#and being foolish about it because it looks like Eddie has changed because of them specifically

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 37

part 1 | part 36 | ao3

cw: depression, ptsd, references to canonical death and horror

Chapter 9

December

The smudged feeling comes back.

Which sucks, if he's being honest.

Despite the new thing with Eddie and the breathing room in his budget; despite everything going fine with Robin and work and the kids, his good moods never seem to hold. They keep getting muddied up, can't shine through the grubby handprints that threaten to blot them out.

And sure, it's not like he expected one great make out session to change his life (and it was a great one, to be clear; a great make out session and an even better handy later that night in Eddie’s van), but he just…

Shit.

He doesn’t know.

He thought it might feel easier. Life, adulthood; everything. Like the lightness and warmth he felt that night might carry over, might drift through to fill the cracks in him like a blanket of fresh snow.

But they don't, because they can't.

They can't touch the fact that he has no clue what he’s doing. That Steve Harrington's got no purpose, no direction and no point.

Most mornings he's got nothing but his creeping paranoia and a bone deep sense of dread.

The new year closes in like a wet tongue up the back of his neck; hot breath of a drooling grizzly getting ready to take a bite, and the long winter shadows around his house are growing fangs, rows upon rows of razor teeth in petal mouths.

His nightmares tastes like rot and lilac. Something heavy in the air.

And in the mornings he feels stupid when he wakes up shivering in cold sweat, foolish and young and alone. He clutches at his nail bat and peers through the cracks in the blinds, and he feels like a lunatic because there’s nothing out there. Nothing abnormal. Nothing wrong-side up. Just the shadows and the strays; the scurrying of house mice and the skitter of dead leaves.

It’s over now, they told him. It’s over, kid. We won.

They said it all three times.

—

"Uh...”

Eddie's standing in Steve's doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms loosely folded over his chest, a weird smile on his face like he's deeply fucking confused by what he's seeing but is trying so hard to be cool about it.

Which, like. Fair.

It's mid-morning on a Sunday and Steve is crawling on hands and knees in his gutted disaster of a living room — ripping up the edges of his terrible burnt orange carpet without even pausing to say hello — and the kids will be here any minute to help put up the Christmas tree, and he hadn't meant to do this; knows he looks completely manic, sweat dripping into his eyes, knuckles bleeding from the tack strips, but he woke up trembling from another nightmare and decided that everything had to go.

The nightmare felt too real. Long claws and sharp teeth, squelching muck and snaking vines; a flash of Chief Hopper bloody and shorn in a frozen wasteland, but the chief is dead and everyone's dead and Steve is so tired of being haunted by their ghosts, and in his shaken, post-dream haze he convinces himself that it's this place.

This place is the fucking problem.

This godforsaken tin can with spirits crawling in the walls.

They're clinging on like static just before a thunderstorm. In the floorboards, in the rug. Steve can feel them with each step. How many footprints buried themselves in these worn fibers? How many exhausted treks to the fridge and frenzied rushes to the phone; how many angry late-night pacers and visitors overstaying a welcome?

"Stevie?" Eddie clears his throat.

Steve just wants them all gone. The whole haunted circus — wants to strip it to the bones, start fresh with something new.

So far all he’s done is make the place smell like his nightmares. Like dust and death and lilac as he pulls the carpet up. There’s an oily stain on the subfloor from where he smashed his mom’s perfume, and a green-black mystery splotch by the kitchen that could be water damage, or it could be the remnants of a liquified rat. Or a person; so many people, melted meat monster smashing through the city blood and gore in a demodog's jowls the walls pulsing with membranes like some fucked up rotten womb and—

"Hey." Eddie's boots come into view. Calm commandment in his tone, stepping right into Steve's space. "Look at me," he sighs.

Steve sits back and wipes his brow. The sweat stings his cut-up hands, and he wishes he weren't so busy being a nutcase, because Eddie looks good like this. Standing over him, petting a hand through his damp hair. Making him kneel down at his feet. It’s hot. They could do something with this. Steve could—

"You want to tell me what you're doing?"

Tears prick up in Steve's dumb eyes.

What's he supposed to say? There were ghosts in the fucking carpet?

He shakes his head and sniffs, and Eddie steps in a little closer; moves his hand to cup Steve's jaw. "No?" he lifts a brow.

Outside, tires crunch over the gravel, the kids making a racket as they pour out of the Wheelers’ car. Goddammit.

Steve huffs and gets to his feet; lets Eddie steady him. They share a look. The kids are shouting on the lawn. "Can you take us to Home Depot?"

—

part 38

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added tomorrow please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[steddiebang]

Steddie Bigbang 2023 Weekly Round-up: October 1 - October 7

From Hell and Back (October 1) Author: @rindecisions / Artists | @lady-lostmind & @feralsteddie One Halloween, years after the fall of Hawkins, Steve and Robin end up summoning Eddie from the depths of Hell. Steve, not knowing the ways of the occult, accidentally frees him and has to deal with a mischievous demon on the loose. Eddie drives Steve insane with various shapeshifting antics, both in and out of the bedroom, while Robin tries to find a way to send him back to hell. But, when faced with the opportunity to return his life to normal, will Steve even want to go through with it?

OR

Lots of supernatural, hentai-esque smut with a playful, romantic plot.

Steddie’s Anatomy (October 1) Author: uhhhhjhfrogs on tumblr, tttrash666 on A03 / Artist: BrainyArts on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, Tumblr Steve was not going to leave Eddie to die in the Upside Down, no fucking way. He didn’t know what compelled him to give every last ounce of strength to rescue him but being confined to a hospital room together was about to make him figure it out.

Made of Light (October 3) Author: @hitlikehammers / Artist: @becomingfoxes​ Soulmates are anything but de rigueur in polite society—more like foolish nonsense, fairytale child’s play: embarrassments. Inconvenient, at best. But the people who have them, and still seek them out; who believe despite the odds, who still commit to finding them and binding their souls to them despite the naysaying and the backlash? Those people know the truth.

Because Soulmates? Don’t force love. Aren’t bound without choice. Are built instead on pure potential, of proportions never fathomed—and certainly never found—outside those so-called ‘old fashioned’ Bonds. They are the potential to protect love. To save love. To save the lives that kind of ineffable love holds more than just dear; the kind it holds as essential. Some people even say Soulbonds can almost change the whole world, defy the laws of physics and nature, but then—even among the believers: those stories are relegated to legend. At best. And so: this is the story of two boys from Indiana who—dodging dangers and demons and near-death experiences—wind up in a love never seen before, somehow writing out the kind of legend no one ever dared to dream.

(You got me) in the palm of your hand (October 4) Author: just-my-latest-hyperfixation (tumblr) / just_my_latest_hyperfixation (AO3) / Artists: xgumiho (tumblr) / xgumiho (instagram) / jul2ja (twitter), peachypurr (tumblr) / peachypurr (linktree) “Fortunes told, futures unfold.”

The sign at the local ren faire looks tempting. After all, Steve is one year out of high school and has no idea where his life is going. Sometimes he wishes someone could just gaze into the future and figure it out for him. 

In the fortune teller’s tent, Steve has a run-in with his past. And if he doesn’t turn on his heel and leave, it has absolutely nothing to do with how pretty Eddie Munson looks in his costume, all gleaming jewelry and dark tendrils of hair spilling out from under a patterned headscarf. He lets Eddie read his palm, because why the hell not? It’s all bogus anyway! 

Except, as the summer goes on, Steve finds that Eddie’s cryptic predictions somehow, inexplicably keep coming true. As they keep running into each other, almost as if orchestrated by an invisible force, Steve can’t help but be intrigued with the other boy. He also can’t seem to forget how pretty Eddie’s eyes look in black liner, or the way his fingers feel on his skin, but that is an entirely different problem. 

11 upcoming projects to be posted next week (Oct 8 - 14).

*To keep up with all the Steddie Bigbang 2023 posting, be sure to follow us @steddiebang or track tags like #steddiebang23, #steddiebang23 masterposts, #steddiebang23 project promo, and #steddiebang23 upcoming projects.

[littlehollyleaf]

(1) As much as I enjoy jim experiencing consequences, ed's line about jim being more of a killer than him makes me uncomfortable. First it shows that ed hasn't got an ounze of regret for killing his victims, he's minimizing their memory and using them as a petty argument against jim. Also, i took this as the answer to the question of 'why is lee dating ed if he killed kristen?' but jim killing to save people's lives or under the influence of the virus and feeling guilty for it

(2) afterwards is not the same as ed unapologetically killing lee's coworkers and friends like officer pinkney or kristen and his general attitude of 'KiLliNG iS fUn!!!11 loL :)' maybe i'm exaggerating and lee thinks that she can calm their murder instincts with love or whatever, at the end of the day ed can be really unsympathetic sometimes and that's the only thing i understand

Sorry this has you feeling uncomfortable! x

I think that Ed’s comment was very much SUPPOSED to highlight how his kills are RADICALLY DIFFERENT to Jim’s ie. Jim’s body count may make him ‘ten times the KILLER’ Eddie is (a fact I now have official numbers to support :p), but the context of all their kills does, I believe, definitely make Eddie much more of a MURDERER than Jim. 

So yes, it shows how Eddie does not regret his kills (possibly not even Kristen anymore!) and how self centred Eddie is. Which is pretty much the state of play for Eddie I think? He is egotistical/egocentric/narcissistic/arrogant. That’s been his character from the start, although at the start those traits were less ofc, since he was all cowed and trying to please at the GCPD and be a good person and all that. As he’s started to pursue crime more and more, however, Eddie’s dark/negative/unsympathetic/unhealthy character traits have been slowly but surely intensifying, which I think makes sense for his development into Riddler, since that’s what a lot of versions of the character is like.  

You make a fair point that the exchange seemed to be offering an answer to the  issue of why Lee would be sexually/romantically involved with Ed (idk if I’d call what they are doing ‘dating’ :p), when he is the guy who killed Kristen. I’ve mentioned before that Ed killing Kristen has been kinda a non-issue for me when it comes to Lee being involved with him, because I have been cool to assume Lee is just... over that *shrug* But now you mention it in relation to this I can actually see how the exchange between Jim and Ed CAN be taken as offering a real insight into Lee’s state of mind / feelings -

Because Jim agrees about being more of a killer and says that’s could be why Lee isn’t with him any more, which I had been sort of shrugging off as just a throw away comment, but thinking about it now it ties in to what @five-p-m says over here

Ed refrains from killing people now - because Lee doesn’t want him to - and that doesn’t stop him from being the Riddler (being the Riddler doesn’t necessarily involve killing anyone). When Jim was with Lee and she wanted him to walk away from Gotham and his work at the GCPD - which necessary involves him killing people in the line of duty and sometimes not because he has to but because of this drive he has, not to back down from a fight, hating to lose, etc.- he wouldn’t do that for her.

So from Lee’s POV, I guess she sees Jim as persistently putting himself in situations that REQUIRE him to kill, and regardless of whether those kills are justified or not they leave Jim with emotional/psychological baggage that Lee doesn’t want to deal with. Meanwhile, as five-p-m notes, Ed has seemingly found a way to live his life WITHOUT killing, to the point of going out of his way to arrange situations so people don’t get killed, and more than that he has done it EXPLICITLY FOR LEE, which is exactly what Jim WOULDN’T DO. So to Lee, the bottom line is perhaps that Ed WAS a killer/murderer, but he has STOPPED being one (she did talk about him as a man who’d changed when he was rescuing her from the GCPD). But Jim IS STILL a killer.

Hence the current preference for Ed. To Lee’s mind he has changed how he lives his life for her, and in doing so has changed himself, and she believes he can be persuaded to continue to do so. So Ed is a double whammy - he has both (seemingly) become a better man, or at least a man she finds more preferable than who he was before AND he is prioritising her needs/desires. 

Jim on the other hand has proven himself unwilling to change who he is and how he lives his life for her. 

As you point out though, comparing Ed and Jim’s kills alone overlooks the attitude towards killings each of them holds. So if the ‘Jim is more of a killer than Ed’ idea is part of Lee’s thinking then it adds to my interpretation of her as being INCREDIBLY NAIVE when it comes to Ed. She is overlooking/downplaying the fact that he is still selfish and doesn’t actually care about others in general (with a few exceptions, inc. her), meaning his lack of killing people is NOT due to morality. And she is putting too much stock in the idea she can keep Ed from killing again (via ‘love or whatever’ as you succinctly put :p). Because as I see it, with Ed’s enjoyment of killing and urge to do so not at all being confronted and/or dealt with, it is therefore foolish of Lee to think he will ‘indulge’ her (as she said of his use of dart guns during their heist) indefinitely.  

Hi ho. Lee will learn her mistake very soon I think!

[daniclaytcn]

what are your thoughts on how this season is going? Overall I'm enjoying it but I have to admit I'm very letdown by the lack of any meaningful conversations between Buck and Eddie. Like I wish Buck would confide in Eddie the way he has in the past about so many things about his latest situation. It's very evident that the writers or Kristen are purposely keeping them apart, for narrative purposes or some other reason I'm not sure.

I do hope that does change going forward because I love this show but Buddie is my OTP of the show and I would like to see a lot more of them this season then the crumbs the show has given us.

How about you, what are your thoughts as we have maybe 2 or 3 episodes of the season left?

thought i'd club these two asks together, since they have the same question (first anon, i think you meant we only have 2 more episodes of 6a left?)

i'll admit that i'm missing the buddie interactions as well, but i do think it's all being done for a purpose—they're building up to something big, in my opinion, either in the midseason finale or in 6b. i think we've all been a little taken aback because the distance between buck and eddie in 5a had more obvious reasons: taylor being in the picture, and eddie's impending breakdown. right now, eddie's taken a backseat this season (though cursed very ominously hinted at something in store for him and chris), and while we all know that buck is gonna break eventually, he's not barreling towards it as fast as eddie was, nor will it probably be as intense. we don't really have any idea of how his current arc will unfold, so it's too soon to say what exactly they're trying to do with this distance.

still, i'd also like to remind you that buck and eddie aren't the only ones having less screentime—we've seen extremely little of maddie and chim (which has definitely been a surprise to me). the show's been taking the opportunity to not only explore new dynamics, but to have characters like hen at the focus, and most of the major arcs and dynamics this season have involved her in some way.

Like I wish Buck would confide in Eddie the way he has in the past about so many things about his latest situation. right, but again, we know why buck isn't doing so—he's making a bad decision and on some level he knows that, so he obviously isn't gonna talk to one of the few people who is capable of getting him to change his mind lol. the arc isn't wrapped up yet, so we can't just assume that buck is never gonna open up to eddie about it. in season 5, eddie only confided in buck when push came to shove. i can't imagine it would be any different with evan hides his true feelings from others buckley.

anyway, i guess what i'm trying to say is, we need to reserve our judgements until the end of season 6, or at the very least, the end of 6a. there's no point in getting preemptively mad until we can see the full picture—the fandom kept doing this in season 5, and looked quite foolish by the time 5b came around. if it's impossible for you to enjoy the story right now, i understand that completely, and i also advise you to take a break from the show and get caught up later. if you think that nothing can make this storyline better—well, then i suggest you drop the show altogether.

[novelconcepts]

Hey novel!!!! you are the most talented author on this site. Your portrayals of jamie and Dani are so deep and relatable and expand two wonderful characters into even more.

I know you are crazy busy and swamped with requests, but would you consider writing a one-shot about the famous deleted scene when jamie wakes up when dani tries to leave and convinces her to stay? (Or doesn’t, however you’d want to write it!)

Just a thought, I totally understand if you don’t have the time or are not feeling it!

The dream is the last straw. 

There are moments in your life, Dani Clayton thinks--with a clarity that seems unfathomable for this late hour--you simply can’t turn away from. Or, more accurately, you could--but you wouldn’t be you anymore, turning back. You’d be something else. Something untenable. 

The dream is one such moment. The certainty of it is one such awful, harrowing moment. 

Jamie’s expression never changed. Never faltered. Never so much as twitched away from that quietly-expectant misery--and that trust, even as the hand closed around her throat. Even as she went under. The trust, more than anything, will haunt what time she has left.

Because Jamie does trust her. Always has. Always, Dani knows, will, even if it’s the worst thing for her. 

Jamie will trust in Dani Clayton until it kills her, unless Dani does something about it first.

And so, when she wakes with her hand inches from Jamie’s throat--when she wakes with the tips of her fingers brushing the slow, steady thrum of Jamie’s pulse--she makes the choice. The hard call. She makes it like a woman, a thousand years ago, made a choice to turn away from a bad marriage before it could land. The way a woman, a hundred years ago, made a choice to turn toward an uncertain future born of a dark lake. She makes it with the calculated, unshakeable certainty that, every so often, you have to make this kind of choice. Because it’s essential. Because you couldn’t live with the person you’d be if you didn’t.

She moves slowly, counting every breath that leaves Jamie’s parted lips. Jamie, who sleeps so comfortably in this bed. Jamie, whose nightmares soothed themselves in the wake of Dani’s hands on her skin over the years. Jamie, who carries more than enough scars of her own without bearing Dani’s burdens, too. 

She moves, sliding off of Jamie’s body, sliding off the mattress upon which they’ve had thirteen good years. Thirteen solid, loving, happy years. That isn’t nothing, she assures herself. That is so much more than the woman she’d been all those years ago, freshly freed and freshly haunted again in equal measure, had thought she deserved. 

Thirteen years in this bed. Reading, talking, kissing, sleeping. Thirteen years. It isn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough. But it’s not nothing, and Dani tells herself--with the solid assurance of the dream--she can make do. Thirteen years of Jamie’s accent wrapped lovingly around her name. Thirteen years of Jamie’s hands seeking hers out across the dinner table. Thirteen years of petty arguments resolved with tearful apology, or with giggly kisses, or with the steadiness of Jamie’s eyes meeting hers. Jamie nodding. Gold rings holding firm against the dark. 

It’ll never be enough. And maybe Jamie won’t forgive her for this. But there are things a person can’t live with becoming--and even knowing how close she’s come tonight to brushing up against the shadows she’s been carrying for too long is...it’s...

Enough, she tells herself, knowing it’s a lie and a truth and a promise. 

She doesn’t pack. What does a dead woman toss into a carry-on? There will be no final costume change, no coiffed hair or carefully-applied makeup. She’s more or less given up on all of it, anyway, exhaustion draining her dry even on the rare occasion the mirror doesn’t leer in her direction. Jamie doesn’t seem to mind. Jamie doesn’t seem to mind any of it. 

I’ll feel everything for the both of us, she says, and she means it every single time. Means it the way Jamie can’t help. The way only Jamie has ever known how. It never, ever comes from a place of pretty words, with Jamie. Never comes from a should be this, a script without heart. Jamie can’t not say it. Jamie can’t not mean it.

Jamie can’t not trust her.

So Dani has to go.

Her hand is on the door, her head bent forward against the familiar wood. This door, through which Jamie walked so recently with that all-important piece of paper. This door, through which Dani walked so many years ago with a plant in her hands and a promise on her lips. This door. She’s stopped seeing it, hasn’t she? Juggling groceries, or mid-conversation, or pushing Jamie hard against it with a flare of passion. The door has become, like so many things, a standard piece of set dressing. Irrelevant, compared to the story. Forgettable, compared to the intricacies of the day. 

And now, this final time, her hand on the knob--now she thinks, I will remember. This door. This apartment. The walk, made so many thousands of times, from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen. The couch, where Jamie often dozes over a book with her legs sprawled in Dani’s lap. The rug, picked out together the first year living together. The photos on the wall, the postcards on the fridge, so many tiny memorials to the people they’ve grown into together. 

I will remember, she thinks fiercely, all of it. 

Foolish, to stop. Foolish, to give in to this moment of such human weakness. Such human fear. If she could only keep walking in a single, unbroken line--like she would, like the path taken up those stairs and into that wing over and over again--she’d have been on the street by now. She’d have been calling a car by now. She’d--

“You’re not even going to leave me a note?”

She closes her eyes. Presses her face harder against the door. The memories, she thinks, have snagged her as she should have expected. As memories always do. Hadn’t it been memory, keeping her with Eddie longer than she should have stayed? Hadn’t it been memory, keeping her in contact with a mother who had long unplugged? Memory, in the end, is as much a gravity well as a blessing. A treasure like love is so dangerously good at being multiple things at once.

A thing like need. A thing like fear. 

A thing like I don’t want to go. 

Jamie doesn’t sound angry, exactly. Her voice is ragged with sleep, and with something so quietly broken, Dani can’t stand to look at it. That sound, that unfamiliar tension, has been creeping into Jamie’s voice more and more lately. A sob unuttered. An unfamiliar desperation. 

Jamie doesn’t do desperate. Jamie doesn’t do terror. Jamie is a solution with a grin, a pair of strong hands holding Dani steady when the world rocks around her without pause. Jamie is a foundation. A bedrock. A gloriously embedded series of roots, planted with hope, tended with care, turned from a pot into a home with time and effort and love. 

Jamie is waiting now. Quiet. Not angry, exactly--but not forgiving, either. Hurt, Dani thinks, recognizing at last that utterly unfamiliar note. She’s hurt. I’ve never hurt her before. 

She’s frustrated Jamie over the years, plenty of times. Upset her. Knocked up against exposed nerves she hadn’t known to look for. She’s made Jamie grumpy, even angry a few times--and Jamie’s done the same in return. Two people can’t share a single life without crossing boundaries from time to time. Without finding fragility under overturned stones. But it’s always been fixable. Always been so clear, where the repairs were needed to get them back on track again. They’d never gone to bed angry, not once in thirteen years, because you can’t promise tomorrow. You can’t promise a chance to make it right if you let it go too long. 

You can’t promise.

Dani can’t promise. 

“Not even going to answer?” That old Jamie grit, winding into the syllables, but the hand that brushes between her shoulder blades is soft. Jamie isn’t angry. Jamie is hurt. Jamie is scared. Jamie is half-asleep and so awake, and if Dani turns--if Dani looks now--

Tell her, some panicked part of her pipes up. Tell her what happened. What you almost did. What you’re going to become. 

She won’t care, the more rational part replies. Jamie trusts her. Jamie wants to carry it all for her. Jamie will carry her until it tears her open to do it, and then she’ll keep going. Jamie, even with blood staining the carpet and heart hanging out of her chest, would never know how to stop.

Jamie would drown, if Dani let her. If Dani were coward enough, selfish enough, to let the fear win. 

“Dani.” The way no one else has ever said her name, she thinks with eyes still scrunched shut. No one has ever formed those two syllables the way Jamie does. Like an oath. Like an I love you. Like an I’m listening. I’m here. I’m not going away. 

“Dani,” she says again. “Come back to bed. Please.”

It’s the please, Dani thinks as she turns at last, as she takes in the sight of this woman with whom she wants only to share her life, that does it. The please, a word that feels too much like begging to suit their thirteen years of equilibrium. Jamie, especially, doesn’t beg. Jamie listens. Jamie understands. Jamie fixes. Jamie doesn’t plead, or demand, or insist. 

Jamie, looking at her now with rumpled hair, in only a sleep shirt and a grim expression. Jamie, who’d sounded so shattered, saying those words. Come back to bed. Please. Like she knows already what Dani is doing. Like she knows already that there are things a person can’t come back from. 

Tell her no, the rational side thinks. Tell her no. Tell her you love her. Tell her there’s nothing that matters even half as much as that, not even this moment. Tell her goodbye.

I don’t, Dani thinks with helpless misery, already reaching out a hand, want to go. 

She’ll remember every step, later. Every step back to the bedroom. Every step with Jamie’s hand solid and soft in her own. The way Jamie walks with shoulders straight, with chin up, even as tired as she is. The way Jamie waits until she’s between the covers again before she’ll climb in, too. 

The way Jamie holds her as she sobs. As they both lose the composure they’ve spent too long clinging to. The way the mattress shakes beneath them, her face pressed to Jamie’s neck, the thrum of Jamie’s pulse ragged against her lips. 

She’ll remember it all, later. She needs to remember. Every step. Every kiss Jamie presses to her hair. Every stroke of Jamie’s hands down her back. She needs to remember it all. 

You’re not even going to leave me a note?

She will. She will do that much, she promises herself, as Jamie’s tears slowly wane. As Jamie’s breath slowly evens out. As Jamie, confident that she has--once again, as she has so many times before--fixed the problem, lets sleep wash the fear away. 

She’ll leave a note. She’ll try to get it all down, somehow. She’ll do her best.

But first. First, for a little while longer, she’ll stay. Jamie’s heartbeat is so familiar, a metronome of security beneath her head. Jamie’s breath is so familiar, a lullaby she’s been falling asleep to for almost fifteen years. Jamie, who makes a soft sound in her sleep and holds Dani all the closer, like she’s been doing for as long as anything has ever mattered. 

Jamie, who may never forgive her, but who will certainly have to understand. Someday. Somehow. Jamie has understood it all, even when she shouldn’t have. Even when there was no rhyme or reason to it. Jamie is good at listening. Jamie is good at piecing it all together. 

Jamie is so good. 

She’ll leave a note. She’ll do that much. But not yet. Not quite.

Dani Clayton, folded in the embrace of the woman who loves her most, does not want to go. 

[outrunningthedark]

you think Tim put the firefighter Albert storyline so if (*whispers* when) we have Buddie sometime in the future Albert can partner up more with Buck and Eddie with Hen and Chim, because of the whole bureaucracy of having a couple in the same firehouse? In that way they don't have to split them up, because that would just cause a riot.

To be fair, Tim freely admitted he doesn't know what to do with characters who aren't first responders, and he clearly went into season four with the intention of making John Harlan Kim a regular...who barely got screen time. What's the best way to ensure he has a legit purpose on the show other than being Buck's roommate and Chimney's little bro? Join the firefam! Buddie splitting up on calls seems likely since we got a glimpse of that this past season (...Does Bobby already know The Secret? Stay tuned!), and Eddie going back to his medic roots would be a great way to get more interactions with Hen, which is what I want! :D (Maybe she'll give him a not-so-gentle nudge in the right direction, hmm?) I also agree with you that *something* is going to change when Buddie is finally canon, even if it's just for the heightened drama. Eddie working separate from Buck and finding out he's in danger? Eddie having to process that his PARTNER, not just his coworker or best friend, is in trouble? Eddie having to control his anxiety and fear? Eddie having to think about what he'll tell Christopher? Oh, the possibilities. (I said Eddie, but with Tim in charge it'll be Buck losing his shit AGAIN just to make me look foolish.)

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, this is a little goofy thing featuring Arkham Knight Eddie and a female!o/c  that was inspired by an actual dream I had recently. Like, literally, the dream mentioned in this story is almost exactly the same.

It’s pretty short and I’m....not entirely sure it’s good but I dunno...I wanted to get that dream out of my head somehow and turn it into something positive so...here is this silly drabble.

Contains some smut and suggestive comments, but nothing overly explicit. 

Words: 2104 Title: i'm best when I'm In love Rating: M (going with the AO3 smutty content labels here)

“My Dear, you’re struggling,” Edward said as he moved one of his pawns. 

“Well, I have yet to beat you, Eddie,” Sara responded in a tense voice, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath.

“True, but lately, you’ve been performing much better than this. Right now, your tactics are sloppy, like when I first started teaching you.”

“Chess takes time to learn, right?”

“Correct, and you have the benefit of learning from an astounding genius like myself. However, your focus is not on the game, so no matter what I say, you’re still going to lose much sooner than you should.”

“It’s not over yet.”

Edward’s gaze moved from the chess board to Sara’s agitated expression, noting the almost pained look in her eyes as she tried so very hard to concentrate on the game. It was easy to see that she was becoming more panicked by the second, and whatever skills she had acquired from his teachings had gone out the window for the time being.

“No, but the way you’re tap, tap, tapping that Knight piece on the table indicates there’s a much more serious problem here,” Edward said.

Sara hadn’t even realized she was doing it, and quickly stopped once she looked down at her right hand. The Knight piece was given a much-needed break as she set it on the table and tried to gather her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Sara said, running a hand through her hair. 

As much as Edward wanted for Sara to look at him, he knew how nerve-wracking it could be for her to make direct eye contact when she was upset. It did sadden him, though, that she had barely glanced at him the whole time they’d been together that day, and part of him wondered if there was something he did to make her uncomfortable -- or something he didn’t do. Both of them had a lot of pent up emotions, and while they were quick to unleash them when under stress, they were also terrible at asking for help or simply being vulnerable in general. So, he had to approach this cautiously. 

“Where is your mind at, Dearest Devinette?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Sara let out a little huff which was as close to a chuckle as she could muster upon hearing one of his (rather adorable) nicknames for her.

“I’ve just got something on my mind,” she replied, resting her head in her left hand as she leaned on the table.

“Obviously,” said Edward, rolling his eyes. “But what precisely is on your mind?”

Sara chewed on her lower lip as she pondered how to respond. It was stupid, she told herself, what she was thinking, what she had been thinking, and she was almost embarrassed to admit it out loud -- let alone to herself. Edward was not going to take “no” for an answer, though, nor would he believe any lie she could toss into his lap. She was a terrible liar to begin with, and he was far too perceptive. 

“It’s about, um….” Sara began, her throat starting to clamp up as her heart raced in her chest. “It’s, uh, about...a…”

The need to “hide” was too great at that moment, and Sara abruptly stood and turned her back to Edward, bringing her index finger to her mouth to bite at the second knuckle.

“It’s about a dream I had recently,” Sara confessed, her mouth dry and her heart beating so loudly in her ears she thought Edward might hear it.

“Ok?” Edward said slowly, waiting for her to continue despite feeling a little impatient.

As much as Edward wanted to help his love, there was little he could do without knowing the details of what troubled her so. Being helpless like this -- being helpless at all -- always drove him crazy. He needed to solve this, but he also needed answers first.

“Well, in the dream, we were working together,” Sara continued. “At a job. At a company. We were programmers.”

“It sounds like a very tame dream so far,” Edward commented.

“We were on a project together, and we liked each other. You liked me. I felt so happy to be noticed by a guy, and I thought I had a chance with you. But then...things changed. A new programmer started working there, a pretty blonde woman who was really smart. Like, a natural. You suddenly stopped paying attention to me, choosing to spend time with her. You both looked very happy, had lots to talk about, and whenever I tried to get your attention, you would...brush me off. You even...removed yourself from the project we were working on so you could work with this woman on a different one. I was invisible to you after that, and very alone.”

Edward felt a mixture of frustration, sympathy, confusion, and hurt over Sara’s dream. It was pure nonsense, no doubt, in every possible way, but clearly, it had an effect on her. Insecurities could twist your thoughts and emotions in painful ways, ways that didn’t even make sense. But they tugged at you until you gave into them and believed what they believed. 

He could relate to that, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud.

Edward got up from the table and approached Sara, wrapping his arms around her from behind to hold her against him.

“Oh, my silly little riddle,” he said with a smile, trying to brighten her spirits in some way. “It was just a dream, nothing more.”

“But...would you ever…?” Sara asked, her voice cracking.

“Would I ever, what?”

“Leave me for someone smarter, prettier…”

“What? No! Don’t be foolish!”

Edward made Sara turn to face him, his heart breaking upon seeing her tear-streaked face.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Edward said, cupping her face in his hands so she’d look at him. “You are the only one I want to be with. That dream was absolute nonsense, My Dear. I cannot even fathom for a second the mere idea of choosing someone else over you…” He leaned in and nuzzled her nose with his, smiling sweetly. “...my favorite distraction, my Darling Devinette, my Ravishing Riddle...”

Sara snorted, a grin spreading across her face.

“My Endearing Enigma,” Edward added, relieved to see her giggling.

“The nicknames are killing me,” Sara said, wiping her face. “You’re goofy.”

“”Goofy? Goofy, you say?” 

“Yes, and a total fucking nerd!”

“Oh, is that how it is then? Hmm?”

Edward scooped Sara up into his arms, humming contentedly.

“Well, this ‘Goofy Nerd’ is going to whisk you off to bed and physically  -- very physically -- demonstrate to you exactly how I feel.”

“Oh, my…” Sara said with a chuckle.

“I am going to make it so that you won’t be capable of coherent thoughts or speech,” Edward said with a smirk as he carried her to their bedroom. “You’ll be so overwhelmed with pleasure that the only thing you’ll be able to do is feel. No more negative, idiotic thoughts!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sara said, biting her lip.

---

“Oh, God, Eddie, there, please!”

“You’re so perfect, My Darling, so perfect…I can’t get enough...Oh, God!”

“What?” 

“Oh, no, no, no...not now!”

Sara watched Edward sit up, one hand covering the lower half of his face. While she couldn’t see anything yet, she knew what was happening.

“Oh, Eddie,” she said, quickly grabbing tissues for him. 

Edward took them and applied them to his bleeding nose, looking completely humiliated. Sara reached out to him, brushing hair from his face, but he jerked away, too embarrassed to even look at her. The poor man suffered from chronic nosebleeds, probably because his nose had been broken so many times (Thanks, Batman), and sometimes he got them during the most inconvenient moments.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Sara said.

She followed Edward into the bathroom, grabbing a wad of paper towels to hand to him for his nose. He threw the bloody tissues into the waste bin with a grunt, still unable to look her in the eye.

“I’ll run a bath,” Sara said as she went to turn on the tub faucet.

Edward’s nosebleed did slow while the tub filled up, but he still hated himself. Why did he have to have one while he was in the middle of…? With her? He was supposed to be making her feel good, not...bleeding on her. It was disgusting -- he felt disgusting. What kind of lover was he? 

Sara tapped Edward’s shoulder, telling him the bath was ready. He mumbled something, tossing the blood-soaked paper towels into the waste bin before turning to her. Why did she have to look at him like that? Like she was worried? Why did she care so much? Why wasn’t she angry with him for ruining ‘the mood?’ Or grossed out? There was drying blood on her shoulder still, and yet, she didn’t seem to care. 

Edward and Sara got into the tub with her sitting behind him. Taking a rag, she soaked it in the bathwater then handed it to him so he could clean his nose, lips, and chin of blood, and thankfully, the nosebleed had stopped by then. When she started to shampoo his hair, her elegant fingers lightly scratching his scalp as she hummed some random tune, he remembered the dream she had told him about. Once his hair was rinsed, he turned to face her, his expression full of guilt and sorrow. 

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Sara asked.

“This is just one of the many reasons why I could never want someone else,” Edward said quietly. “You’re so kind to me, so gentle...and I didn’t do anything to deserve it -- to deserve you. No one has ever treated me the way you do, no one has ever looked at me the way you do, no one has ever spoken to me the way you do.... I never realized how...how alone I was until I met you. I’d do anything for you, give up everything for you…”

Even my own life, he thought. 

“So, please, never doubt how much you mean to me,” Edward said.

Sara was blushing, trying to come up with a response but too flustered to speak properly. 

“I...I don’t know ….I don’t know...what to say,” she admitted, smiling shyly. “I’ve….never heard someone say something like that before…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Edward assured her with a small, warm smile. “Just be with me.”

“Of course.”

Edward turned around so he could rest against her, his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. While he was planning to finish what he started once they were out of the tub and back into bed, in that moment, he felt absolutely perfect where he was. All his life, he’d never had affectionate physical contact. Sure, there was the awkward hug here and there, or obligatory embrace when he had a lover (and there were very, very, very few of those), but nothing that was genuine or even remotely pleasant.

But in moments like this one with his beloved, he felt like he could be as vulnerable as he needed because she’d never hurt or humiliate him. When she hugged him, it was always warm and welcoming. Whenever she held his hand, she loved to lace their fingers together, almost like she was “trapping” him but in the most romantic way possible. Whenever she kissed him, he felt absolutely smitten because her kisses were so comforting or even playful.

“I love you, My Dearest Horny Geek,” Sara whispered, barely holding back a cute chuckle.

Edward rolled his eyes but smirked at her outrageously endearing nickname for him. 

“And I love you, My Dearest Horny Enigma,” he replied, and they both couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Two horny peas in a pod,” she said as she placed a kiss to the top of his head. “And, you know, if you’re still up for it, you could put your ‘pea’ back in my ‘pod’ once we’re done with this bath.”

Edward slowly turned his head to look up at Sara, his cheeks a bright pink and his gaze full of bewilderment. When she snorted in amusement, he soon found himself joining her in a fit of childish giggles. And here she had been worried he would fall out of love with her. No one could make him laugh or grin like he did. No one could make him feel loved and needed like she did.

Only her. 

What a lucky little shit he was….

----

And there we have it! Hopefully it’s not too crappy. I’m not totally satisfied with it but don’t feel like making it a longer story (at least, not right now). Let me know what you think and damn, I have really depressing dreams sometimes.

[chuuyas--boo]

The "Judge" and The Sinner.

Tw: Violence, language, murder, Self harm

(Partially based off of 3 episodes of Angels of Death; Episode 4: A sinner has no right of choice, Episode 5; Don't let me kill you just yet, and Episode 6; Zack is the only one who can kill me. Some torture methods will be skipped over/changed slightly because most human beings can't endure all of the torture Zack and Rachel (Mostly Zack cause he's an idiot) went through without dying.)

The elevator doors opened and Riley slowly walked out onto B3, immediatley noticing the machine guns mounted on the walls, as if the last floor wasn't difficult enough; Running from the sweet but obsessive and insane ginger haired grave-keeper; Eddie.

A single bullet was fired from one of the guns, just barley missing Riley's arm causing her to stumble back, just as more bullets were fired rapidly, getting closer until they stopped, only inches away.

"Great...trying to fill me with bullet holes huh?"

"Hiii~! Terribly sorry I'm late! It took you so long to get here...I nearly dozed off! Still...I'm surprised you weren't killed just now! You sure have incredible intuition dear~"

"What..."

"Y'know something? I had a feeling you'd be a great sinner~! ...I must've needed some excitement cause that woke me right up!" "That's great and all miss...but I don't really care...Could you just let me through...?"

"I supposed I can do that~"

Bright lights shined on Riley and she narrowed her eyes so it wasn't so harsh.

The iron bar door slid open and Riley walked through, and walked down the hallway to a room with locked doors.

"You said you'd let me through..." her voice was calm yet slightly irritated.

"My~ You're so impatient! At least let me finish putting on my makeup!"

Riley let out a huff of annoyance.

"There's a certain procedure each criminal must go through before their punishment is assigned~ If I were you, I'd start getting ready now. In fact I'll even open up a room for you~"

One of the doors unlocked and Riley went in.

(ignore the fact Zack and Rachel are there, it's a room with the mugshot board(?), a camera, and a table with a bin with the name boards)

"Every legitimate criminal has a mugshot, right~? Take a pretty one for me! ...Oh and it's not a proper mugshot without your name board, of course~"

Riley walked over to the table, grabbed her name board out of the bin which said "Riley Morgan" on it, in letters that looked as if they were painted with blood...which wouldn't be surprising if it WAS blood.

"How am I supposed to do this by myself..."

Riley huffed, and moved the camera closer to the wall, hung the name board around her neck and quickly took a picture, narrowing her eyes slightly at the flash.

"There..."

Taking the name board off and tossing it to the side, Riley grabbed the photo and held it up towards the security camera, and the iron bars slid out of the way.

Walking out of the door; into another hallway, but this time with poorly drawn images of what seemed to be torture methods.

"They're illustrations of punishments I designed, for sinners just like you~! I'll give you a choice,...there's more than one way to punish a sinner you see~, So I've got a variety of painful options waiting for you! Of course...if you'd rather spend the rest of your life rotting in a cell...it's always on the table~!"

"What kind of pathetic person would decide to rot forever..."

"Oh~? Too bad...and here I was hoping I'd get to keep you forever! ahahah~!"

Silently Riley walked into one of the rooms, filled with dolls...life size wooden dolls in rows of chairs...with what looked to be an electric chair in the front. "She- She's really trying to fry me to death!"

But suddenly the iron bars slid open.

"Ahaha~! I know you wouldn't survive that kind of punishment! I'd like to see a little sinner like you suffer for longer~ So I ever so kindly let you through!"

Riley hesitated before walking out of that room, into another hallway, with a door that had a warning sign on it. "Doesn't seem like the best of ideas...but it's the only chance I've got"

Opening the door open, Riley imagined sitting in the electric chair and being shocked over and over until she eventually died and shuddered, once inside the door locked behind her. "Great..., as if it wasn't bad enough to be locked in here, it really stinks!" scrunching her nose at the smell, she noticed a corpse in the middle of the room.

Sighing, Riley walked over to one of the blood stained windows, pulled her knife out of her pocket and bashed the handle against the window as hard as possible, but nothing happened, not even the slightest crack.

The TV's in the room turned on, showing Cathy.

"Hiiii~! Did you miss me dear?"

"Like the plague." Riley said flatly.

"Let me give you an explanation of the room you're in right now! And you'd better listen closely if you want to live. I got a little carried away with the design~ It's completely sealed, making it impossible for air to get in or out! The window glass has been reinforced, so you won't be able to break it! And the best part...I'm about to fill it with something veryyy special! If you stay in there long enough, you'll be on your way to a nice, peaceful death. It's poison gas~! Obviously I wouldn't confine you to a place like that with no way out...in fact, here's a gift~ I've mercifully provided a gas mask! As long as you do your best, of the utmost faith you'll escape! Oh, and of course I think it'd be a bit boring if I let you sit in there forever, so I've added a time limit! I knowwww~ I'm sooo thorough! After your time runs out you'll be given another gift! A gas so potent the mask won't do any good against it! That's all for now, have yourself a good time in there, and try not to die, okay~?"

Sighing, Riley glanced at the gas mask in the middle of the floor as the poison gas began to flow into the room, noticing the cracks in the eye lenses "Yeah...that won't be all that helpful..." and then walked over to the corpse on the floor and crouched down.

"There's writing..."

Riley gently shoved the body out of the way and read it

"The one with the ugly foot, the foolish killer who stomped out life with the right foot..."

Pausing as the writing got more difficult to read Riley huffed and then continued.

"It says something like...if you feel guilty get rid of your right foot, if the crime and punishment are equivalent, light will shine in hell."

Riley hesitated before grabbing the right foot, and walked over to the scale and placed it on one side, then grabbed the bag that was placed on the table and set it on the other side of the scale and watched as it balanced out.

The gas started to get to her, and Riley started coughing as it got harder to breath, quickly running over to the gas mask and putting it on, despite the cracks in it, it'd be better than nothing. The gas mask helped a little, but made it harder to see.

"This is stupid! Why the hell bother providing something if it's only going to make it harder you sadistic bitch?!"

Letting out a sigh of frustration Riley looked around hoping something had happened, and noticed the safe in the corner of the room had opened slightly, inside was a wire and a key card. Grabbing both, Riley walked over to where the key card would be inserted and put it in.

The gas stopped slowly and Riley smiled to herself, glad she had figured it out.

"My, my~ What a smart sinner you are~!"

"You're the one that made me come in here in the first place..."

"And you're the sinner who got yourself into this place~! You coulddd chose to rot in a cell~ It's still an option on the table dear~"

"Like I'd decide to do that! I'd rather die immedatley."

"My, my~ someone's eager to be punished for her sins~!" "Not like I can leave this floor till I'm "punished" anyway..."

Cathy laughed as Riley walked out of the room, down a hallway very slowly, the gas still taking its toll. Eventually she sat down against a wall where the cameras wouldn't see her and fell asleep.

Waking up with a jolt, Riley shook her head trying to get rid of the thoughts from the nightmare. Getting up and slowly down the hall, into a room with a smashed doll house, half expecting to be required to do something, she sighed and glanced at the TV in the room.

"I'll let you pass through this one~ I didn't know enough about you to mentally torture you so you're lucky!"

"and you said I took a long time to get here, in that time you could've figured out more about me, but why would you want to? I'm just an ugly, pathetic, useless, boring bitch."

"Oh~? I don't think you're boring! You're actually quite an interesting sinner~ You're smart and I like that about you~ You remind me of that gorgeous sinner; Eddie~!" Not knowing if that was a good thing or not, Riley slowly walked down another hallway, separated in two by a wall in the center with barbed wire on the top, stopping at the table. The door up on the ledge opened and Cathy stepped out.

"How nice to finally meet you in person~!" Riley just gave her a cold glare "You gonna let me through or not?" "My! You shouldn't be so rude to a pretty lady like me~! In order to continue, you must inject yourself with those syringes, one contains vitamins and the other contains dangerous drugs!" "Which is which?" "AHAHAHAHA~!! It doesn't matter! I won't tell, besides I forgot~! Once you inject every last drop I'll gladly open up the door for you! You might wanna hurry though...or else someone you love will die~" and with that, Cathy went back the way she came.

"Great...this could kill me, I'll probably die anyway..."

Grabbing both syringes, Riley looked at them; one of them contained green liquid and the other was yellow, but the colors didn't give any hints as to which was the vitamins and which was the drugs, it wouldn't matter since she'd have to inject both. Quickly Riley injected both into her arm, tossed the empty syringes to the side and the door opened.

"Stupid bitch...my heads pounding..." Riley stopped in the dim hallway and leaned against the wall with her hands against her head.

The so called "dangerous drugs" just brought out the voices in her head, telling her to kill someone, or something and they only got more persistent by the second.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Riley's voice had gone shrill, laced with insanity as it echoed through the dark empty hallway.

Continuing to walk down the hall as the voices got more and more persistent until she walked into a large room and the door slammed shut behind her, locking.

"Glad you could finally join your sister and I~! It took long enough..." There was a girl standing in the middle of the room with long dark brown hair and blueish green eyes.

"What does she have to do with this? I want nothing to do with her! She left me and Jack, and Jack died!!"

"Oh~, you don't want revenge~? All those voices in your head telling you to kill her but you just can't? Maybe you aren't as great of a sinner as I thought..." The brunette glanced at Riley "R-Riley don't...please..."

"Oh but why not!? Huh? WHY NOT LEXI!? Why shouldn't I? You left us alone, and Jack died. Why shouldn't I rip your throat out right here right fucking now?! So you can go be pathetic somewhere else? Nahhh~ I'll kill you myself, slowly and painfully and see how you like it!"

Fear shined in Lexi's eyes as Riley stepped closer

"Scared~? You should be!" Cathy laughed as she watched the two

"AHAHAH~!! I've provided you with a gun as well~ Kill her as you'd like!" Riley grabbed the gun and pointed it right at Lexi's head.

"You could've avoided this y'know? But you didn't...and now you'll pay for it!"

"RILEY PLEASE!" "You're gonna beg to live? Pathetic. If you're gonna beg, do it right, you don't look nearly as pathetic as he did." "W-wh-who d-did?" "You don't know? AHAH! Go on~ Tell her~!" Riley shot a cold glance at Cathy, enough to make her shut up, temporarily. "You're clueless...Jack? Yeahhh...I did it. I killed him." "YOU WHAT?"

Lexi attemped to grab the gun out of Riley's hand only to have it pressed to her chest.

"He begged me to, so I did." "You whore-" "Do you WANT me to pull this trigger? The trigger that'll end your pathetic existence?"

"Do as you please...it doesn't matter anymore..." Riley pulled the trigger but nothing happened.

Cathy giggled and then bursted out laughing.

Silently Riley pulled the knife out "You'll die one way or another~" and pointed it at Lexi's throat.

"Please...-"

Without saying anything, Riley took the knife and slid it across her arm, blood gushed down her arm but she seemed unbothered.

Silently Cathy got up, and walked down the stairs to where the siblings are "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE KILLING HER!" "Did I say I wasn't going to..?" The drugs would've worn off at this point, but because Riley was younger and smaller they hadn't yet, without hesitating she flicked the knife back towards Lexi

"RILEY PLEASE! Can't you hold back?" "Hold back!? IF I COULD I WOULDN'T BE HERE!" "Sinners can't control their bloodlust~ Just accept it!" Lexi stepped back only to stumble and fall

"Get up. Now." Lexi didn't get up, so Riley grabbed her arm and jerked her up making her stand up and quickly plunged the knife into her stomach over and over, blood gushed out and covered the floor around them, Cathy laughed as Riley plunged the knife deeper every time until she stopped and Lexi's body fell to the floor, limp and dead.

"My, my~ You ARE a great sinner~ Now you'll get your punishment~!"

Riley just glared at Cathy silently, her eyes seeming cold and dead.

Without warning the 4 guns in the corners of the room began firing, not knowing what to do, Riley ducked hoping they'd stop before they got to her, unfortunately they didn't and one shot her in the leg.

"You'd look great filled with bullet holes~" Collapsing on her knees, Riley glared up at Cathy "So would you" and pointed the gun at her, forgetting nothing had happened when she pulled the trigger last time.

"Go on~ Shoot me~!" "Why are you so eager to be shot?"

"Just do it! Unless....you aren't as great of a sinner as I thought~" Riley pointed it at Cathy's head and pulled the trigger but nothing happened "AHAHAHA~!! Foolish of you to think I'd actually give you a loaded gun!"

Despite the blood gushing from the bullet wound, Riley shakily got up "So...are you gonna kill me or..." "No. A sinner like you is much too interesting to be killed~!"

Riley sat on the floor, watching blood pool around her, and her sisters dead body in silence.

[timothypines]

Is Classical Music Dead? (Essay)

How does society determine when a particular genre of music is dead? From this question, multiple others are born. For example, do we consider that the inspiration from music continued throughout popular genres as the survival of what it was originally? Or is it dead because it has changed into something different from its original form? When it comes to classical music, it isn’t really as question about whether or not it is dead, but if it’s dying. Classical music is still being performed, listened to, and celebrated in communities today, so calling it dead seems premature, even foolish. That’s not to say that the average person believing classical music is dying is without merit; classical music isn’t usually on the radar for say a random person asked off the street. However, when looked at from the perspective of the musical community, classical music is positively flourishing and doesn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

           In a New York Times Article, a violinist showed concern that the classical music industry was dying. Some readers responded in letters reacting to the concerns she expressed. The violinist started by saying, “A schoolboy recently asked me if Richard Wagner was a pitcher for the Yankees. At that moment I feared that classical music in America was doomed” (Dreyer). Like this violinist expressed, most people in the music community, and outside the community, acknowledge that classical music isn’t a subject that most people going through life know a whole lot about. While many know some parts of classical pieces and perhaps some names of famous composers, their knowledge is surface level and, for the most part, they don’t seek to learn more. This reflects in some worrying trends in the industry. Classical radio stations were shutting down, concerts were being reduced and canceled, less and less were classical musicians being discussed (Dreyer). Classical music simply isn’t popular. But from this trend came a great wave of musicians, teachers, and lovers of classical music who were determined to spread the love and knowledge of a music they deemed immensely important, and rightfully so.

           Most all of the music we have and enjoy today has elements that came from classical music, from the most basic to the more complex. The major-minor scale system that is commonly used in the majority of today’s music was first put into use in the baroque period. It was in this period that the scale system was also standardized (Willoughby). In fact, the baroque period standardized a great many musical tools, styles, and elements. From this period developed keyboard music, which lead to the invention of the modern piano, an instrument that can be argued to be the most important instrument when it comes to creating music, harmony, a base element in most music performed today, and the establishment of the orchestra (Willoughby). It would take a long time to list all of the musical elements gained and standardized in the baroque period, but it is certain that music would not look nearly the same if not for the major development that occurred.

           The baroque period, while very important, wasn’t the only period that significantly influenced music. The romantic period brought what was missing from music in the baroque period back into the musical community, emotion. A big emphasis on music today is how it makes the listener feel. While the baroque period brought technicality, all emotion was sacrificed for ridged structure and extremely complex technique. Beethoven put emotion into his music, effectively shifting people’s approach to composing. Willoughby writes, “These attributes of Beethoven mirror the attributes of the Romantic period as a whole; it was a time when artistic expression became highly individual and personal, and also highly emotional” (Willoughby, 253). With this wave of emotion came another change; music started being made for music’s sake. Composers started writing what they wanted to hear instead of what was popular or what the church needed for service. A large part of what music is now has come from classical music, and most people within the music community, of many genres, understand and respect this.

           It is important to be noted that while people respect the roots that classical music has provided, that doesn’t mean that people are very supportive of how it exists, or rather, how they believe it exists. There is a notion that classical music is elitist, for the rich and privileged only. One could point to the expensive ticketing for opera and ballets and orchestra performances to prove this point, but there are many things that are just as or even more expensive than these tickets that people don’t find elitist—for example, sporting events (Cross-eyed Pianist). Some people will point at the etiquette and dress for attendance at a concert hall. The fact remains, however, that opera houses and concert halls have no official dress code or strict rules everyone must follow. Music blogger and commenter goes on to say, “It troubles me, this negative perception of classical music and its fans, and it strikes me that currently there is an image crisis surrounding classical music. It wasn’t always like this. When I was growing up in the 1970s, there was more classical music in our everyday lives” (Cross-eyed Pianist). Most people have the notion that classical music is only accessible to and is only made for those better off than themselves, even though it has been available to and made for everyone’s ears for centuries now.

With that in mind, the love for classical music itself has not died out yet. There is a vast and passionate community of musicians, teachers, and listeners who adore classical music and saw it failing in the wider community. These people have worked hard and are continuing to work hard to spread a passion for classical music. An excellent example of some people doing this is the YouTube duo who run the channel Two Set Violin. On this channel they make comedy sketches, play games, and react to videos. All of this content is tied together by one thing, classical music. Brett and Eddy, the two friends who run Two Set, are professionally trained violinists who decided to make a YouTube channel to try and spread love for classical music. It was also important to them to make classical music and the education of classical music more accessible. They teach about music in an engaging, funny way all while encouraging their audience to create and perform music. Their saying is simply ‘practice’. They encourage their musician audience members by reminding them that no one who is really good at playing an instrument got there without hard work and tell them to keep practicing. Two Set has even brought on large musicians like Hillary Han and Benny Chen to talk about their experiences and the importance of practicing. This helps to break the stereotype of not only what a classical musician looks like, but how they act and how much work goes into their music. In one video, while reacting to an American Idol performance with two violinists, one of the judges says, “It’s so nice to see such young, good looking guys that play the violin because usually they’re like old and bald and, you know, a bit greasy” (Two Set Violin). They respond by pointing out that they themselves are young and that this is a negative stereotype. In another video they react to a man that says he is the fastest violin player in the world. Brett says, “the world needs to know that classical music is more than just playing fast” (Two Set Violin).  In these two videos, Brett and Eddy are challenging the media’s, and greater public’s, view of classical music, the view that classical music is old, for old people, and the people who participate are elitists who only care about perfection and technicality. And they have done so much more than videos like these reaction to other musicians. They have had videos where they have their followers compose a piece and send it to them to play. They have asked people to send in clips of them performing for them to react to. In so many ways these two violinists have gotten so many people involved in classical music. Over the years they have grown a great following of people who love participating in classical music, whether that be through performance or listening; as of today, they have almost 3 million subscribers (Two Set Violin). Brett and Eddy aren’t the only people who have gotten the public more involved in classical music. As social media has grown, classical musicians have become increasingly accessible to the public. The violinist Hillary Han often posts on Instagram videos of her practicing and other music related things, but she also speaks on social issues and gives insight into her life. This shows all 300,000 followers she is human (violincase).

           It is difficult to say whether or not a musical genre is dead, and even harder to say if it’s dying. The act of music dying would take centuries, and even then, there are arguments to be made that because other music that exists was influenced by the ‘dead’ music, it still lives. Classical music was the popular music for centuries, its memory will not so easily fade, especially to the point where it is considered a dead genre. Even if it is not a popular genre today, classical music is being kept alive by the musicians who perform it and the people who love to listen to it. Music is art that decorates and marks time, and so, as long as people paint time with classical music, it is not dead.

     Work Cited

Dreyer, Les. “Sunday Dialogue: Is Classical Music Dying?” The New York Times, 2012. https://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/25/opinion/sunday/sunday-dialogue-is-classical-music-dying.html

Willoughby, David. The World of Music. McGraw-Hill Higher Education. Kindle Edition.

The Cross-Eyed Pianist. “Who Made Classical Music ‘elitist’?” The Cross-Eyed Pianist, 2019. https://crosseyedpianist.com/2019/07/24/who-made-classical-music-elitist/

Two Set Violin. “The World's FASTEST (and most INACCURATE) VIOLINIST!” YouTube, 2018. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BvsvaCU6i1M&ab_channel=TwoSetViolin

Two Set Violin. “Classical Violinists React to Mainstream Violin Competitions” YouTube, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_uVN5Fb_Z44&ab_channel=TwoSetViolin

Han, Hillary. “@violincase” Instagram.

[19tozier]

lookalike pt. two (bill denbrough)

part two of this imagine

warnings: angst, swearing, but a hopeful ending!

[losers&reader are 17/18 in this]

bill denbrough, you have found, is not an easy person to love. loving him is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

it burns inside of you, burrowing into your heart and into your stomach until you feel hollow with it. sometimes, you want nothing more than to scrape yourself free from it, but you don’t think you could; it would destroy you as well. but loving bill the way that you do is going to destroy you, too.

you’ve been avoiding him even harder after your fight, coldly ignoring his every attempt to talk to you or even look at you. you thought you’d have to avoid the other losers at times, too, but they’ve made it clear that they understand. you don’t know how they found out, but you know they know what bill said. and you know they’re upset about it. they’re almost as angry as you are.

and god, are you angry. you have to force yourself not to think about what bill said or else your rage will choke you, thick and cloying and hot in your throat. at inopportune times, his words will play through your mind, and your blood begins to boil.

however, your life hasn’t changed much. you were already avoiding bill to begin with, so not seeing him at all hasn’t really done anything. you still go on dates with jacob, trying not to feel guilty when you look at his smile, and you hang out with the losers whenever you are certain bill won’t be there. there’s a hole in your life and your heart where he should be but slowly, you think you are beginning to grow numb to that absence.

of course that’s when it comes crashing down around you.

foolishly, you had been certain jacob had been none the wiser to the tension inside you. you’d never told him that you had stopped being friends with bill, after all, and you’d even brought the losers along to meet jacob on one of your movie dates. you had thought that things were as perfect as they could get between you two.

he’s already leaning against your locker when the final bell rings one day, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. he doesn’t return your smile when you greet him, nor does he go to wrap you up in a hug the way that he usually does. instead, he sighs and looks down at his shoes.

“can we talk?” he asks you quietly, his eyes sliding to where richie and eddie are waiting for both of you a few steps down the hall. “alone?”

you swallow, a cold feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. you wave the boys on, trying to smile as reassuringly as possible when they both look concerned. judging by the look richie gives you, it’s shaky at best and downright worrying at worst.

you follow jacob outside, your heart rate spiking even more when he leads you to the place where you and bill had your fight just a few short weeks ago. seemingly oblivious to your anxiety, he sits on the wall where bill had waited for you, and hesitantly, you sit beside him. the few inches between you feel as cavernous as miles.

for a long moment, neither of you talk. you stare down at the sidewalk, your palms sweating against your thighs. you’re about to bite the bullet and ask what’s wrong when jacob murmurs, “i think we need to break up.”

your heart freezes inside your chest. it sits there, colder than you’ve ever been, spreading numb out through your veins as you shakily whisper, “what?”

jacob doesn’t look at you. “i think we need to break up,” he repeats, slightly louder and slightly stronger.

part of you had known this was coming, and that part had honestly been waiting for it to happen. but that part is not the majority, and you are so blindsided that your lips tremble enough that you almost can’t talk. “but... why?”

he sighs, and finally he meets your gaze. he looks sad and resigned, a frown curling the edges of his mouth, but there is something in the set of his shoulders that looks lighter. more free. “we don’t like each other the same way,” he whispers. “and i think i’ve always known that, but i don’t think i can stay with it anymore.”

every word he says spears into your heart. you feel almost sick with guilt and desperation. “jacob, i do like you, i don’t understand—“

“not in the same way,” he interrupts, gently but firmly. “i really like you, (y/n), but you’ve always had feelings for someone else. and that’s okay, really. it’s not your fault. but it’s not fair to either of us.”

the tears you have been trying to suppress finally make themselves known, trickling slowly down your cheeks. you make no move to wipe them away. “how did you know?”

he smiles, soft and small and sad. “i have eyes, y’know,” he murmurs to you. you don’t deserve his kindness, especially now. “it didn’t take a genius to figure out.”

your heart is unthawing, only for fractures to spread through the ice. you can feel it breaking in your chest, slowly but surely with every word he says. “i really do like you,” you rasp. you want to grab his hand but you don’t think you’ll be allowed. “i need you to know that. and i never, ever cheated on you.”

jacob blows out a breath, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “i do know that, (y/n). i know you like me and i know you’d never hurt me like that. but it’s not really enough, is it?”

he doesn’t say it to be an accusation but you feel it like it is one. your heart splits jaggedly in two. “no,” you whisper. “it’s not.”

you are both silent for several minutes. the bustle of your classmates leaving school for the day continues around you, all of them oblivious to the turmoil inside you. no one has even glanced at you or jacob, even if you feel like there is a neon sign pointing directly to your conversation. lookie here, folks, karma always comes to collect its debt!

“can we still be friends?” your voice is small. your fingers are twisted together in your lap hard enough that they ache. “i don’t want to completely lose you from my life, jake.”

jacob sighs, shaking his head slightly. “i don’t know,” he admits. “i don’t want to lose you either but i think it would hurt too much to just be your friend right now.” he pauses, then gently reaches to bump your shoulder with his own. he gives you a watery smile. “maybe eventually, though.”

there is a note of finality in his words. this is the ending you had been building towards from the moment it all began, and you had been foolish to think otherwise. you had already lost bill, and now you were losing jacob as well.

he gives you a nod, trying to smile again, and then he stands up and walks away. he doesn’t look back.

almost as soon as he’s left, you feel two other people sit down, one on either side of you. you can’t see through the tears blurring your vision but you know that it’s eddie and richie, come to try and comfort you. you don’t say anything, just turn your head into eddie’s shoulder and let yourself cry. they don’t ask, but you hope they understand anyways. you wouldn’t be able to explain if they didn’t.

***

it takes you a little while, but eventually, things start to get better.

the other losers are the best friends you really could’ve ever asked for. bev helps you talk all your feelings out and cry all you want to; stan and mike help you study and keep you from noticing all of your extra free time; ben brings you sweet little gifts, flowers and chocolate and candy, to make you smile on days you don’t feel like doing so; eddie and richie make you laugh with their antics and hug you whenever you need it.

but there’s still that hole left behind where bill was, the one that you desperately try not to think about.

you still haven’t talked to him. you know he knows that you and jacob broke up, because it feels like your entire school knows by now, but you don’t know if you’re ready to face that. you’re still so angry with him but you also miss your best friend.

you’re sitting in between eddie and stan one day at lunch, giggling at something mike said, when richie leans across the table and whispers, “come outside with me?”

he’s flicking his pack of cigarettes in his hand, and even though you don’t smoke you’d never pass up the opportunity to hang out with your favorite trashmouth. you pat stan’s shoulder, ruffle eddie’s hair, and follow richie out the huge double doors.

there’s already someone sitting against the wall in richie’s usual smoking spot, and you turn to say something to richie only to notice richie’s disappeared. you swing around wildly to look for him, and that’s when you realize the person sitting against the wall is bill.

you are struck with sudden deja vu for the day of your fight. you hope this doesn’t destroy you more.

he offers you a small smile, patting the concrete next to him. “c-can w-we talk?”

your heart races at the sound of his voice but you force yourself to keep your face blank. you carefully sit beside him, leaving several inches between your thighs. you don’t look at him at all.

he sighs, his hands balling into fists in his lap. “d-don’t b-be m-m-mad at r-richie. i a-asked h-him to b-b-bring you o-out h-here.”

“why?” your voice is cold and impassive, and you watch him flinch out of the corner of your eye.

he swallows. “s-so i c-could a-apologize t-to y-y-you.”

it makes your heart race for an entirely different reason. you almost crack and turn to look at him, maybe to see how sincere he is, but you’re scared that doing so will make you forget why you’re angry. already, the feeling is melting away at having him by your side again. “i’m listening.”

almost as if a dam has been broken, he tilts his shoulders to face you. his words come out choppy and fast, his stutter infinitely worse than you’ve ever heard it. “i-i-i-i’m s-s-so-oh suh-suh-suh-sor-ry. i-i-i-i wuh-was s-s-s-stupid a-a-and m-m-m-m-m—f-f-fuck—“

without your conscious effort, your hand shoots out to wrap around his wrist. both of you freeze, staring down at the point of contact. you want to pull it away and take it back but something inside of you has unlocked at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“calm down,” you murmur, still staring down at your hand. “it’s just me.”

bill draws in a ragged breath, his shoulders trembling with the force of it. his wrist flexes within your grip but he doesn’t pull away. “i-i-i’m s-s-sorry,” he whispers, now slightly calmer. “i-i’m s-s-so s-s-sorry, (y/n). i-i s-shouldn’t h-h-have s-s-s-said t-that. a-any o-of i-i-it.”

you nod, slowly. “so why did you?” you ask, your voice low. “because that hurt, bill. i was so fucking mad at you. i am so fucking mad at you.”

he makes a wounded noise, deep in his throat, and the hand still in your grasp curls into a fist. “y-y-you s-s-should b-be,” he croaks. “i-i w-was a d-dick. i-it d-doesn’t e-e-excuse it, b-but i-i w-w-was... i w-was j-j-jealous.”

it’s not really news to you, since bill had admitted he liked you in the same breath he used to tell you to break up with jacob, but it still makes your blood thrum through your veins. he’s right, it’s no excuse at all, and your anger will likely simmer inside of you for a while to come, but the worst of it is disappearing.

you sigh, finally turning your head to look at him. he’s already looking back, his eyes wide and sad, his expression destroyed. you let go of his wrist but don’t move away from him.

“why didn’t you apologize sooner?” you ask quietly.

he shrugs, giving you a small smile. “i-i d-didn’t th-think y-you w-w-wanted to h-h-hear f-from m-me.”

he’s not wrong; you probably would’ve punched him if he’d talked to you sooner. you nod, looking down at your lap. “i’m still mad at you,” you repeat. “that was fucked up, bill. you just expected me to break up with jacob because you asked me to. you realize how awful that is, right?”

bill blows out a long sigh, nodding his head. “s-stan n-n-nearly k-killed m-me f-f-for i-it,” he admits. “i-i th-th-thought b-ben a-a-actually w-would.” he pauses, and then says, again, “i-i’m s-s-sorry, (y/n).”

you turn to look at him again; he still hasn’t looked away from you. “i don’t know how to forgive you for that,” you confess quietly.

his expression turns anguished, but he doesn’t look surprised. he bites his lip, tucking his chin down into his chest. “c-can w-we s-s-start o-over? i-i-i d-don’t m-mean f-f-forgetting w-w-what i-i d-did. i-i j-just w-w-want t-to e-earn y-y-your t-trust b-b-back.”

it sounds too easy, but as you look at him, you’re shocked by the longing inside of you. you want your best friend back, you want to go back to the days where it was you and bill against the world. and if this is how you’ll get there, then you’ll absolutely take it, if it means you get to have him again.

you swallow and smile, shakily. “yeah, bill,” you breathe. “i’d like that.”

he smiles back at you before he sticks his hand out between you. as you stare down at it in confusion, he nudges your shoulder with his own. “h-hi, i-i’m b-b-bill.”

it makes something warm curl in your chest. you throw your head back and laugh, hearing him laugh along with you. you take his hand in yours, shaking it fondly. “i’m (y/n),” you grin.

maybe that day didn’t ruin anything at all, you think, as he offers you a hand up and holds the door open for both of you to go back to lunch. maybe there wasn’t actually any bomb and you and bill will eventually be okay.

as you rejoin the losers, as you watch stan bully bill relentlessly, as bill smiles at you shyly across the table, you are certain you will be.

[huilian]

Summary: Five times the ruby earrings changed hands, featuring: the Queen Thief thieving, Gen wrecking havoc with his siblings, a raging at the gods™ episode, an obligatory palace sneaking scene, and finally, Gen’s kids wrecking havoc (with Gen).

The woman her father was courting was wearing ruby earrings, and she hated it. She always knew which items her father had stolen, even if she sometimes didn’t understand why, and these earrings bear the mark of her father’s hands.

This time, however, she could guess the reason her father had gifted that earring to this woman. In the year since her mother had died, her father had courted three different women. To give his children a mother, he had said, but she knew better.

None of the Thief’s current children were named after him and his god. None of the Thief’s current children fated to become the next Thief of Eddis.

Not even her.

She knew she had the god’s favour. Cleverness and skill she had in spades, more than any of her siblings, and when she jumped from roof to roof, she could feel the god’s hands guiding her. But she was not named after him, and so she would not be the next Thief.

She used to hate it, as a child. She would steal as many things as she dared, and she would place every single one of them on Eugenides’s altar, praying that the god would choose her to be the next Thief, if she showed him her skill and persistence. She gained a reputation that way, of being a thief as prolific, if not yet as formidable, as her father.

Her name still remained Vassilissa. The Thief of Eddis was chosen by the gods, and no one could change their decision.

She had learned to accept it, even if sometimes, when she placed her offerings on Eugenides’s altar, she wanted to scream and rage at the god. It’s not unheard of that the blessing from the God of Thieves skipped a generation.

She knew. She had checked every single record.

But her father would not stop trying. Since her birth, her mother had had two still-births, several miscarriages, and then finally, last year, had lost her life on the birthing bed, delivering yet another still-birth. Before the pyre had even cooled, her father had searched for a new wife.

Vassi had driven off the first two women easily. They were a regular at the court of Eddis, and when they realized that their belongings had disappeared and reappeared on the altar of Eugenides, they knew what it meant.

This one, however, was not a regular at the court, and no matter how many of her jewelry went missing, she did not catch the hint. She had stayed long enough for her father to give her the ruby earrings, and that brought Vassi back to this situation.

She had to steal it. The earrings. But no doubt her father had known about her part in driving off the last woman he had courted--He thought it was simple jealousy. For all the bragged about his mind being his best asset, sometimes her father could be exceedingly foolish--, and would do everything in his power to keep her from driving this one too.

Vassi didn’t mind. She loved the challenge.

In the end, it wasn’t even that hard. Whenever the earrings weren’t being worn, it would be under the guard of her father. The simple solution, then, was to steal them when they were being worn. A shy smile to the woman her father courted, a framing of her request to speak alone as a child who would like to know her future step-mother better, and a span of twenty seconds were all she needed. She showed up to the next court session with the ruby earrings on her own ears, carrying herself with all the grace of a queen.

They called her Queen Thief, then. A thief as formidable as her own father.

Her father courted no more women after that.

***

Temenus ran with all the speed he had in his body, cursing his siblings all the way, from Xenia to Euphemia to Iris and Penelope, to Alexis and all the way to Stenides.

Xenia had stolen their mother’s ruby earrings last week. Why, Temenus didn’t know, but that started the chaos. Mother had stolen the earrings back, of course, but chaos, like the waters of the Arachtus, cannot be stopped when it has started its journey.

Like clockwork, the day after Mother had gotten them back, Euphemia stole them from her. And then Iris had taken them from Euphemia. Which was then followed by Penelope stealing them from Iris. By that time, it had become the nightly entertainment for the court, to see which one of the women from the Minister of War’s family would show up wearing the ruby earrings.

And then Mother had stolen them back, again, and Stenides, sweet, sweet Stenides, had decided that it’s not fair that only the women could play, and told Temenus his intent to steal the earrings himself. Before Temenus could tell him what a horrible idea that was, his brother had dared him to steal the earrings too.

He had to accept. He should have known that it was futile to resist the call of chaos, especially when his mother was at the very center of it.

He cursed again, this time focusing the worst of it on Stenides. Why had his brother dared him to do it? And whose idea was it to measure a man’s courage by the insane bets he took?

The ruby earrings, rattling together in his pocket as Temenus ran, weighed down his leg with every step he took. The image of his mother, grinning delightedly as she caught him taking her earrings, weighed down the other one.

She had come into the room as he had closed the jewelry box. He expected her to take the earrings back immediately, but instead, she had smiled and lifted up her hand, all five fingers splayed out. Temenus had felt his body relax at the sight, but then, she bent one finger, leaving only four splayed out.

Temenus knew exactly what that meant. He pocketed the earrings and ran as fast as he could, leaving the false key he had used to open the jewelry box in the first place.

“Why are you running?”

The voice caused Temenus to jump. He looked around, searching for the source of the voice, but found no one. Then, his mind connected the voice to a face, and he looked up.

“Because I have Mother’s earrings in my pockets,” he told his youngest brother.

Eugenides gave him a shrug. “Then why run? She’d find you anyway.”

That was true, but Temenus was not going to say that.

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m your brother, that’s why.”

“So should I go help Stenides?” Gen asked, voice full of the same mischief that decorated their mother’s face when she saw Temenus holding her earrings. Truly, Gen was their mother’s child, more than anyone else, though Xenia certainly tried.

“If you don’t want to help me, then don’t,” Temenus spitted out. He has no time to argue with his youngest brother. Either Gen would help him or not, nothing he said would sway the boy from his decision. Temenus took one more deep breath, preparing himself to run again. Gen was right, he wouldn’t be able to run from Mother forever, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

Before he could run, however, Gen dropped down from the tree he was sitting on and smiled up at him. “I’ll help,” he said, the picture of innocence.

Temenus knew better than to trust the innocent face, but he had no choice. He took Gen’s hand and let his brother lead him through the courtyard and to the hidden passageways of the palace of Eddis.

When they were already so deep into the passageways that Temenus had no idea where they were, he turned around and saw that Eugenides was gone. Cursing, he put his hand into his pockets.

They were empty.

***

Eugenides looked up to the altar of his namesake, and clenched the ruby earrings tighter in his hands. He had stolen the earrings from his mother’s jewelry box just three days earlier, intending to present them to her with a smile and a glib comment about losing her touch.

She didn’t lose her touch, but she did lose her step, and the earrings stayed in his pocket throughout the funeral ritual and pyre.

The altar of Eugenides sparkled with the offerings from generations of Thieves. Near the front, Gen could see the fibula pins that were his grandfather’s offering, and scattered between them, the earrings that were his mother’s.

The ruby earrings burned in his hand.

A thief would only fall if her god drops her. So either Eugenides had dropped his mother, or…

“Or you don’t exist,” Gen said to the silent altar. He knew the sentence is heresy, especially said inside Hephestia’s temple, in front of her half-brother’s altar. But the other option was that Eugenides had dropped her. Eugenides had dropped his mother.

Gen clenched down even tighter on the ruby earrings, their points leaving indentations into his palm. Then, with a last look on the altar, he pocketed the earrings and turned around.

His grandfather’s words rang in his ears. Send a prayer as you start your work, send a prayer after you finish it, and leave a gift once a month on the altar of Eugenides. Gen had placed a gift on the altar this month, and he would do so again next month. The gods did not exist, or even if they did, they do not have any interest in lowly mortals such as themselves. But it would not do to abandon the tradition. He would leave a gift on the altar of Eugenides next month, just not these earrings.

Let the god of thieves have other earrings as gifts. This one, Gen would keep for himself.

***

With one hand outstretched, Gen carefully moved the velvet case containing the headband of the Queen of Attolia. She was beautiful, as she always was whenever Gen climbed into her chambers to look at her. Her face was expressionless, as it also always was, but in sleep, the lack of expression gave her a peaceful look, instead of the uncaring mask she wore whenever she wakes.

She suited the ruby inlaid in her headband marvelously. She would suit the earrings marvellously as well.

He had had the earrings remodelled, the design on the gold surrounding the ruby made to match the design on her headband. No one had asked what became of his mother’s ruby earrings after she died, and when he brought it to the goldsmith to be remodelled, the goldsmith did not recognize the earrings.

That was just as well.

The points on the earrings still left indentations on his hand. Gently, he opened his fist and placed the earrings, positioning them so that they are exactly next to the case.

Moonlight entered the windows of the queen’s chambers, dousing her features and softening them, making her look less like the stone statues of Hephestia and more like the girl who had danced under the orange trees, years and years ago. Eugenides wished that he could make her look like this all the time, and not just when she’s sleeping.

He stepped closer to the bed, drinking in the sight of her. A voice inside him urged him to reach out, to tangle his hand on her hair, but the more sensible voice inside him, one trained by years and years of practicing his trade, told him that to do so would be the most foolish thing he had ever done in a life full of doing foolish things.

He did not reach out. He stayed where he was, looking to the Queen of Attolia, watching as she drew in breath after breath. When the moonlight had dimmed, signalling that dawn was fast approaching, he nudged the earrings one last time, arranging them so that they looked as pleasing next to the case as he could, and climbed out of the queen’s chambers.

It would be foolish to think that the queen would wear his earrings, but then again, he made a living out of doing foolish things.

***

“My King,” Attolia said, not moving from where she was seated as her attendants did her hair. By now her attendants knew well enough the antics of her husband, and did not think if out of the ordinary that the queen was speaking to what seemed to be empty air. “Do you know where my ruby earrings are?”

Materializing out of nowhere, Attolis replied, “I thought they’re in your jewelry box?”

“They were,” his wife answered. “They are not anymore.”

Waving the attendants out of his way, Attolis made his way to the queen and placed the last of the pins in her hair. He took one look at the box, which was currently laid out on the queen’s dressing table for her to choose which jewels she would like to wear today. The ruby earrings were not the grandest of the jewelry inside the box, but they were very conspicuous in their absence.

“Oh,” the king breathed out. “She does grow bold.”

*

“Your Highness,” Costis called out to the seemingly empty tree in the courtyard of the palace of Attolia. “Please come down.”

No response.

“Your Highness,” he tried again.

This time, a small face appeared from between the leaves. “Shh, Costis!” the princess of Attolia said. “You’re going to get us caught!”

“Your Highness,” Costis said again, flashing back to all the times he had done this for the king. “I’m sure there is no one who would want to catch you.”

Just as he said that, however, another small figure appeared out of nowhere. “Nia!” the prince of Attolia cried out as he ran towards his sister. How he managed to evade the squad of guards assigned to guard him, Costis would never know. The same way his sister escaped hers, he supposed. “You have it!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do! Why else are you in a tree?”

The princess changed her tactics immediately, the same way Costis had once seen Attolis do. “So what if I do?”

“You said we would get them together!” Hector protested.

“You’re too slow!” his sister retorted back.

“I’m not! You just keep leaving me!”

“If you can’t keep up, then you’re too slow, Hector,” Attolis said from somewhere behind Costis. Costis did not relax though. Not yet. It was always a toss on whether Attolis would curb his children’s behaviour or give them pointers on how to escape their flustered guards and caretakers running behind them.

Well, not really. Mostly the king would give pointers.

“And you don’t leave anyone behind, Eugenia,” the king continued, walking past Costis to the base of the tree. “A good companion is rare for a thief. You must take care of them.” He tilted his head up, and Eugenia, without even looking, jumped down to her father’s waiting arms.

“He’s too slow,” the princess said again. Hector, who had placed himself next to his father, complained. Loudly.

The king let out a snort of amusement. Ignoring the complaints from his son, he extended his hand towards the princess raised an eyebrow.

Scowling, the princess reached into her pockets and took out a pair of ruby earrings. Costis felt his eyes grow wide. Those are the queen’s ruby earrings, the pair that she wore more than any other earrings. There were many rumours surrounding that pair of earrings, and Costis was privileged enough to know that some of them did have a basis in truth.

Costis expected the king to pocket the earrings himself, but, as always, Attolis’s actions could not be predicted. He pulled the princess close and put the earrings on her ears, navigating them easily even with one hand.

Costis would never tire of watching his king doing things that never should have been possible with one hand.

After the earrings were in place, Eugenides brushed a hair out of her daughter’s face and pressed a kiss on her forehead. Then, after a shriek of protest, smiled and did the same for his son. The children then talk over each other, both of them eager to tell their father about the adventures they had today.

From his place behind his king and the princess and prince, Costis stood watch.

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Selfish

Eddie Brock/Venom x Reader ANGST

requested by anon:  imagine a scenario where Eddie and reader (they’re dating) get into a fight or argument but VENOM doesn’t give a shit about the fight and misses his morsel and is bothering Eddie to talk to him/her to makeup... maybe some angsty sexy longing in there, maybe Venom takes the drivers seat to be with his morsel because the fighting is trivial human shit he could care less for... 💕

requested by anon:  Do you do angsty stuff? Like maybe Eddie and reader get into a bad fight and break up and neither one of them stop to think how Venom feels.

requested by anon:  Howdy, just wanted to say I love your blog! Also I appreciate a good angsty fic, you're definitely not alone. Hope you had a good Halloween!

“Don’t pretend like this is okay,” Eddie slammed the door behind him...

You had just got back from your monthly office party.  Your boss thought it was good bonding for everyone to get together once a month.  You found it repetitive and ridiculous.  Tonight had been different though.  Eddie came for the first time ever, but things at the party were different.  One of your coworkers had shown up wasted, “An embarrassment to the company,” you had thought.  He was stumbling around, grabbing every girl in sight.  He just happened to come up to you and attempt to grope you.  He grabbed a handful of you from behind, causing you to jump.  “N-Nice ass,” he burped out.  “What the fuck,” Eddie raised his voice.  “Wh-What’s your pro-problem, dude?  She’s just some chick, don’t take it so personal,” he pointed in Eddie’s face.  Eddie gritted his teeth, “She’s my girlfriend.  And I suggest you step away from her.”  You grabbed Eddie’s hand, “C’mon, Eds.  He isn’t worth it.”  Your co-worker pushed Eddie back, “Oh yeah?  What are you gonna do-do about it, b-bub?”  Eddie’s eyes went white; Venom was trying to take over.  You grabbed Eddie and pulled him back, “Ed!  No!”  He turned to see you scared.  He knew he needn’t handle things the way he wanted.  He gave his attention back to your co-worker, “You got lucky this time, but it you ever try something like that with my lady again, you’ll pay.”  You and Eddie began walking away when your co-worker began laughing, “What a pussy.  His girlfriend convinced him he shouldn’t fight?  Nah, he’s just scared-scared he’d loose.”  Eddie stiffened up.  You placed a hand on his bicep, “Eddie, he’s drunk.  Don’t.”  Eddie pulled away from your grasp and walked over to him.  Eddie lifted him off he ground by his collar with one hand.  Venom’s growl escaped Eddie mouth, “I won’t warn you again, insect.”  You pulled Eddie away and your co-worker hit the ground.  “Wh-what the hell has that guy been eating,” he muttered under his breath.  Everyone in the room stared at you and Eddie.  Eddie looked angry.  You were embarrassed.  You ran out, Eddie chased behind you.

...You held yourself tightly.  Eddie had embarrassed you in front of your co-workers.  You knew he was just protecting you, but he did not have to take it so far.  “You’re really going to act like that guy didn’t make a pass at you,” Eddie yelled in anger.  “Please stop yelling,” you whispered.  Eddie blew his breath out.  “Oh?  Is that how it is?  Just normal?  You’re not even upset,” Eddie’s voice cracked.  You placed your hand over your mouth.  “Whatever,” Eddie scoffed, “Just pretend like it didn’t happen.  I wouldn’t expect you to be upset anyway.  You never are unless I am the one who messed up.”  You turned and felt warm tears falling from your eyes.  You had a lump in your throat, “OF COURSE I AM UPSET, EDDIE!”  Eddie’s expression changed quickly when you raised your voice.  “I can’t keep doing this, Ed.  You know it upset me!  But you didn’t have top flip out so immaturely!  No woman wants to be groped by some drunk guy!  I could loose my job over how you acted!  You embarrassed me!”  Eddie was silent.  He stared at you while you cried.  He did not know what do to.  He was still so angry, but he knew he had hurt you.  “I-I’m sorry, Y/N,” Eddie whispered.  You were frustrated, “YOU ALWAYS ARE!  Maybe if you’d think for five seconds before acting you wouldn’t have to be sorry all the time!”  You could feel your heartbeat in your ears.  You were beyond angry.  Eddie stood in front of you, a frown painted on his face.  “I’m leaving, Eddie.  We need some time apart,” you stated walking past him.  Eddie went to grab you and you pulled away, “No, Eddie.  We can’t keep fighting all the time.  I need a break.”  You walked out.  

Eddie began crying.  “Oh my God, what have I done,” he held his face in his hands.  Venom appeared next to Eddie.  He was confused.  Not completely understanding where you had went and why you had left.  “Ed, what happened?  Where did our princess go,” Venom questioned.  Eddie leaned against the door, slowly sliding down it until he sat on the floor.  “She broke up with me,” Eddie whispered.  Venom did not understand, “What does that even mean?”  Eddie blew his breath out, “She decided she did not want to be my partner anymore, V.  She is no longer a part of our life.  And it’s all my fault.”  Venom snarled.  He was angry that Eddie had made such a foolish mistake.  “What’s wrong with you?  Why would you do that,” Venom hissed at Eddie.  “Listen, Venom.  These kinds of things happen.  People break up.  Trust me, this hurts me a hell of a lot more than it hurts you,” Eddie was cold in his words.  Venom growled at Eddie, “You are going to get her back!”  Eddie rolled his eyes, “Don’t be an idiot.”  Venom pulled Eddie up to his feet.  He made Eddie’s hand grip the doorknob.  “NO,” Eddie argued.  “YOU!  ARE!  GOING,” Venom demanded, causing Eddie to open the door.  Eddie was angry, yet relieved.

You stood outside in the cold.  You were waiting on a cab.  You heard someone approaching you from behind.  You knew it was Eddie, “Listen, Ed, I’m not-”  It wasn’t him.  It was simply another attendee at the apartment.  The man gave you an odd look because you had spoken to him.  He continued on across the road.   You were disappointed it hadn’t been Eddie.  You would not admit it, but you wanted Eddie to come chasing after you.  It was childish and immature.  You should have just worked things out like adults.  

“I can’t, Venom,” Eddie argued with the beast.  Venom was getting desperate and threw Eddie out into the hallway.  Eddie slammed into the wall, falling.  Eddie groaned in pain while he tried to force himself back up.  “She is going to be gone soon,” Venom panted.  Eddie rose, “I don’t see why it matters so much to you.”  Venom’s tone changed, “I love her, Eds.  She means the world to me.  I feel so attached to her.  She can’t just leave us.  I want her back, Eddie.  And you did not even put up a fight when she tried to leave.  I can’t go get her on my own.  Eddie, please.”  He was sincere.  For once, the monster had human emotions.  Eddie could feel how real his feelings were and he began to feel them too.  Eddie had been fighting his feelings for months.  He continued to push them and you away out of fear of him not being good enough.  He knew he loved you.  Loved you more than he had ever loved anyone.  He had no idea how to tell you.  He was scared it would scare you.  Scared it would seem too soon in your eyes.  “I’m sorry, V.  I didn’t even think about how this would affect you,” Eddie apologized.  “Edster,” Venom began, “You can make it up to me by getting that girl.”  Eddie smiled at Venom.  Eddie began to rush down the stairs.  

You began to shiver.  It was getting colder and there was no cab in sight.  You heard another set of steps begin behind you.  You turned to see Eddie rushing towards you.  You could not help but smile, “Eddie!”  He smiled when he saw you, “I came down here to tell you how sorry I am.  You have no idea how much you mean to me.  Seeing that guy all over you just set me off.  I am so so sorry.  You mean the entire world to me.”  You shook your head, “It’s okay, Eddie.  I was being dramatic leaving like that.”  Eddie pulled you into his embrace, “I love you, Y/N.”  You froze.  “Did you just say you loved me,” you whispered.  Eddie nodded.  You felt your cheeks turn pink, “I love you too.”  Eddie giggled and picked you up.  He spun you around and placed a kiss on your lips.  

“Let’s go back to my place, you have to be freezing,” Eddie took your hand in his.  You smiled and walked back to Eddie’s apartment with him.

~~~

End

~~

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\ If you no longer want to be tagged in my Venom x Reader Fics, please do let me know. Or if you would like to be tagged in future posts, let me know! //

[buckleysjareau]

you feel like the sun on my face

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile.

or

Eddie's view on Buck's Wikipedia spirals and the beginning of the brilliant idea it inspires.

part 1/3 in my series ‘cause i’m not too far and you’re my favorite place on ao3

cw; non-graphic description of anxiety, scary facts about tsunamis (they’re freaky so this is just to be safe)

-

One thing Eddie noticed about Buck in the time they’d become friends was that Buck loved to research. He was full of obscure knowledge and useless academic insight and he never let people forget that. 

The longer they were friends, the more Eddie realized it was used as a coping mechanism. After bad calls, he’d sit on his laptop and fall down a Wikipedia rabbit hole that, according to Buck, is extremely difficult to get out of. 

After the train derailment, and as Buck put it ever so dramatically, the derailment of his sanity, he’d taken Buck back to his house. After the exhausting night they had, he figured Buck would fall right to sleep as soon as he hit the couch. He offered his bed, they were two adults, they didn’t have to make sharing a bed weird; but no, Buck insisted he sleep on the couch. 

Which would have been fine with Eddie if Buck had actually slept. 

“How did you know my laptop password?” He snorts when he realizes Buck is using his laptop. 

When Buck turns to look at him with a smirk, Eddie’s eyes widen as he notices Buck’s bloodshot eyes and the bags under them. “Chris’ birthday, dude? Really?” 

“Have you slept a wink?” He leans up against the wall, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. 

“Probably not.” He shrugs. “Too busy reading about the evolution of cameras.”

“The what?” Eddie’s mouth drops. “Why would you need to know about the evolution of cameras? And why my laptop? Don’t you have a phone?”

“Why wouldn’t I need to know about the evolution of cameras? The history of the camera began even before the introduction of photography. It evolved from the camera obscura through so many generations of photographic technology like daguerreotypes, calotypes, dry plates, and film. Now we’ve got cameras on our phones, and not to mention cameras and phones didn’t used to exist, which is crazy.” Buck sounded exhausted but enthused at the same time and Eddie curses himself for finding his coping mechanism adorable. “Speaking of phones, to answer your question, it died somewhere around three.”

Eddie nods. “So that’s why Maddie’s called me six times.”

Buck looks at him sheepishly. “Sorry?”

The next time Eddie catches him during one of his Wikipedia binges, it happens a month after they get together. 

During family dinner at the station, Bobby mentioned that Harry begged to have a beach day and proceeded to invite the rest of the one-eighteen on their next day off. Eddie looked over to his boyfriend at the mention of it but Buck wasn’t showing any signs that he wasn’t okay with going. 

But he was always good at putting on a mask. Spectacularly good at it.

When he wakes up on the day they’re supposed to go, he sends Buck a quick text before he goes about his usual routine. He gets Chris up, brushes his teeth, attempts to make a nice breakfast for them, and gets Christopher ready for the day. 

When Buck doesn’t text him back by the time he checks his phone again, he starts to worry. He feels foolish for worrying about not getting a text back, especially when it’s possible that Buck could be going through his morning routine as well, but his reason for worrying is justified. 

He gives it another hour before he stops torturing himself waiting for Buck to call or text just to let him know he is on his way.

“Chris, buddy, change of plans! We’re gonna pick up Buck on the way.” 

“I thought he was picking us up?” 

Eddie smiles through his worry. “I think he overslept, bud. We’re gonna go wake him up.”

Christopher grins. “Surprise attack?”

Eddie snorts. “Surprise attack.” 

He lets himself in with his key after knocking fails to work. He automatically sees Buck slumped over the island in his kitchen, just barely sitting on the white stool. His laptop is open and next to it, Buck is dozed off. 

Eddie squints to see where Buck landed in his Wikipedia spiral and when he sees what it is, his heart squeezes in his chest.

The tsunami with the highest runup was the 1958 Lituya Bay megatsunami, which had a record height of 524 m (1,719 ft).

He skims through enough of the page to know he’s looking through Wikipedia’s page on tsunamis. He looks at the top to see the tabs he has open which only makes him feel worse.

How To Survive a Tsunami, According to Science

2019 Santa Monica Tsunami

Tsunamis In History

Dealing with Aquaphobia

There’s a lot of tabs open and all of them have to do with tsunamis. He knew this would be upsetting for him, he knew Buck was pushing his limits by even saying yes to going. He should have seen this coming.

“Hey, buddy, I’m gonna wake up Buck and we’re gonna have a little talk. Do you mind going to the couch? I’ll put the T.V. on once he’s awake, yeah?” 

“Is Bucky okay?”

 “Do you remember how nervous you were to go back to the beach after the tsunami? I think he’s going through the same thing right now, but he’ll be just fine. You know why?”

“Because he has us?” 

“Because he has us.” Eddie smiles softly. 

Once he gets Chris set up on the couch, he quietly walks over to where Buck is still drooling onto the island. He can’t stop the snort that escapes him. He reaches over to his shoulder and shakes gently, realizing how deep in sleep he is when that doesn’t wake up. He shakes his shoulder a little harder.

“Buck, hey, honey… wake up.” 

That does the trick. Buck bolts upright too fast, falling completely off of the island stool and just misses completely hitting the floor when Eddie catches him with two arms. 

Buck’s eyes widen at the sight of Eddie. “Eddie? Shit, what time is it?”

“Hey, it’s okay! It’s just passed twelve.”

“Shit, Eds, we’re late! I’m so sorry, dude. Give me-”

Eddie stops him from frantically running to get ready by tightening his grip on Buck’s shoulders. “Slow your roll, babe.  I think we should talk first.” 

He feels Buck’s entire body tense at those words. “Talk about what?”

Eddie ducks down to get Buck to meet his eyes, smiling softly when he does to hopefully ease whatever spiraling thoughts going through his head. “Have you been anywhere near the beach since the tsunami?”

Buck looked unsettled, almost embarrassed as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

Eddie sucks in a breath. “Buck, it’s been over a year…” 

“I know, I know, I’m pathetic. It’s just-”

“You’re not pathetic, babe. After what you went through out there, no one could ever blame you for not wanting to go. Clearly this whole day out has you on edge if your searches have anything to say, so why did you say yes?”

“I can’t avoid it forever, Eds.” Eddie’s heart cracks along with Buck’s voice.

“No, you can’t. But you have me, Buck, you didn’t have to deal with all of this anxiety alone…”

“I just… hate that I’m a grown man that cowers at even the thought of going near open water. This is something that I should just be able to do without someone holding my hand.” He swallows. “I said yes because I thought I would be ready. I guess there really is no ready, though, is there? I’m always just going to be like this.”

Eddie frowns. “Trauma knows no age, you know that. You went through a trauma and being scared does not make you less of an adult, doesn’t make you a coward. Let me tell you this. I wasn’t ready in any way, shape, or form to be a dad when Christopher was born, but the second I got over the initial terror that I’d fuck it all up, being that wonderful kid’s dad in end of that fear was pretty damn rewarding. So, what I’m trying to say is, we don’t have to go, we can just sit here the whole day and play video games and stuff our faces. But, really the only way to conquer a fear is to face it, right? I’ll be right by your side the entire time, we only have to go as far as you can make yourself.”

“And I’ll be there!” Christopher shouts from the couch and Buck’s face lights up as his eyes fill with new tears. 

“Superman!” 

Eddie can’t stop the enormous grin that comes from the sight of his son and his boyfriend meeting for a hug in the middle for a room. Buck is kneeling down to Christopher’s height and has his arms tightly wrapped around him. 

“I was scared the first time at the beach too, but I was okay because I had my dad. You’ll have both of us, Bucky. It’s going to be okay, kid.” Eddie watches through his own tears as Buck’s shoulders shake with sobs. 

“You’re such a good kid, buddy, you know that?” Buck is gleaming and though filled with tears, his eyes are full of love. 

“Please don’t leave my side,” Buck’s plea is desperate but Eddie wants to laugh.

“Never.”

Buck never stops shaking the entire drive to the beach. 

“A tsunami can travel at 500 miles an hour, a wall of water can travel at you full force until it hits.” He’s whispering so he can’t scare Christopher but it does nothing to help himself. 

“Buck…”

“If a large magnitude earthquake hit Alaska, it could trigger a tsunami in California. An earthquake can happen 2,000 miles away and cause 700 million dollars worth of property damage, not to mention the death toll that would cause.”

Eddie tries to stop him another time, but only gets cut off by another fact about tsunamis. 

“A smaller tsunami could be triggered by an offshore earthquake and we’d only have ten minutes to evacuate and that’s if we even knew we had to evacuate-”

“Evan, stop. You’re only freaking yourself out more, okay? It’s going to be okay whatever happens. I’m by your side, I have you, baby.” 

Eddie feels like he’s in Heaven just watching Buck blush and look down at the pet name, but then the tiny smile drops and he looks away.

He’s quiet after that but Eddie can feel the car vibrate even after it’s turned off with the force of Buck’s shaking. “You ready?”

Buck’s eyes squeeze shut the second his eyes see the ocean. “As I’ll ever be.”

The grip Buck has on Eddie’s hand is bordering too tight but he’s walking on the sand and towards where everyone was set up, closer to the water, and he finds himself emotional that Buck has gotten this far. 

“Just keep swimming, Bucky.” Christopher cheers on from next to Eddie. “Just like Dory.”

He’s almost certain he hears a whimper from Buck at the expression. 

“Just like Dory.” Buck repeats. 

The second they reach everyone, Buck spins to face Eddie and quickly pulls him into arms, seeking comfort. He wastes no time in returning the hug, cradles the back of Buck’s head in his hand and uses the other to rub his back. 

“You made it, babe. You did so fucking good, I’m so proud of you.” 

He knows their family is watching, he hears Maddie distantly explain that this is the first time he’s stepped foot on a beach in a year and a half. His only focus is telling his boyfriend how damned proud he is. 

“I love you,” is muffled by Eddie’s shirt but he doesn’t need it to be comprehensible because he feels it loud and clear. 

“Forever.” 

The next time he really thinks of Buck’s obscure knowledge and his coping mechanism, it really comes in handy. 

Eddie felt as though he was vibrating out of his own skin the entire shift. His hands were shaking by the time he finally got home. He finds Christopher asleep in Buck’s arms on the couch. The sight of his favorite people lessens the tightness in his chest in the slightest. 

“Hey, how was work?” Buck whispers when he lays his eyes on him. 

“Nothing too crazy happened, so I guess good.” He shrugs. “Thanks for watching him today, seriously.”

“You okay?” Buck shoots him a look when Eddie goes to lie. “Eds, your hands are shaking. What’s wrong?” 

Eddie sighs. “I just feel… weird.”

“Let me get him to bed seeing as we both fell asleep here and then we can talk, okay? Sit down, take a breath.”

He tears up at the sight of Buck carrying Christopher to bed. He couldn’t believe he found someone that loved his son like their own and he couldn’t believe that person was Buck. His best friend. 

“Talk to me, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” 

“You seem to be in a good mood,” He tries to get the attention away from himself, even though he knows it’s pointless. After the lawsuit, before they even got together, they both promised to communicate better. They both definitely failed at that far more than they should have, but no one should have expected any less. They were trying, that’s all that mattered.

If they brought a call home with them, they talked it out. 

“What can I say, your kid is a ray of sunshine.” He grins. “Nice try though, Eds. You didn’t let me get away with it last week and your shaking is kind of scaring me. Come sit.”

Buck has a way of doing things and saying things that even in Eddie’s worst moods, he still can’t fight his smile. Eddie lazily threw himself onto the couch next to Buck. 

“What do you want me to even say? It’s not like I brought a call home with me. Nothing bad happened. I’m just, uh, in a mood.” He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Buck is cupping his face in his hand. The soft concern behind his blue eyes makes more tears build behind his own. 

“Come here,” Buck whispers, guiding Eddie’s head down to where it’s laying just above his heart. “Anxiety?” 

He doesn’t know why that word draws a reaction as strong as sobbing but Buck pointing out it’s not just a weird mood has him breathless and emotional. 

Buck tightens his arms around him. “Hey, take a deep breath with me alright?” 

He nods and takes in a breath just after Buck and to know that he can breathe is enough to calm some of his bubbling anxiety. 

“You hear my heartbeat?” Buck is so unbelievably good at taking care of him when he feels this way. God, how did he get so lucky?

When Eddie nods he feels Buck’s chest rise just a little with quiet laughter. “Did you know you can hear a blue whale’s heartbeat from two miles away?” 

Eddie laughs wetly. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah! And even though they’re the biggest animal that’s ever lived on Earth, blue whales feed on krill, they’re like tiny shrimp. They can eat up to 36,000 kilograms of krill a day. Lucky animals.”

This statement has a laugh erupting from him without time to muffle it, a smile spread from ear to ear as he looks up at his boyfriend. 

“There he is!” He smiles down at him before he pecks his lips. “Anyone ever told you how dazzling your smile is, Diaz?”

“Dazzling?” He snorts. 

“It’s one of the many words I would use to describe your smile. Dazzling, shiny, gleaming, beautiful, life ruining, you know.”

The anxiety is slowly leaving his body and it’s filling with love and warmth in its place. He snuggles closer in Buck’s arms and revels in the safety and comfort. 

“You know? I never get to be the little spoon. This is nice.” 

“Now you know how I feel in your arms.”

“Safe? Happy? Warm?”

Buck lips quiver with emotion. His eyes give away love, peace, light. “Yeah, exactly.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes before Eddie’s curiosity gets the better of him. “Hey, Buck?”

“Mm?” 

“Can I ask you something? It’s not a big deal, but my curiosity is getting the better of me.” He continues when Buck hums his response. “The Wikipedia spirals? The random knowledge about blue whales, the evolution of cameras, winning us trivia night at Frisco’s like it’s nothing every week with answers to questions Bobby didn’t even know. You just have a lot of knowledge in that smart brain of yours. Something I adore about you, don’t worry.”

He feels Buck let out a sigh before he snuggles Eddie closer to him, resting his head on top of Eddie’s. 

“It’s just a thing, I guess. Random facts always, uh ground me, when you know-”

“I know.” He assures him.

“Yeah. It’s always been something to cope with anxiety, but it’s also just something that I just do. I like to learn, I like to read about things I didn’t know about before. I like learning for the sake of learning, I guess?”

“You’re so smart, you know? Don’t let anyone make you think differently.”

“You’re so much better than I deserve, please let anyone make you think differently.” 

“Does anyone include you? Because babe? You’re so much better than I deserve but there’s no time for an argument right now.”

Buck yawns loudly. “Says who?”

“Says your sleep schedule. Close your eyes, use me as a pillow, I don’t care. Go to sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

“Not like I have a choice here, seeing as you’re holding onto me for dear life, but I’ll always be here when you wake up. Now, and every day in the future, okay? Now sleep.”

Buck snorts and mumbles sleepily, “Love you, Eds.”

Jesus, Eddie really wants to marry him. 

“I love you, too, Evan.”

To Hen;

Help me propose to Buck? I need a bunch of Wikipedia knowledge on proposals, marriage, all that good and sappy stuff. I’d ask the Wikipedia king himself, but you know…

From Hen;

WHATYSHDDJKSKJAHDKJDSKFKLK:LDK:K:DKSLDKEIWDJJSKDSKDKSJKDJSJDS

[gayedmundo]

a missing eddie scene from it chapter two

One moment Richie was right next to him, running through the tunnels and towards whatever the next horror this stupid clown had waiting for them, and the next moment he was alone.

His surroundings are new. When he looks behind him, he can still see the tunnels that they had been running through, but then it transitions into a room. It’s still dark and ominous, but significantly less cave-like. The only way out is to go back the way he came. He doesn’t see any separate path that Richie could’ve taken to explain his absence.

“Richie?” He yells out, hesitantly, “Richie, man, where did you go? This is so not the time to fuck around, asshole. If you’re planning to jump out at me, I will stab you with this fence post, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly a familiar voice comes from the dark behind him, making him jump.

“Oh, Eddie, there you are!”

It’s his wife. She’s shivering and drenched in water and dressed far too nicely for a walk through the sewers.

“Myra? What are you- what are you doing here?” He figures it must be a trap. This is what It does, he knows that. But still... she looks so real.

“I’m here to help you, Eddie. You just ran out on me without an explanation, I was so worried about you! This is too dangerous for you, we both know that. Come with me, Eddie-bear, please. We can go home and pretend like none of this happened. If you stay, you’ll get hurt.” She’s sobbing, predictably.

He shakes his head and backs away from her, “No, you can’t be here. I- You’re not real.”

“What? Of course I am. Honey, you’re not thinking straight.” She walks closer towards him and reaches her hand out to stroke his face but he flinches away from her touch. She sobs again and puts her hand over her mouth in horror. “What are these friends of your’s putting in your head? I mean look at you, you’re covered in sewer water! You’re hurt! Eddie, that’s gonna get infected! You’re so dirty!”

He’s shaking his head and looking away, trying to convince himself that she’s not real while she speaks but he notices a change in her voice when she says the last word. The tone goes from worried and panicked to accusatory and mocking. Slowly, he looks back at her.

Except his wife is no longer there. Standing in her place is his mother, the way she looked before she got sick. Despite the fact that by the time he stopped growing, he was slightly taller than her, she seems to tower over him. He realizes that the dark room they’re standing in has taken the shape of the living room in his childhood home.

“Dirty. That’s what you are. That’s what you’ve always been. You’re friends just make it worse. Especially that Tozier boy. He’s the dirtiest of them all and I think he’s been a bad influence on you. Made you sick like him.”

“That’s not true, don’t talk about him like that that’s not true!” He’s starting to wish he hadn’t burned his inhaler.

She’s sneering at him. His mother would get like this sometimes when she was in particularly bad moods, but it was rare. She usually preferred for her methods of manipulation to be more subtle. Guilt-tripping was her favorite. But as a teenager, he started to grow used to the way she would use her tears as a weapon and some days he refused to let them work on him. That’s when she got mean. He learned that maybe the tears were the better option.

“Yes, it is, Eddie-bear! You just can’t see what he’s done to you.” She switches to her worried voice, as she so often would after she got mean. It was all because she was worried, she didn’t mean it, she always promised. He was foolish enough to believe her more times than he’s proud of.

“That’s why you need your mother to protect you, to keep you from getting sicker than you already are. You think any of those friends of yours will want to touch you when they know what sickness you actually have?”

“Shut up!” He yells out, louder than he was expecting. His heart is pounding harder than before. He wants to curl up into himself and close his eyes until she goes away, but something makes him stay strong. 

You’re braver than you think.

“Eddie... how could you talk to your mother like that? I love you and this is how you treat me? I always said you would leave me and I was right! You don’t deserve all I do for you!”

A part of him wants to apologize. He knows she’s not real but there’s still a reflex in him to stop and comfort her, assure her that he loves her too and tell her that he appreciates everything she’s done for him. And god, if that isn’t the most fucked up, backwards feeling. 

“You’re right! I don’t deserve it. I never did.” She flinches back. The sight makes him gain more confidence.

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, and I.... I didn’t deserve it! You told me I was sick, dirty, tainted, made me feel weak, and the worst thing about it is that I believed you! But the truth is, I’m not. I know I’m capable of being brave.”

With every word, he feels like a weight he didn’t even know existed was being lifted off of his chest. He never got to say all of this to her before she died, he never even let himself think it most days, and he felt guilty when he did. But getting to say it now felt freeing, whether she was real or not.

“Eddie, please-“

“No, you’ve said enough. I loved you, Ma, I did. In your weird, fucked up way, I know you loved me too and maybe you genuinely did think you were doing what was right for me. But I’m so, so tired of your voice controlling how I think of myself. I’m tired of hearing your voice in my wife’s mouth! I’m tired of feeling like who I am, who I really am, is wrong because of the shit you told me as a kid. I’m tired of the look you would give me every time I would hang out with Richie. I’m tired of my skin crawling when I stare at him for too long. I’m tired of feeling like I need to take a shower after touching his skin. I’m tired of the guilt I feel when I realize I want to touch him again anyway. So I’m not gonna let you control me from the grave and I’m not gonna run from myself anymore, I’m gay!”

He pauses for a moment, taking in what he just admitted. What he had barely been able to admit to himself before.

“Holy shit. I’m gay. Yeah.” And then he laughs. It’s a little hysterical, but more than anything he feels relieved. He said it. He’s gay, and that doesn’t make him sick.

But then his mother’s frown turns into a wicked smile, and when she bares her teeth, they’re sharp. Her features slowly become more horrific, and he watches in terror until she, or It, lunges at him.

His body reacts before his mind and the next thing he knows, he’s yanking the fence post out of the chest of the nightmare version of his mother. The room changes back to the damp tunnel walls. It stumbles back and then vanishes down one of the other tunnels.

He stands there alone for another moment to process what just happened. Despite everything, he smiles to himself. What does it say about you if facing off with a shape-shifting demon could be one of the most cathartic moments of your life?

Snapping back to himself, he grips onto the fence post again and heads in the other direction to find Richie again. Which reminds him, he still has one other important thing he needs to get off his chest. But first, it’s time to kill that fucking clown once and for all.

[mychemicalrachel]

Right Now

This is a follow-up to my fic Right Here but can be read as a standalone!

When Eddie had asked Buck to be Christopher’s godfather, he said it was a precaution, just a way of knowing that Chris would be taken care of if anything happened. It was supposed to be a safety net. A contingency plan. It was never supposed to be real.

Part One; The Hospital Word Count: 2140 Read on Ao3

After the ladder truck incident, Buck thought he could say with a great amount of certainty that he knew pain. His leg had been crushed-- it was touch and go for a while whether he would even keep it-- and the pain of not just that moment, lying helpless under the truck, but the many moments that followed were more than just physically painful. They were terrifying. More terror than he had ever known.

And then he’d lost Christopher in the tsunami and Buck understood a different kind of pain, watching his best friend think, however briefly, that his son had been swept away with the waves. Gone forever.

Still, nothing in his life ever prepared him for the sight of Eddie lying unconscious in a hospital bed. 

He was breathing with the help of a cold machine, a tube disappearing down his throat. It was only until he could breathe by himself, Hen had carefully reminded Buck.

If he ever woke up, that is.

Buck decidedly did not cry. His eyes brimmed red and watery, but he couldn’t allow the tears to start, in fear that they might never stop. He stands against the wall, arms hugged tightly to his chest, and watches as Athena swoops in, stoic as ever, to get a succinct report from the doctors; they’d been adamant up until that point that nothing could be disclosed unless they were family. Though he had faced Athena’s wrath many times and knew the effect it had, the fact that she was still in her police uniform probably added to the doctor’s hesitation to follow standard protocol.

“You see these people?” Athena asks, waving a finger in the direction of Buck and Bobby. “They are his family. You want blood relation? His next of kin is a nine-year-old boy. Should I bring him in, let you explain to him that his dad is in a coma?”

Buck closes his eyes. He cant cry. He can’t cry. He can’t--

“Buck?”

He opens his eyes to find Bobby in front of him. His face is blurry behind a cloud of tears.

Dammit. So much for not crying.

“Come on,” Bobby says. It’s his Captain Nash voice; the one he usually reserves for field missions and when someone is in trouble. The one that left no room for argument. And Buck is certainly in no position to argue.

Bobby leads him out of the room-- for a moment he fears he’s being taken back to the waiting room, but he’s not sure he could stand the idea of having this breakdown in a room full of strangers. Thankfully, Bobby finds a line of chairs near the vacant nurse’s station and sits Buck down. He keeps a hand tight on Buck’s wrist, like if he let’s go Buck will run.

Run back into Eddie’s room.

Run through the front doors and far, far away from all of this.

“Buck, you gotta calm down.”

Nothing about this was calm. If there was one perfect time in his life to have a full blown meltdown, he’s pretty certain this is it.

“Eddie’s going to be okay, Buck.”

A sob catches in his throat and he bitterly chokes it down. “You don’t know that.”

“He’s a fighter,” Bobby says and the grip on his arm tightens just a bit. “Look, he’s been in trouble before--”

“Not like this,” Buck interjects.

“--and he always makes it through.”

“Bobby.” Buck sits up, turning to face the older man. The man he’d always looked up to, trusted, believed. Now, he sees the uncertainty in Bobby’s eyes. The fact that he’s not even sure he believes what he’s saying.

Still, there’s a sense of resolve when he says, “Athena will get all of the information from the doctors.” This, at least, they both know is true.

“And then?” Buck asks. The tears he had sworn to withhold are running free down his cheeks. He doesn’t even attempt to stop them, just wipes at them with the sleeve of his shirt. It still smells like fire and a fresh wave of grief and guilt floods him. “Bobby, what if--”

“No,” Bobby says. “Buck, do not go there, okay? Eddie is going to wake up.”

And what if he doesn’t?

Buck can’t form he words, but the mere thought of them has him sinking back into the chair. He wants nothing more than to rush back in to Eddie’s side, and yet something holds him in place. A terror beyond anything he’s ever felt-- the fear of what if.

What if Eddie doesn’t wake up?

What if he’s dying?

What if he’s already dead?

Athena approaches them with caution a few minutes later and Buck immediately stands, prepared for the worst, though she’s smart enough to start with, “Everything is fine.”

A thousand questions pop into Buck’s head and he reaches out, grasping for which one to ask first. He wants to know just how badly Eddie’s hurt, when they expect him to wake up… and yet, the first words out of his mouth are, “Can I see him again?”

Athena sighs, glancing at Bobby, then she nods.

Back in Eddie’s room, Buck forgoes a chair in favor of hovering near the head of the bed. The machines beep too loud in his ears, but he finds comfort in the sound. It means that Eddie is alive.

He reaches out for Eddie’s hand, pressing their palms together. He squeezes and is foolish enough to expect some sort of gesture in return.

“He was right behind me,” Buck says. His grip on Eddie’s hand tightens. “You asshole.” He swipes aggressively at the tears that assault his vision. “You were right behind me.”

A hand settles on his shoulder and Buck looks up to see Athena watching him. Her usually commanding demeanor is slipping, leaving him with a glimpse of the woman he so rarely sees when she’s in uniform; not a cop, but a friend. A concerned person with a heart that hurts, and whether it aches for him or for Eddie he’s unsure.

“What happened?” she asks.

Buck laughs. The sound is wet and sad. “It was a fire in an apartment,” he explains. “Everyone else had already cleared out, but we had to be thorough. We were checking the last room when we got the evac order. And he was right behind me. There was a beam-- I didn’t see it coming down until it was too late.”

“Buck,” Athena says in a motherly voice. “You know that what happened wasn’t your fault.”

He bites down too hard on his lip. “I could have saved him,” Buck argues. “I could have-- I don’t know. I could have pushed him out of the way, or warned him, or--”

“You did save him,” Bobby interrupts. “Buck, you carried him out of there. You got him to the ambulance. You saved his life.”

Buck looks down at Eddie. His chest rises and falls in time with the machine. It doesn’t feel like he saved anything.

“They’ll take him off the ventilator soon,” Athena informs them. She keeps her eyes trained on Buck. “Right now, the biggest concern is his head. They’re not sure yet the extent of the injury, but his brain was swollen and he wasn’t getting enough oxygen.”

“When will he wake up?”

“They’ve induced a coma to reduce the swelling.” Now she shrugs, a gesture both worrying for obvious reasons, and comforting because Buck knows that she’s being completely honest; she’s not handling him with kid gloves or trying to sugar coat the truth. It’s something he appreciates. “Right now, he just needs time.”

Time.

Buck wants to laugh, but he’s afraid he might just end up crying again.

“Buck, there’s something else.”

He looks up to find Bobby frowning.

“A few months ago, you and Eddie signed those papers that named you Christopher’s godfather.”

Buck nods, anticipating where this is going. He recalls, like a distant nightmare, when he had to tell Eddie that Christopher had been lost in the tsunami. And now he’s going to have to tell Christopher that his dad is in a coma. Still, he nods because he knows that, even without the legal aspect, it’s his responsibility. He wouldn't trust anyone else. “Yeah, I’ll tell Chris.”

“Well… it’s not just that,” Bobby explains. “Buck, Eddie isn’t in a position to take care of Christopher at the moment. That leaves you.”

“What?”

“You’re his godfather.”

“Yeah,” Buck remembers that conversation distinctly; how Eddie had come to his apartment after being buried alive, how he’d practically begged Buck to agree to care for his son if anything happened to him. But this isn’t what they had talked about. “No, that’s only if Eddie dies. And you just said--”

“He’s not dying, Buck,” says Bobby, while Athena says, “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?” his gaze bounces between them like a pinball, waiting for either of them to elaborate. Eventually he lands on Athena. “What do you mean not exactly?”

“When you signed the papers, you agreed to take care of Chris if Eddie dies or is--” she pauses to cast a sad look at Eddie, “--incapacitated.”

Incapacitated. Like a coma.

“So you’re saying that, starting now, I’m Christopher’s legal guardian?”

When Eddie had asked him to be Christopher’s godfather, he said it was a precaution, just a way of knowing that Chris would be taken care of if anything happened.

It was supposed to be a safety net. A contingency plan. It was never supposed to be real.

And yet, staring down at Eddie, the emotions that swell in Buck’s chest are very real. The IVs, the ventilator, the bandage on his head, are all real and Buck isn’t sure how to comprehend that. 

“I have to go,” Buck says suddenly. It takes all of his willpower to let go of Eddie’s hand, but he focuses on what he has to do now. With a glance at his watch, he realizes he’s been here longer than he thought. He’s already running late. “Carla’s probably wondering why Eddie’s not home by now, and I have to go to the station to change before I can go over. I need to call Isabel and Pepa, and--”

“Buck.”

Buck stops.

“Let me give you a ride,” Athena says gently.

But Buck is already shaking his head. “No. No, I have to do this. I can do this.” He very carefully doesn’t look at either of them. He pats down his pockets. “Bobby, I can’t find my keys.”

“They’re at the station,” Bobby tells him, “with your Jeep. You rode here in the ambulance.”

Right. Buck remembers that. He looks back at Eddie.

This can’t be real.

Because if it’s real, then there is a real chance that Eddie won’t wake up. There’s a real chance that Eddie will die here in this hospital bed.

“Bobby,” Buck says. His voice cracks, as does his resolve, and he finds himself trembling. “I can’t do this.”

“Not by yourself,” Athena agrees and wraps him in a hug-- he’s so much bigger than her, and yet in that moment he’s never felt smaller. He leans on her, letting her take some of the weight he’s feeling in his chest. Her hands make circles on his back, a soothing gesture that Maddie used to do when he was younger. It helps him breathe. “This is overwhelming and it’s too much for anyone to handle alone. But you’re not doing this alone.”

Over her shoulder, Buck can see Bobby already pulling the phone from his pocket. “I will call Carla to let her know what’s going on and see if she can stay with Christopher a little longer, then I will call Isabel and Pepa and tell them everything. You--” he points the phone in Buck’s direction, “need to shower and change. Athena will take you back to the station. You need to calm down and collect yourself before you see Christopher. If you’re a wreck, it’s going to scare him.”

As Athena leads him away, Buck looks back in time to see Bobby collapse into the chair next to Eddie’s bed. The phone is still in his hand, but he makes no move to call anyone. Instead, he starts to cry.

In that moment, that fleeting glimpse of Bobby when he thought Buck was out of sight, Buck thinks he understands; Bobby didn’t have it all together. He wasn’t calm or collected. He was pretending because that’s what Buck needed to see.

And now, as Christopher’s godfather, he knows what he needs to do. It doesn’t matter how terrified Buck is feeling, that he’s reeling with guilt and worry and anguish. He has to push all of those emotions down and be strong for Chris. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered.

[reddie-fangirl24]

Reddie Comfort Fic

Note: This is my first Reddie fic. I have some more ideas in mind. Enjoy the fic and let me know what you think!

If there was a day that Richie was dreading it was today. For their English assignment, the teacher wanted them to stand at the front of the class and present their reports orally. Chuckling at the word, it wasn’t enough to make Richie feel better or alieve any of his anxiety. Nor his churning stomach.

“Hey, Bill, I bet you’re nervous to give your report!” Richie asked. No, he couldn’t let his friends in one how he was really feeling. The question is if they would believe him or not. The only part that made the situation any better was that his friends were there to support him. Not all though. Stan had a different English class. Whoever thought it was a good idea to split up the Losers club was a nimrod!

“N-No,” Bill stuttered, though he was smiling. “I presented the project in front of a m-mirror twice last night. I think it should be fine.”

Was there a way to develop the skill to walk backward? English Class was going to begin at any second. And he was freaking out over a dumb project! He never talked in front of people before. 

“How are you feeling, Rich?” Eddie asked him.

Feeling his heart warm, Richie felt his confidence increase. Not knowing what that feeling meant, Richie just brushed it off as he always did. “It’s just a stupid oral report. At first, I thought the teacher wanted us to perform something different.”

Scoffing in disgust, Eddie went off on his own rants, hardly paying attention to Richie whose stomach plunged. Why did he scarf down two pancakes that morning? Because his mother would have worried, that’s why.

The bell rang. Time for torture.

“Class has begun. Put away any gimmicks that will disrupt today’s lesson. Is that understood, Mr. Tozier?”

An echo of laughs went around the room. Richie wondered if he looked pale. Despite this sickish feeling, he smiled his usual mischievous grin. “No ma’am, in fact, I could do this whole report with my eyes shut! It’s a piece of cake!” Ew, he didn’t even want to think about cake right now.

No, he shouldn’t have said that. The teacher smirked, adjusting her eyeglasses. “Really? Then would you do use the honors and present your report first?”

That was when Eddie turned and gave him a ‘see what you get yourself into’ look.

“Oh, sure. I would be delighted.”

One of the worst parts about sitting in front of the classroom was that the teacher had to keep an eye on him every second. At the beginning of the year, he sat in the back row. After learning about Richie’s good old sense of humor, the teacher sat him in the front row in an instant. 

Walking up to the front of the room, the three-page report in hand, Richie faced several eyes staring at him. Was this what an audience felt like? It was exciting. But, they were all staring. Judging. Yes, most of them knew him. But, they avoided him, annoyed by his jokes.

“For my report, I wrote about Charlie Chaplin.” Already Richie noticed some of his classmates with confused looks, even whispering to one another. Did they really not know who this famous actor was? Eddie knew. He introduced him to the life of Charlie Chaplin when Eddie slept over at his house one night. Richie would never forget laughing all night long with him.

“Charlie Chaplin was the ultimate comedian. He made silent movies.”

Whispering. Was that a good sign? Richie’s stomach lurched.

“Um... Chaplin likes to improvise and he also directed his own...”

No, why did he lookup? How were there twice as many eyes staring at him now? Were they doubting him? Maybe this wasn’t a good idea for a project. On no, his throat was drying up. Just continue, Rich, you can do it, man,

“I think Chaplin is a mastermind and I want... uh, want to...”

No, not here! Trying to hold back, it happened right then and there. Richie threw up right on the floor! The class was in a frenzy scrambling out of their seats and hollering in disgust. 

“Mr. Tozier, this had better be one of your foolish pranks!” The teacher warned. Her assumption quickly changed almost gagging herself. “Someone take Richie to the nurse! Everybody out of the room, now!”

“Better hold your noses!” A classmate retorted, holding his nose as he exited the room. 

“Come on, Richie!” Bill was the first to approach his friend.

“No, Mr. Denbrough, get the janitor!” The teacher ordered.

“B-B-”

“That’s alright, Bill, I’ll take him!” Eddie stepped forward.

“You’re going to take me?” To say that Richie was surprised was an understatement. Eddie hardly wanted to go near one of his friends when they were sick. Nevertheless, Eddie was the best doctor out of any of them. He was always so doting, making sure that one of them would get the proper rest. Even if that meant he was lecturing the entire time. 

“Yeah, come on, man.” Eddie led him down the hallway. It was strange how hallways felt longer. The school probably made them this way to make someone feel guiltier about their predicament. 

Now Richie felt better walking away from the scene entirely. No, that wasn’t true. He felt miserable. Throwing up in front of your classmates was the worst thing possible. He heard stories about kids having to move schools because they were teased so badly by the other kids. 

A gentle hand fell on his other shoulder “Don’t worry, Rich, everything will be okay.”

Richie didn’t realize that he was crying. His throat hurt. Not to mention the terrible aftertaste in his mouth. 

Once they got to the nurse, Richie was given a glass of water to rinse out his mouth. And then he lied down in a bed. The school nurse’s rule was that anybody who threw up had to be sent him just for precautions. Well, anything to get him out of school. But, this... this was just stupid!

Staring up at the ceiling, Richie sniffled. Hearing a creak, Richie jumped up, cleaning his face.

“Relax it’s just me,” Eddie chided him. He had Richie’s backpack with him.

Gulping down more tears, Richie nodded at him. Then he looked back down at his feet. Ashamed.

“How do you feel now?” Eddie asked him.

Richie shrugged.

“You know that’s not an answer!”

“I feel like crap, okay!” Richie hollered, a lump present in his throat. He couldn’t hold the heartbreak anymore. His life was over.

“Fuck, why did this have to happen to me?” Richie disappeared behind his arms. “Standing in front of a stupid class made me so nervous that I freakin’ puked! What the hell is wrong with me?”

“Nothing. Vomiting is normal,” Eddie explained, sitting next to him on the bed.

“Oh yeah, it’s normal for you Mr. Germaphobe?” Richie retorted to his friend.

Eddie rolled his eyes, grunting. “Are you going to be cyclical or do you want me to help you feel better?”

Taking a deep breath, Richie relaxed. His stomach felt better, but that churn wouldn’t go away. Every time he thought about standing at the front of the class it made him feel worse. “I just don’t understand what happened!”

“Were you nervous?”

“Y-Yeah,” Richie reluctantly admitted, looking away from his friend. 

“Anxiety can affect everyone in different ways, Rich. Sometimes anxiety can make people feel so nervous that they vomit.”

“I wasn’t nervous!”

Eddie raised a stern eyebrow. “Richie...”

“Okay, so I was!” Richie admitted, throwing his hands up in the air. “But it’s their fault!”

“Whose fault?”

“Didn’t you see all of them judging me?”

“Why do you think they were judging you? I think you’re just being paranoid.” Eddie told him.

“When have I ever been paranoid?”

Eddie gave him the biggest ‘be serious’ look he could ever give.

“Okay, you made your point! But, back to the point, I am never walking back into this school again!” Richie concluded thumping his fist on the bed. 

“Just over vomiting in front of the classroom?”

And for the first time, Richie didn’t have a comeback. It hurt Eddie to see Richie this way. Sure, Richie always joked around but Eddie knew that Richie had a very different way of looking at life. 

“Rich, everything will be okay. You just have to understand your anxiety and be more open about it. You can talk to us. All of us. There is no need to feel ashamed. We’re here for you. Especially me.”

Staring at Eddie with this immense weight of gratitude, that feeling inside of Richie grew again. What was it? Did Eddie always look this... adorable in dim lighting? 

“Thanks, Eds.” And Richie’s stomach finally felt better.