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babymandalore · 5 years ago

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Closest I’ve Come to Perfection

Snapshots from Richie and Eddie’s life together Post-It, as told by Eddie’s clothes. Extreme fluff and a little cheeky at times. 2.7k words. Ao3 link in bio.

The suit. The polo. The sweatpants. The shorts. Richie’s t-shirt. +1 more.

The Suit.

The suit comes first. The shoulders are dusted with drops of rain that haven’t yet absorbed, and the dark grey color matches the clouds outside. Eddie would never own an ill-fitted suit, but something about the way he stands on Richie’s doorstep looks like he's drowning in it, about to disappear completely into the fabric. Richie doesn’t have much time to take in the sad sight before Eddie launches at him, throwing his arms around his neck. Richie latches on too, burying his face in the soft curls at nape of Eddie’s neck and guiding them into the living room without letting go.

They sink into the couch tangled together. All the texts and calls and hopeful thoughts finally at peace where they hold onto each other. Richie hates the stiffness of the suit jacket, he doesn’t need another layer separating him from the man he loves. He moves his hands underneath it and feels the warmth radiating from Eddie through his thinner button-up.

“You’re really here, Eds,” Richie breathes in his scent and pulls tighter.

“Yeah, and I’m not going anywhere so you better get used to it.” Eddie quips.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Richie sneaks his hand down to cheekily tap Eddie’s butt. Eddie jumps against him and smacks his arm as he pulls away.

“Maybe I shouldn’t live with you, Trashmouth,” Eddie says, but his cheeks flush and his eyes flutter in a way that tells Richie he loves it.

The room smells like rain and is glowing yellow, light from the amber lamp in the corner and the moonlight filtering through the watery window. Their arms secure around the other and their eyes only inches apart, it seems like their whole lives have led them here. Even the years they forgot about each other, the years they didn’t understand themselves, they were supposed to end up together the whole time.

They both lean in the small distance and meet in a soft kiss. Richie feels like he’s 15 again, like he could cry, like he never wants to stop. They both breath into the kiss and Eddie slips his hand up to cradle Richie’s face, thumbing over the rough stubble. It’s strange and enticing to kiss a man, noticing the hard lines of his face and the strength radiating off of him. Eddie feels stupid for never realizing this is what he really wanted, but then again, he wouldn’t have wanted it if it wasn’t with Richie.

Richie opens his mouth to deepen the kiss and all chill from the storm outside leaves Eddie’s body. He arches up into the taller man and hums in content.

Eddie has suits to hang and toiletries to arrange, but that can all wait.

The Polo

Richie knows that Eddie is a thousand times more put-together than he is. His hair is always in place, he moisturizes, he works out regularly. But he didn’t expect Eddie’s entire wardrobe to be comprised of polo shirts. The first weekend they spend together they go to a movie on Saturday- cue the baby blue polo. The farmer’s market on Sunday- a lovely coral polo. And when they arrive home to spend a whole afternoon lounging around together? The polos stay on.

“Are you comfortable?” asks Richie as they settle in to watch the latest episode of Dateline.

“Perfectly,” Eddie hums from his place tucked under Richie’s arm.

“No,” Richie shifts. “I mean, like your clothes dude. You really want to relax in khakis and a collared shirt?” Eddie swivels his head to give him a look.

“Fuck you, dude. Not all of us wear what could be considered pajamas all fucking day.”

“You love that I’m like a walking blanket, my little Eddiekins,” Richie coos and brings him closer. Eddie struggles to break free but eventually slumps against him.

“If you call me that again I’ll burn all your clothes,” Eddie says with no real bite. Richie smiles and shuts his mouth before pressing play.

The Sweatpants

Eddie hasn’t brought up his affinity towards a more formal wardrobe since their last conversation. He isn’t uncomfortable per se, but he knows it might stem from some unhealthy thoughts. Crisp clothes are clean, clean clothes mean you have your shit together, put-together people like their life.The longer he lives with Richie the more he notices that thinking is flawed. He had a life before, but he never liked it until now.

Richie is so free, open, and sometimes clueless in a way that Eddie finds intoxicating. He will talk to anyone and make them laugh, he’ll suddenly start a game of tag on their nightly walk, he will wear two different shoes to the grocery store and tell everyone about it.

Eddie loves him. They both know that, but Eddie isn't the best at expressing it at certain times. He doesn’t want to keep his walls up around Richie, physically or emotionally. As mad as it makes him to admit that Richie has a point, he agrees his wardrobe is a good, practical place to start opening up to the fullest.

Richie has been at a pitch meeting all day, which probably means it went well and he is bouncing script ideas off other writers. Eddie figures it is the perfect time to head to Target, grab a few new clothing items, and some ingredients for dinner.

---

A soft 80's ballad is drifting through the house when Richie opens the door. He’s high off creative energy and excited to tell Eddie about all of their ideas. The house smells vaguely Italian and his shoulders loosen at the warm atmosphere. Richie can't get over how lucky he is to share his life with someone, and that someone is actually Eddie.

He shuffles to the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks. Eddie is stood by the stove in a haze of steam as he stirs their dinner, which is not an uncommon sight. However, tonight is different because he is clothed in baggy sweatpants that grip his small waist and bunch around his ankles, paired only with a soft grey t-shirt. He looks like the physical embodiment of cuddling and Richie wants to sob.

He closes the space between them and wraps Eddie up from behind.

Eddie giggles, swaying slightly to the music in his arms, “Hi, hope you’re hungry I’m making chicken piccata with pasta.”

Richie responds by pulling the neck of his t-shirt to the side and kissing his neck and collar bone, nipping lightly. “I’m starving,” He says, voice low.

Eddie spins slowly in his grip and walks him away from the stove, back pressed into the island counter.

“If you wait just five minutes the food will be ready,” Eddie says casually, but his eyes tease something else.

“You look like you had a relaxing day,” Richie brings his thumbs up to rub at the fleece-like material.

“You like?” Eddie says twisting his hips around to give more of a view. “I thought I’d take your advice and get something less businessman-casual.”

“My Eds, taking my advice?” Richie acts shocked, “I have to text everyone! It’ll say: you’ll never guess who figured out what comfortable clothes are. Now I have this hot guy walking around in grey sweats and I can see the outline of his perfect di-“

“Hey!” Eddie swats his arm. “Sweatpants aren’t sexual, dumbass. You better not be texting them about my dick.”

“Don’t worry, I only tell Bev about that stuff…but she does probably tell Ben, and then he probably tells everyone else.” Richie gives a bright, apologetic smile and shrug. Eddie just stares at him exasperated.

“Fine, I won’t make them sexual, but I will need you on the couch and ready to cuddle for the rest of the night as soon as we finish eating.”

“Fine,” Eddie pecks his lips and turns around to dish up the food.

The Shorts

They’ve fallen into a wonderfully domestic routine. On weekdays they wake up, Eddie heads out for his morning run while Richie makes breakfast, then they both head off to work with a parting kiss. More times than not, Eddie will get home first in the evening and cook dinner.

Then on weekends, they spend every second together typically in bed or out exploring. It isn’t all easy, two 40-year-old men suddenly living very different lives. One still overcoming neuroses and emotional hang-ups, and the other accepting who he is in the public eye. But they grow together and learn to lean on those close to you.

Richie’s favorite part of growing with Eddie is seeing him come out of his shell. He is no longer just polite to everyone, but welcoming, laid back and easy to laugh. Richie knows his own life is better off by miles with Eddie in it. He’s learned how to communicate what he wants without always be the ‘yes’ man, and that if you stretch in the mornings you don’t have chronic back pain.

So yes, it has been months of growth, and bliss, and learning about the other. Now it’s nearing summer and they will have to turn the air conditioning on soon to ward off the California heat.

Richie is busy chopping onions and peppers for their omelets, intermittently sipping on his coffee, as he waits for Eddie to get back from his run. It's Friday morning and he’d had a slow start, not even getting out of bed until he heard the door shut behind Eddie. It had been a long week for both of them, but Eddie never wavers in his dedication to running. Richie is constantly impressed as he can barely open his eyes that early in the morning.

He hears the door slam shut behind him signaling Eddie’s return. Heavy breathing and snippets of a song come sweeping in from the hallway. Richie knows Eddie is stretching and still listening to his workout playlist. He’d helped Eddie make it, ensuring he was missing the motivation that comes only from early 2000’s rap.

He walks out to let Eddie know breakfast is almost ready, but his feet freeze in the archway. Eddie is wearing shorts, like short-shorts.

His mind flies back to childhood memories and awakenings connected with the shorts. The secret touches and quick wit he'd use as a way to diminish certain thoughts. These ones are different, maroon with black pipping along the edges. It is also different because Eddies thighs are muscular, tight from running and dewy with sweat as Eddie bends to touch his toes. The defined line of muscle runs up and up until it meets the soft curve of his butt. Richie hasn’t seen this much upper thigh since- well, last night when they were naked- but framed by the small piece of clothing is tempting in an entirely different way. They are slightly paler than the rest of his legs and Richie wants to bite them.

“Hey,” Eddie straightens up and extracts an earbud, “breakfast ready?” He smiles.

“Y-yeah,” Richie breathes out. Eddie becoming more comfortable in his own skin may be the best thing that happened to him and the thing that kills him.

Richie’s T-shirt

Richie is ecstatic during the car ride back to their house. He’d been gone on a short tour around a few select locations on the east coast. They both figured two weeks would be nothing, filled with texts and phone sex, they would get through it just fine. That was wrong - it was rough. Richie had always hated empty hotel rooms, but now that he could compare it to sharing a bed with Eddie they were unbearable.

Eddie wasn’t much better off. He had their dog, Atari, to cuddle and accompany him on walks, but he sensed the dog missed Richie just as much as he did. He found himself walking around the house wearing nothing but Richie’s t-shirts. It started as a way to comfort himself, but quickly devolved into horny thoughts or ideas of how Richie would joke about the dumb slogan printed on the front.

That’s how he found himself on Saturday afternoon, sitting on the couch as he waits for Richie. The fan blowing stagnant air around the living room like it’s waiting for things to liven-up too. He’s in an old Pink Floyd band tee. It’s faded black with an inch hole showing through the neck line. It is long enough to cover him to mid-thigh and one side hangs lower since the broad shoulders sit loosely on him.

He hears keys jingle behind the door and immediately gets up to meet Richie. Richie doesn’t hesitate to throw his bag down by the door and smile wide as he opens his arms for Eddie. Eddie jumps into them, pressing kisses across his face, airport germs be damned.

“Next time I’ll come with you- it’s not like I don’t have the vacation days saved up.”

“Please do, baby. I missed you so mu- is that my shirt?” Richie pulls back slightly to look across Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah, it’s comfy and still kinda smelled like you- mmph!” Eddie's last thought muffled as Richie crashes their lips together. He puts his hands on the smaller man’s waist and pushes him backwards until he is crowded against the wall. Richie seems to tower over him, even taller with shoes on while Eddie is stood with bare legs and feet.

Both of Richie’s hands spread across the sides of Eddie’s thighs and slide upwards, bringing the shirt with them. Each inch just reveals more skin and Richie feels his eyes go dark.

“You’re not wearing anything underneath this?” He asks, his voice going soft and dry.

“No, I’m not,” Eddie breaths, innocent eyes locking with Richie’s gaze.

Richie wastes no time and hoists him up. Eddie’s legs wrap around him tightly as they kiss, effortless and eager, on the short walk to their bedroom.

The (new) Suit

It is a deep navy blue, perfectly tailored. Eddie had run his hands over it a million times and loved the silky feeling under his calloused hands. Bev helped him pick it out, telling him blue would pair beautifully with his tan skin, and black would be better suited to Richie’s.

They are both adorned with matching baby pink boutonnieres. Richie’s tie came off sometime between the ceremony and the toasts.

The dance floor is filled with family and friends making fools of themselves. Clumsy limbs are illuminated by fairy lights strung high above their heads and the disco ball spinning from the DJ stand. Richie keeps twirling Eddie unaware of how dizzy he feels. Eddie finally pushes Stan in to be the victim of the next spin, laughing at his unamused look.

His cheeks burn from smiling at everyone around him. He’d gotten the love of his life, after all this time and all the struggle, they’d found each other.

The music changes to a slower tune and he drifts back over to Richie, taking his hand and starting to sway to the gentle rhythm. Richie grips his suit jacket and rests his head against Eddie’s. It is more like a hug than a dance, but they can’t care less, wrapped around each other in their own world.

“Have I told you that you look really amazing tonight?” Richie whispers.

“Yeah, Rich, you told me that like six times already.” Eddie smiles.

“I just need everyone to know how hot my husband is,” Richie rubs his hand over the smooth material covering Eddie’s back, “lookin' like a Men’s Warehouse model in this suit.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Eddie exhales and pauses for a moment, “Do you remember the night I showed up in my old work suit, all wet from the rain?”

“Of course.” Richie perks up at the memory.

“I-I was so scared and excited. I was terrified of loving you but us not being able to fit into each other’s lives. I couldn’t lose you again.”

Richie squeezes him tighter, “Well, you’re in luck because I’m pretty sure we just signed some legally binding documents that make it impossible to lose me.” His voice sounds teasing and close to breaking at the same time.

“I’m just trying to say that it wasn’t much more than a year ago, but I feel so different now. I'm so much happier and comfortable because of you," Eddie closes his eyes and lets his head fall on Richie's shoulder, "I love you so much, I’m going to love you forever.”

“I love you too, Eds. I love you with my whole heart.”

#reddie fic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it 2019 #it 2017 #it movie #mine #domestic boyfriends #reddie

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calamity-bean · 5 years ago

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Reddie Fic Recs: Canon Divergent

Comprising stories that substantially alter the events of canon — typically so that Eddie survives the final showdown with Pennywise, because that’s the kind of content I crave. Includes ones set during the events of the film(s) as well as ones set in the future that use the premise that Eddie didn’t die. For stories in which Eddie dies like in canon but doesn’t necessarily stay dead, check out my Canon Compliant recs.

This is a mixture of complete works and WIPs, of various ratings and lengths, mostly recent (like, posted since the release of Chapter 2). If part of a series, I’ve listed only the first work. More possibly to be added at any time I feel like it!

the anatomy of a joke by crescenteluce

He trails off and Bev raises an eyebrow. ‘So, you being in bed together fits in there how exactly?’

‘No, Jesus, Bev.’ Eddie says and Richie, horrifyingly, feels his cheeks heat under Bev’s suspicious look. Something needs to be done, so he plucks Eddie’s phone from his hands.

‘I am appalled by your implications, Beverly.’ He says sternly, trying to ignore the blood still not quite done rushing to his face. ‘I would have you know that I’d never defile Eddie like that, the poor man’s 40 year old and still a virgin and if I’d have the honor of-’

He’s cut off by Eddie trying to wrestle the phone away from him as Bev cackles delightedly.

and they read off our names by liquidsky

Eddie survives.

Part 1 of that ends well to end up with you

Button Up Your Overcoat by stitchy

“It’s just a gut check, there is no gun to your balls here,” says Richie. "But if you were gonna be a dad... what do you think you’d like about it?”

Eddie glances at the dog, who just looks back at him like, I dunno, man, he didn’t clear this with me. I thought we were just hanging out and watching some Treehouse of Horror tonight.

Call It What You Want by hannahberrie

They’re just staring at each other in the middle of a crowded New York train station, and it’s almost midnight. There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight, according to the forecast, but Eddie can’t really remember that right now.

In which, after separating from Myra, Eddie goes to stay at Richie's place in Manhatten.

Cards on the Table by jendavis

Ben had kissed Bev, and it had brought her back from the deadlights. Eddie tries the same thing with Richie. Richie comes out of it knowing how to kill it, and knowing that he'd just seen Eddie die.

He's kind of a mess. It's kind of Eddie's fault.

Part 1 of Writing on the Wall

Cruel Summer by actuallymaxie

Richie used to call it an itch. Eddie makes him feel like it’s something else. It’s one thing to feel it. It’s something else to be able to say it out loud.

Or: Eddie doesn’t die. That doesn’t mean there’s a happily ever after. Not right away, at least.

for better, for worse by kaspbrak_kid

Eddie's done a fucking lot of brave things in the past year and a half. He did a lot of brave things in Derry, and then left his wife and started therapy and came to Ben and Bev's wedding even though he's been in love with his best friend for somewhere between six months and thirty years. Even though he knew it'd be fucking hard. He's not sure how many brave things he has left in him.

hoping to be found by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson)

When everything in Derry is said and done, Eddie really doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He goes back to New York, alone, because he doesn't have any other immediate options - and he heals.

i am easy to find by zach_stone

Or, 25-year-old Richie Tozier doesn't know why he can't remember his childhood, or why he has nightmares about yellow eyes looming in the dark. Then he finds an old photo of friends he can't remember, and things start to change. A "what if Richie and Eddie found each other again during the 27 years" fic.

If You Believe by websters_lieb

What if Eddie held on just a little bit longer? What if the losers figured out how to kill it just a little bit earlier? What if Eddie made it out of Neibolt, injured and barely holding on, but alive?

When Eddie emerges from the cavern to see Richie floating, he just about shits himself.

Part 1 of The Ever After

In Case Of Emergency Contact E.Kaspbrak by stitchy

It wasn’t immediately obvious to the Losers that something was wrong with Richie after the Deadlights. After all, his eyesight had always been shit.

in the heat of the summer (you're so different from the rest) by kaboomslang

There’s a heatwave in L.A., the first time Richie sees Eddie naked.

One very hot year in the life of two idiots in love, working shit out.

In This Cold Heart by pineapplecrushface

The future Richie sees while he's caught in the deadlights gives him a chance to save Eddie. In the year afterward, they both try to follow Stan's advice.

it’s about time that you just unwind by fuckener

“It sucked to tell people,” Richie said suddenly, tapping a finger on his glass. He was avoiding eye contact again. “Like - it just really fucking sucked. I’m old. I’m like middle-aged. You’re this old and you just start telling people you're gay, they think, ‘Jesus! That dude’s got issues.’ Because they’re right, and you do.”

“It must have come as a real shock to our friends,” Eddie said, staring. “That you have issues.”

it’s coming out backwards by banksoflochlomond

The problem is that he’s known it his entire life. Or at least as long as Eddie started sputtering after Richie’s “your mom” jokes. As long as Eddie, with his small delicate fucking body, muscled up to him and told Richie he was gonna get herpes from licking the swingset. As long as Richie’s known his button nose, still nice as shit after twenty-seven fucking years.

But Richie’s never said it out loud. Never let himself feel it, except when he had to. Maybe that’s why Richie was so good at forgetting Derry. He never wanted to remember. Never wanted to deal with the albatross he’d pretty much surgically attached to his back.

He’s got to, though. Say it out loud. Say it to Eddie.

(Or, Eddie survives. The road for Richie isn't any easier, though.)

it’s time the kid got free by zach_stone

But now he remembers his childhood, and the fierceness of all the emotions he felt back then — love most of all. Love was a blood oath, it was Bev handing him the fencepost that could kill monsters, it was what made him throw that fencepost into Its gaping maw to save Richie from the deadlights.

When it comes to what love feels like for Eddie, it’s always been — different, with Richie. He loves all of his friends with all of his heart, but Richie has burrowed in deeper, somehow, and if Eddie were a more dramatic or poetic man he might say he loves Richie in his bones, in his soul. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t say that, even if he maybe thinks it a little bit and feels ridiculous.

just be still with me by eddiespaghetti (foxwatson)

Eddie Kaspbrak is 38, working as a driver in New York. Richie Tozier is a stand up comic who comes to New York on a one way ticket to audition for SNL, and his agent has hired Eddie as his driver. There's something familiar about Richie, though Eddie knows they've never met. While Richie insists on sitting in the front seat and making something more than small talk, Eddie struggles to maintain professional distance.

Basically - what if Eddie and Richie did forget, and didn't see each other for 25 years, but they fell in love anyways.

Part 1 of i can stare for a thousand years (you wouldn't believe what i've been through)

The Kids Table by stitchy

For the most part Richie and his sister have a doctrine of mutually assured destruction. They could obliterate each other with their parents given the slightest provocation. To keep things at an even keel, they steer clear of each other as much as possible every other day of the year, but on Thanksgiving? Kids Table is like their NATO.

A series of Tozier Thanksgivings, from '85 to '19.

last ones out by gayingenue

Richie wonders if it’s always been this hard for him to touch Eddie. It hasn’t; they were incredibly touchy as kids, falling all over each other, gangly limbs intertwined. Even as adults, a few days before, Richie had barely been able to keep his hands off of him. Eddie almost dying did something, though. Chipped away at something deep within Richie. From the bed, Eddie laughs.

Like Pulling Teeth by stitchy

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie muttered. Maybe there was a curling iron around here somewhere he could electrocute himself with. He scrounged a few safety pins from the counter and passed them to Bev without looking directly at Richie. He knew he was being a little bitch, but he could not let on how jealous he was. Their friendship barely survived the Christmas Richie got a Sega.

- In which Eddie mistakes wanting to be ON Richie for wanting to BE Richie -

Love It If We Made It by areyoureddiekids

Eddie lives. Richie stumbles through being in love with the man who used to be, and could still be, his best friend, and maybe something more. This is how they find each other again as adults, in the aftermath of finally killing It.

men who are afraid of the light by beepbeep (aceface)

Eddie survives.

“Well,” says Richie. “I wanted to fuck Paul Bunyan and nothing turns you off your homosexual urges like a murder clown filling his mouth with dagger teeth. Can you imagine those wrapped around your dick? Worst blowjob ever.”

Missing the Boat by stitchy

About a year after Derry, the Losers plan a cruise to Bev and Ben's destination wedding. Cross country travel being the bitch it is, Richie and Eddie miss the boat and get stranded until they can catch a flight out to Hawaii. It's a blast from the past Good Time TM, but Eddie wants to know- why has Richie been so distant?

Part 1 of Missing the Boat

My Four Leaf Clover by pineapplecrushface

After Derry, Eddie starts dreaming, gets his shit together, and figures out how to live.

New Page, Same Old Book by Rend_Herring

He thought he’d hidden these feelings from himself, stowed them away in some dark corner and learned not to think about it. But the second Eddie peaked in from around the corner at the Jade and looked at Richie with those big, limpid pools of Christmas Orphan meets Bambi, and started rambling about gluten and cashews, it all came flooding back into focus. Richie has loved Eddie so long that it’s become an ache that goes beyond reason.

no sense of living without aim by Anonymous

Eddie had been on grindr for all of two days and in that time he’d already seen more dicks than he had in the nearly forty years of his life. He’d gone methodically through his messages and blocked all the catfishes, the possible serial killers and the bores, and eventually settled on a promising ‘37. DTF. I'll make u a drink after’ (637 feet away).

Or, sometimes your long-lost childhood crush is the anonymous hook-up you meet along the way.

not quite young by saintsrow2

Richie was sitting in a chair in front of a dressing table, looking into the lit-up mirror while he sipped a glass of amber bourbon. He looked up when Eddie walked in and then there were no words; neither of them had thought this far ahead. Eddie stood awkwardly in the open door, feeling very much like he was still waiting for the big prank to be revealed, for there to be machinations behind all of this that he couldn’t understand. “Hey, Trashmouth,” he said, eventually. “Hey, Eds,” Richie said. “You know I always hated being called that,” Eddie said. “Not when it’s me.”

An AU in which Richie and Eddie meet before Mike calls them all back to Derry, the affair that follows, and the consequences both of them want to ignore.

Richie and Eddie Outrun the Devil (in Richie’s Rental Car) by sofia_estrella

“If It’s trying to kill us, I don’t want to get on an airplane.”

“Air travel is statistically safer than—”

“Eds, please. I don’t think I can handle a cross-country flight by myself right now. There isn’t enough Ambien in the world.”

Eddie snorts. “What are you gonna do then?”

“Drive, I guess.”

“You’re gonna… drive… to L.A.?”

+ alternate title: An Evil Clown Can’t Kill You If You Drive Fast Enough

(Stand-Up) Routines & (Engagement) Rings by cajungirlkye

2 years after the events of IT: Chapter Two, Richie brings Eddie out on stage during one of his stand-up performances in order to ask a Very. Important. Question.

sweet as cherry wine by pearlshop

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, teeth chattering. He’s soaked to the bone, a cornflower blue polo clinging to his small shoulders. It’s the only thing he’s wearing besides a pair of khakis that are also soaked through. Richie is suddenly very sober. “Eds?” or: Eddie leaves Myra and shows up at Richie's door.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Part 1 of Things that Happen After

we're f***ing killing it, babe by thenewlondoner (muleumpyo)

Richie has been back in Derry for three days and murdered an Eldritch horror-esque monster from space or possibly from some weird meta-verse, who knows, and faced both of his childhood fears of clowns and his own death, as well as the possibility of losing his first love just as he remembered they fucking existed, he’d like some slack cut for him on the emotional front, thank you!

Eddie is dead, but the Losers carry him out of the house on Neibolt anyway. Which is good, because Eddie is not dead.

we were always here at the right time by fuckener

Eddie’s eyes were getting heavy again. Richie helped him back down to the pillow.

“It’s always kind of like this, isn’t it,” he mumbled.

Richie didn’t move. He was still holding Eddie’s hand, his shoulder.

“Like what?” he asked softly.

“You and me,” Eddie said. What else?

what doesn’t kill me (makes me want you more) by beautifulbane

Eddie survives. He goes back to New York and divorces Myra, but a part of him is still unhappy. It isn’t until he sees Richie a year later at Ben and Bev’s wedding that he realizes why.

you're already gone by ameliepoulain

You can never get enough, Robert Smith cries over the static, and Richie turns around wearing that dumb smile again.

All Eddie can think is: soon, all this will be gone.

You’re So Stupid by StilesBastille24

“Hey,” Richie greets brightly.

Eddie looks over, one hand reaching for the remote to turn off the tv. “They said their letting me out today,” he says, eyes narrowed as he peers over Richie’s shoulder. “You know, Derry’s hospital doesn’t even make the rank of top hospitals in Maine? I’ll be lucky if I’m not back in here from a fucking blood infection in two days.” He braces both of his palms against the mattress and tries to push himself further upright.

Richie swoops in before something horrific like split stitches can occur. “Cool it, Evel Knievel, or your going to be bleeding all over these perfectly white sheets, and then they’ll definitely think twice about letting you out of here.”

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 #it 2017 #it films #fic recs #op #reddie canon divergent #reddie rec lists

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monsterywriting · 6 years ago

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Werewolf Boyfriend (Mordecai) - pt 8 (epilogue)

AN: I’m so so sorry I’ve been dead basically this whole month my life has been seriously crazy… it felt like every week was some new problem cropping up. First I had exams then finals and then I had a very sudden death in my family that really just took a lot out of me.

I’ve had half of the ending for Kai done for awhile I had just been slowly but surely chipping away at it.

I’m also taking summer courses starting in June. So, my current plan is to 1) rewrite the chapters I currently already have up for Maledos while also 2) working on new chapters for dear ol’ Mal. Hopefully this gives me some time to get back on schedule and put out some new stories!

So, without further ado, the last chapter for Mordecai. Enjoy-

word count: 2,586

“Nervous?” You asked as you popped into Kai’s bathroom in his parents’ guest house to grab your lotion, Kai buttoning up the fifth shirt he’d tried on in the past hour.

“Terrified,” Kai corrected you as he pressed a quick kiss against your forehead before turning back to the mirror.

You huffed a quiet laugh as you spread lotion on your legs, “Hey, I survived your family’s fancy schmancy luncheon. You can survive one evening with mine.”

“Yeah, but we weren’t dating, then,” Kai pointed out, walking out into his bedroom to grab some shoes from his closet, “and this is both of our families together in one space…”

You smiled with a small eye roll before you walked out of the bathroom after him without answering. You knew the true reason Kai was so nervous was the bit of news the two of you had to break to both your parents.

After a few more minutes of watching your boyfriend scan his wardrobe for the umpteenth time that night, you clapped your hands together to draw Kai’s attention to you, “Well, I’m dressed, are you ready?”

Kai groaned as he turned and threw his arms over your shoulders and went limp on you, muttering about how he couldn’t decide on an outfit. You were barely able to brace your legs and hold the two of you up as Kai’s full weight attempted to take you down.

“Get up,” you grunted as you pushed Kai off of your shoulder by his face, “What you had on earlier was fine.”

Nearly twenty minutes later, you and Kai were finally getting into your car and heading out to the venue where Kai’s parents were holding their 40th anniversary party.

You had yet to see his parents since coming back down to Newport for the summer as they had been spending time with Kai’s oldest brother and his family out of town, so this would be your first time seeing them since spring break.

Kai had eventually decided on a simple off white button up shirt with black fitted slacks and mahogany-colored dress shoes, though it took some threatening that you would leave without him to get him to choose.

By the time the two of you arrived at the venue, cars already filled the parking lot. Amongst the rows of expensive cars, you were able to make out your parents’ old station wagon, Asriel’s beloved Tesla, and even Kay’s new model Toyota.

Parking as close to the entrance as you could with how late the two of you were, you and Kai dashed towards the entrance, hoping no one had noticed your late arrival.

Inside, the venue was packed as people mingled with each other, and the two of you fortunately went unnoticed as you made your way through the crowds, Kai’s hand finding yours so the two of you wouldn’t be separated.

You caught the eye of Kai’s parents first, waving as best you could to catch their attention without drawing the attention of others to you.

Denise beamed as she practically dragged Isaiah over to the two of you, engulfing you into a tight hug that caught you entirely by surprise.

“It’s so good to see you again,” Denise practically beamed as she let you go before giving Kai a glare and whispering loudly to you. “Kai never used to call home until the two of you started dating. I probably wouldn’t even know what he looked like right now if it wasn’t for you.”

You only smiled and ducked your head awkwardly as you insisted you hadn’t done anything in particular.

You tended to call your family fairly often, always video calling someone every evening, from your parents to your aunts or any one of your cousins. Not even getting into your family’s very crowded group chat.

You had hardly noticed Kai falling into the same routine until his occasional texts to his parents became calls even longer than your own.

Denise had been shocked to know Kai shifted around you at first, but soon she warmed to the idea of you being comfortable with Kai being a shifter.

“Don’t bother, she’s been bragging to everyone who listens her son has the best girlfriend,” Kai’s father interjected, a playful smile on his lips as Denise scoffed and slapped his arm half-heartedly.

You chuckled at the interaction as Kai groaned, though you missed his comment as you saw your parents making their way towards the group.

You squeezed Kai’s hand reassuringly as he stiffened next to you before letting go to embrace your parents.

Whatever introduction Kai had planned flew out the window as your mother pulled Kai into a hug just as tight as the one Denise had given you earlier, and he still looked dazed as your father hugged him in greeting as well.

Laughing at Kai’s startled expression as he took your hand once again, you thought back to your own first meeting with Kai’s parents.

Denise had awkwardly shook your hand and quickly moved on. And you don’t even think his father even said anything to you at the time, though you learned the man was just painfully shy. Even more so than Kai.

After quick introductions and the usual small talk about school, you and Kai quietly snuck away from your bonding parents to an empty table to sit, Kai leaving you to grab some drinks. The two of you had long decided to wait until the end of the night for your announcement, but you knew this wait was what was driving Kai insane.

After a few minutes of scrolling through your phone to pass the time and Kai still hadn’t returned, you sat up and started to look around.

You caught his eyes near the bar, surrounded by a couple of guys that appeared to be around the same age who you figured were his old friends from the east side. They were all in line for the bar, which was much longer than you’d expected.

You sat back into your chair, ready to go back onto your phone when an all too familiar voice sounded in your ear.

“Hey, stranger,” Kailani greeted you, pulling out a chair and sitting next to you, “How’s being back?”

“It’s been really nice,” you answered honestly, “Kai’s been showing me around the east side. I never realized it’s like a miniature city within a city.”

Kay chuckled at your obvious awe, nodding in agreement with your observation, “Yeah, I guess we’re more used to it after growing up there.”

Suddenly, Kay frowned, the bridge of her nose wrinkling as her eyebrows furrowed, and began to look around, “By the way, where is my brother?”

“I think he abandoned me,” you joked as you pointed to where Kai was currently talking to the same group of men he had been with earlier, now much closer to the bar than he had been when you last looked.

“He hasn’t learned by now to bring his own drinks to family events?” Kay scoffed as she pulled a water bottle from her bag and took a large swig, “i have a couple more so just tell me if you want one.”

You laughed, partly in bewilderment, with Kay. The two of you had gotten closer since you and Kai first announced that you were dating. Apparently, she’d been rooting for the two of you to get together since spring break, hence her sudden invitation for you to go camping with them. And as you got to know her better, you learned that while Kay may initially come across as somewhat pretentious, she was actually very caring and sweet.

As the two of you began talking, Kay told you some of the more embarrassing episodes in her and Kai’s lives.

“They really thought you two were rabid Pomeranians?” Breathless giggles escaped you as you gasped for air at Kay’s retelling of the time she and Kai chased some teenage trespassers in one of the many parks in the east side on a dare as kids.

“Oh yeah,” Kay said, “We were in so much trouble once the news came out and they figured out it was us. Our mom was beyond livid, and dad just found it absolutely hilarious. And Kai always hated being the center of attention, so us getting caught was literally his worst nightmare.”

“I still can’t believe you convinced Kai to go after them, though,” you wiped a tear from underneath your eye as your laughter died down.

“Yeah, I ask myself that every day,” Kai grumbled as he pulled out the empty chair on your other side, setting down your favorite drink in front of you and an empty cup next to himself.

“Kai always was the follower growing up,” Kay mused, easily dodging Kai’s hand swatting at her from over you.

“I was coerced against my will,” Kai exclaimed, draping his arm over your shoulder and giving you puppy eyes as Kay stuck her tongue out at him.

It was then you noticed one of the young men from the bar earlier come up to the table and sit across from you in front of Kai. Soon, the rest of the group were all seated at the table around you.

“These are my friends,” Kai explained as you introduced yourself to each person as they arrived, “we all grew up together in the same neighborhood.”

You struggled to remember everyone’s name so quickly, but after a few minutes of repeating everybody’s name to yourself, you were almost certain you had it down packed. Kay also seemed to be close to everyone, which you figured was pretty obvious since she and Kai were pretty close in age.

The rest of the evening was spent with Kai’s friends and Kay, and you were eventually joined by Asriel, with most of the conversation comprised of stories about about all of them growing up together, and you learned most of the memorable stories were pretty embarrassing for Kai.

“It always took weeks before Kai would even be able to talk to any teacher,” one quipped, “Even in high school he wouldn’t talk that much to anyone else.”

“Or what about that time he fainted during that one presentation?” Another recounted.

“Ugh, don’t remind me!” Kay frowned as she turned to you, “Kai got picked up early but my dad left me there. When I got home Kai was just lounging in the den watching TV in his underwear with the whole house to himself.”

“You all are the worst and I hate you all,” Kai growled, but you saw the corners of his lips twitch as he struggled to hold in his laugh.

As the time went on, everyone slowly began to leave. Soon, you, Kai, Kay, and Asriel were the only ones left at the table.

The hall was similarly empty, only a few dozen compared to the couple hundred earlier. After splitting up, Kai found his parents and you caught yours just as they were leaving.

Once the six of you met up again in a quiet corner away from most of the other guests, you took a long sip from your water bottle Kay had given you as you planned out what you were gonna say.

“Did you want something else to drink?” Denise asked you, “it’s an open bar… you don’t have to drink water.”

“Oh, no thank you, I’m driving tonight,” you answered politely before swiftly changing the subject, “Actually, Kai and I had some good news to share…”

You looked up at Kai, who looked down at you in surprise as you deflected to him before he finally started speaking.

“Oh, uhm. Well I- we- uh… were- well, we’ve been together for- ahem- but-” Kai fumbled over his words as he stared at your parents, which you definitely weren’t expecting. Nor were you expecting the words that came out of Denise’s mouth as she interjected.

“Oh, christ, you’re pregnant!” She exclaimed, her voice cracking as she sounded on the verge of tears.

You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry as Isaiah looked at Kai with a textbook expression of fatherly disappointment and your parents’ jaws dropped as they both went through every stage of grief. Glancing around, you saw some people had definitely heard Denise’s outburst and were staring.

“I’m absolutely not pregnant!” You raised your voice above Denise’s moaning about how she wasn’t expecting and your father’s yelling, patting Kai on the back as he started choking at his mother’s startling conclusion, “we’re moving in together!”

All noise seemed to stop at once as the information sunk in. Their relief was soon overtaken by concern as everyone began raising their objections to the two of you living together so soon.

“Both of our leases are ending and [Y/N]’s roommate graduated this semester,” Kai finally recovered enough to speak, “So last month we were looking at apartments and found one for both of us. The lease is already signed and everything.”

“It would be better to split the expenses,” you added, “and it’s much better than most apartments out there.”

One by one, each of your parents gave in the more you and Kai explained your decision, though the fact that the lease was already signed and would be expensive to break was the main driving force in their reluctant acceptance.

By the time you and Kai made it back to the guest house, you both were beyond exhausted.

You showered almost as soon as you arrived, only throwing on one of Kai’s clean shirts as you didn’t feel like digging through your luggage for pajamas. The shirt almost reached your knees anyways, though.

When you opened the bathroom door, only the light from the bathroom illuminated the bedroom, and you saw Kai sprawled across the bed. The only sign he was still awake was his left ear twitching as he heard you walk up to him.

You flopped on the mattress next to him, careful not to undo the towel wrapping your head and resting your cheek on Kai’s bicep.

You squeaked when Kai suddenly grabbed on to you and pulled you on top of him, planting sloppy kisses all over your face.

Kai was always cuddlier whenever he was half asleep, but it was rare for him to be so touchy-feely before bed. You soon had to bite back moans as Kai moved his ministrations down, nibbling just at the base of your neck.

“I thought you were tired?” You giggled as Kai’s cold nose tickled you, a barely audible hum from Kai your only response.

“ ‘M up for now,” Kai said, his voice still obviously raspy with sleep.

Soon, Kai finally found a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck and relaxed into you, a contented sigh escaping him. You chuckled to yourself at your boyfriend’s antics. Kai was always so cuddly whenever he was drowsy, and you usually woke up in a tangle of limbs whenever you slept over.

“I love you,” Kai murmured, his breath evening out as he finally fell asleep.

Your smile broadened into an outright grin as you knew Kai meant it, tired or not. You whispered the words back and laid your head back, your mind filling with thoughts of your future and a warmth spreading in your chest. Your own exhaustion dissipated and you decided to simply enjoy your present time with Mordecai, unsure when sleep finally did overtake you.

#monster boyfriend #exophilia #Werewolf boyfriend #werewolf #male monster

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celestialholz · 6 years ago

Note

Qcard 222? Pleeeeeeeeeease? :D

Happy to oblige, dear anon - thank you for the prompt! I apologise for this taking me a little bit - I’m trying to organise moving house, which is an absolute ordeal!

Welcome to 1600 words of feels for your patience, my friend, and the deliberate misdirection of what you’d probably expect from this prompt. I thoroughly enjoyed creating this, and hope you love reading it just as much! =)

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

Prompt list here: http://celestialwarzone.tumblr.com/post/179662102941/send-me-a-pairing-and-a-number-and-ill-write-you

It was blissfully quiet in Picard’s quarters; soft breath was all thatcut through the air, the sleeping Captain’s mind at utter ease. By his side, Q’slips curled into a silent smile; it was majestic to watch this ineffable humanat peace, his diplomacy, quick wit and brilliant intelligence switched off byhis own biology. Jean-Luc Picard soared above his species, courageous enough tobegin affairs with gods, stubborn enough to keep such matters private from hiscrew, and far too delightful to watch in their afterglow.

He wasn’t welcome after hours, he knew – “I wouldn’t want you to getthe wrong impression, Q,” he’d murmured several weeks earlier, everthe diplomat. Too late, dearest, Q had acknowledged, onlyslightly bitter – the man was far too enthralling to ever be truly irritatedby, and he was vastly too enamoured to maintain the illusion of being so. Itwas an arrangement of convenience, a way in which to satiate the entity’sconstant desire to play god upon his vessel. It didn’t mean anything – well,not to one of them, at least.

Made something ofa rod for your own back there, didn’t you? His subconsciousdrawled. A billion lifetimes of cosmic awareness, and you still thought thatengaging in intercourse with a transient mortal you’re in love with was amagnificent idea. And you mock theirstupidity.

Q sighed wearily, in desperate need of a distraction from his personalself-deprecation; quietly, he slipped into the dreams of his lover, knowingthat whilst it was invasive, Jean-Luc would hold no great qualms with the act.

Picard was relaxed, sun beating down upon his handsome features from aworn sun lounger that perched upon the hill above his family’s vineyard. Qglanced down at him in fond amusement, vexed.

“Honestly, Johnny – who dreams of being asleep?”

The Frenchman’s eyes wrenched open within his own mind, startled.

“Q?” He demanded in bewilderment. “What on earth – is thistelepathy? Am I still asleep? What are you doing here?!”

“Yes, yes, being intrigued,” the deity replied softly, smirking. “Doyou want me to leave?”

The ‘get out’ lingered on Picard’s tongue for a long moment,before he gave a sigh of relent.

“As long as you don’t intend to be irritating, and I get the requiredrest, then no.” He shoved his spine into the back of the lounger, calming. Hismind hummed with disapproval, accepting nevertheless, and Q basked in itstangible glow; the sun held real warmth in the mysticism of the mental space,the experience as true to its beholder as the actual world would have been.

“I shall be a paragon of virtue, my dear,” the entity assured himmildly, conjuring a recliner of his own and easing into it.

“First time for everything,” Picard drawled, unconvinced.

Q gave a silent grin, summoning a frosted glass of iced tea to sip;they basked in silence for a little while, simply enjoying the ambience of aFrench summer, the god fully absorbed in the tantalising, indistinct psyche ofhis companion. It was a marvel, the resonant peace he’d managed to acquire justbeing beside him – any real period of inactivity had always had Q itching todiscover something new, to create havoc, yet he was entirely content to existquietly beside this enigma of a human.

Missionaccomplished, he noted miserably. Sleeping with me haseradicated my desire to entertain your precious crew.

“You hated this place,” he murmured, more to hush his damning owndamning assessment. “Why would you return to it in dreams, when the universe isyour oyster? You are as omnipotent as I am, here.”

Picard’s lips pursed pensively, smile fading as quickly as it hadarisen.

“Saudade,” he murmured. “Something lost, which can never bereclaimed – in this instance, a time when things weren’t always perfect, butfar simpler.”

Oh, I remember,Q mused inwardly, only his mastery of telepathy keeping his thoughts personalin his lover’s domain. I only wish I’d recall well enough to abandon you –but, then, I never was one for self-preservation. Too dramatic, you see.

“Mm,” he muttered noncommittally, simply to fill the void.

Picard rose a surprised brow at the lack of quirky reply, gauging thesituation for a moment.

“I doubt my need for relaxation this evening stems from anything that Ishould be overly concerned about.”

“No?” Q summoned a cushion for the back of his head, placing it in afluid movement as he tried to appear as though he didn’t hang permanently offthe man’s every word.

“I think not. I’m sure the individual that I have appealed to is on thesame page as I am.”

Q turned onto his side to stare, following the line of cryptic thoughtwith equal vagueness.

“Well, hopefully. I could check, if you like? It would hardly be beyondme.”

“No, no, it will be quite alright, I’m certain.” Picard’s gaze returnedto the ambling vineyards. “I just don’t understand, you see, becausethey knew the whole time. I was never anything other than upfront.”

Something very similar to foreboding crept up Q’s spine.

“Perhaps they do know,” he murmured, “though, of course, knowing doesn’tmake something personally applicable.”

“Doesn’t agreement?”

“Potentially. That rather depends on who we’re discussing, doesn’t it?”

Picard’s eyes wrenched back to his, their irritation clear.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, when you think I don’t notice.” Hiswords were little more than a whisper, though they held the sharpness ofmidwinter. “Like I’m comprised of, of… stardust, of the finest jewels… asthough I’m something – wonderful.”

Q gave a bark of a bitter chuckle, gaze taut, his tea cast aside with aswipe of his hand.

“You mortals are so obtuse,” he murmured, deliberately glancing away,the vines before him blurring just slightly. “You spend so much of your livesdealing with the physical, the tangible to your limited senses, that you forgethow much more there is, that there are things far beyond your comprehension.You’re human, Jean-Luc – oxygen, hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, calcium, a handfulmore; seventy percent water, five foot nine, French… really quite dull, by yourpeople’s standards, though highly intelligent, and rather handsome to boot. Youlive an average life, on an average vessel, in a largely uninteresting timeperiod – by rights, you shouldn’t fascinate anyone, much less a god.”

He conjured a holographic star system, a miniature Captain floating atits heart, a bright smile gracing his lips. The real thing watched, entranced,unwilling to give away a damned thing.

“But we’re all more than the sum of our parts, aren’t we dear?” His ownsmile was tired as he regarded the hologram. “You’re brilliantly clever, morethan willing to stand up someone so beyond your capacity it’s laughable… yourise above the morons you exist beside. A diplomat, a man of honour, wisdom,passion… you are wonderful. You match me word-for-word, never bore me, alwaysprove a challenge – and you care, on whatever level it may be. You askme how my day’s been when I don’t even have a concept of linear time, how theContinuum’s doing. No one does that, you know. I’m acquainted with billions,Jean-Luc, and none of them mean a damned thing in comparison. Innumerate stars,planets, phenomena, people, timescales, and it all reduces to you.”

The tiny cosmos retracted to nothingness in Q’s palm, leaving the simulatedCaptain alone, still regarding his magician as though he was the world. Picardstared, breathless, his relaxing dream quite forgotten.

“My point is, you’re the tiniest pinprick of existence – you aren’t anewly formed sun, an unexplored M-class system, the first inklings of a highlyadvanced race upon an untouched world… physically, you’re worthless.”

He smiled morosely, trembling fingers causing his illusion to flicker;his eyes finally deigned to meet his lover’s, burning with emotion.

“But by the Continuum, and all we are, you are the universe tome.”

Picard choked back tears, visibly compromised.

“I…” He swallowed quietly, struggling to regain his usually impeccablecomposure. “This was never meant to – I told you – ”

“Oh, I know.” Q shook his head just slightly, the lament clear. “If ithelps, it isn’t your fault, Jean-Luc. You really were perfectly upfront.”

He paused, essence threatening to shatter, gaze drilling into the human’s.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Picard murmured immediately, understanding that the offer wasn’tunique to his dream, “but I need… time, Q. Perhaps the concept of the cosmoshasn’t only narrowed for you, my friend.”

A thrill shot through the god’s spirit, and he barely suppressed abeam, instead settling for a soft smile – gods only knew he didn’t wish toappear smug.

“Alright.” He breathed softly, delight curling through his spirit. “Igenuinely didn’t think –”

“Nor me, but apparently you’ve somehow wormed your way in,” Picardadmitted dryly, warm expression belying his caustic tone. “I’m… willing toconsider the notion, Q, but that’s all I can offer as yet. There will be rules,of course –”

“Naturally.” The sarcasm held no bite whatsoever, distant starsexhausting their chemical supply under his joy. “It is you, after all.”

Their gazes drifted to the vineyard, both comfortably silent for a longmoment even as the question itched at Q’s mind.

“So, Captain, how long do you think –?”

“Q,” Picard interrupted coolly, “shut up. I’m trying tosleep.”

He leaned back against the lounger and closed his eyes, his loverlaughing softly.

“There isn’t anyone else in this universe I’d stay quiet for, you know.”

An eyelid partly opened, its look humbled – the cynical, desperatelyhopeful part of Q could almost call it tender.

“I’m glad.”

By mutual agreement, they reached out a hand, lacing them together,grins identical as they simply basked in the ambience of rural France, and thecontentment of being united.

#qcard #prompt #mini fic #all of the feels!#q #picard

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tessatechaitea · 6 years ago

Text

Rings: A Critical Review (Full of spoilers because how do you actually discuss a movie without actually discussing anything pertinent to the plot?!)

This movie isn’t the movie it should have been. David Loucka and Jacob Estes conceived this movie by thinking, “Hey! Imagine if the video from The Ring were released digitally! Holy cow! It would be like a computer virus!” Ignoring that the entire premise of Kôji Suzuki’s novel is that the video is akin to a biological virus and already, technically, makes that point (I said technically because Suzuki’s virus is obviously not digital! Duh! But it’s still the same concept: technology as a virus that infects biology!), Loucka and Estes never actually make that movie anyway. Instead they simply remake The Ring but bookend it with two other films that would have been much better and more appropriate to the silly sequel title, Rings. Granted, there’s no way they could have made Kôji Suzuki’s follow-up, Spiral, into a movie. I mean, they could have if they wanted to lose millions of dollars asking viewers to believe that the video tape didn’t just kill people after seven days, but it also impregnates them so that they give birth to the nerd that died in the first book. At least I think that’s what happened. It was fucking weird and I read it over a year ago. Too bad I’ve yet to find a copy of Loop because I bet that thing is super batshit insane.

The movie begins with a guy on a plane about to time out of his seven days. He’s super scared because, I guess, nobody watches the tape and thinks, “That was fucking crazy. And a weird robocall that just said ‘Seven days’ immediately after? I’m hungry!” Apparently everybody watches it and thinks, “Oh shit! Does ‘seven days’ mean I’m going to die in seven days?! I bet it does because what else could that video have been about?!” You might be thinking, “Why would you assume everybody gets scared after seeing the video when just the one guy has freaked out so far?” Well, doubter who obviously hasn’t seen the movie yet: a woman on the plane also says, frightened, “I saw that video too!” And since the plane crashes and everybody on it probably dies, I guess they all watched the video at the same time one week prior?

I understand the flaws in my assumption, you jerk! You don’t have to “Actually!” me during my review! The guy who watched the video probably died of scared-to-death face while the other people on the plane just died from sudden impact face. Anyway, the opening scene doesn’t matter. It was probably tacked on because test audiences were all, “You know, there isn’t really any action in this movie? Maybe more high-speed action and less fighting blind guys in the dark?” Then some other audience member was probably all, “Oh! I know! What about a scene where somebody is looking through a keyhole and then — BOOM! — suddenly there’s a scary eye on the other side of the keyhole!” I’m pretending that’s how that scene wound up in the movie to help Loucka and Estes save face as writers. Maybe the third writer credited on the screenplay (but not on “story by”), Akiva Goldsman, was that audience member.

You know what? Stop actuallying me! Fine, the opening scene was needed to explain the entire premise of the death video. The man explains that if you watch this scary videotape, you die in seven days. The woman who also saw it was there to explain that you survive the curse by making a tape and showing it to some other sucker! So, yeah, I guess the stupid first scene carried some water. It was repetitive, Scott Lobdellian water but I guess every Ring movie is somebody’s first Ring movie!

As I was saying about the opening scene before other more important things that needed to be said cropped up, it’s most important purpose was to give the VCR that Johnny Galecki buys one scene and two years later a back story. He’s all, “I’m going to buy this old technology for some reason!” Aimee Teegarden, his student (you can tell she’s his student because she’s young and hot and he’s Johnny Galecki), says, “Whatever, dude! This movie is PG-13 and was also shot in the 21st century so don’t expect me to whip my tits out even though that’s what my character would do at some point during this movie if it had been filmed in the 80s.” Johnny shrugs, takes the VCR home, hooks it up to some old ass television that still uses AV cables, and watches the tape that’s still in the VCR. That’s totally believable because when I die, somebody is going to wind up with a Laserdisc player with Heathers stuck inside of it.

By the time the next part of the story takes place (a few months, maybe?), Johnny has survived watching the video, completely researched the hell out of it, and published a book with the subtitle “the Samara Effect” (or something like that. I only watched it once and I’m not too concerned with going back to check). So he’s a quick worker, ain’t he?! I guess all that time spent not being able to fuck his students wasn’t simply wasted with masturbation.

I’m not going to get into the main character Julia (played by Matilda Lutz) yet because she’s only really important to The Ring remake that comprises the middle section of the movie. This aside was for everybody who has seen the movie who might be thinking, “When are you going to get into discussing Julia and whether it was okay to get a boner during the scene where she’s in her underwear because she’s probably portraying an eighteen year old and not a seventeen year old, right? I mean, yeah, maybe it’s creepy but you saw that butt, right? Also the actress is probably an old person! Whew! I’m not a creep at all! Suck it, mom!” Also, I hope you saw those quotation marks because that indicates that somebody else said that thing and not me. I only transcribed it!

The first third of the movie should concentrate on Galecki’s extra-curricular biology experiment. He’s taking students, showing them the film, and seeing how their lives become completely fucked up from terror over the course of seven days before finding another guinea pig to watch their copy of the film and save them from scared-to-death face. A much better movie than the one F. Javier Gutiérrez chose for audiences would have involved an ensemble cast caught up in Galecki’s experiment. Maybe everything seems to be going okay for a bit until some student dismisses the whole thing and heads back home for a long weekend before being able to get somebody to view his copy. He winds up with scared-to-death face and everybody begins freaking out. The rumors fly all over the school and now nobody can find anybody to watch their film. You now have five or six main characters all trying to find a way not to die. Maybe one of them, suddenly realizing this shit is real, understands the terrible ethical decision and refuses to find somebody to take on their curse. Maybe one of them (probably the frat guy) forces somebody to watch their video without their consent. Maybe one of them (the hot looking, muscular nerd with the glasses) hacks the on-campus televisions and spreads the video across the whole school. Maybe the camgirl creates some clickbait headline about a great video showing her butthole but links to the video and spreads Samara’s video across the entire Internet (this crosses into the other possible movie Gutiérrez might have made but, in the end, it’s what Rings should have been all about anyway, right?) thus saving her life but putting millions at risk.

But no! What you actually get is dozens of students participating in this scary ass project but, in the end, leaving only Julia’s boyfriend at risk once Teegarden dies of scared-to-death face. What could have been a meaningful reason for using the plural of ring for a title winds up being a movie about a single ring: Julia’s boyfriend. And since his time is about up, Julia watches the video to save his life. This brings us to the middle section of the movie: The RIng Redux.

Either I haven’t seen The Ring 2 or I just don’t remember it. Hell, I probably don’t rightly remember the movie, The Ring, as much as I remember Suzuki’s novel. But I feel fairly certain the first movie and the novel retain the same basic plot structure. People watch this video. They die in seven days. Some other person who watched the video realizes the curse and must research it to figure out how to break it. In doing so, they save themselves almost immediately without knowing it when they enlist the help of a friend, making a copy and showing it to them. When they survive but their friend dies, it helps them to make the logical leap needed to understand how to break the curse. In the book, the main characters figure that to break the curse, they have to put Samara’s body to rest. So they go to the cabin, enter the well, get the corpse, take it back to her hometown, and give it a proper burial. Based on Rings, I’m guessing all of that took place one of the previous films. Which is why the middle part of Rings is just a retelling of that story.

Julia and her boyfriend head to Samara’s hometown, learn more about her than even Galecki discovered, learn her terrible secret, find her corpse, and give her, not a proper burial, but a proper cremation. That should do the trick, right?!

Well, no. Because the big twist is that Samara was trying to be reborn and Julia fell for it! Ha ha! Dumb dumb! If she’d only read Suzuki’s follow-up to Ring (no article on the book title!), Spiral, she’d have learned that the big twist was the whole being reborn thing! Also since Spiral was published in 1995, the big twist at the end of that wasn’t that the video would wind up on the Internet to infect everybody in the world. The big twist was that the main character’s published work was going to be turned into a movie which was now the real infection source for Samara’s virus. Millions of movie-goers would be infected! Ha ha! Dumb dumbs!

I wonder how often Roger Ebert wrote “Ha ha! Dumb dumbs”? Probably not enough! That’s why he’s no longer successful!

In trying to be a good and faithful protagonist, Julia just winds up setting Samara loose on the world. That’s a pretty good twist, right?! What the audience realizes if they think about this movie for any amount of time after exiting the theater instead of just saying, “That was a stupid waste of ten bucks!”, is that the real protagonist was the blind ex-priest who kidnapped a young woman and impregnated her many years ago, giving birth to pure evil. This ex-priest then proceeded to murder all eleven or so people who came before Julia, also trying to free Samara. That pervert murderer was the real champion! I knew I like him for more than creepily taking Julia’s hand and doing that weird finger thing on her palm that perverted old people do. I mean, he must have done that or else he wouldn’t have been able to read Samara’s Braille message she burned into Julia’s palm!

Although, I mean, why the fuck did Samara burn “rebirth” in Braille on Julia’s palm anyway? Why would Samara know Braille? Why would she leave a clue to her ultimate goal? Maybe it’s some kind of rule from the afterlife. You have to give the people you’re manipulating a fair chance at defeating your evil plans!

The final twist of the movie is that once Samara is reborn in Julia, Julia’s electronics begin sending copies of the movie to all of her online contacts. Julia’s boyfriend sees it happening and tries to stop it by unplugging the laptop’s power cord and online connection, somehow forgetting that laptops have batteries and WiFi connections. And thus the entire world is doomed to be infected. Of course, how many die from this infection? Maybe half the population of the online world? It doesn’t seem like the best way to kill everybody if the person is infected and saved in one online session. “Hey! A weird video! Let’s watch it. Fuck, that was crazy shit. Let me send it to my friends!” I guess since once person can spread the virus to more than one person, it’ll be harder and harder for people to find a non-infected person to watch their copy of the video. And maybe the point isn’t about death anyway? I think the point in Spiral was that watching the video actually changed the person’s DNA in a way that made them part Samara, or made her more powerful, or something. Anyway, it was less about killing and more about just infecting everybody.

The problem with this ending is that it’s the fucking ending. You’d think the whole point of a movie titled Rings is that it would be about huge numbers of people being infected by the video. Instead, only one person winds up endangered in most of this movie. The real movie only begins when this one ends. Estes, and Loucka should have realized this and thrown out the first draft of the movie. But since they didn’t, audiences were treated to an uninspired remake of the first film but with even more plot holes.

Like how this movie follows the adventures of — apparently — the only two young people who don’t constantly check their phones. Julia’s boyfriend disappears for six days after watching the video because...well, I don’t know why! He just leaves his phone under his bed in his dorm and fucks off on a ski trip or something. Nobody knows where to find him. Why? I don’t know! Nobody else participating in the experiment disappears. They all just seem to hang out in the lab — or is it a rave?! — with all the other participants in a hedonistic display of, well, college youthfulness!

Julia’s boyfriend’s excuse for not talking to her is that he didn’t want her mixed up in this experiment. Although the experiment wasn’t even scary yet. Nobody had died of scared-to-death face but somehow Julia’s boyfriend was taking it seriously from the start? And he thought not being in constant contact with his girlfriend would keep her safe? He definitely wasn’t smart because he was surprised to find out that she was worried about him, enough to seek him out at his college.

But that’s just the tip of his stupid iceberg. He also never checks his phone while searching for Samara, thus missing Galecki’s warning that Julia’s hand has Braille on it (not that this message would have helped because Julia and her boyfriend were stupid jerks). Plus when Boyfriend discovers that the blind guy was the priest somehow involved with Samara, he doesn’t call Julia to warn her. He races back to their bed and breakfast to warn her. When he doesn’t find her there, he doesn’t call her to warn her. He races to the priest’s house to save Julia. Now, maybe I missed Julia leaving her phone in the room. But even if I did miss that and that was the reason Boyfriend couldn’t call her, what fucking young person leaves their phone in their room? I mean aside from Boyfriend when he disappears for six days doing fuck knows what.

In the end, this movie missed out on everything that would have made The Ring modern and updated. I can’t fathom why somebody thought The Ring should simply be revisited as another version of the same movie. Somebody actually thought the twist computer virus at the end was enough of a great idea to greenlight the rest of this turd. How do you make a huge Hollywood movie like this with nobody along the way saying, “This ending here. That’s the movie. What’s with all this other stuff that we’ve already seen before?” I guess people instead read the script and gave helpful advice like “How about a scene where a woman pulls a long strand of hair out of her throat? That’s gross, right? Do that!” and “Did you write a scene where the female lead hops around in bed in panties that go right up her ass so that you can see everything? If not, add that! I’d say show her tits too but this is the age of Maxim, not the age of Playboy! And make sure wardrobe only uses tops that keep any signs of nipples from showing! This isn’t your father’s horror movie! No sir!” and “You took the advice of test audience member Akiva Goldsman and got that keyhole jump scare in, right?! Fuck yeah!”

Ugh. You know what I need to do? Go check with Movie Madness and see if they have Rasen, the Japanese film adaptation of Spiral. That shit will probably be insane!

#Rings #Movie Review #The Ring #Koji Suzuki

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sunflowerseedsandscience · 7 years ago

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By the Dim and Flaring Lamps: Part Four, Chapter Two

NOVEMBER 1863 CULPEPER, VIRGINIA

Dana Scully has never been good at staying still.

Her parents have always told stories- her father fondly, and her mother with an air of patient exasperation- of how, even as a baby, little Dana had always been into everything, crawling early, walking early, and climbing early, leaving her parents and her older siblings to chase her all over the house. To hear Maggie Scully tell it, Dana had been very lucky to live long enough to see her first birthday.

As a child, she had had no patience whatsoever for her mother's endless embroidery lessons, preferring instead to sneak off to ride her father's horses, to trail through the alleyways of the town after her brothers, and later, once her father had finally broken down and agreed to teach her to shoot, to go hunting in the woods. Her mother had never approved of these expeditions, at least not explicitly, but since Dana had been a far better shot than either of her brothers (and even her father), Maggie had never minded the extra meat her daughter had brought to the dinner table. Feeding six people could be an expensive endeavor.

As she had gotten older, the only thing that seemed to be able to keep Dana Scully seated in one place for any length of time had been her studies. A devoted and conscientious student, she had far outpaced the lessons set for her by the local school, and her father, concerned that his youngest would not be challenged enough, had engaged a private tutor to take over her education. Her mother had balked at the idea, worried that the expense would be an extravagance (and quite possibly wasted on a girl), but William Scully had insisted. He had, himself, had great scholastic aptitude in his youth, and while his own parents had not had the means to help him reach his full potential, he had been determined that his daughter would be allowed to reach hers.

But still, in between her lessons, teenaged Scully had had very little patience for the quiet and ladylike endeavors her mother had tried to plan for her. And now, with only a year left in her teens, her abhorrence for inactivity persists. The army, with its daily drilling and frequent long-distance marches, had been ideal for her... but now, stuck lying in bed day after day, she's in a pitiable state.

During the first two weeks, Melissa brings her nearly every book in the house that she can find. Scully is dismayed to find that she has already read nearly every volume housed in Samantha Mulder's shelves, and has read at least half of her brother's. Bill Mulder's library is mostly comprised of ponderous religious tomes of dubious modern relevancy, and technical books on farming methods. Even less helpful is Teena Mulder's tiny collection of etiquette and outdated child-rearing manuals (though Teena has, to Scully's surprise, fairly recent editions of Charles Knowlton's Fruits of Philosophy and Robert Dale Owen's Moral Physiology, both of which she reads cover-to-cover with decidedly more than a theoretical interest). By the beginning of November, Scully has read everything on offer and is driving Melissa up the wall with her continuous requests for her sister to please let her out of bed before she expires from boredom.

"The more you rest now, the sooner you'll be able to go back to your regiment," Missy tells her, repeatedly, but as much as Scully knows her sister is right, it doesn't make her forced inactivity any easier to bear. She writes letter after letter to Mulder, often so many that the postman takes multiple letters from her on the same day. He writes back as often as he can, but as the regiment continues to move from place to place in Virginia, his responses are less frequent than she would like.

His letters are, however, overflowing with affection for her in ways that leave little doubt in her mind about where they stand with one another. She might have been hesitant when she had told her sister that she thought they'd agreed to become engaged, but Mulder has put her questions to rest once and for all.

"When this war is over," he writes, "I want to ride to Harrisburg with you, to meet your parents. Not just to tell them about your bravery, about how indispensable you have been to me as a lieutenant, but to make sure that they- and any other potential suitors- know that our future together has been decided. Whatever your mother and father might think of the manner in which we met and fell in love, I want to be sure that they know how proud I am to have a woman like you by my side."

Scully, for her part, is less concerned with her own parents' responses than with Mulder's.

"You need not worry about how my parents will react, Mulder," she writes him in response. "You're the oldest son of a wealthy landowner. Regardless of how we might have met, you are still a far more advantageous match than they could ever have hoped to make for either of their daughters. I'm certain they'll be too much in awe of you to turn you away. Your parents, on the other hand, are unlikely to be much impressed with a poor sailor's daughter who met you while playing dress-up in the enemy's army- especially given that they already have a far more suitable match picked out." Mulder is, predictable, dismissive.

"It doesn't matter whether or not my parents approve," he writes her. "This is my decision to make, and I choose you. There is nothing that anyone- not my parents, not your parents, not Diana- can say to me that will change my mind."

Much of this correspondence is, despite Scully's best efforts, read over her shoulder by her sister, who finds the entire thing deliriously romantic and does not hesitate to tell her so.

"It's just not fair, Dana," she complains, lying on her back on the corner of the bed, her arm thrown dramatically up over her forehead. "I left home and ran away to New York City in search of romance and adventure, and all I've gotten for my troubles is an overcrowded apartment that I'm forced to share with three girls who are all prettier than I am. You, on the other hand, run off and join the army and end up engaged to a rich, handsome landowner's heir."

"Let's not forget the part where I ended up with a musket ball in my belly," grumbles Scully. She's not feeling particularly well today, having slept poorly and woken with a stubborn cough, and she's less patient with Melissa than she might normally be.

"Still, I think even with that, you come out ahead of me," says Melissa. "And you're the youngest, for goodness sake. It was hard enough that you already had an offer of marriage long before me, with father's doctor friend- what was his name?"

"Daniel," sighs Scully.

"Yes, him. It was bad enough that he approached Father for your hand when you were practically still a child, but now you're going to actually be married before I've even had a man show the slightest bit of interest."

"Not necessarily," Scully points out. "Nothing is going to happen until the war is over. For all we know, it could drag on another ten years." She bites her lip. "Or one of us might not even survive. This was already a close call, and-" But she's cut short as she's shaken by a bout of coughing so long and deep that it pulls at her still-healing injury. Melissa sits up and watches her worriedly as she clasps her side in pain, struggling to get her breath back.

"That's the third time this has happened in an hour, Dana," says Missy, every last hint of whimsy gone from her voice. "And your face is getting whiter by the minute." She reaches out and feels Scully's forehead. "You're warmer, too."

"I may have a fever," Scully admits. She's been feeling increasingly lethargic all day, but until now she's been putting it down to the fact that she hasn't felt like eating much for the past few days, and Missy, anxious to avoid conflict, hasn't been pressing the issue. But now, as she works to master her breathing, she can't avoid facing up to the realization that something is wrong.

"What do I do, Dana?" Melissa asks. "Mother used to put cold compresses on our foreheads when we were sick. Should I do that?"

"It's probably a good place to start," Scully agrees.

"Maybe I should ask James," says Melissa. "If he doesn't know what to do, maybe one of the other servants here does." Scully shakes her head.

"None of the others will come in the house, even with Mulder's father gone," she reminds her sister. The few servants that have been left to take care of the plantation in its owners' absence are field hands, forbidden from entering the house, with the exception of James, who, Mulder had explained, had figured out Scully's secret the moment he had laid eyes on her. "I don't want-" But she's interrupted by yet another bout of coughing, this one worse, and by the time it finally subsides, Scully is completely winded.

"Close your eyes and rest, Dana," says Melissa, standing and removing some of the pillows that are propping Scully up, forcing her to lie back down flat. "I'm going to make a cold compress and... and...." She wrings her hands, clearly at a loss. "I'll have someone make you some broth. That will help, right?" Scully closes her eyes, too weary to argue.

"Sounds good," she says weakly, even though the idea of trying to eat something just now seems horrifically exhausting. Missy says something in response, but Scully is already drifting off to sleep.

She's not sure how much time has passed, or if she's even truly awake, when she next hears her sister speaking, having a hushed discussion with someone whose voice Scully doesn't recognize.

"You don't understand, I've never taken care of someone who's ill before," Missy is saying. "I've no idea what could be wrong with her, no idea what I'm supposed to do."

"Miss, there's no one nearby that we can send for," a male voice responds. "The doctor in Culpeper is with Lee's army. The only other people 'round here are the men who work the fields and tend the animals, and none of them are gonna set foot in this house, not even if Master Fox himself shows up and asks them. They're too afraid of his father." This, Scully thinks through her feverish haze, must be James, the house's caretaker.

"What about someone else from the village?" Missy asks. "Isn't there anyone you could ask?"

"And how do we explain what she's doing here?" counters James. "Everyone in Culpeper knows the Mulders, and everyone in Culpeper knows they're in Fredericksburg. If someone from the village sees the two of you, they're likely to write Master William and ask him about the two strange women staying in his house."

Don't send for anyone, Scully tries to say, but she can't quite make her lips obey. I'm fine, I'll be fine, don't let anyone find me here....

The voices fade, and Scully dreams... or, at least, she thinks she does. It's difficult to tell. She thinks she hears her mother talking, telling her to get out of bed and help her prepare the evening meal before her father and her brothers come home. Missy is off somewhere, her mother complains, and she'll never have everything ready in time without at least one of her daughters to help her out.

Scully tries to tell her that she can't, she's sick, she's too weak to get out of bed, but her mother takes no notice, bustling around Samantha Mulder's bedroom as though she knows exactly where everything goes, as though it were a room in her own house. Watching Maggie is making Scully dizzy, so she closes her eyes.

When she opens them again, her mother is gone, and there's only Samantha's room, the night sky visible through the windows, the room itself dimly lit by a fire burning low in the grate. She turns her head to look the other way, and her father is there, sitting in the armchair that Melissa had occupied some time before.

"Hey there, Sprout," he says, smiling warmly at her. "Looks like you've gotten yourself in a spot of trouble." Scully tries to answer him and finds that she can't, but her father seems to understand her all the same. "It'll all be all right soon," he promises. "You just hold on and stay strong now, you hear me? Won't be long now. Help is on the way. But I'm warning you, Sprout, it's going to get a whole lot worse before it starts to get any better." He smiles again, sadly this time, and Scully realizes that she can see right through him to the back of the armchair.

There's a cough, the smell of cigar smoke, and then Charles Spender is leaning over her, regarding her with an air of detached curiosity. She shies away from him, and he laughs... and as she watches, his face shifts, changing to the face of the surgeon who had treated her at Bristoe Station. His mouth moves, but Scully can't make out what he's saying. Melissa stands behind him, her face pale and anxious. The light from the fire seems too bright, and Scully closes her eyes against it... and when she opens them again, Spender has returned, and it's Diana Fowley who stands at his shoulder, smiling maliciously down at her. Sean Pendrell waits by the foot of the bed, watching her worriedly, and Scully wonders if he's come to escort her to the other side, to wherever souls go when their time on Earth has ended. She tries to tell Pendrell that she's not ready, that she can't go with him, that Mulder still needs her here, that she's sorry, so sorry that he had to die, but doesn't he understand that it will all be in vain if she agrees to go with him now? She has to stay.

Spender reaches out suddenly and yanks at the bandages covering Scully's wound, pulling them off and exposing the flesh of her midsection. As Scully watches, he rips at the injury and seems to shove his entire hand inside of it. The pain is immediate and all-consuming, and Scully writhes and screams, trying desperately to escape. Diana takes her left shoulder and holds her down, and someone else takes her right side. Scully looks up to see who it is, and Daniel Waterston sneers down at her, glorying in her pain, in her inability to get away.

The faces around her continue to blur and shift, until Scully doesn't know who is holding her down, Diana Fowley and Daniel Waterston or Melissa and Mulder. She doesn't know who is causing this terrible pain, the army surgeon or Charles Spender, or why they're doing this to her. All that she knows is that it goes on and on, and when at last it seems to be over, Scully can do nothing but lapse into a sleep that is blessedly and profoundly dark and dreamless.

When she next opens her eyes, Fox Mulder is gazing down at her.

"Mulder?" She can speak again, finally, though her voice is frighteningly frail, and her throat hurts terribly. She reaches towards him, trying to touch him and see whether he's real or just another vision, but she's so weak that her hand can't close the distance. He seems to understand, and takes her hand in his own, pressing it gently to his face.

"I'm here," he says. "I'm right here, Scully. And this time, I'm not leaving until you're completely well."

"What happened?" she asks, but this time, it's not Mulder who answers.

"You developed an infection," says a voice from the foot of the bed, and Scully looks over to see the surgeon from Bristoe Station. She hadn't been hallucinating him, then; he had really been here. Melissa stands just behind him. "I had to cut away the inflamed tissue and treat the wound with bromide. I'm sorry for the pain; I know it had to have been difficult to bear."

"This is Corporal Zuckerman," Mulder explains. "The same surgeon who treated you after you were shot." Scully nods.

"I remember," she says.

"Your sister sent for me when she couldn't bring your fever down," Mulder tells her.

"I didn't know what else to do," says Missy apologetically. "I could see that the wound was infected, but I didn't know how to treat it."

"I found Corporal Zuckerman and brought him with me," continues Mulder. "I had a feeling you would prefer a surgeon who already knew what he'd find under your wrappings." He grins teasingly at her, and she manages a weak smile in return.

"But won't you be missed?" Scully asks. "Both of you?" Mulder shakes his head.

"The army's gone into winter quarters," he explains. "I told Colonel Skinner what happened, and he gave both of us leave to go. Corporal Zuckerman needs to return soon, but I've been permitted to stay with you until you're well enough to come back to the regiment." Scully looks back and forth between Mulder and Melissa.

"It was you, holding me down?" she asks.

"You put up one hell of a fight," says Mulder, a trace of pride unmistakeable in his voice. "It took everything we had to keep you in one place long enough for Zuckerman to finish with you, even as sick as you were."

"You looked at us like you might kill us if you got loose," puts in Melissa. "Your face was as terrifying as I've ever seen it."

"I thought you were...." Her voice trails off. She's embarrassed, now, that her fever dreams had featured Diana. "Never mind," she says. "I must have been out of my mind with fever."

"I'd have to agree with that assessment," says Zuckerman. "And you're not out of the woods yet, by any means. I'm going to stay for a few more days, to make sure we've gotten a handle on the infection, and I'll leave medicines behind when I go in case the fever returns."

"Thank you, Corporal Zuckerman," says Mulder. "I don't want to even think about what would have happened without your help."

"Yes, thank you," chimes in Melissa. "From us, and from our family. It would have been awful for all of us if you hadn't been here." Scully, already exhausted from this brief conversation, smiles her gratitude at Zuckerman even as her vision begins to go fuzzy at the edges.

"We should let you rest now," says Zuckerman. He and Melissa begin to leave, but Mulder remains in place by Scully's side.

"I'll stay," he tells the other two. "In case she needs anything."

"Mulder," Scully protests, her voice muddled and sleepy, "I'll be fine. I'm not even going to be awake."

"I'll watch you sleep, then," he whispers, low enough so that the others, standing across the room by the door, can't hear him. "It's something I've missed doing since you've been gone." Scully relents, nodding her permission, and Zuckerman and Melissa leave, shutting the door softly behind them.

The last thing that Scully is aware of, as she drifts off to sleep again, is Mulder lying down beside her, tenderly stroking her face.

#X-Files Fanfic #my fic #By the Dim and Flaring Lamps

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rhysand-vs-fenrys · 8 years ago

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So I know the next ACOTAR books will be about different love pairings and what not (I've read all other theories and what Maas has said and etc). But, do you think there is even a SMALL chance one will revolve around Feyre and Rhys's child? Like tbh, it's understandable why Maas didn't incorporate it in the 3rd because there were sooo many other plots/problems that needed to be resolved. But I must admit, I was low-key expecting (and hoping) this pregnancy concept to become true. #OTPfangirling

I’m gonna play both sides of this, so bear with me.

FOR Feysand Baby:

I’d almost hope a novel would be directed at it, a novel that takes place with each part being a different point- like Baby-vs-Teen-vs-Young Adult just because I’d want to know EVERYTHING including but not limited to—

How everyone treats Feyre when she’s preggo (esp. Rhys, if he gets all territorial around her).

Rhys fumbling around trying to take care of her and not being sure if he’s hovering too much or not doing enough.

How he responds to childbirth.

Rhys and Feyre learning how to raise a baby with the rest of the Inner circle hovering around.

Who the best babysitter is.

Who the worst babysitter is.

Who the child favors the most (it would be something distressing like Amren or Cassian I bet)

Who’s worst with the child.

Who godparents might be if that’s a thing.

How they raise the baby- namely that Rhys learned his cruel mask by watching his father- how does a Baby who is swarmed with overwhelming love learn the cruel face? Do they?

Will Feyre allow it to be trained as an Illyrian knowing how brutal their training is or just ask Cassian/Azriel to do it (I feel like Rhys would strongly prefer the baby do the warcamp training to gain their respect as a possible future high lord of night)

What would baby’s magic look like? Just night court powers or something more like Feyre’s? Will it be another mind reader like Rhys?

How the Inner court handles a pubescent teenager.

What kind of person it grows up to be.

Any siblings??????????

Basically I’d almost need an entire series, lmao.

Now, the argument against:::

A lot of fantasy series mark the happily-ever-after with a baby, and I don’t think ACOTAR will. Maas is a FANTASTIC writer, and she already included in ACOMAF the bit where Feyre tells Rhys she’s not ready to try for a child yet. She wants to go have adventures and be with him first.

Remember, Feyre is 19 when ACOTAR starts and 20 when ACOWAR ends, she’s VERY young for a human and practically a baby for a Fae as well. Rhys has had 500 years of adventures and experiences, whereas Feyre has been fighting for her life almost non-stop. Even when she was falling for Rhys and Mating with him Hybern was a threat looming overhead. She hasn’t been able to really rest her whole life- the poverty, fighting to survive, Tamlin taking her, Amarantha, recovering, Hybern, spying, the war–

I think Feyre needs a decade or even century or two of adventure and happiness with her Mate, of learning more about being Fae and just enjoying her life with the Inner Circle and everything. Feyre and Rhys have CENTURIES, even MILLENNIA in front of them for babies, she can absolutely take her time.

Maas put it out there that Feyre wants that time to finally experience absolutely as much as she can- and it’s not saying she cannot live her life to the max with a baby, I’m absolutely not saying that and I even really want to have children one day, I’m not anti-babies. But Feyre said herself that she would like time with just Rhys first.

Again, timeline-wise, between meeting and Mating was 1 year, a good 6 months of that year comprised of Under the Mountain AND her withering away in Spring, another 2-3 months of that were Feyre only visiting Night, and it was ANOTHER 2 months before she let herself fall for Rhysand.

So, I mean, 3 months she had to fall in love with Rhysand and Mate with him, about 2(ish?) months stuck in Spring with Tampon (I don’t call him ‘Tool’), and then a couple of months of Hybern hanging over him. Feyre has a lot to learn about Rhysand and him about her. They’ll fall deeper and deeper in love and really get their dynamic before having any babies and that’s GREAT!

TL;DR::: While both sides have merits, when you sit down and think about the timeline I really don’t think Feysand baby will be more than a background whisper in the books as other things are happening, and if it never happens in the books that’s totally fine.

Because now I keep thinking about it and yeah- Feyre is 20. She met Rhysand when she was 19. She found out he’s not evil when she was 20. SHE’S BARELY KNOWN THIS MAN (isn’t evil) FOR 6 MONTHS AND THEY’RE ALREADY MARRIED?!

Her father would have ENDED him.

#acowar spoilers #acotar #acomaf #acowar #feyre #rhysand #feysand #inner circle

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captainwhogotthecanary · 8 years ago

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For I Think I Still Love You (Do You Mind?) (6/16)

Okay, so I plotted out the rest of this story, and it’s looking like it’s gonna weigh in at 15 chapters plus an epilogue.

Disclaimer: there’s some crime in this chapter, and while I tried to make everything logical, it’s not exactly anything I have experience with ;)

Read on AO3 if you prefer.

Leonard speeds through his morning routine after waking later than intended. He takes his normal path out of the neighborhood, one he’s learned will keep him away from any of the homes where people watch the outdoors. So many of the houses are abandoned that it really isn’t difficult.

In order to get to the store he’s been casing, he has to make a large circle. He cuts through a few different unmonitored alleys, where his oversized hoodie doesn’t draw any attention. There’s only one part of the trek that puts him on edge, one busy street he has to cross, just barely out of reach of any facial recognition systems. Central City has a lot of those, and he knows Team Flash is hooked up to them all. At this particular point, if he crosses too far in either direction, he’ll be on their footage, if anyone happens to look.

While it’s the riskiest if he makes a wrong move, it’s also one of the better places to pick pockets, the people who comprise much of the foot traffic being affluent enough to carry a decent amount of cash for tips and the like. The fewer people he has to steal from, the less chance he’ll be noticed. Picking pockets has never been his preferred form of thievery, but there’s still something of a thrill about it, about stealing in plain sight of others, with minimal time to plan.

He chooses his mark while he’s crossing the street. He and the man, who’s already bumped impatiently into three others, will end up at the same point at the sidewalk at the same time if Leonard just speeds up the tiniest bit.

One little bump and a muttered apology, and Leonard has the wallet in the front pocket of his hoodie, his mark none the wiser. Without looking, Leonard takes the cash out of the wallet. A casual glance down the street to make sure nobody’s looking directly at him, and he lets the wallet, now without cash but otherwise intact, fall to the ground as he strides briskly into another unmonitored alley.

He crosses to the opposite side of the alley, knowing that a dumpster and the natural shadows work together to make him virtually invisible from the scene of his crime. Something makes him turn around and look once he’s safely out of sight. He waits only a second before he sees a familiar brunette come to a stop by the discarded wallet. When she looks around, he pulls back farther into the shadows.

It’s Caitlin Snow. Not just a member of Team Flash, but a member of Team Flash who he kidnapped.

She doesn’t seem to see him, and she bends down to pick up the wallet. She flips it open, probably looking for ID, then closes it, looking around once more before moving on.

Leonard breathes. Of anyone who shouldn’t see him, Caitlin is probably near the top of the list. He moves on, cautiously, waiting until he’s about a quarter mile away before he checks his haul.

He now has $100 in twenties. It’s not even significant compared to some of the things he’s stolen, but it’ll feed him for at least a couple weeks without other outside assistance, longer if he budgets like he did as a kid, and that was the goal. Plus, he doesn’t think Caitlin saw him. Barry would have already shown up if that were the case.

Leonard makes it to the little grocery store without further incident. It’s a small store with enough windows that he’s been able to check most of it for surveillance without having to go close enough to be noticed, but for this last spot, he needs to see in a corner he can only check by being right up against a window or going inside. He walks alongside the building, stopping by a window and acting like he’s checking his watch.

It’s safe. For whatever reason, this building doesn’t have video surveillance, at least not of any variety he’s familiar with, and while the store is in a nice enough part of town to have unbroken and unbarred windows, it’s not in the part of town that can afford cameras he can’t spot.

He goes inside, keeping his hood up, but not as far forward as he has been, not wanting to look more suspect than he has to. The windows, though, and the low but present potential for running into someone he knows, mean he can’t quite let down his guard entirely. He grabs a basket and starts selecting things that are cheap and easy to make in his tiny kitchen. He gets pasta, some cheap meat, and the vegetables that are on sale. He pauses by the broccoli, wondering whether Sara likes it in creamy pasta, then shakes his head.

He shouldn’t be worrying about cooking for Sara. She shouldn’t be coming over, especially around dinner time, and it’s not like they’re… As much as he feels about her, they aren’t dating, and he shouldn’t be worried about impressing her that way.

The broccoli ends up in his basket somehow anyway, along with some chicken and a jar of alfredo sauce. He doesn’t really look at the cashier as he pulls out the bills he needs to cover his total, making a mental note to find an empty wallet. When he does look up as he picks up his bags, only years of experience let him keep a neutral expression, despite the fact that the cashier clearly doesn’t recognize him. Leonard exits the store as quickly as he can without drawing attention and starts toward home.

He doesn’t even remember the man’s name, but he’d been the second-in-command of a rival of sorts, and if the man had lived through the same past as Leonard, there would definitely have been some recognition.

Plus there’s the fact the man died in a badly planned heist gone wrong.

Except, clearly, that’s not the case anymore. If he’s working as a grocery store cashier, he’s probably not still involved in crime as a full-time job, either. He doesn’t give off that vibe, and Leonard has an excellent sense for that sort of thing.

While carrying the few grocery bags such a long way home is a little awkward, they offer him their own sort of camouflage; if people do notice him, they look straight at the bags, then away. It helps him blend in with some of the areas, and with others, it acts as sort of a visual repellant, something that says, “I’m too poor to afford transportation. Don’t look at me; it might be catching.”

He’s still wondering about the man–Rob? Ron? Something forgettable–when he gets home. Even without any recognition, he’s not sure he should go back. This is someone he interacted with in his previous life, and that falls clearly into the “don’t do it” category.

Then again, so does spending time with Sara and Mick, and yet he finds himself hoping, as he puts away his groceries, that one of them shows up today. It hasn’t exactly been the boring, uneventful day he had yesterday, and he shouldn’t have this need for company. He’s used to coming up with his own plans, sharing them only once he’s satisfied, not consulting unless there’s real need, but the past couple hours have been a lot.

He can’t help but picture telling Sara, getting her input. He puts the broccoli away and turns to their list, the addition of another once-dead person being the most noteworthy difference yet, saving Leonard’s own reappearance. He stares at the list, looking for patterns and finding none, until he’s drawn to that item on hers again.

I kissed you and then you died like a stupid hero

If everything was safe for him again, if he could do whatever he wanted without fear of destroying the timeline, what would he choose? Would he be the crook? The hero? Somewhere in between? He doesn’t think he’d go back to his old life, the life before the Waverider. He’s changed, and as much as Sara was a large part of that, he knows change is impossible without internal motivation as well. He was ready for something different before they left, or he’d never have gotten on the Waverider in the first place.

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, closing his eyes at the sudden, strong reminder of Sara’s uneven breath against his lips.

Shit. Forget hero or crook; he’s turning into a sap who’s so gone on a person that it’s ridiculous. Some of it, he knows, is just the extended solitude.

Interacting with a once-dead guy long enough to buy groceries doesn’t really count.

The rest of it, though, is just Sara. He thinks about holding her the night before, about how much he hopes she listens to him and stays away, about how much he hopes she doesn’t.

He shakes his head at himself and then goes about the rest of his day. By the time it’s completely dark outside, he’s decided he can’t go back to that grocery store after all, and that Sara probably shouldn’t come tonight, but he’s not going to turn her away if she does.

They can have one more night. Besides, he needs to update either her or Mick on what happened today. He’s not sure he’ll mention the Caitlin thing, since nothing actually happened, but finding he’s not the only other person alive who shouldn’t be is something.

When he thinks about it too hard, he realizes he’s fighting a not insignificant amount of jealousy that the other man can go about his life in a normal way.

The door opening interrupts his brooding. “Don’t you knock?” he drawls when he recognizes Sara’s gait, pushing away the swell of gratitude that she’s here.

“When I feel like it,” Sara shoots back, grinning at him. She looks at the television, then tilts her head at Leonard. “You’re sitting here staring at a TV that isn’t even on?”

“At least I’m not in the dark this time.” He stands, walking toward Sara and stopping just a hair closer than he knows he should. “You’re early.”

She shrugs. “Not like we had a standing date. And you know I can get in and out of here without being seen anytime I want.”

He knows she can, knows she’s more than capable, but he’s always been so aware of her that it’s hard to actually imagine her going unnoticed.

He doesn’t say this aloud. “I haven’t eaten,” he says instead. “Do you like broccoli?”

***

They end up eating in his bed, shoulders touching as they lean back against the headboard. Somehow, they find light topics, or at least light for them, until they’re done. Dishes set aside, Leonard turns to the day’s events.

“I went out today,” he says, staring at his jean-clad knees, “and found another change. A person who should be dead but isn’t. He’s out there, interacting, doing what he wants, but he’s completely different than he was before, from what I could tell. And he’s alive.”

There’s quiet for a minute before Sara speaks. “He’s gotta fit in with the new time changes, then, right?” Leonard looks up at her, meeting her eyes. “I mean, you’re from the old timeline, so you don’t fit. The rest of the team is, too, but we must not be different enough for it to be a problem. Either that, or it just hasn’t changed us yet.”

He nods and looks away. It makes sense. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

She lifts her hand, hesitating before covering his, squeezing, and letting go. “I know it has to suck being stuck here. And then you go out today and things get worse instead of better. But you’re… If anyone can get through all this, it’s you, you know that, right?”

He meets her eyes again, seeing cautious hope and encouragement.

“You’re smart,” she continues. “You’re not gonna do anything too stupid, and it’s not like you’re a social butterfly or anything”–Leonard smirks at the idea–“and I know this isn’t gonna last forever. And until it ends, just… Even if me and Mick aren’t here, you’re not really alone. Okay?”

She’s warm against his shoulder, and her eyes are so bright and blue and earnest, and he has to close his own before he does anything stupid. “Thanks, Sara.”

#captain canary #captain canary fic #thievery #slow burn #time travel #sara lance #leonard snart #brief caitlin snow

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