#as his old habits of “ignore” or “shut down�� dont work that well anymore

[fatedroses]

Zenos viator Galvus and him trying to deal with actually feeling things for once (Even if he doesn't really understand how to handle the comfort he receives from others for it)

I am also giving this man a dad that actually cares, because this brainworm have gotten me and there is no saving me from them.

[briefalpacashark]

MILES 42 Spoils you

Warnings: None.

(Dont know who the artist it but props to them. Amazing stuff)

Miles loves to spoil me. He's got plenty of money, thanks to the buyer's market for fancy gadgets and Miles' insanely smart brain, and a few choice investments. Money was no longer a problem for him. He had paid off his mothers mortgage and the only reason why Rio still worked was because she respected her own independence. 

The gift giving started off slow. The appreciation I showed fuelled his desire to gift me anything and everything. 

I started catching onto his antics and shut it down.

“You like that one Mami?” I felt Mies place his hands on my hips from behind as he peeked over my head at the small stuffed animal on display in a window.

“No,” I flatly refused, going to step away only for him to hold on tighter pulling me back. Miles was stronger than me by a long shot. So my attempt to escape was easily foiled. I could see his smirk in the reflection as he moved to encase my body in his arms resting his chin on the top of my head.

“The green or the blue?” he asked.

“Neither,” I muttered.

“Come on Mami, Which one?” he asked, dropping his head to my shoulder.

“I was just looking at the cute cashier,” I stated without thinking.

“Who the old lady?” he asked with a smirk. Looking at the cashier, I grimace slightly.

“Come on Mi Amor,” he coaxed his lips, finding himself a sweet little spot on my neck.

“Nope,” I popped the p.

“Mi vida, Hermosa, Mi Alma, Mi Amada, Cariño, Mi Reina, Bebe,” with each pet name his gentle pecks got more intimate. Trailing down my neck and sending my cheeks a flame. Finding my sweet spot rather easily my eyes widened as he started to suck on it, fully intent on forming a hickey. Pushing the pleasant shiver it sent though my body I cleared my throat. 

“Fine!” I suddenly declared. He smirked giving the spot one last peck before straightening up.

“The blue,” I muttered trying to fix my hair pretending that the kisses had not affected me in the slightest. 

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

Staring at the blue teddy on our bed I huffed in defeat. 

Yet as I started to shut down his habit he found ways of literally forcing me to accept it. Whether it be teasing me to the point of acceptance or just flat out ignoring me as he bought the item. The honeymoon period of him actually listening to me diminished in less than a month. Hell I had even tried returning items, Miles caught on and started refusing the receipts when he purchased stuff. 

So I made it my mission to not go shopping with him anymore. I succeeded mostly yet sometimes he would still pop up. 

It was working to an extent. 

Until one day when we went to watch a live performance in the park with Jessica, my best friend and Shiro. I guess you could call him Miles' best friend. The performance was canceled last minute so Jessica decided that we should go shopping. I tried to refuse but Jessica was like Miles in a way. Wouldn't take no for an answer. So there we were walking through a clothing shop. Miles hung closer to me watching and waiting for any reaction I would have. Any slight hint that I liked something and his card was out. Luckily for me I had been practicing the art of deception. The whole time I kept a millstone smile on my face. Miles hated it.

“You're not fooling me with that smile,” he whispered into my ear. 

“Oh really? Well I wonder why your cards are nice and snug in that wallet that hasn't left your pocket,” I stated smugly, giving him a wink before turning back to Jessica that held a shirt to her chest asking for my opinion. 

“What's up with him?” Jessica asked, nodding to Miles who now wore a slight frown, more than usual.

“I won't let him buy me anything,” I muttered.

“I'm sorry. You're not letting him buy you stuff? Are you sick?” she asked, reaching for my forehead pretending to check my temperature.

“He gets me too much stuff,” I muttered with a small smile pushing her hand away as we walked to the other rack leaving a moody Miles behind. 

“And that's a problem, how?” she asked. “You have a sugar daddy and you're not using him,” she tisked going back to looking at things. I hated the feeling that settled in my gut at her words. I know she was just joking but it still hit me deep.

“Hey Mami, we're gonna go check out some things I'll be back,” Miles muttered, gently tapping the side of my hip as he stepped up behind me.

“Ok, meet you at the food court?” I suggested.

“In an hour?” he asked. I nodded and waved him off.

“Now that they're gone we can actually do some shopping,” Jessica said wagging her eyebrows. She dragged me straight towards Victoria's secret. I wasn't gonna lie, I had a good time. Trying things on. Looked at everything that caught my eye without the worry that Miles was gonna buy it. I even bought a nice jacket for Miles. Seeing him sitting down I walked up behind him reaching around to cover his eyes with one hand.

“Hands out,” I demanded with a smile. Miles put his phone down holding his hand out. Placing the bag in his hand I pulled my hand back wrapping my arms around his neck as he opened it. 

“What's this for?” he asked holding the jacket up. 

“What can't I spoil my man?” I asked, giving his cheek a quick peck before sitting down next to him. He chuckled lowly at my words absolutely loving how I called him ‘my man’

The next day I got back from work walking into our apartment.

“Miles, I’m home,” I called out rounding the kitchen and stopping upon seeing a pile of bags on the dinner table. 

“Hey mami,” he called from the couch, keeping his eyes on the television.

“Miles,” I sighed, already knowing what was in those bags. 

“I really don't see what the big deal is,” he shrugged, already knowing what my sigh was for.

“Miles,” my tone was more serious now, it snapped slightly and my anger appeared. Miles' head tilted to the side slightly at it. I rarely held this tone. But I had had enough. It was getting out of hand. Miles and I rearly fought. And our fights were mostly me ranting and Miles using a calm tone as he listened. 

“What's that tone for?” he asked. 

“You know what it's for,” I snapped, chucking my bag on the table looking over it all. Hearing the TV shut off I refused to turn around as he approached me.

“Mami,” he whispered.

“Don't Miles, I'm mad at you right now,” I shook my head walking away from him.

“Babe, come on,” he sighed.

“No Miles, you just don't listen, do you know how frustrating that is?” I ranted ripping my scarf off.

“It's not like you listen to me all the time,” he shrugged, leaning against the door frame of our room. My head snapped to him in a glare that had him sighing again.

“What's got you so wound up. Huh?” he asked softly. That stupid soft understanding tone. That one that held no anger. That's why I hated arguing with him. He never got angry. Never. Frustrated maybe.

“Jessica called you my sugar daddy,” I whispered under my breath, kicking off my shoes.

“Sugar Daddy. Well I like the sound of that,” he mused with a small smirk.

“Miles,” I huffed.

“Aight aight. Lo siento,” he held his hands up in defense.

“So am I gonna have to pry what's bothering you out of ya or?” he trailed off.

“I don't want you to think I'm with you just because of your money. I don't like it, it's so fucken stupid and it makes me feel sick,” I continued to rant moving about the room.

“Mami, hey hey, come er,” he walked forward gently grabbing me, pulling me out of my pacing. His hands rubbed up and down my upper arms as he whispered to me in spanish trying to calm me down.

“Why would you ever think that?” he asked with a frown.

“It's not just me. Other people say it,” I muttered.

“Did those other people know that you were with me when I had a whole total of two dollars to my name. Where my idea of an expensive date was a trip down to the seven eleven and a push bike ride to the lookout?” he asked reminiscing on when we had first gotten together. 

“Well no,” I muttered.

“And do they know that you work an honest job and against my wishes pay for your own things. That you pay for what you think is half the rent when really I already bought the apartment and put that money into a savings account that I would have told you about when we had our first kid so you wouldn't stress about buying stuff for em?” my eyes widened slightly at Miles casually mention of not only lying to me about the rent but the talk of a kid. I should be really angry at him for lying to me. But all that was running through my head was a kid. 

“You want kids?” I asked softly. We had never talked about kids before.

“Who wouldn't want a little you runnin round?” he asked with a small smirk. My chest flushed with warmth at the sincerity in his eyes. 

“Why don't you?” he asked.

“Of course I wan- No wait. I'm getting distracted. You've been lying to me! MIlES!” I snapped.

“Mi amor you're angry, How about  we calm down,” He suggested his arms moving to encompass me.

“No, I will not calm down,” I huffed trying to get out of his hold.

“Ok,” he shrugged before tipping us back, myself hitting the bed and him flopping down atop me.

“Miles!” I yelled trying to wiggled out from under him.

“Hum?” he hummed, not moving an inch. 

“God you can be so frustrating,” I huffed, giving up on my struggle. 

“I'll get up when you calm down,” he muttered simply. I gave one last shake before huffing again. 

“You know I read somewhere that adults who can't accept people buying nice stuff for them is because when they were a kid their parents would say stuff was too expensive. Messed with the kids mind and made them think they aren't worthy of being gifted stuff,” Miles mumbled. Hearing that my mind instantly snapped back to when I was young. Money was tight growing up. My parents tried their best to shield it from me but I was smart enough. Seeing my parents so worried about paying rent, I guess it could have left a mark.

“Stop trying to be smart,” I huffed. Miles was smart. Crazy smart. As in genius einstein smart. 

“You deserve the world Mami. And I'm the one that's gonna give it to ya,” he whispered softly.

“I don't need the word Miles. I only need you,” I whispered my arms moving around to hug him, my hand gripping the back of his shirt. Rolling us onto our sides he shifted me up so we were looking at each other. 

“Who else am I gonna spend my money on huh? I send a bunch to charities. I look after my mum as much as she will let me. At least you let me buy you stuff,” he muttered.

“Let you?” I propped an eyebrow.

“Yes Mi Vida. You let me, even though you try not to,” he grinned. I sighed, shaking my head reaching up to grab his face.

“I love you Miles. I love YOU, Not your money. Not this apartment. I would love you if you had not one penny to your name. You know that right?” I asked. I wanted him to know it. I needed him to know. For a long time he simply stared at me. In his mind he wondered what he had done to deserve the love of such an amazing woman. He knew I didn't care whether or not he had money. But the main reason why he did what he did, why he sold his tech was to make a life free of such worries.

“I know,” he whispered, his own hand reaching up to cup my face. “ So let me spoil you. The whole reason I did it all was to make a life free of the worry of money. To make a good life for us,” he whispered honestly. I pressed my lips together. He had a point.

“Fine. but only once a month,” I huffed.

“Once a month?” he asked, pretending to be appalled.

“Fine once a week,” I muttered. He grinned, pulling me into a sweet kiss. I smiled, trailing my finger down his chin as he pulled back.

“Say, you busy this evening?” he asked.

“Why?” I asked.

So there I sat. On the handlebars of Miles' old push bike. In one hand I held a slushy. I wore the biggest smile on my face as we rode through the town, my hair gently billowing in the wind. Looking back I caught a glimpse of one of Miles' genius true smiles. A smile so wide and toothy that it showed his dimples. 

“You wanna know something?” I asked, turning back to the front. He hummed, signaling for me to continue.

“This has got to be the best date yet,” I said. 

“I guess it's alright,” he mused.

[lovleez]

oner 《恶浪》 mv/film theory

(this is less of a theory and more of a debunking of the mv though)

warnings: mentions of violence, murder (i wont include gifs of the bloody moments but it will be discussed!!!), animal abuse, and a bomb or two ? (someone gets blown up ;-;)

honestly the debunking might get a lil bit dark around the ling chao and ziyang individual parts, so be warned of that!

it would be helpful for you to watch/listen to these to process whats going on here:

oner 《恶浪》 mv (cw blood, murder, animal abuse, & heavy violence - please dont watch if these are triggers for you!!!) (there’s also eng subs in this link ^^)

oner - AGENT  (this is a song, but there’s quite a bit of dialogue near the end that ties into this plot!)  (cw gunshot, beeping noises that resemble a bomb ?? - all at the end of the song w/ the dialogue)

okay lets dive into it d(^-^)> !!!

to get the important info out of the way!

the start of the mv shows the three of them chilling on the couch, as friends do, watching,,well themselves on the screen (oner’s past performances as idols) (and i do believe that the idols part of this has some significance that i can figure out). the important takeaway from the beginning rlly is that they’re three good friends...who are completely unaware of each other’s secret occupations

their occupations being: ziyang, a murderer, yueyue, a spy, and ling chao, a hacker

now to jump into the main story! (starting around 1:35)

yueyue and ziyang both have the same target: the man in the restaurant. however yueyue gets there first and does his job well, as he gets away without being caught. ziyang is frustrated that his target is taken already.

*interesting detail here, but when trying to enter, ziyang shows them a ring with a purple jewel in the middle for entry,,,coincidentally, the man yueyue kills in the bar in his personal segment in the film later also has the same ring? obv the ring is for the restaurant entry so maybe ziyang wasn’t going to kill this “boss” but maybe negotiate/discuss something with him instead...but also thats disproven by the fact that ziyang pulled out a gun to presumably shoot him before realizing the dude was dead....

but also,,,suspicious how there was a zoom in to the purple ring when yueyue kills the man in the bar..maybe it means more than we think it does? altho im not too sure what  to think abt it for now

     for reference:

     ziyang’s ring                                    

     dead man in bar’s ring

.

moving on 

okay so since yueyue is a spy n all, he has to confirm his kill somewhere right? this somewhere is a phone booth,,,one that ling chao has rigged up with a bomb,,,,

speculation: someone hired ling chao to kill someone who will be approaching the phone booth; at this time, lc doesn’t know that this someone is yueyue (and is v shocked to see him there through his cameras as evident by his “what the hell! are you kidding me?”)

....and after this part the film dives into their personal stories to give more background on who  these three are (i’ll expand on those after i finish explaining the present timeline ^^) before coming back to the main story 

so!

ling chao “accidentally” blew up yueyue oh no (he’s still alive tho yey)

& then yueyue holds up a piece of candy,,,and immediately knows its ling chao (cuz its the piece of candy lc was eating earlier in the film) 

(and to take care of all loose ends that my brain is providing me with: in the beginning they didn’t know abt each other’s secret occupations...how does yueyue know that lc is capable of doing this? my answer: they used to be agent buddies!!! i’ll expand on this later hehe)

 .

and so

it was at this moment ling chao knew...he fucked up

he’s afraid yueyue might come after him.

which, is exactly what yueyue does

after going home or somewhere, yueyue receives a text telling him to get rid of “them” (ling chao) bc his “identity is exposed” 

....so now yueyue has to go and hunt down his buddy ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

and they fight! looks very painful for ling chao,,,poor dude,,,

since ziyang comes out from the back door to join the fight, theres two possibilities that come from this:

1) ling chao knew yueyue was coming and knew he couldnt take him down himself (lets be honest; he looks rlly scrawny) so he called ziyang to his location for backup (how could he know ziyang can fight? agent buddies 👐) 

2) ziyang and ling chao live together in the same house

anyways, both results making it obvious that ling chao and ziyang are on the same team while yueyue is on another (lets ignore the fact that ling chao was getting up to fight ziyang as well)

the fight scene is so dramatic oml T-T

ziyang could also be motivated to beat up yueyue in this fight cuz the dude did  take his target before he himself could (loophole: how did ziyang know it was yueyue who took his target? answer: maybe yueyue left like a signature or smthn at the crime scene, or ziyang saw him walk out  ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ )

and when they all beat the living heck out of each other and are dramatically lying down in different areas of the room 

the tv turns on to a council saying “still want to be idols?”

(and remember, the thing they were watching on tv earlier was themselves performing,,,as idols. i cant connect it further than that so lemme know if yall figure smthn out ^-^)

so mayhaps this council is yueyue’s agency and they wanted to turn the trio against each other...? they would have set this whole situation up: they knew ziyang wanted to kill the restaurant “boss”, so they assigned yueyue to take care of him first, which creates conflict between those two. then, they hired ling chao to rig up a phone booth with a bomb; basically setting him up against yueyue

whether this council succeeds with their plan or not is unrevealed bc the film has a “to be continued” at the end, so the storyline still will have more to it!!!

although i would say the council succeeded since they all did beat each other bruised and bloody

.

that leaves the question: why  is the council setting them up against each other?

what are there previous connections beyond them just being friends 👀 ?

and here i shall bring back the “agent buddies” bit i was talking abt earlier, as well as why i linked the agent song in the beginning

near the end of the mv, there’s quite a lot of dialogue between the three of them, and it goes like this:

[robotic voice: welcome agent oner

ling chao (?): check 

yueyue: yo what up guys!

ziyang: yo what up bro

ziyang (yueyue?): alright lets take them out

yueyue: okay gentlemen we got a lot to do

ziyang: ey we gotta finish this quick, i got a date tonight

yueyue: really?

ziyang: no hard feelings (couldnt catch the rest)

yueyue: okay shut up

ling chao: hey guys, i saw a hit

(?): copy that

yueyue (ziyang?): hold your breath....now

ling chao: guys watch out

yueyue: okay guys locked and loaded

*single shot can be heard, then the reloading of a gun*

yueyue (?): go go go!

yueyue: fire fire fire!

yueyue: ???? *indistinguishable orders*

ziyang?: i got trouble i got trouble

yueyue: ?? i got ?? lets go

ling chao: stay together

ziyang (yueyue??): okay set to kill

ling chao: damn the truck is (blown?)

yueyue: what the hell

ziyang: okay let me (???) it

*bomb beeping noises*

yueyue: ???? clean this blood on my shirt]

(not sure how accurate my hearing is but its enough to make some guesses 😅)

agent buddies! the three of them used to be agents, as the song is titled, at some agency...and they probably made a pretty strong team together

the agency story would explain why they all seem to be good fighters too!

thats why the council might have wanted to tear them apart. perhaps the council was doing something that they knew would displease the trio, so they needed them separated lest they team up and try to defeat them 

i also think this audio could have been describing a mission going wrong for them, possibly their last one as a team. someone was probably hurt (im betting on either ziyang or ling chao), and they quit the agency and aimed to live normal lives from then on

...but old habits are hard to forget, so ziyang starts to kill ppl in his free time, yueyue joined another agency as a spy, and ling chao uses his hacking skills for other purposes

however they all dont tell each other, which could add on to the tension of their fight at the end of the film

.

now to dive into their individual bits of the film. these all don’t connect much to the main lore, just expands onto their lives with their secret occupations btw!

.

YUEYUE

his segment details moments in his daily agent life; im guessing he’s not very happy with it judging by his nightmares? or the nightmares are bringing up his past at his old agency which he does not like

he’s also master of disguise woah

personally i think he’s losing “who he is”. he’s always playing the role of another person, always putting on another disguise...so he starts losing his sense of identity (if that makes sense ;-;) 

(and if you wanna stretch it and make things wholesome, maybe the only times he [feels like himself] is when he’s around his two friends)

so basically: he’s always filling out other personas to the point where he doesnt know who he is anymore

(this is also the segment where he kills a man in the bar with poison,,,and the man was wearing the same ring as ziyang,,,,which is like Hm. why’d the directors do that 🤔)

.

ZIYANG

aka the murderer :D

(and not just regular serial killer type, more like joker-esque type where they’re a bit insane,,,)

okay his segment starts of with him dragging a man through a white room, where the floors is covered with plastic, and on the walls are a bunch of clay molds of human body parts

:D

my brain has concluded that! ziyang takes clay and makes molds of his victim’s faces/body parts of who he kills! to make statues! 

(i dont even know how i got there aksjdhdh but thats just what i assumed the first time i watched this film thingy)

and to make it more messed up than it already sounds,,,im guessing he’s a famous statue maker too, and holds shows where he presents his works to the public and maybe even bids them off ?

     ,,,,little did the audience know,,,,

          (this kinda remind me of sally and gabe’s statue from the pjo too now aksjhdkdh)

(i got this assumption from 6:50 in the film where he walks out in front of an audience who start clapping,,,and let my brain run wild with the rest,,,)

of course, he probably kills off the people he was the molding the clay off of once he’s done with his works,,,or sometimes even in the middle of his works as shown in the mv (*-* )

but alas that is not all to his story,,,

judging by his flashbacks when he’s beating that one dude to death with a bat, he used to be bullied when he was in school, which seems to be the source of all his anger throughout the film..

    ( yeah he killed the bullies too (_ _ )> )

its part of his personality to be rough and short tempered - he doesn’t like people looking down on him (as the bullies did)

and,,,if you want to be wholesome again! perhaps he found some bits of happiness and peace when hanging out with the others :]

.

LING CHAO

cw: animals abuse!!! 

his is pretty simple and is already explained in the mv itself! i’ll walk ya’ll through it though in case you didn’t watch the film tho akdjdjkf

basically: he’s just a dude who loves dogs :]

a lot

in his segment, a girl (handong, looking absolutely stunning ToT) approaches him wanting to take home another stray, and when he asks her where how the previous dog she adopted was doing, she says that “my bestie loved him a lot, so i gave him to her” ( -_- )

so...he lets her keep the dog, but also decides to keep an eye on her...to the point where she becomes very paranoid that someone is stalking her (which..she isnt wrong in)(but she doesn’t believe it to be ling chao because they’re..dating? i think? and he lulls her into a false sense of security that he’ll protect her from harm)

and then bam! one day he breaks into her house, steals the dog away, and then,,,,blows her up,,,,,

(i must say as disturbing this scene is,,,,i absolutely adore ling chao’s look here askjdjfd)

(i mean?? look at him?? loving the black lipstick ugh)

(v pale tho ;-;)

okay anyways the next flashbacks reveal that handong was abusing her dogs & starving them, and him being the animal lover he is, decides to kill her for it ig

(also she,,,stabbed the other dog that she “gave to her bestie” so-)

yeahh thats the end of his story; nothing much to take from it except that his hacker skills are still intact past agent days 

.

.

.

annnd thats a wrap folks! nothing else to expand on; i’ll definitely make another part to expand on this if they decide to release another mini film in the future tho :]

[awfully-sadistic]

Languages.

Because I don’t feel like writing a prompt today doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try writing at all. I actually thought of this as I fell asleep. I’m just... relieved I remembered. Going to switch up my On The Spot tags so I’m not spoiling who the fuck I’m writing for, that’s why they’re under the tag in the first place.

“What are you doing, Sergei?” Dot laughed, amused. “I know you’re not an entire mute.”

Sergei Dragunov’s hands moved; she knew them to be rough and callous at the fingertips. They were large enough to cup her entire face in the palm of his hand, but surprisingly warm sometimes. That must be because he always had them in his gloves. He was signing to her and for some reason, refusing to talk. Their mind link was always an option but there was a deliberate reason he was doing what he was doing.

“What’s he saying?” There was no mistaking the annoyance in Bennett’s tone as he lowered his head and nearly growled in Dot’s ear. Bennett Graves was a very big person in everything, it seemed. Personality, height, build, and attitude. He clearly did not like the fact he was kept out of the loop by Sergei’s swift signing. He didn’t know sign language!

The three of them sat together this morning; Bennett was always attached to Dot in some way as the overprotective father and Daddy to three pups and His very special little girl. And since the pups, he’s only seemed to have gotten worse in terms of his jealousies and possessiveness. The youngest of two elder brothers, the one of which is his very own twin, he was the baby. He was used to getting away with a lot because Aiden never really pulled his ass in line when they were younger and why shouldn’t he had? There was no real reason to curb the destructive path all three brothers were bound. At least, not until a few years ago. Now Bennett found it hard to be his “normal” self breaking old and hurtful habits to trade them in for gentler hands, kinder words because he wanted to know how to be with Dot without seriously hurting her in any way. He was getting used to the fact that he’s not the center of everything. Dot was. But that was more than okay with him and Bennett was content to tell every-fucking-body who listened the same thing. She and the pups were his whole world and he stubbornly, protectively, and possessively held on to his whole world with both hands.

“Tell him it’s none of his business.”

Dot laughed again. “He says it’s none of your business.”

Bennett’s golden gaze snapped to cold, uncaring blue ones. “Why the fuck can’t he tell me that himself?”

“Yeah, why can’t you, Sergei?” Dot grinned.

Sergei’s hands paused and Dot thought she imagined his expression getting harder. If that were anymore possible. Finally, he signed, “It’s a conversation between you and I.”

“Well, that’s true.” Dot admitted.

“...What did he say?” Bennett repeated, moments away from spitting the next thing through his razor sharp teeth.

“He said it’s a--” Sergei signed again and the movement caught out of the corner of her eye.

“Don’t tell him a thing.”

“I don’t know how you managed to make that sound demanding through your hands...” Dot muttered before looking hopelessly at Bennett. “Sorry, Daddy. But i can’t tell You anything.”

“That’s bullshit!” Bennett shouted, nearly jostling Dot as he stood to his feet. Bennett was always a step away from a aggressive punch in the face and it looked like Sergei was managing to hit all the right buttons -- all without saying a word.

Somewhat.

“Perhaps he should have picked up the habit of signing. Didn’t he say he was going to learn?”

“...Yeah,” Dot said, turning from Sergei’s hands to Bennett again. “Didn’t You say You were going to learn how to sign from Lu?”

Bennett blinked and almost immediately, the flame was snuffed out as the subject caused him to think for a moment. He sat down as he asked, “Lu? Yeah. I could have asked him. But then he said somethin’ stupid and I got mad. So, we don’t like Lu right now and I’m definitely not learnin’ anything from him.”

While Dot would agree that her brothers were stupid, Bennett was more likely to get pissed off by something Luvon said that happened to be an observation he pointed out and it wouldn’t entirely be off the mark. But she didn’t say anything after that, she only reached over and gave her Daddy a comforting pat on the knee. However, Sergei was a lot more open to the idea.

“I like Luvon.”

Dot laughed. “Yeah, well, you would.”

“He would, what?” Bennett asked, a little prickly.

“He said he liked Lu.”

Bennett snorted, “babygirl is right. You fuckin’ would.”

“I like Benedict, too.”

“Aww,” Dot sighed, placing her hands over her heart, happy to hear about Benedict in any capacity. But then she paused as she thought over that group of selective men. “Yeah. I bet the three of you get along really well.”

“I don’t need to know sign language to know his ass lumped Bene in there, too, huh?”

“Wow, Daddy, you really didn’t!”

“He’s not as dumb as he looks.”

Dot hadn’t meant to laugh. It was just such a blunt statement and it had taken her off-guard.

“...What?” Bennett asked.

“N-Nothing, Daddy. He asked how Benedict was doing.”

“That is not what I asked, little fibbing girl.”

Dot ignored that particular phrased sign. Bennett was already talking which spared her from looking Sergei in the face to see the matching expression.

“How should I know? The three of y’all hang out so much, it’s annoyin’. Shouldn’t you feel him in your dick or something?”

“I take back what I said about him not being as dumb as he looks.”

Dot breathed in deeply through her nose. “No, Daddy, that’s You and Cavon.”

“...Is that what he said?”

“That’s what i’m saying!”

“Oh. Then you’d be right.”

“We exchange messages through our phones like normal people.”

Dot laughed again and Bennett immediately looked suspicious.

“I really don’t like that I can’t fuckin’ understand him.”

“He just said they exchange texts. Like normal people.”

Bennett’s closed fist came down upon the coffee table in front of them. “THAT JUST MAKES ME AND BRO-BRO SPECIAL. SUCK THAT, YA DEAD LOOKIN’ BASTARD!”

“Daddy, that’s not very nice...” Dot scolded gently, turning to look over at Sergei. He wasn’t signing anymore. But his face certainly didn’t look too bothered. He was regarding Bennett the exact way Benedict or Luvon would -- almost with boredom and he’d let Bennett throw his fit, to let him do all the work of making himself look ridiculous, and getting mad all by himself.

And Bennett caught on.

“GODDAMN IT, THEY DO GET ALONG STUPIDLY WELL!” He threw his hands up, standing. Not as a means to throw a punch at Sergei but he was starting to walk out.

“Where are you going?!” Dot laughed.

“I’M NOT TAKING LESSONS FROM LUVON!” Bennett huffed and growled over his shoulder, “I’M GOING TO FIND YOUR GODDAMN APES AND HAVE THEM TEACH ME!”

“Makes sense he would understand an ape better than any of us.”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT HE SAID!” Bennett shouted, noting that Sergei had been signing again. He paused before he reached the door, pointing at the both of them. “I’m going to learn my own damn self and then kick his ass for talking shit! BECAUSE I KNOW HE’S TALKIN’ SHIT!”

Dot was laughing into her hands, trying her best to compose herself but the image of Bennett sitting in the middle of all that misty jungle, shirt off, trying to learn sign language with the giant apes was something that kept popping in her head. “Daddy, please, come back.”

“I’M ON A MISSION, BABYGIRL!” Bennett shouted, shutting the door behind him. “I”LL COME BACK WHEN I’M READY!” came his muffled reply before his stomping boots faded down the hall.

“I could have taught you myself!” Dot shouted but Bennett was out of earshot and she knew this because his ass would have come running back, sounding like a rhino. Finally settled back in her seat, she turned to Sergei with a hand lifted towards the door. “Look at what you did.”

Sergei turned her face her again from that uninterested gaze he had kept on Bennett to a softened expression only reserved for Dot. The corner of his scarred lip was faintly tugged upwards in a ghost of a smirk. He didn’t say anything after that but the look on his face said it for him. 

He was entirely proud of running Bennett away to spend the rest of this quiet time with Dot where he can finally put his hands to good use on something, no, someone else.

And Dot realized this way too late as he scooped her up.

[mikeshanlon]

he’s all that: chapter two

fandom: it

pairing: reddie (richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak)

word count: 5k

one | on ao3

summary:

Richie smiled smugly, “You’ve got spunk Kaspbrak. I like that.”

“Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up Tozier,” Eddie retorted as the line moved forward, “So what is this, if not some ploy to get me to tutor you? Some sort of dork outreach program? Because I’m not interested.”

—

Or: The one where Richie Tozier has six weeks to get into a relationship and make someone fall for him. Only problem? That someone is the anxiety ridden, goody two shoes Eddie Kaspbrak, and he can’t even stand to be in the same room as Richie.

warnings: there is drug use in that bev/mike/richie are HUGE stoners. also this chapter there is mentions to maggie being an alcoholic. 

a/n: hey! decided to post two weeks in a row just to get the ball rolling (which is why i still dont have all the chapters figured out as promised, my apologies). i'll probably start the every other week thing for next update (so chapter three should be up by march 4th). i would try to do every week but im a college student who has Stuff to do and also makes gifs and im horrible at finishing my writing so, giving myself a realistic deadline that will still hopefully produce quality work. anyways, richie and eddie finally interact this chapter! it's.......................  a bit messy though. and we get to see the rest of the losers club in this one too. 

tag list:  @richietoaster, @wintersember, @howellhxlic, @ed-txzier, @clara-farl3y

After standing in the hallway arguing with Bev for ten minutes, (“I mean really Bevs, fuck!” “You said anyone.” “How do we even know he’s gay?!” “Richie, please.”) Richie resigned himself to the fact that he was going to find some way to charm Eddie. Maybe Beverly would let him borrow that spellbook she bought junior year when she had become obsessed with witchcraft and hexing the patriarchy.

Once school was finally over, Richie dropped off Mike at his farm per usual, ranting about the bet the whole ride over. The farm boy nodded along, but he knew the words ‘told you so’ sat on the tip of his tongue.  

They pulled up to his house, the engine idling so he wouldn’t have to spend time getting it to start again, “Don’t wait up for me tonight if you wanna smoke. Got lotsa research in store,” Richie said as Mike grabbed his backpack and got out of the car.

Mike raised a brow, leaning into the passenger window (which in its broken state always stayed down), “I’m surprised Rich. You never do your homework.”

“Homework shmomwork,” he tapped the end of his cigarette out the window before taking another drag, “Gotta figure out what little ol’ Edward likes. Time for some deep dark internet exploration.”

“Ah, you’re gonna stalk him. Wasting time on social media does sound much more in character,” Mike smiled.

“It’s not a waste Mikey darlin’, a shit ton of preemo dank is on the line.”

The other boy laughed and shook his head, “Godspeed Tozier.”

Richie saluted Mike as he reversed out back to the main road, Bigmouth Strikes Again blasting on the old car radio.

He weaved through the streets filled with kids walking home or trying to find something to do in this shit-hole town. Long afternoons spent at The Aladdin watching the newest releases or aggressively slamming his fingers down on his favorite game at the arcade came to mind; along with going out of his way to bother just about everyone in his path. Richie never really had many friends when he was younger, spending most of his time alone. He was grateful he crossed paths with Bev and Mike, to fate, luck, God if it existed. The universe was rarely kind to him, but finding them was the best thing that ever happened to him.

Plus, the first time he had smoked weed, but that was with them too.

Turning onto his street, Richie pulled up to the unsuspecting two-story white house. It was straight out of a handbook on the American Dream; but the closer one looked, the imperfections started to appear.

The box overflowing with bottles once filled with alcohol next to the recycling bin, which was already too full with more empty bottles. A crooked ‘Home Sweet Home’ sign by the front door. Dying grass, overgrown and conquered with the little weeds Richie used to make wishes on before blowing the seeds into the summer air (I wish for friends. I wish for better parents. I wish to be loved).

He parked the station wagon on the curb, saving the space next to his Mom’s car for his father.

Maggie’s car hadn’t been driven in months (years?), and Richie absently wondered if it would even work anymore. It was nice, a decent heater and it drove well, at least it did when she had bothered to drop him off at school as a kid. Despite her general lack of care for the wellbeing of others, Mrs. Tozier did not drink and drive. Meaning, she didn’t drive at all, as she was drunk off her ass most of the time.

Richie grabbed his books from the backseat and clambered out, fumbling to find his house key among the mess of weird keychains he bought while high.

He didn’t bother stating his presence, even as a pretense, giving up the habit long ago.

Maggie Tozier sat outside, her back facing the screen door in the kitchen. A cigarette rested from her fingertips, and Richie wasn’t sure if she was actually smoking it or just watching it burn. Of course, her other hand gripped a bottle of beer, and a wine cooler sat at her feet.

Richie scoffed and bounded up the stairs to his room, a ‘KEEP OUT’ sign and band posters adorning the door.

It was often said that one’s room reflected who they were as a person, and Richie was no exception. That is, to say, his room was an absolute fucking mess. His bed was never made, and clothes and knick knacks littered the floor (he had already tripped over some beat up sneakers as he walked in). Old mugs, comics, a lava lamp, lotion, and an ashtray Bev had made him in ceramics sat on his bedside table (read: an old wooden apple carton). The only thing that he kept clear was his record player and vinyls at the edge of the bed, which were meticulously organized.

He tossed his notebooks on his desk, alongside stolen pens, his laptop, and his bong. If his parents actually fucking talked to him he would bother to hide his shit, but it didn’t really matter.

Picking up his laptop and its charger, Richie was on his way out again. He could stay home to conduct his research, but he hated the stuffiness and how lifeless the house felt. It wasn’t really even a home, at least not his. Plus, coffee. It was a necessity, especially for the amount of bullshit he’d have to go through just for the tiny brat.

Richie drove to the Starbucks on Main and Belmont, strolling up to barista and ordering his usual: venti quadruple-shot, black. While he often gorged himself on sweets, his need for caffeine could only be sated by the purest form the coffeeshop could offer.

Per usual, the barista gave him a look, “You sure?”

“Listen, I’ve already made a shit ton of horrible decisions today. Trust me, this is not the worst of them,” Richie answered, sliding the cash across the counter

She raised her brows but said nothing else, handing him the change.

He set up shop at a table by the window in the back, away enough from the other patrons. Most of the time Richie threw caution to the wind, but he figured it would suspicious if someone saw him furiously stalking someone who looked like they hadn’t even graduated from middle school.

After retrieving his coffee, opening his MacBook, and plugging his headphones in, Richie scoured Instagram first. ‘Eddie.k’ didn’t post much, mostly some artsy photos, including ones of Bill and Stanley Uris (their other best friend). There were only one or two selfies, much to Richie’s disappointment. Eddie wasn’t actually too bad looking if you ignored his clothes, his hair, his… everything. Freckles dusted his face, concentrated around his little nose, a few on his lips. Cute lips. Cute cheeks. He had the urge to pinch them. But Jesus, that combover. What was he, a balding man in the 80’s?

Other than those pictures, Eddie hadn’t really posted to Instagram in months. He moved onto  his tagged photos. They had some more substance, although Eddie had pretty much only been tagged in pictures by Bill and Stan. It wasn’t like Richie wasn’t in the same boat of having only a few close friends, but at least he hung out with other people.

For the most part, the pictures were pretty normal, the three of them hanging out. Richie couldn’t help but snort at a picture of the three, presumably after a sleepover. They looked exhausted, hair messy, and were brushing their teeth. Pretty mundane, but Eddie had pulled a ridiculous face in the mirror. It was silly, but Richie hadn’t even thought Eddie was capable of making jokes or doing weird shit. The fucker was always uptight, serious even when they had a substitute. Unsurprisingly, Eddie did not appreciate the post.

eddie.k: literally stan delete this!!!!!!

stantheman: @eddie.k, sorry sweatie (:

Richie grinned and continued to scroll, stopping at a picture of Eddie lying down on the grass, laughing. He wore a red tracksuit, the one students wore to P.E. when the bitter chill of autumn came to Derry. His hair must’ve been a little sweaty, because it was curling up into a messy halo around his grinning face. Richie wanted to know this Eddie, see him curl up laughing, but he knew that would never happen.

He perused their profiles for a while before growing bored, downing a third of his coffee before moving on. Except Eddie didn’t seem to have a Twitter, or a Snapchat. A quick google search of his name only came up with a few images and… a Facebook profile?

Richie prayed that it was an old one Eddie had never deleted, but after the page loaded he saw that the most recent status was made last night.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whispered to himself.

Eddie’s profile picture made him look particularly child-like, a weird picture of him pointing to the camera like he was cool, even though the same hand had a clunky old watch wrapped around it. His header picture displayed the quote ‘there is bravery in being soft’.

Richie snorted, “Yeah, a soft fucking dick!”

Another patron scoffed at his fowl mouth, and he shot her a smug grin.

Eddie only had 40 friends on the site, which consisted of Bill, Stan, some of the other nerds at Derry High, and his mother and her friends. It wasn’t like someone’s Facebook friends actually mattered, especially because only middle aged mothers who posted minion memes about their alcoholism used it anymore, but it was still kinda pitiful.

His posts were generally uninteresting, stuff like ‘super nervous for the math test’, or ‘soooooooooooo bored ://///’. Otherwise, he mostly just shared pictures of cute dogs and DIY videos.

It was hard to find any useful information on Eddie, since he obviously lied a lot. Not in the way of bragging, or saying that he did things he didn’t (like Richie did). But there were comments from Mrs. Kaspbrak’s friends calling him a lady killer, or a few posts calling Carly Rae Jepsen cute (please, Run Away With Me is the one of gayest songs of all time). Eddie was closeted, and Richie knew from experience that someone could never really be themselves around others if they weren’t out.

What his profile lacked in useable information, it more than made up with blackmail material.

Take, for instance, little Eddie in possibly the gayest fucking hat imaginable.

He screeched as he saw the picture of the eleven year old, a white fedora-bucket hat hybrid sitting atop his tiny head, before breaking out into a full on wheeze. Richie was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, and then he thought about Eddie using his inhaler in that gay ass hat and laughed even harder.

The other customers began to stare, some concerned, and others pissed off at the disturbance.

Once he had collected himself somewhat, Richie sent a screenshot to the group chat.

the losers

bev: oh my fucking G O D

richie: I CANT FUCKIN BREATHE ELRNKKLNERG

richie: LIKE F U C K !!! KLJKLGRJKLLEJK

richie: LOOK AT HIS GAY HAT

richie: LIKE, IT’S GAYER THAN WEARING NOTHING BUT A PRIDE FLAG AND GLITTER

richie: HE LOOKS LIKE A TWINKY SKIPPER

richie: HOW IS THAT HAT MORE GAY THAN EVERY SINGLE ONE RYAN EVANS WORE IN THE ENTIRE HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL FRANCHISE COMBINED

bev: i’m muting you

mike: me too

mike: also that hat isn’t that bad

“‘Not that bad?!’” Richie squawked, not that he’d be able to hear him.

(Really, Richie had no authority on the subject. He still donned the occasional Hawaiian shirt over his tees).

He refreshed Eddie’s profile, seeing that he had made a new status.

Eddie Kaspbrak: big night friday, nervous but excited !!!!

Richie raised his brows in intrigue, seeing that Bill and a handful of other people liked the status. What was going on Friday?

He checked to see if Bill had posted anything, if Eddie was going somewhere, chances were Bill was too.

Bill Denbrough: almost the weekend, finally ready to let loose

Seriously, it would’ve been so much easier if Bill was the guy Richie had to woo. Kid was probably fucking nervous for a party, a place where you threw caution to the wind and had a good time. Still, he made a mental note about finding out what their Friday plans were.

Richie sighed, taking another swig of his coffee, “God, what a fucking loser.”

Suddenly, his headphones were being tugged out of his ear by an angry middle-aged woman with short-layered hair and eye bags.

“Hey, what the fuck?” Richie glared, snatching back his headphones.

The woman returned the look, putting her hands on her hips, “Don’t you have respect for the other customers?!”

“Sweetheart, I don’t have respect for myself, let alone some PTA moms-- like the post-divorce haircut by the way.”

Apparently, his finger guns did not soften the blow, because the lady started to scream at him.

And, apparently, this lady was also the manager, and was pushing him out the door.

So great, Eddie and his dumb gay hat got him banned from Starbucks.

Even though he was wounded from Eddie’s betrayal, (because Richie getting kicked out was definitely not his fault-- it was Eddie’s homosexual headwear. An anthropomorphic device of chaos, that Eddie owned, so, yeah, it was Kaspbrak’s fucking fault.) Richie still skipped smoking on Thursday to spend his lunch with the tiny fuck.

Obviously, they hadn’t made plans to do so, but Richie had, and he really couldn’t delay starting the bet. There was a lot on the line.

So, after getting out of econ (turning in an unstudied for but probably aced quiz), and throwing his shit in his locker, Richie detoured to the cafeteria.

The place was a fucking mess, and it reminded Richie just why he avoided the place. It was pure chaos, loud and overwhelming, a million things to get distracted by. Freshman with their stupid rolling backpacks kept whizzing by, making Richie trip or get his feet ran over. The tables were already filled, the honor roll kids, the partiers, Gretta and her gang. Fucking cliches.

He got in line, picking up a tray and proceeding to fiddle with the buttons at the cuff of his black and white flannel; trying to tune out the buzz of conversation. It was weird, at parties he thrived on the noise and disorder, but here all it was doing was fucking with his ADHD.

Richie drummed a beat onto his tray as the line moved forward and picked the most edible looking slop from the menu. The lunch lady glowered at him as he reached for his money only to realize he had put it in the other pocket, fumbling to put the bills and coins on the counter.  

As she put the money in the register, Richie looked around the room, checking to see where Eddie was sitting. He was sat near one of the exits, carefully taking out his lunch and swinging his legs. And he was alone. Perfect.

“Kid, do you want a receipt or not?” the lunch lady snapped from across from him.

Richie blinked back into focus, “Uh, sure, sorry.”

She sighed and printed out the receipt, slamming it down on the tray, “Next!”

Grabbing his tray, Richie plucked up some plastic cutlery and made his way through the sea of students to Eddie Kaspbrak. He had to twist and lift his tray a bit, but eventually the crowds started to part a bit. A chorus of whispers started to erupt. Stupid small town.

“Is that Richie Tozier?”

“I think, but doesn’t he always get high with his stoner friends?”

“What is he doing here?”

“God, he’s so hot.”

Richie smirked, sending a wink at the girl’s praise before sitting across from Eddie. He watched for a moment as the boy continued to focus on on unpacking his utensils and napkins before clearing his throat.

Eddie’s eyes snapped up from his lunchbox, widening when he saw Richie.

“What the fuck?” It was meant to be a whisper to himself, but Eddie’s voice was louder than expected.

Richie grinned at the blushing boy, “Well, hello to you to Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, returning to his food.

Richie waited for him to say something else, at least fucking look at him, but the little fuck kept his eyes glued to his grapes, nails aggressively ripping the fruit from their stems.

“Okay,” he started, taking a sip of his apple juice, “So, you may be wondering why I’m sitting with you—“

Eddie interrupted, annoyance apparent in every fiber of his being, “Is this gonna be quick or not?”

“I’m hoping it’s not quick, although given how hot I am it’s difficult for people to control themselves.”

A long, deep sigh came from Eddie’s (cute, soft) lips. Eddie grabbed at Richie’s hands, flipping them over so that the palms faced upwards.

“Wow, a bit forward, but I’m liking your style Kaspbrak,” Richie winked.

Eddie rolled his eyes and proceed to take out hand sanitizer from his fanny pack, squirting the floral scented product into Richie’s hands.

Honestly, what the fuck?

He must’ve sent the same message to Eddie with his face, because Eddie said, “You obviously aren’t gonna leave me the fuck alone, and if you’re gonna be in my space, you need to be clean.”

Richie raised a brow at this but rubbed the hand sanitizer into his hands anyways.

Jesus Christ, what a weird, defensive little bitch.

Eddie watched with focused eyes, and only spoke when Richie was finished.

“Continue.”

It took a moment for Richie to gain his bearings once more. This mission seemed dead on arrival, but he had to keep trying anyways.

“So, Eddie…” Richie trailed off, twirling the pasta on his plate before his eyes lit up, “Eddie Spaghetti, Eduardo, what’s up?”

Eddie scowled, “That’s not my fucking name!” he squeaked, “And ‘what’s up?’ I mean, we’ve barely even talked before. You think I’m just gonna put up with this because you’re Richie Tozier? I swear to god, if this is some fucking bullying thing...”

Around them, people began to stare and eavesdrop at the sound of Eddie yelling. Fucking perfect.

Richie blinked back at the boy across from him, now red in the face for a different reason, “Calm down, I’m just trying to get to know you.”

“Fat fucking chance.”

Okay, wow. Richie had more work cut out for him than expected. He thought of what to say next as he watched Eddie finish his grapes.

“This isn’t, like, a joke,” (it wasn’t real either), “I just wanna hang out.”

“Hang out?” Eddie’s chocolate brown eyes met Richie’s, his tone mocking.

Richie nodded, “Yeah, ya know, kick it with the homies. Make out a little if you’re down. Friend stuff.”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, “You’re unbelievable. Just fucking unbe— you know, how can you even say any of that shit? How can we be ‘homies’ if we’ve never ‘hung out’ before? And don’t want to-- I’m not-- you don’t know me!”

There was something underlying in Eddie’s voice as he snapped, wavering at the end. Richie, like most things in life, was completely and utterly fucking up.

“Well then, how about we fix that?” Richie leaned forward, “I was wondering if maybe you’d wanna—“

Abruptly, Eddie stood up, grabbing his food and walked off, making his way towards the cafeteria line where Bill and Stan were paying for their lunch.

Richie looked around at all the watching faces, some snickering and others as shocked as he was.

“...Embarrass me horribly in front of all these people.”

He took a deep breath, and shoved some spaghetti in his mouth, his frown growing larger at the disgusting taste. Richie was often considered a wild card, but this was when routine was a good thing. He should’ve just avoided this and sparked up with Bev and Mike.

Actually, he was going to do just that. There was still some left in lunch, and no reason for him to stay in the cafeteria if Eddie was giving him the cold shoulder. More like a giant fucking iceberg but still, pointless. Besides, he really needed to get high now. Eddie ruined his whole mood and pissed him the fuck off.

Richie got up and tossed out the inedible garbage before going to the usual spot, finger itching for a joint.

He used his foot to push open the door, which would’ve been cool, except with his clumsiness and horrible luck he tripped forward, narrowly avoiding falling down the steps and face planting by grabbing the railing.

As Richie caught his breath and stabilized himself, he could hear his friends laughing.

“Back so soon?” Bev smirked knowingly, taking a drag.

Richie huffed, “Ha ha. Let’s yuck it up for my misfortune,” he grabbed her joint and took a long hit, “This fucking kid, Bev. I don’t think I can do this!”

“As in, you’re morally incapable of leading him on?” Mike asked hopefully.

“Please, let’s be realistic here Mikey. No, that kid is like, the fuckin devil incarnate. Shithead is fucking crazy!” Richie paced, smoking from the joint.

Bev laughed, “What makes you say that?”

“Why don’t ya ask the whole fucking school?” Richie snapped, though the anger wasn’t directed at her, “They were watching it all go down. If that wheezy asshole ruins my reputation—“

“What reputation?” Mike interjected.

Richie rolled his eyes and flipped him off.

Another voice spoke up, “I dunno, Richie’s pretty well known. I like him well enough.”

Richie whirled around, just noticing a new face among the usual group, Ben Hanscom.

The eternal new kid, since no one ever moved to ass backwards Derry, was not someone he’d expect to be behind the art building. Maybe reciting poetry or some shit, but not blazing. Ben was sweet and genuine, albeit a little shy. He was no longer the chubby kid he once was, more stocky and muscular now. They weren’t too close, as the tawny haired boy spent more time with Mike and Bev, and if not them, the other dorks (like Eddie and his friends). But either way, dude was pretty chill. Richie just didn’t really want him there mid-meltdown.

“Haystack?! You smoke?!” he whistled, “Ho-ly shit, who woulda thought!”

Ben shook his head, “Uh, no I don’t. Mike and I just had to study for history next block.”

His deep brown eyes flitted to Beverly, who had now stolen back her joint and was playing with the key that hung from her neck. Yeah, studying was the only reason. Not Ben’s excruciatingly obvious crush on the red head.

“We would’ve just gone to the library, but Bev and I made a bet about if you’d be successful or not today,” Mike said.

Richie gasped, “Betting on my failure? Fuck you guys, Benny Boy is my new best friend.”

“I didn’t sign up for that.”

“Hey, I bet on you succeeding,” Mike put his hands up in surrender, “She’s the one who thought you’d screw it up.”

“And I was right. Pay up,” Bev smiled, holding out her palm.

Mike dropped a candy bar in it with a deep sigh. She tore open the wrapping, taking a savage bite of the chocolatey sweet.

“I think you have a gambling problem,” Mike quipped.

Bev shrugged, “Not a problem if I keep winning.”

She grinned, her teeth covered in chocolate and spit. Gross. Ben still looked enraptured. Double gross.

“Anyways, can we focus on the important bet, and the fact that this fuck is impossible! Seriously, Bev, babygirl, pick anyone else!” Richie whined, plopping his bony ass on the cement.

“First off, don’t call me ‘babygirl’,” she flicked the ash off the end of the joint at him, “Second, the deal was anyone. You either woo him or you don’t.”

Richie opened his mouth to complain again but Ben beat him to it.

“I’m sorry, but what are we talking about?”

The other three looked at each other in panic. Ben was friends with Eddie, there was no way he could find out what was going on. The whole thing would be ruined before it started.

“Nothin!” Richie squeaked, “Just uh… bet that I couldn’t ace a group project. I usually just bullshit a lot of that stuff and leave it up to the others if I can. Partner’s just a little… high strung.”

Bev groaned and Mike sighed. A horrible fucking lie. Richie was already trying to formulate a better one in his head.

Ben smiled, “That’s nice, a wholesome, supportive bet. But you really should just communicate with your partner. They might be nervous because of your history is all.”

Richie let out a sound of relief before realizing Ben’s advice could actually be helpful.

“Sure, but I already tried to talk to him and it didn’t go well,” he explained.

Bev and Mike raised their brows, catching on.

“Well, how did you talk to him?” Ben asked, “Was it an ambush or a friendly conversation?

Bev snorted, “Ambush, knowing Richie. He doesn’t do friendly conversations.”

“Maybe with you, because you’re on my ass all the time,” Richie shot back, “But uh, she’s right. Shouldn’t matter though, everyone knows that’s how Tough Guy Tozier does his business.”

Mike groaned, “Please don’t call yourself that ever again.”

“You’re just coming on too strong. You have to consider what he likes, what he wants. A good partnership comes with compromise and communication,” Ben nodded sagely.

Richie ruffled his hair, putting on his trusty British voice, “Thank you Advisor Hanscom. Your wisdom is greatly appreciated.”

Ben smiled awkwardly, his eyes going to Bev once again, “Course.”

He took the joint from Bev, inhaling the musty smoke and blowing it out his nostrils, the burning sensation familiar and welcome.

“And maybe, you should talk to him sober next time,” Mike suggested.

Richie laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

By the time the final bell rang, he was still feeling defeated and unsure of his next move. Sure, he’d have to dial back his trashmouth charm, try to seem actually invested in Eddie but… that wasn’t going to happen if the brat never talked to him again. Richie had to find a way to break the tension between them, start fresh.

He sulked to his locker, pulling out his shit from the looming mess. Loose binder paper and pencils fell onto the ground, and Richie just wanted to bang his head against the wall of metal. Also, go home and smoke while playing video games but, mostly, hit his head repeatedly. Maybe he’d lose enough brain cells to forget the entire day.

After a few moments of excessive cursing, Richie grabbed what he needed and got everything that fell back into the locker. He noticed a new post it on the door just before he closed it.

Don’t give up :) <3 - mike

Richie smiled, and slammed the locker shut with a resounding clang. With a little stretch and a fix of his glasses, he strolled through the halls, making his way to the parking lot to wait for Mike.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bill and Stan loitering around the halls as well, engaged in (an undoubtedly boring) conversation.

He remembered Bill and Eddie’s facebook status’ about exciting plans for tomorrow night and decided he should investigate.

“Billiam! Staniel!” Richie called as he approached them, “What’s up?”

The two stopped talking and looked up, Bill smiling while Stan rolled his eyes.

“H-hey, Richie,” Bill waved.  Richie noted that his stutter had gotten a lot better just over the past year. The two of them had shared a few classes when they were juniors and were pretty friendly with one another. At least compared to his relationship with Eddie and Stan, who also seemed to hate him for no reason.

Speaking of, the prim and proper boy was glaring at him, “Didn’t get enough of being a nuisance at lunch?”

Richie raised a brow, “Whatever do you mean?”

Stan scoffed, and opened his mouth to respond, but Bill put a hand on his shoulder, “N-nothing. Stan’s just… on edge. What’s up w-with you?”

“Not much, just trying to figure out what my plans are for tomorrow,” Richie shrugged, “Got any suggestions?”

“The only thing on your mind is where to party? Not surprised,” Stan quipped.

Richie shoved his hands in his pockets, biting his tongue. Snapping at Eddie was what caused his whole operation to go south, and he couldn’t mess up this second chance.

Bill ignored the tension between them, “Well, usually w-we don’t do t-t-too m-much, but it’s s-senior year. Probably going to Peter Gordon's party.”

“That kid’s an ass.”

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Stan commented, his arms crossed.

His grinned, “Well, yeah, I am Rich.”

Stan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, he is, but he’s also s-super wealthy,” Bill avoided another ‘rich’ pun, “Meaning he’ll h-h-ave q-q-quality shit.”

Richie beamed, “Ah, I get it. You’re Robin Hood-ing that fuck. I like your style Billy Boy.”

He clapped Bill on the shoulder, and the other boy blushed slightly, “W-well, it wasn’t j-just my idea. Eddie and Stan helped.”

“Eddie? He’s coming with you guys?”

Bill shook his head, “N-no. He was supposed to, b-b-but that art thing came up so he h-had to cancel.”

“Art thing?” Richie asked, suddenly intrigued. This was the information he wanted.

“Yeah,” Bill nodded, “It’s this show that happens every month. At Jester Theatre. He always goes.”

Stan not so subtly elbowed Bill in the ribs, hissing at him to shut up.

“W-what?!”

“Yeah, what’s got your steamed panties in a twist Uris?” Richie smirked.

Stan sent him a scowl, “You know very well Tozier. Eddie told us all about what you did at lunch. Back the fuck off.”

“S-stan, I don’t think he meant--”

“No, Bill, he did,” Stan interrupted, “I don’t know what your game is, but if you hurt him…”

Richie put his hands up in surrender, “Hey, I’m not going to hurt him. He seems pretty strong anyways. I mean no harm.”

Stan didn’t look convinced at all. Fair enough.

The air between the two was tense, but Bill broke it by clearing his throat, “So, uh, will w-we see you at the p-p-party?”

Richie shook his head ‘no’, “Probably not. I have some more sophisticated plans lined up.”

a/n: hope you liked it! next chapter is p much all richie and eddie so get excited. if you enjoyed i would love hearing your feedback

oh and this is eddie’s gay hat if you were curious

[vamytas]

18th May ‘94

     Molly,

Thanks for your exhibition prints. I’ve sold a few off the counter, the deer ones are popular. Still find it funny that people opt for the cuter kind, even if the forest frolickers are dead, although when one woman came in to buy a wallet for her husband and I told her the deer was a taxidermy she didn’t seem as eager to look around much more! Shame, that. Tried to tell her half the cost went to the RSPCA but she didn’t buy it. I’ll see if Alex wants one. Have you sent some to Tommy? He’d like the mouse driving the car (that’s him, right...?)

I would say ‘same old’ here if it was true but it’s not. The bloke I work with, Rob, the one who thought it would be a grand idea to throw Alex’s surprise birthday bash, he hasn’t shown up for work in a couple days and he won’t pick up his phone. I could joke that it was Alex’s doing but at this point with the way he’s become such a recluse I wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe they eloped? Not that they have any reason to, didn’t catch on to anything like that. Not that you’d care, obviously (ha ha). I shouldn’t joke about it, though. Rob’s somewhere we don’t know...or at least I don’t know. Thank god Alex is responding even if it’s minimal. I asked him if he knew anything and  he said he didn’t. At the moment it’s a mystery to us but I’m not sure if Rob’s family have managed to get in contact, or if he has any family to worry over him, there’s a lot of characters like that around here.

Don’t be a stranger, even if you have all the critics climbing all over eachother just to glance at your face. Are you really going to try and pull the Banksy thing?

    Much love,

    Seb

P.S. Have you installed your dial-up yet? Data’s quicker to send than paper.

21 May 1994

To: MissMolly

From: S.M.

Subj: Beep, beep ... nnNNRRHH

Happy to see you’ve joined the legion of the world wide web! I know a lot of people complain about the noise but it doesn’t sound much different to what we used to listen to. You haven’t sold your original 20 Jazz Funk Greats, have you? Not sure it would even rake in much with what we drew all over the back, unless you or Alex get put in the Tate. With the way you’re going I wouldn’t say it’s a far way off! Also need more of those prints! Running low. You’re a popular girl here :) -- that’s called a smiley.

As for the Earnshaw Update: he’s as much a hermit as your sister used to be when she started getting into The Cure. I don’t know what instigated it but he’s only been reachable by phone since his birthday, and only at night. I’ve tried dropping in but his door’s been shut tight and I don’t know where he keeps the emergency key. You should try talking to him (I can resend his address if you’ve lost it, he hasn’t got internet yet). That’s if I can’t tide him over by telling him you’ve got a gift, next time he picks up... if he does. Sorry, that sounds very doom and gloom. I really am worried about him, if only because he hasn’t been in this kind of stasis since... well.

Please get back to me as soon as you can.

Much love,

Seb

23 May 1994

To: MissMolly

From: S.M.

Subj: He’s alive!

Did you send that print to him? I came by his place tonight and he answered after the first knock! Smiling as ever. He felt colder than a Yorkshire winter, though, and pale. I told him I could help with the gas bill if he needed it but he waved me off. We went out to one of those clubs where everyone is in fishnets and knock-off McQueen, which is nothing new, but they were playing that new MTV gothic stuff, the kind he said he hated -- could be broadening his horizons. I lost him for a bit but he found his way back, he’s somehow easy to distinguish from the crowd now (for me that is, imagine it’s always been the case with you, ha ha!)

He also told me that Rob went on a spontaneous break to Rome. Rob in Rome! And that I’d be getting a “confirmation of assumin’ such responsibilties required of a leather shoppe owner, as well as the salary”. Alex and him were closer than I thought.

It’s all looking up here. What’s happening with you? Apart from the Guardian editorial, you don’t tell me much apart from work!

Much love,

Seb

27 May 1994

To: MissMolly

From: S.M.

Subj: Concerned again.

I don’t mean to ignore the other topics covered in our ditties but Al has gone Weird. I know he always has been, in that ‘cool cousin’ kind of way but now he’s just... I don’t know. He’s practically nocturnal. There’s more and more stuff popping up in his wardrobe that he used to say was a ‘fuckin’ disgrace of shite taste’ -- the chokers! There must be about ten discarded around his whole place. I’ve seen some of his paintings too and they’re dark, as in David Lynch meets Goya’s black paintings, I mean they’re good -- really good -- but it just seems excessive.

Worst of all, he keeps mentioning Ricky. Since the accident he’s been fairly healthy with talking about it but now it seems like he’s got this growing obsession with ‘what it all meant, his death’, I don’t even know what Alex meant by that.Then he’ll ask me where I think Ricky is now and honestly I don’t know, I don’t like to think about it. I just keep saying ‘somewhere warm’  because it seems like Alex needs the comfort. I don’t know if what happened to Ricky got to him more than he let on before, or if he was too preoccupied at the time with making sure I didn’t do anything drastic. Was I that needy?

I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what to suggest either. Sorry to end on such a downer of a note.

Love,

Seb 

1 June 1994 

To: MissMolly

From: S.M.

Subj: Dire.

I don’t know him anymore, Molly. When we don’t go out he just wants to talk about Ricky with me, like I’m a proxy for some kind of loss he’s going through. But I don’t know what loss that is -- you? It’s the only comparison I can think of. I feel like the kid stuck between two divorced parents with you two sometimes. Except he avoids talking about you all together and if I do bring you up, like how you were moving back to London, he just looks down, rubs his beard... a new habit. 

(Beard, yeah. I forgot to tell you because it was a really gradual transition at the time that I didn’t notice, but he has this Jesus thing going for him. Before, I didn’t think much of it but now it’s like an inherent look he should have been born with, innate? I could never imagine him looking like it but now it’s hard to imagine him looking any different.)

Anyway, beards aside. He’s getting... creepy. When we’re not drinking he just wants to postulate on death and ‘what comes after’, he’s a right fucking misery to be around. Although I haven’t seen him drink much at all, do you think he’s on drugs or something? It’s the only conclusion I can come up with, and I don’t have anyone else to ask about this because they’re all in the same scene he is.

Please reply soon.

Seb

2 June 1994

To: MissMolly

From: S.M.

Subj: -

Okay there are some things I’ve witheld for a long time because I didn’t want to cause you any unnecessary pain. As much as I know you say you’re fine it’s never a gift to hear these things but I feel it has a lot to do with how Alex is now.

After we moved to SF he started seeing this woman who I didn’t see much of myself,,  she set me on edge but I can understand how he was drawn to her because I think it was mainly a sex thing to get over you. I told yu before that he was a catastrophic mess after you left and things got better but when I say catastrophic mess I really mean it, I won’t state examples because I dont mean to make you feel guilty Molly but it’s the truth and I don’t know what to do anymore.

I didnt want to make uyo worry  because i know you;re already dealing with enough already, and i didnt want this matter in particular to be especially distressing for you. But I think alex and this woman were into heavy stuff  - not drugs but maybe that too. We went out while he was with this girl, in January, I think? it was to one of those fetish clubs, wasn’t my thing. But he left me there alone without telling me he was leaving, hhe left with the girl and didn’t even leave me  a voicemail. I got home fine, couldn’t sleep though. But then  I went over to check on him in the morning and his back was covered in gashes and blood. he didnt wake up but he was breathing. i didn’t know what to do,  i pretended i never walked in and he called me soon after to apologise for the night but i  wouldnt say anything about his back because i thought it was a bdsm thing but with the way hes acting now i dont know if he was being abused? I dont know the telltale signs, just that he’d follow this woman around like she had him on a leash.

There are still parts of him I recognise but there’s something about him which feels out of touch, like he’s not the same person but trying to be.  I dont know how to put it, maybe I’ve been away from someone who can actually talk about these problems for too long

The thing is I havent seen him with this woman in a while, since his birthday I’d say. Despite it he seems a lot happier now than when he was with her (apart from the Ricky fixation) but he’s gone full blown Byronic Bohemian.  He’s invited me out almost every day in the past week and since this was an improvement from locking himself inside, I tried to go as much as I could. Each time I’d lose him for a while because he’d gone off with a girl . He thinks he’s being discreet but I’m not much of a dancer for these places so all there’s left to do is watch. Sometimes he goes home with them and offers to pay me for a taxi, which is a step up from leaving me stranded, I’ll give him that.

I know I shouldn’t have but I looked through his art yesterday (his emergency key is in a broken light on a wall outside his door), not his stuff under the bed but in his wardrobe. There’s five entire sketchbooks of you, some of the drawings are so beautiful, he still remembers how you look exactly but in others they just seem... off? Not that they don’t look like you because they do, even if it’s a few strokes, but for someone who knows you they just look like he;s trying to put through what he is now onto you?  I don’t know. that doesnt make sense.Then there are some Ricky drawings in there too but  I don’t want to talk about them.  he writes stuff around you and Ricky, dates and places and random lines like ‘snake chokes on its own tail’ and ‘saw him around Seb’s’.  I  think he’s scared of losing parts of himself and not being able to get them back.

Please talk to him  Molly , you know his number and email . I know you think you’ll do him more harm than good but I don’t know what to say, if I point out how he’s acting weird he just resorts to deflective humour ‘it’s all part of being a la Americana now’. But I’m worried if I push it he’ll get angry. Sometimes I don’t feel safe with him and I don’t know why. Please reach him, I miss him, nothing’s right with Alex like this. I’m getting homesick because there’s nothing here that seems real anymore, everything feels like I’m watching it through a TV screen and it’s muted, or the music’s too loud to hear what people are really saying. I don’t want to leave Alex alone but I feel like I’m in a coma here.

Do you think I could stay with you for a while?

Love always,

Seb