#and i realized that sun always had strange reaction to seeing hanging or strangling in these games

[ikamigami]

I hope it makes sense i tried to fit everything in the tags but if you're confused let me know 😅

This is me responding to an ask from raye-6-art (I can’t @ you for some reason, sorry). I would’ve responded normally but thought this was a better way to go about it.

Cuz the Bloodmoon angst was sent, alright? I just kinda didn’t expect it to be that kind of angst (nothing against you, it just didn’t cross my mind), and I don’t know how to blur images in asks, or if that’s even possible, so it’s own post it’ll be.

Dunno if I should say this but continue only if you’re fully sure you can

Trigger warnings for: Hanging, suicide

I don’t actually know what I was expecting when you said graphic Bloodmoon angst, but this certainly exceeded my expectations.

It’s just, sad. Very sad.

I commend you on your way of drawing everyone’s expressions, the terror and shock on Monty and Foxy are evident, the horror from Sun fits his character well, and Jack… Jack looks utterly traumatized, understandable (and more heartbreaking) if this is the au where they’re friends.

The composition of the drawing gives us enough context to fully understand what has happened (besides the warnings) The feelings of guilt are felt through the whole piece.

Very wonderful drawing, it hits us in the feelings and leaves a dull ache as we stare at the scene.

‘He decided his fate. He did the dirty work for them’

I really only have one somewhat negative thing to say, and it’s really not something too important of some fatal mistake you did or anything, it’s just my stupid brain bothering me with details and stuff, and I really don’t intend to offend you or be mean in any way.

It’s just the fact they don’t breathe that keeps throwing me off. Because- well- they’re robots— they don’t need air.

I get what you’re doing and I get this is horrifying and heart wrenching, it really is! I just can’t stop thinking about that, I’m sorry :(

Anyways, this is some very good Bloodmoon angst, you did a wonderful job with it

[thebigqueer]

Do you think you could talk more about Will becoming an army medic? Maybe you could write a little fic about him coming home and surprising Nico like all of those youtube videos 🥺

ahhhh!! hi anon!! sorry for such a late response, i’ve been working on my own personal one-shots and haven’t had the time. 

thank you so much for the fic prompt, and i hope you like this!! and, as always: i do little to no editing on these fic prompts, so please don’t be too judgmental as you read through them as they will not be my best work.

Nico’s hand brushes across the blank page, leaving trails of charcoal along the whiteness as he runs through it. His blood roars in his ears as he works furiously. Anxiety thrums in his heart. He has no idea what he’s drawing or why, but he knows that he just has to. His nerves have been short-circuiting all day and he just needs a relief from the world around him.

But even as he sits in the Strawberry Fields, enveloped under the shade of a tree, he can’t seem to find the comfort. Too many thoughts circulate in his head. The world is tilting under his body and he’s about to fall off the earth.

Since Will left for the army so many months ago, he’s been on edge. What if something happens to him? What if Will never comes back?

What if he loses his Sunshine Boy forever? 

Tears burn against his eyes but he fights hard to push them away. He can’t let himself think like that. He continues swiping his hand against the page, leaking his pain into the paper, puncturing his anger across in black strokes. He can’t think like that. He can’t afford to.

A warm breeze circles around Nico, brushing across his cheeks and ruffling his dark hair. It settles his nerves, just a little, but then his heart thrums quicker again. The wind throws his mind back to the past, back to only months ago when he was sitting in this very spot with Will, talking about who knows what. All he can remember is Will’s arm around him, that cheesy smile across his mouth, his curls gleaming in the sunlight. 

And the scent. Like warm summer days, like citrus, like strawberries. Just like it is now. 

When the ache of emotion presses against his throat, Nico doesn’t suppress himself. A tear slips out his eye, then another, and a few more. Some fall onto his blank page and burst over the white, bleeding gray across the art. It trickles across the stenciled strokes and drips over the page, turning his once-black art into an ugly, emotional wreck.

Just like he’s an ugly, emotional wreck.

He throws the unfinished project to the side and brings his knees to his chest. He can’t deal with the sun right now. He can’t deal with the brightness when anxiety keeps crawling over his brain. The possibilities of so many drastic ends for Will press against his skull, haunt his thoughts, plague his nightmares. 

He just wants Will to be okay. He wants Will to be safe. He wants Will to come back in one piece. Would that be too much to ask? 

Nico isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting there. Maybe it’s been minutes; possibly hours. But his emotions keep pouring out, keep flooding around him, keep wringing him out, and he can’t control himself anymore. He’s kept his fears at bay too long and he needs to let them out into the open. Maybe this is good for him.

He knows that it isn’t something he should be getting emotional over. He’s a demigod, for heaven’s sake. This is the kind of shit he should be expecting. Demigods aren’t always going to be safe. 

But the problem isn’t that it’s a demigod thing. When demigods are in trouble, it’s because they’re usually forced into that trouble. No, the issue is that Will chose to go into the army. He put it on himself. And Nico supports him, of course. It was Will’s choice, and whatever Will wants, Nico will gladly be there for him. 

But it’s the pain of knowing that he won’t exactly have anyone to blame if Will’s gone out of his own volition. If this were a demigod issue, Nico could easily blame a god for his anger. It wouldn’t be healthy, no, but at least he could locate his rage somewhere. Because this is a matter of personal choice, however, it makes him all the more scared. 

He’s so lost in his emotions and anxieties that he barely hears the crunch off to the side, barely acknowledges the shift in the air. He’s spinning in his own world and no longer has a grip on the universe. 

Then a voice speaks up, soft and warm and comforting as a summer’s day: “Hey.” 

Nico looks up, anxiety spiking in his bloodstream. How is he supposed to explain why he’s sobbing in the Strawberry Fields to someone? What kind of excuse can he make up? 

His tear-filled eyes rove over the figure before him, trying to make him out through the blurriness. A tall, vaguely-familiar being stands in front of Nico, the tan of his skin absorbing the beams of sunlight. A mop of golden hair dances as the wind brushes against it, and Nico’s chest bursts with joy at the sight of the figure though he isn’t entirely sure why.

Perhaps it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen him in a while, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s already too disoriented from his breakdown, but he it takes much longer than it should for Nico to understand who it is. 

Will. 

The son of Apollo offers a shy smile. “Hi, Nico.”

Joy explodes through Nico’s entire system; relief crashes into him like a tsunami. His thoughts tangle up together and unfurl again, going at about a thousand miles per hour. Hundreds of questions strangle him. 

But he doesn’t dare voice them. Instead, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Nico jumps up and throws his arms around Will.

He feels as familiar as ever, yet so very strange. It’s been so long - too long - since Nico’s held his boyfriend. His arms feel foreign across Will’s shoulders, his body too big to fit in the blond’s arms. He tries to melt into Will, to absorb his presence, but there’s too much giddiness in him, too much excitement. His blood thrums with energy. 

Will laughs, and the sound of it spills through Nico’s ear, melts into his brain and seeps into his core. That laugh. It’s been so long. So long. So long. 

Will’s arms circle Nico’s waist, and for a few moments, they stand there holding each other, loving each other, finding each other. A wave of emotions rise up to Nico’s chest and new tears fall across Will’s shoulder, explode across his shirt, but for the moment, neither of them care nor acknowledge it. It’s just them in the world in this moment. 

Then Nico pulls away and gazes up at Will’s eyes, a bright smile flashing against his mouth. Words hang off the cliff of his tongue, questions and reactions and emotions, but before he can voice any of them, his heart stops.

Because now that he’s seeing Will, seeing him head-on with his face and freckles and eyes, there’s something different about him. Something missing. 

As Nico gazes into Will’s eyes, he realizes that they’re not as crystal clear as they used to be. Something hazy floats above his blue eyes, a filmy wall that makes his irises duller. They look almost gray in the light. 

Will’s eyes look like icicles, sharp and dangerous. They look like shards of glass. 

Will looks shattered. 

Immediately all of Nico’s relief drips out of him, leaving him once more in dread. “Will,” he whispers. “Oh, gods, how are you?”

Will offers a wavering smile. But within the next second, something entirely new comes across his features: exhaustion. 

The brightness of his face dulls out and he sighs, closing his eyes. He leans his head against Nico’s neck. “I’m so tired, Nico.” Something wet sprouts against the son of Hades’ neck, and with a stab of dread he realizes Will’s crying. “I’m so tired.” 

And that’s when the realization hits Nico. He feels as though an icy sword has pierced his heart. 

It’s exactly as Nico feared.

This is not Will. This is something battered and broken, shattered to the point where it’s almost impossible to repair him. 

Nico’s Sunshine Boy is gone.

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   1

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: (Y/n) has a time she won’t remember, thanks to her fever. Luckily Sans is there to keep her safe…?

A/N: So, here’s the first real chapter, just setting up everything. Interested to see what the reactions is. So, in this chapter, the reader is sick, and it’s enough that she’s starting to get that fever haze where you can only vaguely pay attention, and don’t really remember anything afterward. I should also note, that Sans and Papyrus do love each other, but they don’t know how to express soft feelings to each other, and can be abrasive toward each other, but it’s really just a product of the place where they grew up.  

Also, Warning:  A certain amount of being captive (staying at home to be safe- how relatable! to those of you in quarantine… I wish I was in quarantine…)

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Cute when you blush.

(Y/n) stumbled to a stop, leaning on the rough brick wall at her side, feeling the rough texture under her hand as the other swiped over her forehead, running through her hair, then down her face.

Dizziness made her vision and mind swim.

Get home , she thought. Water. Medicine. Bed.  

It would be easy. Make it home to her shitty apartment through the bad neighborhood with ever rising danger, get water to take the medicine she’d gotten from the dollar store, take the medicine, and pass out on her bed covered in blankets so high she’d sweat this flu out overnight, even though her body was telling her that it wanted to pass out for at least a billion years.

Easy.

Yeah.

(Y/n) shook her head, realizing that it was a bad idea when her vision swam again. She closed her eyes, trying to get her mind together.

Meds , she told herself, her legs pausing as her face scrunched, knowing that that was wrong.

Home . Yes, that was right, she nodded to herself and started forward. Home, bed, meds- no… her movement paused.

Home… Water- that’s right, home, water-

She’d nodded to herself again and started forward, determined to get to her apartment before she passed out on the sidewalk. On her second step, though, she crashed into a solid form, feeling it move only slightly, and hearing the sound of groceries tumbling from their bags.

“Uhnno,” (Y/n) half slurred through her scratchy, sore throat, ducking down to gather the things and putting them back into the bags that had fallen with them. “’M so sorry…” It had been meant as a genuinely sorry exclamation, but tumbled out as a piss poor mumble.

She gathered herself and stood, handing the bags back to the dark shape in front of her. She could see it, he wasn’t a blur or anything, but her brain wasn’t focusing on any details, leaving her with mostly just impressions and colors.  

She hated being sick. It didn’t happen often, at least not seriously, but when it did, it tended to hit all at once making her nearly unable to function for a day or two before she was past it and feeling almost completely better.

The dark shape in front of her dropped the bags, letting them crash to the sidewalk, and her mind had just had enough time to start processing this information before it was assaulted with an overwhelming amount of new information.

She was moving.

Something was against her back.

It was a little darker- that made her wonder if a cloud had crossed in front of the sun.

The thing behind her was rough- bricks.

The person was still in front of her.

They were bald, or their hair was slicked back really tight, and wearing a baggy, thick hoodie or coat- that’s what the dark part was.

It was starting to hurt- she was being pressed against the wall.

She couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen for some reason.

(Y/n) blinked her eyes harshly, her vision clearing a bit.

Dark eye sockets with glowing pupils met her, formed in an angry expression, hanging over sharp teeth.

Her hand wrapped around the thick, but boney wrist near her throat.

A smile twitched at the corner of her lip, her hand sliding up the sleeve of the hoodie/ coat, drifting over his jaw.

His scowl hardened, but a nervous prickling ran over his spine as her eyelids fluttered lower.

something is not right here…

Her hand guided him closer, and in his confusion, his hand loosened, and heactually went with her, wondering what the hell she was doing.

When they were nose to nasal cavity, (Y/n) kissed his face, between his cheek and mouth.

Surprise shot across his face, lighting his cheeks up red.

God, he’s so cute, blushing like that at a kiss! (Y/n)’s dizzy mind contemplated. She couldn’t remember exactly what had happened immediately before being in this situation, but he was cute, and so close, and she felt like she needed to kiss him again.

A half strangled giggle pushed its way from her sore throat as her other hand went to his other cheek, holding on to each side and pulling him back to her.

Her lids fell shut as she leaned forward, her lips meeting his mouth, his boney lips fitting hers as her head tilted.

Sans felt his bones stiffen in the extreme uneasiness of this situation, shock at this human woman’s crazed boldness at the first kiss, and his cheeks burning more as a soft, pleased noise left her and her arms wrapped around his neck, deepening the kiss enough that he felt her tongue run over his gold toothed canine before she passed out and fell limp in his arms.

oh holy fuck-  

This girl, this human woman, had just laid down some smooth moves on him after he’d slammed her into a brick wall.

He hadn’t wanted to, but being in front of all those people, human and monster, on the street, and being the brother of one of the Royal Guard Commanders, he felt like he had no choice but to put the little human “in her place” for “daring” to run into him.

Sans felt his soul thumping against his ribs, his face heating more and spreading the red glow over his cheek bones as he felt frazzled, looking down at the woman in his arms.

She still had the slight smile on her face, her lips slightly parted from kissing him, one hand had managed to clutch on to the zippered edge of his coat as she slid down…

His fingers moved from around her neck to support her better in his arms, a burst of warm feelings hitting his cheeks and filling his chest.

she’s so fuckin’ adorable!  

The phalanges of one hand smoothed over the skin of her cheek as he stared down at her in his arms.

she’s so soft!

His fingers trailed over her again, his eyes taking in her figure, how soft and squishy she was, but was interrupted by the sound of his groceries being kicked around out on the sidewalk.

Sans looked around the alley he’d pushed the human into, seeing nowhere he could put her, no stranger’s yard he’d hope would be good to her, no store that would let him in, or that didn’t have monsters, who would either eat, or do other horrible things to her.

He felt pressure building; Papyrus was expecting him to be back with the ingredients for dinner soon, the ones that were on the sidewalk- but what the fuck was he going to do with this woman?! He couldn’t just leave her laying in an alley! His race may have been called monsters, but to leave someone who hadn’t done him wrong to possibly be tortured; he wasn’t as bad as that!

The pressure built, making him feel like his heart was being squeezed in a vice.

fuck- fuck fuck fuck!

what the fuck am i going to do?! Sweat started beading on his forehead, and he ducked his head, pressing his face into the woman in his arms.

Strangely, he felt calmer.

When he realized that, he lifted his head and looked down at her. A mixture of astonishment and confusion moved over his face as he looked down at this little lady in his arms.

He knew that some of the other, more “top ranked” (see power hungry), monsters had kidnapped humans who wandered into their territory, a few of them even keeping them as “pets.” He’d always thought it had something to do with holding power over the “more powerful” race, having control over them, holding them captive as they had been, but… maybe it had something to do with this calming feeling, too?

Sans clenched his jaw, grinding his back molars as he thought.

He really didn’t feel right about leaving her there… besides… something about her just seemed to make him feel better.

Why couldn’t he have a pet?

Even if it was pretend, just until she was able to go home- and he’d take her, too, teleport her straight back here and walk her home- but she couldn’t defend herself like this.

Sans gritted his teeth harder.

It would have been easier if she’d been rude, if instead of saying sorry and picking up his bags she’d pushed past him and scoffed, if she’d run in to him on purpose, if she’d cursed at him or called him names… then his conscious would be a bit clearer to leave her racist ass there in an alley to whatever would happen to her, but… she hadn’t.

She’d smiled, kissed him- twice! No demanding what he thought he was doing by pushing her into an alley, which he definitely would have deserved.

No, none of that. She was such- such a- a…

“s-sweetheart,” he murmured, feeling an embarrassed grimace twist his hot face, his soul thumping against his ribs again.

Fuck. He’d probably stay here holding her close in this alley all day if he didn’t have to leave…

The clink of cans knocking around again pulled him from the train of thought he’d left on.

Sans bent, laying the woman gently on the ground. “be right back, doll- promise. ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen ta ya.” He quickly gathered his stuff from the sidewalk and came back to her, picking her up to lay against his chest and almost over his shoulder before situating his bags and teleporting to the house he shared with his brother.

Sans looked around outside, the field of tall grass and flowers so different than what he was used to in Snowdin.

He didn’t see Papyrus anywhere, so he carefully opened the door, checking there as well.

The taller skeleton wasn’t anywhere to be seen, so Sans dropped the bags on the counter and carried his little sweetheart to his room, tossing the sheets from his bed back and laying her down, looking over her to see what he could do to make her more comfortable.

i could take off her shoes… her jacket… He did what he could, tucking her in, leaving a glass of water on the nightstand.

He was just leaving, closing the door behind him when his brother walked into the house.

“SANS,” he called in his higher, scratchy voice. “SANS! YOU LAZYASS! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Sans sighed softly before heading to the kitchen. “wazzup, bro?” He asked, forcing a more neutral tone in his voice.

“WHY ARE THE GROCERIES STILL ON THE COUNTER?!”

“i hadda use th’ bat'room. ya want me ta take that all in there wit me?” Sans shrugged him off.

Papyrus didn’t seem able to figure out what to say to that, or maybe what to say first…

“We Have Been Eating A Lot Of Human Food, Lately,” he finally muttered to himself. “WELL GET OVER HERE AND DEAL WITH IT, NOW, THEN, YOU LAZY BAG OF BONES!”

Sans felt the irritation crawling over his back.

Maybe he should have actually smacked his brother when he was still smaller than him. To be fair, though, they’d had no idea that Sans would turn out so much shorter than his younger brother.

“sure thing, boss,” he grumbled.

Through dinner and cleaning up, Sans felt on edge, worried that the human would wake up and his brother would find out about her. He didn’t know what his brother would do, necessarily, but he might do something awful just to be a dick to him. Just to remind him who was in charge. Or maybe he was just thinking this because he was nervous.

Sans shoved the last dish into the cupboard and turned, heading toward his room.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Papyrus asked.

“ta my fuckin’ room, ya gotta problem wit that?” Sans snapped back.

His brother just grumbled to himself.

The door closed behind him, and he let out a tense sigh, looking over to his bed.

His room was a bit of a disaster, things tossed around carelessly on the floor, but his bed was nice and clean after he’d tossed everything off of it earlier.

nice and clean and full of a gorgeous girl.  

Sans punched his femur to rid himself of his irritation at his brother, then tossed his coat and shoes off and onto the floor before going to the bed and crawling in, pulling the blankets up over himself.

His guest was in the middle of the bed, so he was at the edge, but he tried not to mind, instead focusing on her sleeping face. He wondered what kind of person she was that she could kiss him as though it were a normal thing, smile at him, after he’d been purposely aggressive to her.

After he’d almost fallen off a couple of times, Sans reached out and brushed her hair out of the way so he didn’t move onto it and hurt her, then scooted closer to the middle. “sorry, sweetheart, gotta move ya a lil,” he murmured to her, going to shift her. “my boney ass keeps fallin’ an’ tryin’ ta pull me wit it.” He only succeeded in moving her a few inches, rolling her to her side as he moved closer, and her scent seemed to fill his nasal cavity.

It felt like a hug.

Sans clenched his teeth, hesitating for a moment, but scooted closer and wrapped his arms around the woman, pulling her flush against him.

He tried to distance himself from it, not wanting to be creepy, but the top of her head was right in front of him, and he buried his face in her hair, his arms squeezing around her a little. His eyes pressed closed tightly as he felt the heat from her body seem to seep into his bones, her scent continuing to calm and comfort him.

“ggh- fuck, doll, ya tryina steal my soul or somethin’?” He murmured, trying to joke off the serious feeling with a weak huff of laughter, but he fell silent again, giving her another squeeze.

“i hope y’re alright, sweetheart,” he whispered to her. “don’ wanna have hurt ya bad when ya been nothin’ but sweet…”

A/n: I’m going with the cannon that monster food is absorbed in the mouth, and human food goes all the way through you, and expanding on it that monsters can eat human food, and it goes through them the same way, with their magic digesting it as though it knows how. Also, yes, dis gettin’ smutty. Just wait for Reader to wake up, Sans isn’t a complete perv lol

[eddiesasspbrak]

Coward

“You’re braver than you think.” That’s what Richie said, but he didn’t feel brave. He'd fought a killer clown, twice but he can't summon the courage to tell his best friend that he loves him.

Part of my “I’d rearrange the alphabet to put U and I together” series 

Read on AO3

A   D

2k words

Bravery. All of Eddie’s friends said he had it in him. That he was one of the bravest people they knew. He’d hunted down and defeated a killer clown with the rest of them, faced his fears to do it. He stood up to his mom when his friends were in trouble and refused to take the sugar pills she fed him after everything. Even though he was disgusted by blood and getting any blood borne pathogens from contamination, he still helped to clean up Bev’s bathroom with the others. He jumped from a cliff into the freezing dirty water below. All of that should have made him feel brave. But it didn’t. Maybe braver than before, but he still felt like a coward.

There were many things he wanted to do but was too afraid to try. Often, he’d watch Bev and Richie smoke and the desire to ask for one would come creeping up his throat only to die on his tongue without being spoken. He’d sit on the curb while Mike and Bill messed around on skateboards in the street, wanting to get up and join them. He wanted to learn and fall down and scrape his knee and not have it be a big deal. He wanted to grab Richie Tozier by the ears and kiss him until his face turned blue and his lips were swollen. But boys didn’t kiss boys. Not in Derry.

Years passed and one by one everyone left Derry behind and forgot. Eddie forgot what little bravery he had, and everything seemed to go back to the way it was before. Of course, he didn’t know that. Not until he was on a plane headed back to Maine. Everything came back a little at a time. Friends whose faces he couldn’t quite see. Seven of them who made his heart swell with love, unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time in some distant part of his brain. It wasn’t until he was at the restaurant, staring at their faces that he remembered them. Mike and Bill, Ben and Bev…Richie. Part of him knew that Richie was special he just wasn’t sure why.

They seemed to fall into their old habits, interacting as if no time had passed. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten all of the most important people in his life. As they talked, more memories rose to the surface, Stan, the clown, that summer of fighting together. After the initial panic and the knowledge that Stan was dead washed over them, Eddie used his time alone to remember. He couldn’t control what came back to him, but he chased anything that could tell him why Richie was different from the others. He was ready to leave with him though, not even thinking about the implication that he’d forget all over again.

It was in the club house that it hit him, knocking the breath from his lungs and bringing a flush to his face. He loved him. He’d always loved him and never done anything about it because he was afraid. The memories overtook him then. Every moment together with the other man wishing he could tell him how he truly felt about him. He’d never worked up the courage to do it and lost his chance before forgetting entirely for twenty-seven years. He could easily let this second chance slip through is fingers again. He was married after all. To a woman. A woman he realized that he never actually loved. Not like that anyway. He still loved Richie, but he was still a coward.

He almost let Richie die as he stood helplessly in the corner, just watching until their friends saved him instead. He’d almost lost the love of his life and best friend all because he was too afraid. He hadn’t even snapped out of it until Bill had yelled at him for it. When Bev was pulled underwater, he was the only one not to jump in after her. He was the only one too afraid to swim in dirty water and fight a monster to save his friend. He just stood and watched helplessly, telling himself that the wound in his cheek could become infected if he dove in. It was an excuse.

“You’re braver than you think.” That’s what Richie said, but he didn’t feel brave.

Sure, he’d faced the leper in the pharmacy, tried to strangle him and win, but he’d failed at that too. For a moment he felt brave when he stabbed Bowers with his own knife, but that action had been spurred on by fear. He knew that if he didn’t do something, Bowers would kill him there in the bathtub. It was survival instinct. When the ritual failed, he stayed by Richie’s side. If there was one thing he was going to do, one feat of bravery, it was going to be protecting Richie. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and watch Richie die. With the old rusty fence post in hand, he followed Richie to the doors, stood by his side as they opened them and faced the horrors beyond. For Richie he could be brave, that’s what he kept telling himself.

When Pennywise had Mike in his grasp, ready to kill him, he watched helplessly but Richie didn’t. Richie put himself in danger to save him. What he hoped to accomplish by calling It names and throwing rocks at It, he didn’t know. But he didn’t think that far because all he wanted to do was keep his friend from dying. So, when he turned on Richie, trapping him in the deadlights, something welled up within Eddie. Clasping the fence post tightly, he told himself that it could kill monsters as long as he believed. And he believed because he had to. He had to believe to save his friends. To save Richie. And so, he threw it with all of his strength, feeling for the first time like he truly was brave.

He watched as Pennywise fell backward, skewering himself on the jagged rocks behind him, before he ran to Richie’s side. His eyes were white, his mouth hanging open, blood dripping from his nose. Eddie lightly slapped his cheek, trying to rouse him from the trance. Nothing happened and fear gripped at Eddie as he worried he’d be stuck like this forever. But he couldn’t be. Bev had been trapped in the deadlights once before and she’d woken up. Because Ben had kissed her.

Eddie chased the feeling of bravery he’d felt and, holding Richie’s face between his hands, he pressed their lips together. It was strange, stubble rubbing against his chin a new sensation. He could taste Richie’s blood but didn’t care. He didn’t care because it was Richie and he’d wanted to do this his whole life. When he pulled away, Richie gasped for air and sat up quickly, groaning with the effort.

“Eddie.” Richie said, staring at his friend who’d just saved his life.

“There he is.” Eddie smiled. “I did it Rich. I killed It.”

They both looked back, and sure enough, the big monster that was the clown that haunted their nightmares, was hanging limp, slowly shriveling up. The deadlights were fading and the earth beneath them began to rumble. The others ran to them and Eddie and Ben helped Richie to his feet. Together, they all ran through the tunnels, out through the Neibolt house until they were exiting into the cool night air. The six of them stood, watching the house cave in on itself.

“You did it, Eds.” Mike’s grin was huge as he slapped a hand down on Eddie’s shoulder before pulling him into a rib cracking hug.

One by one they all joined in, until it became a group hug. With It finally defeated for good, they had to figure out their new normal. Bev was going to get a divorce; of that she was certain. Ben had always been in love with her and it seemed she’d finally realized, ready to give him a chance. Mike planned to go home with Bill for a while. There was no reason for him to stay in Derry now and he thought he could use some sunshine. As they sat in the townhouse, all freshly showered and waiting for the sun to come up, they each talked about what would come next. All except Eddie.

He knew he needed to divorce Myra. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he also didn’t want to be with her. Especially now that he’d remembered what it felt like to really love someone. He’d kissed Richie but he didn’t know if he remembered. He’d been in the deadlight trance and had been disoriented when he woke. Eddie sure as hell wasn’t about to confess his thirty-year crush in front of all the others. It wasn’t until everyone began to split off to get some rest, that Eddie pulled Richie aside.

Staring up at him, mouth opened ready to speak with no words coming out, he caught sight of his lips. Remembered the way they felt. Unable to find his voice, he did the next best thing. The thing he’d wanted to do since he was thirteen. He grabbed Richie by the ears, stood on his toes and pulled him down until their lips crashed together. Eddie waited for a negative reaction. To be pushed away, maybe hit, yelled at. Nothing like that came. Instead, Richie’s hands were snaking around to his back, pulling him closer, his lips parting at the same time.

Forty-year-old Eddie Kaspbrak had never been kissed in a way that made his toes curl, until today. His mind went blank, his focus on the feel of his lips and tongue and his hands pressing into his skin hard enough to bruise. He’d imagined this a hundred times and that was just since getting his memories back. The Neibolt kiss had been necessary but not at all passionate or with feeling. This was closer to what he thought it would be like, only so, so much better. If he’d known kissing Richie would be like this, he would have done it years ago.

Eddie tapped out when he could no longer breathe from Richie’s mouth. Even still they held one another close, unwilling to let go. Unspoken words hung between them though neither quite knew what to say. Eddie knew that there was some dumbass remark brewing in Richie’s head as he came back down from the high. He decided to beat him to the punch.

“I knew your mouth was good for something.” Eddie said with a look somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

Richie laughed, tilting his head back as he did so. His cheeks were flushed, his lips slick with combined saliva and Eddie felt like he was falling in love all over again. When Richie calmed and looked back into Eddie’s eyes, there was something there he couldn’t quite place. It was a look he knew, the same look Richie used to give him when they were young, but he’d never understood. Part of him thought he might finally understand what emotion was hidden in that look, but he wouldn’t know until he said so himself.

“I love you.” Eddie’s expression must have mirrored Richie’s as he wasn’t even sure if the words had come from his own lips. But they had. Somewhere within him, that bravery was rising and spilling out of him before he could contain it. So, he gave in. “I’m filing for divorce. I want to be with you, Rich.”

“I’m a homewrecker.” Richie grinned.

“Completely.”

“I love you too, Eds. Always have.”

It took fighting a killer clown, twice, forgetting his childhood and friends for 27 years and a loveless marriage for Eddie to get to this point. It was terrifying and some of the hardest things he’d had to face in his life, but it worth it. Finally reaching Richie made it all worth wile. “You’re braver than you think.” He’d said, and he was right. For the first time in his life, he truly felt brave.

[bixshits]

Lost Odyssey - A Thousand Years of Dreams - Story Eight Transcript

They Live in Shells

"Stop this! Please, I beg of you! Let me go!"

A young man's screams echo through the emptiness.

No voice answers him.

Crouching in the darkness, Kaim counts the footsteps. Three men have come in. The disorderly footsteps probably belong to the young man. The other two are perfectly regular.

"Please, I'm begging you. If it's money you want, I'll get you all you could ask for on the outside. I promise. I won't forget to show my thanks to you. Please!"

The only reply of the two men who have brought the young one here is the clunk of an iron lock opening.

"No! No! Please, I'm begging you. I'll do anything you want. Anything!"

A dull thud is the sound of flesh tearing, bone wrenching. Someone collapses on the floor. A strangled scream. The clunk of an iron lock closing.

Kaim knows the young man has been thrown into the shell diagonally opposite his own. When you are locked into one of these windowless shells, your hearing becomes acutely sensitive.

"Don't do this! Let me out of here! Please! Let me out of here!"

From the sound of the voice, Kaim can imagine a young man's face with boyish traces: a small-time hoodlum hardly a step above a teenage gang member. When he was still on the streets, no doubt, he used to swagger down the sidewalk, his cunning but cowardly eyes darting every which way.

The two men who brought him here maintain their silence to the end, their footsteps moving off together. The heavy door opens and closes again.

Left alone in the darkness, the young man howls his entreaties for a time, but when her realizes they will do no good, he shouts himself hoarse, spitting out one curse after another until he begins to sob.

"Quiet down there," an old man calls out from one of the inner shells, "It won't do you any good to make a fuss, Time to give up, sonny."

This is the voice of the oldest man living in the dozen or so shells lined up in the darkness.

He was already here when Kaim was sent to this place. It is always his role to quiet and comfort the obstreperous newcomers.

"If you've got time to bawl like that, keep your eyes closed!"

"Huh?"

"Just make sure you keep sucking on your memories of the outside-like a piece of candy!"

Sounds of suppressed laugher come from the surrounding shells.

Kaim joins in with a smile and a sigh

All the shells in the dark are supposedly full, but few of their inhabitants are laughing.

Most of them have lost the strength to laugh.

"Hey, sonny." the old man continues in his role as adviser to the newcomer, "No point making a fuss. Just calm down and accept your fate. Otherwise..." and here a note of intensity enters the old man's voice, "they'll just drag you out of here feet first."

This is exactly what happened yesterday to the former inhabitant of the young man's shell.

He had been screaming on and off for a day. Then came a day of banging his head against the shell wall. Then nothing... until he was dragged out in silence.

"So get a hold of yourself, sonny. Don't let the darkness swallow you up. Close your eyes and imagine nice scenery from the outside, the bigger the better: the ocean, or the sky, or some huge field of grass. Remember! Imagine! that's the only way to survive this place."

This was the advice he always gave to the newcomers.

But the young man screamed tearfully.

"Who the hell do you think you're kidding? Survive this place? And then what? I know what this place is. 'No exit' prison! They throw the lifers in here, give them just enough food to keep them alive, and in the end they kick the bucket anyway—Am I right? There's nothing left to hope for."

His shouts turn to sobs again.

This is the reaction of most of the newcomers.

Nor are they mistaken. This is a prison. Each of the "shells" is a solitary cell with bars, and the sun shines on a prisoner only on the day of his funeral...

"Everybody dies, sonny, that's for sure. You just cant let your mind go before your body does. Hope doesn't have to fade unless you throw it out yourself," the old man goes on softly.

Then he adds with feeling, "This system we live under can't last much longer, either."

The old man is a political prisoner. As leader of the anti-government faction, he long resisted the dictatorship until he finally lost the struggle and was imprisoned.

The young man has no ears for the old man's words, however, he continues thrashing on the floor and crying.

This fellow won't be in his shell much longer than his predecessor. In a few days, or in less than a month at best, he will go to pieces.

The darkness is that powerful. Depriving a prisoner of light is far crueler than taking his life in an instant.

"My my," the old man reflects, "This fellow's not going to do us much good in a prison break."

The old revolutionary laughs, it might be a genuine laugh of a bold front, but in any case almost no one laughs in response.

Tomorrow morning- or rather, since there is no clear-cut "morning" in the darkness- after they go to sleep, wake up and have their next meal, another cold corpse will be dragged out wordlessly from another shell.

"Hey, listen. How many of us are here now?" the old revolutionary asks. "Answer if you can hear me!"

"I can hear you," Kaim says.

His is the only voice.

"Man, this is bad, we were full up a little while ago."

The old man gives a dry chuckle.

Kaim asks, I wonder if something's happened out there."

"Maybe so," answers the old revolutionary.

"If you ask me, this would be about the right time for a coup d'etat or a revolution."

"My 'boys' aren't going to keep quiet much longer..."

"Uh, what was your name again? Kaim? Have you noticed what's happening? How there used to be a lot more guys getting thrown in here until a little while ago, and most of them real nobodies, not worth sentencing to life?"

"Uh-huh, sure..."

The young man was one of them- nothing but a small-time crook. It just so happened that the storehouse he broke into belonged to a rich man with ties to a powerful politician. this was the only reason they put him in a shell.

"The shells always used to be full. They would throw a bunch of men in here and they would die, then the new men would come, and they would die..."

The young man was one of those, the terror of being enveloped in darkness was too much for him, and he went to pieces. He was apparently having hallucinations at the end: "I'm coming Mama, I'm coming. Wait for me, please, Mama..." he repeated over and over like a child. "Where are you, Mama? Here? Are you here?" and he gouged his own eyes out with his bare hands.

"I figured things were getting scary out there—the cops losing control—so the government was really starting to crack down- which is why these shells were always full."

This is what brought the young man here. Blood streaming from his eye sockets, he died muttering in snatches, "What did I do? Everybody knows damn well... there are plenty of men way worse than me..."

"But now the place is empty. Do you know what that means, Kaim?"

"Sure. There's so much crime out there now that the government can't suppress it."

"You got it; the whole royal family might be strung up by now for all we know. Its a revolution. It will happen any day now! That means you and I will get out of here. My boys will come and get us. Just hang in there a little while longer."

Kaim nods in silence. The old revolutionary goes on, "Your strong, Kaim. Not many guys could stay as calm as you, thrown into a shell and enveloped in darkness like this."

Not even Kaim can explain it. It is true that he was strangely calm when they put him in the shell. The darkness was something he seemed to recognize as a distant memory. In the distant past, he, too, may have tasted the anguish of the other shell inhabitants so tortured by the fear of being sealed in darkness.

"How are you so tough mentally, Kaim? Does it mean you, too, are a revolutionary?"

"No, not me..."

His crime is hardly worth talking about. He resisted somewhat under questioning when they brought him in as a suspect, and for that he was branded a rebel and thrown into a shell. The old man is probably right, though. The country's dictatorship is almost certainly in its last days.

"It won't be long now. We'll be back in the real world before we know it. I have hope right in here, and it will stay here until I abandon it myself," the old revolutionary mutters as if trying to convince himself.

The prison falls soon afterward. Armed young men come charging into the darkness and open the shells' barred doors.

Embraced by his "boys", the old revolutionary goes out.

"Wait," Kaim cries, trying to hold him back.

But he is too late. Anxious to see the new world following the destruction of the old system, the old revolutionary steps outside and opens his eyes.

It is evening.

Though the sun is nearly down, its light is still strong enough to burn eyes accustomed to total darkness.

The old revolutionary presses his hands to his eyes. And with a groan, crumples to his knees.

Kaim has saved himself by shielding his eyes with his arm.

Not even he knows what caused him to do this. Could distant memories have taught him that the truly frightening thing about punishment by darkness is what happens after the release from prison?

When could I have been imprisoned, and where? More important, how long have I been on this endless journey?

With bleeding eyes, surrounded on the ground by his boys, the old revolutionary searches for Kaim.

"I came all this way, Kaim, only to make one terrible mistake at the bitter end. My eyes are probably useless now."

This is precisely why he asks Kaim for one last favor.

"Tell me Kaim, what is the outside world like? Has the revolution succeeded? Are the people happy? Are they smiling joyfully?"

Kaim opens his eyes slowly, and just barely, beneath the shade of his hand.

As far as he can see, the ground is covered in bodies. The corpses of royal troops and revolutionary troops are heaped on one another, and countless civilians are dead. A mother lies dead with her small child in her arms, the bloody corpse of the child's father next to them, arms outstretched in a vain attempt to shield them.

"Tell me what you see, Kaim."

Kaim fights back a sigh and says, "You must work from now on to build a happy society."

The old revolutionary senses the truth.

"I won't abandon hope, Kaim, no matter what."

As if to say, "I know that," Kaim nods and begins to walk away.

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know...someplace."

"Why don't you stay here and build a new world with us? You of all people can do that, I know."

"Thank you, sir, but I'll be moving on just the same."

The old revolutionary does not try anymore to hold Kaim back. Instead, as a parting gift, he repeats for Kaim the words he spoke so often in his shell.

"There will always be hope, wherever you are, until you yourself abandon it. Never forget that!"

Kaim walks on.

His eyes chance to light on the body of a young boy lying at his feet. The boy breathed his last with eyes wide open in fear.

Kaim kneels and gently closes the boy's eyelids.

He knows deep down, in a memory too far away for even him to reach, that while darkness can be a great source of terror, it can also bring deep and lasting peace.