from the desk.

With a wave of his wrinkled hand, the desk slides to the shoulder of the platform. Another flick of the wrist, and a curious pattern begins to etch itself into the floor. Joe immediately recognizes it as the symbol for time magic. The shape begins to glow a familiar shade of green.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Step up, boy! Don't you want to be awakened?"

"I-" He stuttered. Yes, no, maybe. The words bounced around inside Joe's head. Yes, he wanted to have full access to his magical abilities and be able to call upon them anytime he wanted like Tessa could with hers. No, he didn't want to deal with all this responsibility he and Tessa were apparently destined for. But maybe, things wouldn't be so bad. Rowena and Cas seemed to be pretty okay.

Tessa places her hand on his shoulder. Calming him, like she did on the stairwell. "This will be the most amazing moment of your life. And think of everything you'll be able to do afterwards." She smiles softly at him, and once again Joe's nerves fade away.

Joe turns back to the All Father and nods once. "Okay. Let's do this."

He steps into the center of the symbol. The thrum of magic shoots up his body, starting in the soles of his feet and racing up to the tip of his head. The intensity of it makes him light-headed, but he holds his ground, feet locked in place.

The All Father wriggles his fingers, a smile playing along his lips. This was clearly the only form of the fun the old man had anymore. "Before we begin, I must warn you. If your body cannot handle the awakening process, it will kill you, and it will not be painless. However, if you truly are a great wizard and your body and mind don't implode, your life will never be the same. Magic is as deadly as it is powerful. If you do not wield it correctly, it will kill you. I need you to tell me that you understand all this and consent to it."

Joe tilts his head. "You mean, you can't tell if I'm a great wizard or not?"

"I could look into the future and see what the fates have in store for you," the All Father lifts his shoulders, "but the future is always changing. Even if you are destined to be a great wizard, your body might not be ready for the awakening yet."

Joe clenched his fists. Tessa had survived and had come out stronger. Why shouldn't he? "I'm ready."

The All Father nods and cracks his knuckles. "I thought so. Let's begin."

And then Joe's world goes black.

A warm ethereal glow creeps into the edges of his vision. The white light pulses in time with his heartbeat, now ringing in his mind. Slowly, the white color morphs into soft green, which continues to grow in intensity until it nearly blinds Joe.

Then it's gone.

Back to the darkness, Joe tries to move his head to see his surroundings, but his body is frozen in place. Or rather, his soul is. He can't quite describe it, but he feels as though he has no body, no sort of physical form in this realm. Or wherever he was.

He suddenly feels warm and his head is buzzing. It's a very pleasant feeling. He sighs, enjoying the energy rolling up and down his body. He would never be able to have a regular massage again. Was this the pleasant feeling Tessa had been bragging about? It was nice, but certainly not the most amazing sensation of his life.

The feeling intensifies, this time radiating from his heart. It grows and grows. Pounding against Joe's chest. Something tears open inside him, like a puma breaking free of its cage. The pleasantness is gone, replaced by a hard pain. He wants to clutch his chest and scream for this all to stop, but nothing comes out of him.

This can't be right. This was supposed to be his magical awakening. But, what if he was wrong. Maybe his body hadn't been ready to accept this much power. This could be his end.

Everything in him tightens up, and just as quickly, releases. Joe would collapse if he could. But he's still standing, and he's still alive.

A symbol appears in the air below him. It's the same weird cross that was on the door to Horae Manor, next to the symbol of time magic. No one had explained to him what it meant, but in this space, he feels oddly connected to it. He floats down to the symbol. As soon as he makes contact, it flashes silver.

The light fades and once again, Joe finds himself in an empty, black space. This time, the space doesn't feel empty. Something pushes in all around him, squeezing him uncomfortably. Like whatever had been released was trying desperately to get back in. The force melts into his chest, settling comfortably in his heart.

The ecstasy that hits him sends him soaring into the air. It's like a blast of warm wind that flies under his shirt and flows to his face. Tingles shoot down his spine and back up again and Joe swears he can hear fireworks in the distance. Green light flares out in all directions. It all makes him feel so lightheaded.

The pleasure fades away bit by bit until Joe is left numb and shaking. The darkness closes in around him, and he slips into unconsciousness.

[fierceathlete-a]

♫ dabs

SEND ♫ AND I’LL SHUFFLE MY MUSIC LIBRARY AND USE MY FAVORITE LYRIC AS A STARTER DRABBLE!

“Are you tired of me yet? I’m a little sick right now but I swear… When I’m ready, I will fly us out of here.”

   - Cut My Hair by Cavetown

A crash resonated throughout the house, causing Jake to wake up from his nap on the couch. Running a hand through his hair, the survivalist held back a sigh as he stood up and glanced around. For the past few months, he’d been staying with Meg and her mother after coming back from their time in the Entity’s realm. When he’d first come back, Jake had found himself out of a home. Since there had been no one to pay the bills on his home when he’d been swept away, it had been sold off to a family.

It sucked, he really liked his little cabin in the woods. 

Somehow, Meg had been able to find him roughing it in the woods after being there for a month. She’d practically forced him into her home, stating that she’d enjoy the company until he could get back on his feet. Jake hadn’t been sure exactly how to feel about it. They’d never been the closest friends. In fact, there had been several times he’d thought the athlete would kill him.

He’d appreciated being invited into the home, having a place to stay as he tried to put his life back together. Janice, bless her sweet old heart, had been nothing but kind to him. Whenever she was around, Meg seemed like a different person. She’d change from a rough girl to a flower child around her mother and it still threw Jake for a loop sometimes.

Tonight though, it seemed like Meg was struggling once again. Moving into the kitchen, Jake wasn’t surprised to see the ginger struggling to pick up pieces of a shattered plate. With shaky hands, she could barely touch a piece without cutting her fingertips on it. He was quick to grab her wrists before she could grab another shard, slowly tilting her hands to make her drop all the pieces once again.

Staring down at her hands for a moment, Meg didn’t speak as she stayed kneeling on the tile floor. Jake didn’t speak, moving his hands to under the athlete’s arms and making her stand with him. Slowly guiding her to the skin, he turned on the sink and had her run her hands under the cool water. Snatching up a towel, he was quick to turn off the sink and wrap her hands up. None of the cuts had seemed deep so it should hopefully stop bleeding soon.

“What happened?” he questioned, his voice surprisingly soft. Minutes passed by before the ginger finally mumbled, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just… They… It was… I went out for a run in the woods like I always do and the Entity was there and it was gunna take me again and I-! I-!”

Meg was panicking again, her mind racing almost as fast as her legs could carry her. Jake frowned as she continued to ramble, unsure of just what to say. Ever since they’d escaped, Meg had been struggling hard with PTSD from the Entity. She was surrounded by the woods that she’d been stolen from yet refused to move anywhere else. The ginger felt that she had to stay here with her mother despite the fact that it put her in a terrible spot. Jake could respect that but it was clearly starting to take a toll on the athlete.

“You’re fine, Meg. The Entity is gone now, you’re home with your mother,” he stated, resting a hand on her back. Leading Meg out of the kitchen, he avoiding the shattered plate shards and made a note to clean it up later. Sitting her down on the couch, Jake sighed as she continued to mutter apologies.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. We’re going to be alright,” he commented, unsure of what else to say. He’d never been good at comforting people but he owed it to Meg to at least try. She’d been there to help him when he was living off in the woods. Until she was aright, he was sure he could stay here a little longer.

After all, Meg had told him to stay as long as he wanted.

[till-the-blue-skies-chase]

July 10, 2018

The Owl House looks super cool! I have a feeling it’ll have a Gravity Falls-esq atmosphere, what with the horror-comedy genre. I don’t expect it to be anything but gorgeous, and even the skeptic in me saying that every show I love will have a disappointing cop-out ending is quieter than usual. I’m super pumped for this series, and I just wanted a place to collect promotion material and analyze them. Currently I’m going by the description and a few images from Tumblr and the Disney Wiki page, but if you have any other official information or doodles from twitter, I’d love to hear about them!

“The series is a horror-comedy series that follows Luz, a self-assured teenage human girl who accidentally stumbles upon a portal to the Demon Realm. There she befriends a rebellious witch, Eda, and an adorably tiny warrior, King. Despite not having magical abilities, Luz pursues her dream of becoming a witch by serving as Eda's apprentice at the Owl House and ultimately finds a new family in an unlikely setting”

I want to know how to pronounce her name. I call her ‘Luz’ in my head, with a short ‘u’, but I wonder if it’ll be pronounced ‘looz’ which sounds...well, like a term used to describe a certain room in the house. It also sounds like ‘lose’, which is interesting as well.

I’d put her age at around fourteen or fifteen, certainly not lower than thirteen. But this is coming from someone who though Gideon Gleeful was in his thirties, so I’m probably not the best at age estimates.

‘Accidentally stumbles upon a portal’? I wonder if it’s a sort of rip in reality, a magical artifact, a magical portal opened accidentally by a spell, or a villain's doing? Like perhaps they were trying to gain entrance to the mortal realm? -Like another demon we know?-

(That aside, I wonder if we’ll get a little Bill cameo. Like I’m guessing well see a little triangle doodled on the corner of a book. A really tiny easter egg.)

Back to Luz; what about her family? Does she have parents? She goes on to (I’m assuming) live in the demon realm for a while, so I’m super curious about her mortal world family. Is she an orphan? Are her parents awful? Does she have any siblings? Friends? I worry for them and I worry for her.

Is Luz safe in the demon realm? Will she have to be wary about being a human surrounded by supernatural creatures?

How will she get to know Eda and King? Will they rescue her from some sort of threat? Will they be the first people she meets?

How old is King? What about his family? Was he training to be a warrior? How do he and Eda know each other? Was he an acquaintance of hers before she started rebelling?

I’m very interested in the magical system and this world in general; who rules the place? Who is Eda rebelling against? Societal convention or an authority figure?

What exactly is “The Owl House”? I’m taking a guess and saying that it’s either the name of a class in this world or is a name given to people who associate with Eda, given that she’s known as ‘The Owl Lady’ (more on that later).

I’m also intrigued by the fact that the description implies that having ingrained magical abilities is one thing, and being able to perform magic just by training is another. I’m wondering if she actually has no potential to do magic and trains to be able to from scratch/ learns how to use the staff, or if she actually does have some magical abilities and has to work to discover and hone them.

Luz’s character design is so cute!

She and Eda have the same gold eyes; I wonder if this has to do with magical abilities or is symbolism. OR *puts tinfoil hat on* Luz is actually Eda’s daughter, and she was sent to the mortal world- yeah, probably the former. In fact, there seems to be a sort of gold motif around these three; Luz and Eda’s eyes, the latter’s nails and necklace (or whatever that gold thing on her dress is), King’s collar, the sparkles all around them...food for thought.

I see the creepy looking building in the background with “The Owl Sh-” (I can only assume it says ‘shop’)  written on it; more on that later. I’m assuming this is where Eda lives/works. I suppose she runs a shop of sorts?

There’s a massive stained glass design of a red eye on the top of the building. Hmm.

Eda looks a little villainous in this image, so I’m wondering if she will be introduced or come off as sinister. King is also so darn cute.

Cool mom nonchalantly throws magical bug at son, unfazed by daughter’s bewilderment.

Luz seems to have a slightly different outfit here; the pink gradient on her shoes is gone (maybe that was a trick of the lighting) and so are the pink shapes on the bottom of her leggings. The strings of her shirt are gone, and her irises aren’t visible here, though that may be because of that expression. The irises return in later drawings.

So, front and center in the background; ‘The Owl Lady’ is at large with a comically heavy price on her head.

So, first of all, she freaking framed her ‘wanted’ poster. I’m guessing Eda is quite proud of this. I love her for that.

This photo also implies that she’s known King for a while, and he’s likely wanted as an accomplice.

I’m curious as to whether this reward was placed by a personal enemy or by a governing body or other authority figure.  

She’s known as the ‘Owl Lady’; she’s probably a bit of an enigma. That being said, the building on the first photo probably said ‘Owl Shop’ on it, so...Maybe whoever wanted to capture her could search the building that looks pretty darn suspicious? This points to the building being either abandoned or obscured heavily by magic. Or the fact that they know where she is but can’t actually capture her.

Has she failed to have been captured because of her power or because of her being in hiding?

The shop thing is so weird. I don’t even know what to make of it. I guess she owns or lives in this store, but maybe I’m taking the ‘living in the workspace’ thing straight from Gravity Falls.

It seems that they use a dollar sign to represent whatever currency they use.

On to the rest of the background; Eda has an accordian. I need answers. Somebody came in second place for something at some point and she felt the need to hang the medal on her wall. Eda, you better have a good explanation for the friking hand on your wall because otherwise I’m dubbing you ‘Hand Witch 2.0’.

She also has a foam finger and radio; does the demon realm just have similar technology to the mortal world or is it something that perhaps ‘fell through’, maybe through a portal like how Luz did? If so, how interested is she in these items to have kept and displayed them in her home? Was this a reason she was interested in Luz and agreed to teach her magic?

It’s a little hidden by Luz’s hand, but it looks as if there’s an eye with a slitted pupil as a decoration in the center of the couch. HMMM.

The lamp, I’m assuming, is lit by magic, but it would be pretty darn cool if the demon realm had electricity.  

Other notable items; an umbrella, what looks like a small photograph of sorts, or something else in a little frame, an askew corner of what looks like cardboard or paper thumb-tacked to the wall, a cow skull, the thing in a oval frame that King is obscuring, the sword and axe.

I suppose the satchel belongs to Luz; it looks brighter than everything else and has a little purple dinosaur sticker that matches her shirt. I guess this may be her school bag?

Why is King wearing a collar? Is it an identification thing from when he was working/training as a warrior?

I’m so curious about the recurring owls! The frame has an owl on it too. Is Eda known as ‘The Owl Lady’ just because of her staff?

I’m curious about that staff too; Eda holds it here but other official doodles show only Luz with it. I’m guessing that the staff helps her enhance/control her powers, or it’s just a sort of broom, and that she will eventually pass it on to Luz.

Eda reminds me of Pearl for some reason? Just the way she looks, and seems to carry and present herself, coupled with the fact that she’s rebellious and carries a long, stick-shaped weapon. I doubt her personality would match up, though. I think she’d be a bit more like Garnet in that she’ll be hard to impress and powerful, and a bit like Stan Pines in that she will be very sly and deceitful along with wanting to bond with and protect others. Of course, you can’t always describe a character completely in terms of others. She’ll likely be an interesting person nonetheless. I’m looking forward to seeing what she’s like and seeing just how wrong my guesses are.

I have a feeling Luz is going to be a smartass. She looks like a snarky person, but also a little bit of a dork.

I love King already. I’m guessing he’ll be quite loyal to both Eda and Luz. I feel like he’s going to be a sort of younger brother type to Luz.

Other photos of interest, though I’m not sure how official they are;

Luz doing some magic with her hand. I’m wondering again about the magic system; is she only able to do this because she’s holding the staff or because she’s practiced?

Is she reciting a spell or just speaking or yelling while doing magic?

So her staff doubles as a ‘broom’ sort of thing? Interesting!

Please tell he that owl isn’t sentient. I’m hoping it falls more into ‘magic that works like technology’ than it does full on sentience like Aladdin’s magic carpet.

Confirmation that King has two eyes; when I first saw the first two photos, I was worried because his right (?) eye was closed.

They’re eating ice cream here, and again I’m wondering about how technology will work in this show. They had to get this ice cream from somewhere and had to keep it cool somewhere, so it looks like there’s a market for ice cream in the demon realm and Eda either has a freezer or keeps them cold with magic.

Or maybe I’m completely wrong about the premise and Luz is hopping between realities. I’m so worried for this child. Is she going to get home she’s probably been reported missing are her family/friends okay.

There’s...another eye shape on the side of the couch. What. Is. With. The. Bill. Cipher. Eyes.

Eda is unimpressed by tiny demon trying to steal her ice cream. Threatens to light him on fire. I wonder what that little guy is doing there. Perhaps those little creatures are the equivalent of mice.

More evidence for King being a little brother type to Luz! I’ve got a feeling that I’m going to love their interactions! Cuties!

The fact that King is eating ice cream from a cone suggests that they got it in the demon realm. You can get ice cream in a cone prepackaged (like with those drumsticks ice cream) but it’s more common to get it at an actual ice cream store.

Or maybe I’m just over analyzing a couple of doodles for an animated kids show that’s not going to air for almost a year from now. I don’t know what I’m doing. I wrote five pages. Twelve if you include all the photos.

Some plot predictions;

I imagine Luz will be adamant about wanting to learn magic, and Eda will be skeptical about teaching her. I’m thinking they’ll have a bit of tension going into it.

I don’t know where the exact tweet is, but Alex Hirsch described it as ‘making the censors want to quit’. Gravity Falls definitely pushed the boundaries (hard) for the creep factor, but I’ve got a feeling this show will do much worse. I’m looking forward to seeing a deeply unsettling world and some very dark story elements.

I’m sure that all of them will get to be badass together at some point and I look forward to that day.

Just waiting here to see how yet another ‘goofy kid’s show’ tears my heart out. Fun times for all.

Images and description pulled from:

http://danaterrace.tumblr.com/tagged/the-owl-house

http://disney.wikia.com/wiki/The_Owl_House

[videogamelover99]

Waking Days Ch.3 - Vegas Lights

A/N Guess this is back you guys. I’m so glad you’ve been patient with me for so long, and finally this chapter is out. I’m hoping to get posting at least once a month now. For now here’s this chapter.  AU by @doodledrawsthings​. Based on @pengychan​‘s Flat Dreams fic. 

“Please tell me that’s not it.” Dipper knelt down in the grass.

“I’m afraid it is.”

“I doesn’t look too bad.” Mabel said, turning her head with a forced smile on her lips.

“It looks horrible.”

“It’ll be okay.”

Stanford laughed at the twins’ bickering, but the laugh was clearly forced. Over the brief period he and his brother visited Dimension 52 the hole grew even more, now taking on a shifting mess of color, glowing an intimidating red that bathed the rest of the tree in an almost demonic hue. Golden thread wove through both sides of the crevice, the physical representation of the effects of the chronometer. It bore close resemblance to a gaping, bleeding wound, held closed by half-attempted stitches. A leftover memory of Bill Cipher’s terror, not that different from what Ford remembered of the Nightmare Realm. It felt wrong just being there.

The Oracle showed up regularly, if it was just to check up on the rift or on the Pines Ford wasn’t sure, but the being soon became an almost normal presence in the household. The visits of his old friend reassured as much as they troubled the scientist. If anything, he should be glad she had agreed to help, but the frequently worried look on her face made Stanford extremely unnerved. If a being with knowledge of the future wore that look, then certainly things weren’t at all good.

If that wasn’t concerning enough, the way Cipher turned tail and left every time Jheselbraum came around certainly was. Ford would almost feel sorry for him if it wasn’t for, well, everything.

Stan, while quite suspicious at first (‘no, she hadn’t tried to possess me. Do you really think I’d fall for that trick again?’) Had quickly warmed up to the oracle. After trying (and failing) to sell some of his junk to her, the conman had somehow decided she was the next best thing since sliced bread.

…

“I’m rich! Finally!”

It was a cool, misty Sunday morning when Stan suddenly burst through the back door, the poor thing squeaking on its hinges, and tossed a packed-looking duffel bag onto the kitchen table. The other members of the Pines family, who just a few seconds ago were eating breakfast, all stared at the new item in bemusement.

“Uh, Grunkle Stan, what’s with the suitcase?” Dipper finally asked, poking the thing lightly with a finger.

“Ooh, are you going on vacation?” Mabel stood on her chair to get a better look.

“We were on a vacation for nine months.” Stanford pointed out, hardly taking his eyes off of the paperback he was reading.

“Oh yeah, but would you really call battling sea monsters every day a real vacation?” Dipper frowned.

“It is for this family.”

“Okay, no, I’m not going on a vacation, though right now that sounds really tempting.” Stan butted in, reaching over Dipper’s shoulder to unzip the duffel bag. Inside was green, and not the kind you find on trees either.

“Wow.” Mabel whistled appreciatively, looking at the bag full of hundred dollar bills in a newfound light.

“Who’d you rob?” Her brother frowned, peering at the cash with a much more wary look.

“Nobody! Nobody that actually needed it, at least.” the old man shrugged.

Ford finally put down the book, eyeing the money. “This isn’t from that pug trafficking incident you told me about, is it?”

“Hey how’d ya guess?”

“Pug trafficking?” Mabel now looked a lot less awed.

“Hey, don’t worry, Sweetie! I promise no dogs were harmed. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a scout…” Ford muttered, once again picking up his book.

“So anyway, I’m rich. Who knows what I’m going to do with it?”

“Buy a really expensive perfume?”

“Build a new room for Soos.”

“OOH! Buy a trained tiger!”

“Great pitches kids, but nah.” Stan grabbed one of the handles, pulling the money closer. “There’s one place I’ve been dying to go to. Hadn’t been there since my marriage.”

“You got marri-”

“Anyway, waddaya say, Sixer? Ready for some nightlife? Babes? Action?”

Stanford slowly put the book down, and met his twin’s gaze with his own, steely one. “The universe is falling apart at the seams. Our enemy is living under our roof. And you want to drag me to- to- that-”

“Wow, way to ruin the fun. After thirty years in sci-fi land I’d expected ya to lighten up already.”

“You’re sixty, Stan, not exactly ideal age to go gambling, and we don’t have time for this.” The scientist stood up, tucking his paperback under his arm. “I’m going downstairs to figure out how to save the world. Again. You can do whatever you want.” And just like that, he left, leaving his three family members staring at each other in silence.

“Okay, I coulda handled that better.”

“Uh, Grunkle Stan? Why exactly did you want to take Grunkle Ford to Vegas?” Dipper asked.

“Okay, so, I may or may not owe a giant sum of money to someone-”

“Of course.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“And gun-slinging backup doesn’t hurt...Also fun.”

“I don’t think he’s the type, Grunkle Stan.” Mabel stated sadly.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Bill is.” Dipper mused.

“Wow, okay, no. Could ya imagine having that monstrosity on a road trip? Ugh, I don’t even wanna think about it.”

The girl snorted. “Yeah, I think I can.”

“Speaking of which, where is the little creeper gone?”

“Uh…” The twins shared a look. Mabel shrugged helplessly. “We should probably find him before he burns down the forest or something.”

“Good point.” And with that the two disappeared, leaving Stan alone with an unfinished piece of toast and a bag full of illegal cash.

“Huh. Is that something I should be concerned about?”

Stanley whirled around, bag suddenly clutched to his chest. “Jesus Christ, lady, give an old man a warning!”

Jheselbraum (he got it right, right?) raised an eyebrow, folding her arms and leaning casually on the edge of the table. “Strange, I do not think that man knew his name was going to turn into something explicit. But I suppose it happens.”

“I- what?”

“Nevermind.” The oracle turned her attention to the bag. “And I’m guessing that was 100% legally acquired?” She couldn’t quite hide the amusement in her voice.

“Oh yes. Absolutely.” Stan gave her a sarcastic grin. That grin slipped away quickly, however, as the cogs in his brain began to turn, suddenly giving him an idea as he eyed the woman in front of him. “Say, what’s yer opinion on road trips?”

…

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” The alien in the shotgun seat shifted uncomfortably, struggling her best to say annoyed. Stan brought the car into the left lane, quickly passing a truck on the side.

“Really? Ya didn’t exactly seem that reluctant goin’.”

“I- We should be working on closing the rift, not, not galavanting on some weekend quest to pay off a guy you stole from.”

“Hey, who said anything about stealing? I was borrowin’.”

“And i suppose the death threats that he leaves in your voice mail are friendly banter?”

“Aw, you’re being sarcastic. And here I thought you were a stick in the mud.”

“...” Nora sat back in her seat, tossing one leg over the other, and stared out the window. Bits of Oregon wildlife flew past them, forrest green melting into a choppy blir as the car flew by at a grand total of 50 miles an hour. The Stanleymobile really needed to upgrade.

It didn’t take long for Stanley to admit the real reason he was reluctant to go alone. Apparently he was completely willing to blow all of his money by himself. No, what got him concerned about bringing Stanford was not company as much as muscle. Owing a lot of money to a crime boss apparently did that to you.

“And what exactly do you want me to do?” She frowned. “Sit there and look pretty?”

“We-ell.” Stan paused, scratching his cheek with one hand, the other resting on the steering wheel. “You can see the future, right?”

“It’s not that simple.” She frowned. “Also sorry for not seeming that excited, but if you were planning to use that to win some easy money, you’re out of luck. My vision doesn’t work that way.”

“And what’s ‘that way’?”

“Complicated.”

“Fine.”

There was silence. Nora didn't really know why she was so antagonistic toward Stanley. So far, the human hadn’t done anything that would deserve it, if the whole using-her-for-gambling thing didn’t count. But there was something in the back of her mind, an itch that was scratching at her, telling her that the man next to her was not what he seemed.

That was truly ridiculous. She looked into his and his brother’s timeline many times. She knew him, just like the rest of the Pines, like the back of her hand. And yet-

Maybe she just wasn’t used to the company. Back in her own dimension, the Oracle had many people with whom she’d conversed. Many came to the mountain to seek her guidance, and the company was always welcome. But there was always some barrier, a wall between her and the other that prevented her from truly- what? Connecting? She was always there to get wisdom and assistance. It was a long time before she could just speak to someone, without needing to be that.

It felt refreshing, but also slightly off-kilter.

“Y’know, that’s not the only reason I wanted to bring Sixer.” Stan’s voice made the woman turn back to him, her thoughts pushed back into a jumbled mess for the time being.

“Oh?”

“He just- hasn’t been sleeping for a while, y’know? And I thought- ‘hey, great idea. Let’s get him to ignore the second end of the world for a while’. Didn’t exactly work, but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Nora sighed through her nose. “Your brother isn’t like that. You know it.”

“Yeah...yeah.”

“He’s very determined. Very passionate. That isn’t a bad thing.” The woman brought her hands up to fiddle with her pendant, lost in thought. “But it can easily get out of hand.”

“Yeah, I get what ya mean.” Stan frowned, staring straight at the road ahead. “You know, he called me too old to go gambling.”

The woman paused for a moment. “I am one trillion years old, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Huh...wow. Uh...you look younger than your years?”

“Thanks.”

“Though maybe if you stop dressing like it’s the war time…”

The oracle frowned, wrinkling out her skirt. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

“Nothing! Way better than wearing a wizard robe, anyway. Just looks like you came straight from the 1940s, is all.”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh hey, by the way, it’s Nora, right?”

“...yes.”

“Huh.” Stan snorted. “Knew a gal named Nora once. Real pain in my ass. You’ve got a lot in common.

Nora rolled her eyes. “Keep driving.”

“Sure thing.”

…

The first thing to assault her eyes were the lights. Hundreds of them, bright neon and colorful, hanging on buildings, advertising food, hotels, casinos. People stood on the sidewalks and threw pamphlets at tourists and passersbys, cards containing contact info of strippers and nightclubs, people yelling, cars honking aggressively, music blaring from hidden speakers, fountain jets raining down, illuminated by multicolor lights. There was so much, too much, it was overwhelming- Nora couldn’t look away. That man on the street- wife walked out on him, having a midlife crisis, taking it out on the girl next to him. The girl- adulterer, before she was even eighteen, raised in the middle of nowhere, wanted a life. What she got was angry drunkards and little pay. The woman on the street, tugging her child after her- married, on vacation, is about to meet her oldest daughter after a year apart. Every person, every place and every conversation had something to offer her, a troubled past, and hopeful or depressing future...She was used to this, used to the rapid fire of her predictions, fates intertwining, alternating, branching out into infinite different scenarios. But there was just so much...

“So, uh, what’d ya think? Worth the trip?”

Nora jumped, whipping around to look at Stanley hero, brother, savior, liar- “Uhh, it’s...something?”

“Come on! City of chance, of risk and it’s ‘something’?”

“It’s just...it’s a lot.”

…

After hustling into the hotel, via underground parking, Stan elbowed his way through the long, carpeted corridors of the hotel lobby, his companion trailing a few paces behind him, looking around at the crowd with wide eyes. The receptionist at the desk eyed both of them with a bored expression. Checking in was the easy part. Trying not to get jumped by a crime boss was another. Stan eyed his phone as he led Nora to the elevators, the bag of cash, discretely covered up by as stack of dirty clothes, over his shoulder. Floor 19 7pm. See me. The vague text sent an uncomfortable prickling feeling down his spine. He’d faced the end of the world, and yet the threat of organized crime still rubed him the wrong way. Call it bad memories. Being stuck in the trunk of a car for 31 hours could do that. He needed to make this quick and high tail outta here. And, Stan quickly reassured himself, he wouldn’t exactly be alone.

Though looking over at the oracle, who now eyed the fancy furniture and decoration with with annoyance, Stan wondered just how much faith he could put in his new inter-dimensional buddy. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her, per say, hell, he’d trust her over the angry yellow demon any day. Still, there was something off about her. Something that Stanley’s instincts had to remind him constantly of. Just how much did Ford really know about this woman? And who said she was who she said she was? Call him paranoid, but when was he not? Came with the trade, so to speak.

“So who are you meeting with? And how much can I bet on your survival?” Nora jumped up on the bed, the obscene amount of comforters bouncing under her weight.

“Nice to get some reassurance for once. And couldn’t you just look and see, anyway? Don’t you know the future?”

“I could…” she shrugged, “but it wouldn’t tell me anything. Not really.”

Well that was vague as hell.

The man grumbled, shouldering his duffel bag. “So your one superpower is basically useless. Well why the hell did I bring ya here then?!”

“That’s what I’ve been asking.”

Stan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Look, just...I’ma go and had ‘im the cash, hopefully won’t get jumped, and you, uh...do whatever you wanna do. I don’t know, watch TV or something.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“What question? Okay, bye!”

And he ran out, slamming the door behind him as he did.

…

He did not find the guy. The vague text message was the only thing he got, and after about an hour of scouting the corridor of Floor 19 Stan finally gave up and shrugged it off, deciding that the cash should be good for something, and made his way downstairs for the one thing this place was truly famous for.

...

“Hey buddy.”

Stan scraped up his tokens and grinned at the speaker lazily. “Yeah?”

The man looked like he was in his late thirties, his face still free of any wrinkles. Dark hair framed his long, oval-shaped face, a pair of expensive-looking spectacles sitting on his hook-shaped nose. “I see you’ve got quite a streak going. I won’t bother you, but I was wondering if you’d be interested in a game against me?”

“What kinda game?”

The man grinned, a golden tooth glinting in the dim lighting. “A game of opportunity.”

“Huh.” Stan watched the man grab a free table, sitting down and gesturing at the older man to follow suit. “I think I like ya already.” He sat down opposite. “So what d’ya want to bet on? Start small?”

The man was still smiling, something that Stan would find unnerving without the buzz of alcohol. “Oh no. There’s a loss far worse than money you can recover. Of course, I’d be needing the same in return.” He leaned in closer. “Time is much more precious than money, my friend.”

It was poker. It was literally just poker, and looking back, Stan kinda wished it wasn’t. Looking at a mystical game of chess or some kind of enchanted contest of weirdness would at least be bearable. His ego would still be intact. But poker? No, even the price of what he lost could not compare to just how humiliated he felt losing at the thing he was best at. But Stan lost, and the man just swept up all at chips, the subdued smile never leaving his stupid, pointy face. “Such a shame, really. I had honestly hoped I’d finally found a worthy opponent. You were close, my friend, but them’s the breaks.”

Stan briefly tore his hands away from his face to sigh, looking at everything but the man. “So what? You said we weren’t betting on cash. Just tell me what ya want so I can go already, you sleazy bastard.”

The man’s face warped into something truly sinister, his smirk spreading across his face. “I already took it, my friend.”

Suddenly, Stan felt like he was hit on the head with something impossibly heavy. Everything spun, his limbs felt incredibly weak, and as he stood up on wobbly legs he felt his spine curve downward a lot more than before. His eyesight was just awful, and it didn’t clear even as he rubbed his eyes. The skin on his hands felt thin and papery, and as the man slowly stumbed out of his seat and towards the hotel elevator, he knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

...

While Stanley went off on his quest to pay back what appeared to be the mafia, Nora realized there wasn’t really anything to do for her, not really. Watching television was like subjecting herself to a primitive form of mind-control. She could, of course, meditate, but that grew harder and harder the more time she spent on earth. Everything else was too distracting, too bright and loud for her to find that small empty space to bury her thoughts in. They just came crashing back in after she dispersed them, assaulting her with visions and worries and questions that she, for once, did not want answers to. She’d agreed to come here, why? To get away from Bill, was the immediate answer, but that didn’t work out the way she had wanted it to. Now instead of Bill there was Stanley. Stanley, who argued and made poor excuses and laughed at his won lame jokes in a way that made Nora’s heart ache. It was new, but incredibly familiar, like a case of deja-vu that did not end in a few seconds, but only strengthened every time Stan threw some banter her way. Honestly she’d have preferred Bill sulking around somewhere to this, this open interaction she didn’t have for so, so many years. It wasn’t until Ford’s brother left that she could finally start to sort it all out in her own head.

There was some scrambling behind the door. Nora sighed, opening her eyes. For a second she thought it was the mafia, but as the rest of her five eyes granted her a brief vision, she realized that was not the case. Something was terribly wrong.

The Oracle flung the door open, and a man tumbled into her, almost bringing both of them to the ground. A raspy voice whispered curses under his breath, and Nora finally recognized her human friend. Slowly, she closed the door with her free hand, using the other to help the man onto the bed. 

...

“What. Did you do.”

“We-ell, I, uh, hey you know how it is. The city of lights and all that, hadda at least give it a go-” There was a cough, but the voice did not clear up, just as ragged.

“...”

“A-and look, I thought I had pretty good odds, y’know? Been here more than you can count, have way more luck than imaginable, so, y’know…”

“Stanley, please tell me you didn’t make a bet with a god.”

Stan looked to the side, hands fiddling on his lap, and tried to ignore the sudden vicious pain in his back. And the ache in his joints. And the sudden rattle that appeared in his breath. “I can explain.”

Nora glared at him, the pointed look twice as terrifying. “Oh yes please do.”

“So, uh, there was this guy-”

“Oh who am I kidding! I should have known you would do this.” The woman threw her hands up, pacing back and forth in the suite. “I did know you would do this. But I didn’t- I didn’t think this you would be that stupid.”

“Alright, point taken! Now would ya stop trying to insult me every five sec- agh!” The con-man hunched over, his speech suddenly interrupted but a long coughing fit. It tore at his throat and made his chest ache like nothing he had ever felt before. Great. This is how I die. Over a stupid bet.

Wasn’t that how he expected to die, anyway?

The Oracle rolled her eyes, waiting until the hacking stopped and Stan regained his breath. “Right, don’t talk.”

“I got it.” He whined back, his body still fighting to cough up his own lungs.

“So, there was a man? And I suppose he offered you a drink?”

Stan shook, pounding his chest with all the strength his now frail arms could give him. “Was already drunk.”

A frustrated sigh. “And I suppose after you got hammered he offered you a deal?”

“A bet.” he coughed out.

Nora sighed. “But not for money.” She sat down next to him, shoulders hunched over.

“Oh yeah! He said somethn’ all mysterious-y, something like ‘You have-’”

“A loss far worse you can recover.” She finished for him. “I know what timeline this is.”

“Yeah, exactly that...You’re worse than my mother.”

She cracked a smile. “I’m an oracle. I’m worse than anyone’s mother.” Then she frowned. “You look terrible, by the by.”

“Thanks, I kinda guessed.” Stan slowly slid off the couch, straightening his back and heading toward the bathroom at a steady pace. “Well, time to see how well I-”

The scream and crash that came out from behind the door startled Nora to her feet. “Are you alright?”

“I’m hideous!”

“Well, yes.”

His hair was white. Pure white, like a blank sheet of paper or the way the goat looked whenever Mabel was in a mood for playing dress-up. It was still there, thank God, but looked a lot thinner than it did only a few hours ago. The wrinkles that started showing up around the time he hit 40 were somehow only deepened, the now grey-ish skin sagging in places and folding up in others. What was once his face now seemed wrong, an unwarranted glimpse into what he should not be able to see, a punch of an existential crisis right in the gut, a-

“Stanley? Are you alright in there?”

Stan slowly backed away from the mirror, away from- that, shuffling out  of the bathroom with more effort than should have been necessary.

Nora stared up at him from the edge of the bed.

“I think I just aged thirty years in one day. And man, I wish that was a joke.”

The Oracle sighed, casting her eyes somewhere Stan couldn’t follow, “You’d bartered on the thirty years you wanted back. And you lost.” She stared at him dead in the eye. “What did you think would happen?”

“I didn’t think anything! That guy-” Stan cut himself off, doubling into a wracking cough that made his aged body hurt in all the places he didn’t know he had.

“Careful, don’t have a heart attack, you’re ninety-two already.” Nora muttered under her breath, and the man wondered if that was a joke, too. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen.” She stood up, carefully guiding Staney to the armchair in the corner, helping him sit. “You are going to stay here, and hopefully not die by the time I get back. And I,” she stepped back, something settling in her gaze that made the con man shift a little. It was at that moment that he really saw something ancient before him, more ancient than even he felt like right now, and that thought chilled him to the bone. “I’m going to fix this.”

Stan blinked. “Got a plan more detailed than that?”

“Yes.”

“...Care to explain.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “The man that aged you, he’s most likely a lesser god or some kind of spirit. I’ve seen a couple of his type before, but never this bold. Anyway, their ‘deal’ is time. More correctly, lifespan. They barter and bet on the victim’s years, the mortal hoping to gain a few more decades on this plane of existence. Of course, it’s rigged, and the mortal always loses. This kind of gambling, ‘life gambling’, is banned in about 5 billion dimensions. This one as well. Still, I suppose Earth is remote enough to not me noticed by interdimensional relations. Or so they thought.”

“So, okay, he’s some kind of demon life gambler? What’s the point of taking time away though? Does he sell it?”

The Oracle smiled. “No, though that would be a feat to see. They consume it, the life force they take from people. Old gods have so few followers that their powers deplete to almost nothing. The only way they can keep themselves immortal is feeding off regular people.” She shrugged. “Though some of them do it for fun. Life force is still a lot of energy, after all.”

“And you’re- what? Gonna call the space cops on him? Take him for a night on the town?”

“Honestly, who do you take me for?” The Oracle straightened up, turning to head out the door, a smile already forming on her lips. “I’m going to beat him at his own game.”