#butchers bill chapter 2

[akronus-writes]

The dragons eclipse chapter 2: Investigations into the unkown.

Hallowed knew that the Occult detective would take a while, and decided to requisition a room for which to work on the case from. returning to the front of the motel, He walked into the empty reception, its decor was a relic from the 80's, with dark oak display cabinets filled with old sports trophies flanking a large desk made of the same wood; the back of an old computer peeking up from behind the desk. approaching the golden bell next to the computer, Hallowed noticed a silver key attached to a black diamond shaped key charm with the golden number 15 emblazoned on the middle, sitting on a note next to the bell.

"we understand you might need a room to stay in while you investigate, and would happily give you one of our rooms for as long as you need." Hallowed spoke to himself, carefully picking the key up with his cybernetic hand and looking at the key, quickly scanning it with his cybernetic eye before walking off, looking for his room.

finding it on the other side of the motel, hallowed easily pushed the key into the lock and twisted with a satisfying click. pushing open the door and walking in, Hallowed found himself in a stock standard Motel room; with a king bed on the left of the room with a neat flowery quilt, two white pillows neatly placed side-by side under the wooden bed head, two oak bedside tables with pink lamps flanking the bed. on the other side of the room was a desk, a lone black lamp sitting on the far end of it.

closing the door behind him as he walked in, hallowed left the keys on the desk as he stretched, and began to undress. leaving his leather jacket draped over the chair under the desk, he left both his revolver and its holster, as well as his bandolier of specialized bullets on the desk. throwing the rest of his clothes, as well as the skull mask he normally wore onto the bed, he stepped into the bathroom. it was a small bathroom with only the bare necessities, its tiles were impressively clean for such an old building, a trait shared with the rest of the bathroom.

turning the knobs on the shower, Hallowed went to place his cybernetic hand below the stream of water before replacing it with his intact one. pleased with the temperature he stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over him. instead of the pleasant feeling he was used to, he instead felt a strange emptiness, the water washing over his cybernetics not even registering to him, the reminder of his wounds removing and semblance of warmth the shower could bring.

turning the shower off once sufficiently clean, Hallowed dried himself with a towel before walking back into the living room and beginning to re-dress himself. as he went to pick up his shirt, he noticed his reflection in the full body mirror in the corner. he looked almost the same as always, the same short Brown hair, the same well-toned muscles, but different in some places. the entirety of his right arm, shoulder down, was replaced with a metal cybernetic, his right eye and parts of the face around it replaced with a similar metal, the eye replaced with a dull red visor. pulling the rest of his clothes on, Hallowed slowly picked up his Fedora and skull mask, hesitant to put them on.

stomaching his own hesitation, he placed them on, the skull mask hiding all of his face but the metal eye, its eerie red glow growing in intensity. turning back to the desk he saw a familiar part-cat warlock sitting on it, tail laying lazily next to the occult detective.

"Akronus," hallowed spoke, used to the occultists tendency to appear randomly.

"Hallowed" The occultist spoke, re-adjusting the black face mask they wore.

the tense silence hung in the air as Akronus dropped down to the floor, pulling back their long black hair and cat ears with a gloved hand, letting the streak of red fall to the front of his face. the two stared at each other for a moment, Akronus' red irises dulled by the red glow coming from Hallowed's cybernetic eyes.

"I see you've become more chaste," Hallowed noticed, observing the pants Akronus had swapped their usual booty shorts with.

"why, you wound me! I just thought these pants would help my transition from villain to vigilante. plus, I kept my signature sleeveless shirt! oh, and don't get me started on what I've been doing in my free time-" Akronus began.

"we don't have time for verbal recounts of your many supernatural partners, we need to investigate the disappearances," hallowed quickly interrupted, both wanting to stay on task and avoid the topic of Akronus' sex life.

"fineeeeeeeeee, what's the thing you need me for?" Akronus responded, annoyed at their allies seriousness.

"I found shadows in the alleyway behind the motel one of the disappearances happened in," Hallowed matter-of factly responded with.

"ok, so did it stick to your body, exist with the sun shining on it, or try to eat you?" Akronus asked, treating the topic as a normal occurence.

"existed with the sun shining on it, any ideas what it is?" Hallowed replied, drawing his notebook from his jacket.

"ah, possibly shadow demon residue, I'll go run some tests on it to confirm that," Akronus answered after a few seconds, leaning forward.

"good, you do that and I'll go look through the first victims room," Hallowed responded before walking out the door.

"on it!" Akronus walked off to where the strange shadow was.

on the other side of the Motel Hallowed approached the room the Mexican drifter had lived in, reaching a hand out to the door, he twisted the handle to find it unlocked. Walking into the room, hallowed quickly noticed the first signs of something being off.

the bed looked like somebody had been sleeping in it, but was yet to get up, the quilt was laying on the mattress, messily covering most of the bed, and both the pillows and the mattress still had the imprint of what looked to be a 20-25 year old man of about 5"8 height.

on the other side of the room the lamp on the desk was unplugged, papers messily spread across the desk haphazardly with a duffle bag thrown up against it. approaching the bathroom, Hallowed opened the door to the bathroom to find a relatively normal shower, the only difference from his own bathroom being the soap and shampoo bottles, a common brand, most likely from a nearby store.

walking back to the papers, hallowed reached to turn on the room lights to illuminate the papers, only to find that flicking the switch did nothing. Crouching down and plugging in the lamp, he found it didn't turn on either.

Standing on the bed and puling the light bulb from its socket, Hallowed saw that it was completely fine. Rushing over to the lamp he carefully pulled out its bulb, and found the exact same was true with the lamp.

Activating the X-ray system of his cybernetic eye, Hallowed followed the trails of the wires that connected to both the power socket and the lights, looking for any breaks. Following the wires around the room, Hallowed found no discrepancies in the wiring for the room until the point that all of the wires in the room connected and began to join the rest of the motels power network, where a quick scan showed a strange energy radiating at the wires, seemingly blocking the electricity.

Quickly collecting the files on the desk, Hallowed put them in his jacket before standing up on the handrail, and pulling himself onto the roof. Carefully walking down one of the crevices of the valley like roof of slanted red tiles. Hallowed approached where the wires would be corresponding to the location of the roof.

Crouching down, Hallowed saw the source of the energy, a small square piece of white paper with a strange, almost runic symbol on it, radiating that energy. Picking the paper up and taking a photo of it with his eye as a precaution, Hallowed noticed through his eye that the Drifters room had gained power.

As he walked back to the edge of the roof, Hallowed heard the sounds of somebody running nearby. Pulling himself up onto the top of one of the peaks, Hallowed saw a figure wearingin a shadowy cloak holding a double-sided sword, face covered in shadows, standing on the nearby chimney.

"I'm guessing you aren't here for a chat?" Hallowed quipped as he drew his revolver. But as he did the figure leapt towards him at superhuman speeds, slashing at Hallowed with his sword mid-draw.

part 1 part 3

@f4y3w00d5 @gobodegoblin @monsterfucker-research-wizard @anyone else who likes my writing

[macabr3-barbi3]

God, That's Good!

Chapter 5: Pentious' Miracle Elixir

A few weeks after Lucifer's arrival, Husk is witness to a couple spectacles at the market.

Tags: Sera is Still the Worst™️, Huskerdust Beginnings, Niffty Shenanigans

THINGS ARE PICKING UP IN THE NEXT CHAPTER RADIOAPPLE FRIENDS 📻🍎 here is a secret lil apology to Sir Pentious (I'm sorry, I love you, but the plot must plot) and here is my weekly thank you and handover of my heart and soul to @fraugwinska ily 💕

Act 1:  Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9 🥧 Chapter 10 🥧 Chapter 11

As soon as he saw the little kid running around and setting up a makeshift stage, Husk knew he was going to end up with a headache today, one way or another. It had been a few weeks now since that Morningstar character had come into the picture, and from behind the bar, opposite the wall to Alastor’s living quarters, he could hear the pair of them chatting all hours of the day. It was basically up to Husk these days to run the show since they didn’t have any ‘meat’ for the pies lately, not with Alastor so wrapped up in his new passion project that he didn’t have any spare time to scout for targets. The news was lamenting the fact that the Bayou Butcher seemed to be on vacation- great for the people he wasn’t killing, but bad for ratings.

He heard the story Alastor gave the man- that he valued ‘quality’ over quantity and waited until he had enough revenue from the bar to get decent meat rather than using whatever roadkill he could find like some others did. He didn’t tell him the truth, of course; only Husk was privy to the information about the real source of the filling of Lovett’s pies. He knew already, somehow, that this Lucifer was going to get sucked into it like he himself had.

Alastor wasn’t the kind of guy to get involved with if a person could avoid it, even before his extracurricular activities. He was too perceptive, too intuitive, too fucking good at getting people to trust him and then stabbing them in the back- whether that was literal or figurative. He didn’t know what the angle was that he was working with Lucifer, but it couldn’t be good if Alastor wasn’t even hunting because of it. If Alastor was interested then the guy was fucked.

And sure, Husk wanted to do the decent thing and warn him. He had tried to steer him right, steer him away, the first time he stepped into the shop; he had seen him outside looking at the place upstairs, abandoned for God knows how long, and knew, somehow, that Alastor would sink his claws in. His employer was borderline obsessed with the apartment above the pie shop, constantly going up there for no reason, checking the locks, making sure people stayed away, refusing to rent it out to the few people that did ask about it despite the stories that surrounded it. 

But Benjamin Husker was no fool- not when it came to Alastor Lovett, not anymore. He had made that mistake one time, and once was all it took.

They met at his speakeasy when it was still open- the height of Prohibition, he had a real popular one just outside of New Orleans, and Alastor had been a regular when he acted as the bartender. He went by Jack, keeping his real name off the record for both his business and his more pleasurable ventures, the weekly gambling parties he held in his back room where Lady Luck was his steadfast companion in keeping his wallet lined with bills and his establishment with flowing alcohol. Those with lesser luck were no fan of his, but he kept out of the public, kept his cheating on the low, and never let anyone close enough to betray him- before Lovett. They were friends, he and Alastor; good enough friends that when his place was raided, police pouring through every opening the building had and hunting down the bartender specifically, he had fled to Alastor’s newly acquired shop on the other side of town. He had expected support, sympathy, the normal things that one expects from a friend when their life had gone to shit.

Alastor had given him that shit eating grin and said, “why, they acted on that tip faster than I expected!”

He hadn’t so much as pulled his fist back before Alastor had revealed the dirt he had on him- “wouldn’t those you’ve bankrupted just love to know the real name of the man that’s been emptying their pockets?” - and he was backed into a corner. He was roped into helping Alastor with disposal of his hunting prizes, and while the Prohibition laws were now taken out of effect there were still members of the law trying to retroactively imprison those that had been operating the speakeasies; so Alastor still kept him under thumb by threatening to go to the authorities.

He wasn’t getting involved anymore. Whatever Alastor had planned for the poor guy, it wasn’t any of Husk’s business. He was only looking out for himself these days- caring about people, trusting them, it only led to getting fucked over in the end.

The kid he had noticed in the market had finished setting up their stage and now stood atop it, a drum that was far too big for them held against their body as they beat on it. “Ladies and gentlemen!” They called across the crowd, high pitched and feminine, waving their arms around to catch people’s attention. Looking closer, Husk realized it was a girl under the hat they wore, wispy blonde bits poking haphazardly from under it. “If I can have your attention! I am here to tell you about something absolutely stupid!”

A hush falls across the crowd and some laughter breaks out. From the curtain behind the girl, Husk hears a hissed, “stupendous! It’s stupendous, not stupid!”

She giggles. “Oh, right! Something stupendous! Do you, sir, have trouble growing hair?” She sticks her finger directly in the face of an older gentleman with a full beard, salt and pepper at the temples and seeming to have grown just fine. He raises an eyebrow at her and Husk stifles a chuckle- there’s a muffled sound behind the curtain, like someone smacking their palm to their face in frustration and another hissed whisper. “Ohhhh, the bald ones. You got it, sir!” She turns in place, finger still pointing out and redirecting to someone that might fit what she seemed to be looking for. “Do you have trouble growing hair?”

The man- properly bald this time, apparently- shrugs. “Sometimes, I guess,” he tells her, and she bangs on the drum harder, more eyes turning her direction.

“Excellent news! I have something wonderful for you then!” A basket is pushed from behind the curtain, overflowing with bottles of which she grabs one, holding it high above her head to show the crowd. “Introducing to you, New Orleans, Pentious’ Miracle Elixir! Hair falling out? Hair doesn’t grow at all? Take me for example- I was just as bald and ugly as that guy until I came across the illustrative-”

“Illustrious!”

“Oh, sorry! The illustrious barber and miracle worker, Sir Edward Pentious! He gave me this elixir less than thirty days ago and now look at me-” She reaches up to whip off her hat and tugs a little too hard. The hat sticks to the blonde hair beneath it, tugging back far enough that it starts to slip from her forehead- a wig, poorly applied, with luscious blonde curls falls to the floor before the girl can scoop it back up and tug it sloppily onto her head again, bits of a bright ginger sticking out from under it. “It’s grown back better than ever!”

The crowd laughs, likely thinking it was more of a comedy act than anything else, and Husk prepares to leave when he senses a presence at his side. “Whaddya think? Gonna get some of that miraculous elixir?”

Husk has seen this particular prostitute before, and has sent him off more than once- he always gets right into the innuendo and offers, so the teasing question is unexpected and maybe not entirely unwelcome. He’s taller than Husk by a good bit, lean muscles that fill out his buttoned shirt and too-short shorts well and fluffy blonde hair that hangs over his eyes. He’s looking away from Husk now, gaze trained on the girl on the stage, but it’s obvious that he’s chosen Husk as his potential mark.

Again.

The sleazy fucker that runs the brothel in town is watching the pair of them closely, thin arms folded across his chest and waiting for the young man to make a move like he does every week when Husk makes his way to the market for some bullshit or another. It’s the first time the man’s greeted him with a question about what was happening around them rather than a statement about what he could do for the right price- Husk doesn’t even know his name yet.

In answer to his question, Husk scoffs. “Fuck no,” he says, and the corner of the man’s face that he can see quirks up. “At best it’s river water with some food coloring in it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s worse,” he adds, as a man steps out from behind the curtain of the stage. He’s pulled the young girl back from the edge, hissing under his breath at her to stop handing the bottles out without payment and fix her wig correctly, that she was embarrassing him.

“Ya’d think if she was doin’ such a bad job he would do the advertisin’ himself,” the young man says, gesturing to the long, black hair that flows down the salesman’s back, sleek and shiny and definitely not a product of the green stuff in his bottles. “I guess people are a little easier with their ‘fuck off’ sentiments when it’s a kid.” His eyebrow creases, eyes dark as he watches the man grab the girl’s upper arm and pull her out of the way to address the crowd himself- she stands to the side of the stage wiping at her eyes, loading her arms up with the bottles again. Husk notices, at the front of the crowd, is Alastor; Lucifer stands just to the side of him, some combative expression on his face as the man speaks.

“Well, whether my ‘fuck off’ is gentle or not, I know when I’m being sold to- whether it’s some bullshit medicinal crap or a warm body.” Husk says, and irritation flashes across the young man’s face when he turns to him. Even if he was still turning him down, this was a lot more interesting than the simpering whore act he usually put on, and for once Husk thinks there might be more to him than is being marketed. “Take your goods elsewhere.”

And wow, Husk might be sick of the propositioning but he would never get tired of those eyes. That Valentino always brought the same kind of guys and gals on board for his whore house, short and skinny as a twig with tits or an ass to round them out; this one was different. His eyes, for one, were different shades, a brown and a green that complimented the shade of his hair; a tiny gap between his two front teeth that made his smile seem genuine even when he was leering; and he was tall, unlike what the pimp usually favored.

“My goods, huh? Usually it’s ‘getcha ass outta here’ when you’re turnin’ me down. Aww, are ya warmin’ up to me?” He slides an arm around Husk’s shoulders, leaning his non-existent weight on the bartender, and bends to whisper in his ear. “I could return the favor, ya know- warm you up instead. Whaddya think?”

Husk sighs, but doesn’t forcibly remove his arm like he normally would, instead turning to meet his eyes properly. “Look, I know your boss keeps sending you over here when I’m out because I look like an easy mark or whatever but I’m not interested in paying for sex- especially not from someone that could be doing better things with his time than being a hooker.”

His face twitches and he laughs. “Val does say you look nice and repressed,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder where the pimp has been distracted by another one of his wards. “But he actually told me if I couldn’t get ya in the sack today that I had to stop tryin.’ Guess it’s been nice gettin’ to know ya, even if I do think we would have a lot ‘a fun together.” He winks his brown eye, and the smile he gives Husk is soft and genuine. “Ya ever change your mind, stop by the house and ask for Angel.”

It startles a laugh out of Husk. “No way that’s your real name.”

“Might as well be- sounds better for business than ‘Anthony’ anyway.” He shrugs and turns back to the house where Valentino stands outside with an unkind smile on his face, crooking his finger like a ‘come hither’ at the young man. “See ya around.”

“You ever find yourself on Fleet Street,” Husk says before he can really think about the words, “come into Lovett’s Pies. Can’t recommend the main dish but I can hook you up at the bar. Ask for Husk if I’m not around.”

Angel- Anthony- chuckles. “Is that your real name?”

“Stop by and find out,” he replies with a grin, and when he laughs and heads back to the whore house Husk doesn’t miss the nasty glare that Valentino is shooting his way before he swings it to Angel.

His distraction gone, Husk turns his attention back to the stage- Lucifer and Alastor are on it now, off to one side with a random townsperson in the chair with a face full of lather as they watch Pentious flick shaving soap onto the crowd as he wildly gestures and waves his hands above the person that sits in the chair before him. Lucifer looks almost offended by the display, eyes narrowed and his mouth half open in shock; Alastor, as usual, wears a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, and seems to be more focused on Lucifer than the raving madman beside them. He stops waving his arms and holds his hand out to the girl- she’s not paying attention, her mind clearly elsewhere until he snaps, “Niffty! My razor!” He closes his eyes and holds his hand out.

She startles, reaching into the pocket of the jacket she wears and pulling something out that she slaps into his hands- he immediately brings it to the face of the man in his chair, only noticing when the crowd begins to laugh that she’s handed him a drumstick and not one of his razors that she’s opened for him. She apologizes with a giggle, diving back into the jacket and bringing out a folded razor that she opens carefully. He takes it, more hand waving and gesturing before he actually brings the blade to the man’s face and starts shaving him in short, sloppy strokes. There’s shaving soap everywhere, streaks on the poor man’s face that have been missed, stubble peeking through where the blade wasn’t angled correctly. 

A murmur ripples across the crowd as Lucifer opens his blade, finally tuning the flamboyant man out- and Husk sees the glint in Alastor’s eyes as the razor catches the light before Lucifer brings it down to swipe in swift, smooth strokes across his impromptu customer’s face. Excited cries fill the air, and even Husk is impressed with the dexterity and skill of the shave. Pentious doesn’t seem to realize what had happened yet, still jerkily shaving away until Niffty tugs at his coat and he drops his razor to the ground in sheer shock.

“Beadle Dempsey, if you would,” Alastor says, snakeoil grin in place as he steps aside so the Church official can come forward and place a delicate hand to the faces of both men.

“Mister Morningstar is the clear winner,” she says, wiping her hand off on the coat of the man that still had shaving soap on his face. To Pentious, she gives him a stern look. “Swindlers are not taken kindly to in this area, sir. I think it would be for the best if you move along elsewhere.” And like that she has dismissed him, turning back to Lucifer with a raised eyebrow. Pentious mutters something under his breath to the girl and her face falls.

Husk creeps closer, not needing to hear the salesman berate the young girl for her failed performance but ready to step in if needed. She’s perked up by the time he’s close enough to hear though- “this area was a bust, but maybe if we go the next town over I can practice my lines!”

“Niffty dear, I’m not sure your idea is accomplishing much more than giving me a reputation as a grifter. Perhaps we dispose of the bottles and go back to the demonstrative shaves!”

She tilts her head at him in question. “But you’re not any good at shaving, we have to give people a reason to come to you! Let’s brainstorm…”

The pair wander off behind the curtain, leaving Husk to wonder who the brains between the two of them was and allowing him to catch the end of the conversation between the Beadle and his own employer and guest.

“I think Judge Cain would be pleased to be attended to by such a fine barber,” she was saying, “but of course I shall have to come see the establishment myself first- as a man of both the law and the Church it’s important that he not be exposed to an unseemly environments. No disrespect to either of you,” she adds with a tone that drips insincerity, “but you must agree that Fleet Street is in the less desirable part of town. So many nasty rumors, and such colorful, dreadful history.” She looks Lucifer and Alastor up and down, the way they stand closely together, the clench of Lucifer's fist. “I suppose I’ll try to stop for an inspection of sorts in the next week or so. In the meantime- Emilia, Charlotte, come along.” She snaps her fingers like she’s summoning dogs, and two young women part the crowd to stand beside her.

The taller of the two, blonde haired and blue eyed, waves to Lucifer, and he looks as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He straightens up immediately- which still only put him at about Alastor’s shoulder- and looks Beadle Dempsey straight in the eyes; a feat many men in New Orleans struggled with even when they weren’t significantly shorter than her.

“I can assure you, ma’am,” Lucifer says clearly, “that both you and the esteemed Judge are welcome in my parlor anytime. I’ll be sure to make it extra welcoming, just for you.” He smiles and it doesn’t meet his eyes, and Husk feels unease run down his spine, like he’s looking at something that shouldn’t be witnessed. He thinks he understands now, Alastor’s unspoken obsession with the man- there was more to him than met the eye, something dark that lurked beneath the facade he put up. Something dangerous and raw- and from the way that he was looking at Lucifer, it looked like Alastor fully intended to bring that darkness clawing to the surface.

Act 1:  Chapter 1 🥧 Chapter 2 🥧 Chapter 3 🥧 Chapter 4 🥧Chapter 5 🥧 Chapter 6  🥧Chapter 7 🥧 Chapter 8 🥧 Chapter 9 🥧 Chapter 10 🥧 Chapter 11

just poppin in here with the AO3 link just in case ❤️https://archiveofourown.org/works/57993799/chapters/147639037

[akronus-the-redeemed]

*shoots her with a chibi-ether blast, which while being like a toddler chucking a plastic ball at someone, is making contact with a very light chibi*

*chibi Akronus slowly sneaks into Fayes kitchen as I sleep on the couch*

*Xenos is cooking something*

[filthy-khajiit]

I would like to preface this fic a bit.

{ ☆ Butcher x Fem!Reader ☆ }

The character, kinda made to be like me, personality wise. I don't relate the the aggressive girls in fics. I'm a 30 year old mom, I cook, I clean and I take care of people, and I wanted the fic to reflect that. This is also my first ever The Boys fic. I used to write supernatural fan fiction way back in the day, and I haven't written anything fully in SUCH a long time.

This is all fluffy and what not, only a smidgen of action. Romantic themes, but no smut. Smut free. Was feeling down and I just needed the comfy stuff. Ya know? 💚

Also keep in mind, I was half alive writing and editing this, haven't slept in two days and I'm losing my mind as I'm trying to type this. So this shit has been so lazily and sleepily written because it was for cozy times. Feel me? Alright cool. Thanks 💚 ~ F. Khajiit

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♧ Chapter 1: The Job Offer

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Y/N Y/L/N had always considered herself an ordinary woman. At thirty years old, she had settled into a quiet routine of solitude, her life marked by the steady cadence of uneventful days and peaceful nights. She worked a series of menial jobs, each as uninspiring as the last, but they paid the bills and kept her modest apartment in Queens running.

One chilly afternoon, Y/N came across a help-wanted ad that piqued her curiosity. It was vague, mentioning only the need for someone to keep a "base" clean. The address was in an obscure part of the city, one she wasn’t familiar with, but something about the anonymity of the ad intrigued her. With a shrug and a hopeful heart, she dialed the number listed and scheduled an interview for the next day.

When she arrived at the nondescript warehouse, she was greeted by a large, bald man with a stern expression. His name was Mother's Milk, though he insisted she just call him MM. He led her inside without much fanfare, explaining the job’s responsibilities in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You'll be cleaning up around here," MM said as they walked through the dimly lit hallways. "It's a bit of a mess most of the time, but we need someone who can handle it. Think you can manage?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes wide as she took in the cluttered surroundings. "I can manage," she said confidently.

◇ Chapter 2: Meeting the Team

Y/N’s first week on the job was a whirlwind of dusting, mopping, and organizing. She quickly realized that this was no ordinary cleaning gig. The base, as it turned out, belonged to a group called The Boys, and they were involved in something far more dangerous than she could have imagined.

Her initial encounters with the team were brief and formal. MM was the most approachable, often giving her a nod or a few words of encouragement. Frenchie, with his charming smile and thick accent, always had a kind word for her, though his frequent absences left her curious about his activities. Then there was Kimiko, silent but fierce, whose mere presence commanded respect.

And then there was William Butcher.

Y/N’s first impression of Butcher was a whirlwind of intensity. He stormed into the base one evening, his voice echoing through the halls as he barked orders and swore in his distinctive Cockney accent. At first, Y/N tried to keep her distance, intimidated by his aggressive demeanor. But as days turned into weeks, she found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

♡ Chapter 3: The First Encounter

One evening, Y/N was scrubbing the floor in the main room when Butcher walked in. She could feel his eyes on her, a prickling sensation that made her heart race. She glanced up to find him watching her intently.

"Oi, you missed a spot," he said gruffly, pointing to a corner she had yet to clean.

Y/N flushed, hastily moving to correct her oversight. "Sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Butcher smirked, a rare expression that softened his otherwise harsh features. "Don't worry about it, love. You're doin' fine."

His words, though casual, sent a thrill through her. She ducked her head, hiding her smile as she resumed her work. From that moment on, she kept herself looking forward to their brief interactions, cherishing the rare moments when Butcher’s gruff exterior seemed to crack, revealing glimpses of the man beneath.

♤ Chapter 4: Compassionate Care

As time went on, Y/N began to take on more responsibilities around the base. She noticed that the team often came back injured from their missions, and her natural inclination to help kicked in. She started tending to their wounds, offering a gentle touch and a reassuring smile.

One night, Butcher staggered in, blood seeping through his shirt from a nasty gash on his side. Y/N hurried to his side, her concern overriding her usual shyness.

"Let me help you," she said firmly, guiding him to a chair.

Butcher grumbled but didn’t resist as she carefully cleaned and bandaged the wound. Her hands were steady, her touch soothing, and for once, he allowed himself to relax under her care.

"You're too kind for this lot," he muttered, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

Y/N met his gaze, her y/e/c eyes filled with determination. "Someone has to be," she replied quietly.

《》 Chapter 5: Hallucinations and Heartbeats

Butcher’s nightmares were a well-kept secret, but Y/N had inadvertently stumbled upon them one late night. She found him in the kitchen, arguing with a man who wasn’t there.

"Joe, I told you to sod off!" Butcher growled, his eyes wild and unfocused.

Y/N froze, unsure of what to do. She had heard the others mention Butcher’s hallucinations in hushed tones, but seeing it firsthand was jarring.

"You can't keep ignoring me, Butcher," the apparition said, his voice dripping with condescension. Joe Kessler, the figment of Butcher’s fractured mind, was a tall, lean man with an eerie presence. He leaned against the counter, his eyes locked on Butcher. "You know I'm right. You're losing your edge."

"Shut up," Butcher spat, his hands clenching into fists. "You don't know a damn thing."

Kessler smirked, his gaze drifting over to where Y/N stood frozen in the doorway. "Ah, who's this then? Little miss housekeeper? She's a looker, ain't she? Bet she doesn’t know the real you."

Butcher’s eyes snapped to Y/N, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "Y/N, go back to bed," he ordered, his voice rough and desperate.

Y/N took a hesitant step forward, her concern for Butcher outweighing her fear. "Butcher, who are you talking to?"

Kessler laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "She can’t see me, Butcher. I'm just in your head, remember? But that doesn’t mean she isn’t real. Look at her, all soft and sweet. Bet she has no idea what she's gotten herself into."

"Shut up, Joe!" Butcher roared, slamming his fist on the counter. The noise echoed through the kitchen, making Y/N jump.

She took another step forward, her y/e/c eyes wide with concern. "Butcher, please, talk to me. What's going on?"

Butcher’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him. He looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "It's nothin', just... go back to bed."

Kessler shook his head, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "You think she’ll stay after she sees you like this? You're deluding yourself, Butcher."

Y/N hesitated, then reached out to touch Butcher’s arm. "If you ever need to talk, I'm here," she said softly, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes.

Butcher stared at her for a long moment, something unreadable in his eyes. Then he nodded, a curt gesture, and walked away, leaving Y/N standing alone in the dimly lit kitchen, her heart aching for the man she was beginning to understand.

☆ Chapter 6: Growing Closer

Despite Butcher’s abrasive exterior, Y/N found herself growing closer to him. She saw the way he softened around her, the way his tough facade cracked just a little when they were alone. She started to notice the small things: the way his heartbeat quickened when she was near, the way he lingered in the same room longer than necessary.

One evening, as they sat in the common room, Butcher glanced at her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

"Why are you still here?" he asked abruptly.

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you stay? This place, this life... it's dangerous."

She shrugged, meeting his gaze. "I stay because I care about all of you. And because I want to help."

Butcher's expression softened, and for a moment, he looked vulnerable. "This ain't right fer someone like you, love."

Y/N smiled. "Maybe. But I'm here, and I like it, so I'm not leaving. Unless you fire me, I guess." She glanced away, feeling a bit self-conscious about her rambling.

¤ Chapter 7: The Kidnapping

It was a quiet evening at the base, the kind that Y/N had come to appreciate amidst the chaos that often surrounded The Boys. She was in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal, when Butcher walked in. He leaned against the doorway, watching her with a rare softness in his eyes.

"Smells good," he remarked, his Cockney accent adding a rough edge to the compliment.

Y/N smiled, a warm feeling spreading through her chest. "Thought you might be hungry," she said, her tone light. "Sit down, it'll be ready in a minute."

Butcher nodded and took a seat at the small table, his eyes never leaving her. There was a comfort in the routine, a sense of normalcy that was hard to come by in their line of work. But that peace was shattered when Homelander appeared.

He strode into the room with an air of casual arrogance, his presence instantly changing the atmosphere. Butcher stiffened, his jaw clenching as he stood up, positioning himself protectively between  Y/N and Homelander.

"What do you want, you bloody wanker?" Butcher snarled, his fists clenching at his sides.

Homelander ignored him at first, his attention seemingly on some trivial aspect of the kitchen. But then, he paused, tilting his head as if listening intently. His eyes flicked to Y/N, and a slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

"Well, this is interesting," Homelander drawled, his gaze shifting back to Butcher. "You know, Butcher, your heart is racing. And it only started when I looked at her."

Butcher’s expression darkened, and he took a step forward. "Leave her out of this, you psycho."

Homelander's smile widened. "Ah, but why would I do that? It's so rare to find something that gets under your skin. And this... this is fascinating."

Before anyone could react, Homelander moved. In the blink of an eye, he was standing next to Y/N, his hand gripping her arm tightly. She gasped, fear flashing in her y/e/c eyes as she looked to Butcher.

"Don't you dare hurt her," Butcher growled, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage.

Homelander chuckled, lifting Y/N slightly off the ground as if she weighed nothing. "Oh, I won't hurt her. Much. But I do think it’s time for a little field trip."

Y/N struggled, her heart pounding in her chest. "Butcher," she whimpered, her voice a desperate plea.

Butcher took a step forward, his eyes locked on Homelander. "Put her down. Now."

Homelander tilted his head, as if considering the request. Then he shook his head, a mocking glint in his eyes. "No, I think I'll take her with me. Just to see how far you're willing to go for her."

With that, Homelander shot up through the ceiling, taking Y/N with him. The last thing she saw was Butcher’s anguished face, a look of helpless fury etched into his features.

○ Chapter 8: Butcher’s Rage

Y/N was gone, something inside him snapped. He tore through the base, his heart a thunderous roar in his chest.

"That bloody bastard took her!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury.

The team scrambled to form a plan, but Butcher was a man possessed. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t function without the thought of Y/N driving him forward.

"We'll get her back," MM said firmly, gripping Butcher's shoulder. "We'll get her back."

□ Chapter 9: The Rescue

The rescue mission was a blur of violence and chaos. Butcher led the charge, his sole focus on finding Y/N. When he finally burst into the room where Homelander held her, he saw red.

Homelander laughed, a cold, mocking sound. "Ah, Butcher. I was wondering when you'd show up."

Butcher didn’t waste time with words. He attacked, a fury of fists and rage. The fight was brutal, but with the team’s help, they managed to drive Homelander away.

Y/N, bound and bruised, looked up as Butcher approached. Tears filled her eyes as he knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he untied her.

"Are you okay? Love?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

She nodded, collapsing into his arms. "I knew you'd come."

Butcher held her tightly, his heart pounding against her chest. "I'll always come for ya, Y/N. Always."

■ Chapter 10: A New Beginning

The aftermath of the rescue brought a new understanding between Y/N and Butcher. They didn’t need words to express what had grown between them. The bond forged in fire and blood was unbreakable.

Butcher’s hallucinations didn’t disappear, but Y/N’s presence brought him a measure of peace. She was his light in the darkness, and he would do anything to protect her.

One evening, they sat together in the dimly lit common room. Butcher’s fingers traced the delicate lines of Y/N’s hand, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who so often embodied fury.

“Dunno how you put up wif all this madness, love,” Butcher murmured, his gray-green eyes searching hers. “Most people would’ve legged it by now.”

Y/N smiled, her green eyes meeting his. “I chose this, Butcher. I chose you.”

He snorted, a rough sound that was more affectionate than derisive. “Still, can’t figure out why. I’m a right bastard, and vis life... it ain’t exactly easy.”

She squeezed his hand, her expression unwavering. “Because I see you, the real you. And you’re worth it.”

Butcher stared at her for a long moment, his eyes a mix of confusion and somethin' deeper, somethin' that scared 'em more than he’d ever admit. “Never fought I'd see fe day I'd meet someone like you in fis 'ellhole.”

Y/N leaned closer, resting her head against his shoulder. “But here we are.”

He wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “Here we are,” he echoed, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t think I’ll ever understand it, but I ain’t complainin’.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of their experiences hanging between them. Butcher knew he wasn’t an easy man to love, but he felt something he hadn’t in a long time: hope.

“You ever need anyfin’, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “Anyfin at all, you come to me. Don’t matter what it is.”

She nodded, feeling the sincerity in his words. “I know, Butcher. I know.”

He kissed the top of her head, a rare gesture of tenderness. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not lettin’ you go, not ever. You’re stuck wif me now, like it or not.”

Y/N chuckled softly. “I think I can handle that.”

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Chapter’s Ficlets

I’m opening submissions for small ficlets that can range from 100 - 1k words (depending on how inspired I get).

The characters I will write for are as listed below;

(Stranger Things) Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove.

(Bill Skarsgärd) Eric Draven, Roman Godfrey.

Feel free to suggest a character to me and I will either confirm or deny the request. It is also of great importance that you read my rules (that can be found on my pinned post) before you submit a request. Please stay kind and respectful. I am only human.

To submit a request please send me either 1 or 2 of the below prompts alongside the character you wish to see and a rough brief what you want the request to entail.

Prompts

Threesome

Bonfire

Gym shorts

Mean and scary?

Vibrator

New Years Eve

Matching pyjamas

Somnophilia

Supernatural

Slow dancing

New apartment

Guitar lessons

Warehouse

Pillow humping

Enemies

A flock of crows

Botanical garden

Tattoo gun

Narcotics

Basement

Dildo

Abandoned

Graveyard

Speed drive

Bandaged knuckles

Eyeliner

Bathtub

Butcher

Tortured artist

Book store

Monster

Tavern

Crumpled paper

Potion shop

Role play

Nude painting

Hollow

Sleepy mansion

Music

Public sex

Bound and gagged

Stalker

Abduction

Lazy evenings

Tentacles

1800’s/1900’s

Dunking for apples

Dust

Skinny dipping

Free use

Ice skating

Decorating the tree

Dinner conversation

Crime

Fists or knives?

Blindfold

Angels and demons

Sea salt

Lingering scent

Mirrors

-

(If there’s nothing on here that tickles your fancy then suggest something to me and I’ll see what I can do!) xoxo

[akronus-the-redeemed]

Just realised the only person who’s given any attention to my butchers bill chapter 2 is @wanderingwierdo, I might not continue it.

[melodymunson]

Get to know me

My name is Melody. I'm 33. I've been a Stranger Things since early 2017 and an Eddie Munson stan since May 2022. Writing requests for Steddie x reader, Steve x reader, Eddie x reader, Steve x Robin x reader are open! (Platonic Robin and Steve only.)

My former tumblr username was MelodyLangdon

About me: I’m a passionate concert-goer, a horror convention junkie, and a Halloween lover.

My favorite series are SAW, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, American Horror Story, Scream, Nightmare on Elm Street, Paradise City, South Of Nowhere, Rob Zombie’s Firefly family trilogy, and Hemlock Grove. I love thrillers and horror books and my favorite authors are Richard Laymon, Jack Ketchum, Megan Hart, Anne Rice, JRR Tolkien. My top favorite bands of all time are Type O’ Negative, Bullet For My Valentine, Otep, Manson, Rammstein, Motionless In White, Ice Nine Kills, Arch Enemy, Kittie, David Bowie, Motley Crue, Poison, Butcher Babies, Children Of Bodom, Apocalyptica, Raven Black, Straight Line Stitch, Depeche Mode, The Cure, and Ghost. Metal, punk rock, nu metal, thrash metal are my favorite music genres. The Soska Twins, Eli Roth, and Mary Harron are my favorite directors. My top favorite movies are American Mary, American Psycho, American Satan, 10 Things I Hate About You, Girl Next Door, Strangeland, Mistress Of The Dark. The coolest celebs I’ve met are Twiggy Ramirez, Tobin Bell, Manson, Otep, MIW, Butcher Babies, Elvira, Bill Moseley, Sid Haig, and Felissa Rose. My favorite actors are Keanu Reeves, Joseph Quinn, Joe Keery, Heath Ledger, Cody Fern, Bill Skarsgard, River Phoenix, Blake Lively, Megan Fox, Susan Sarandon, Amber Tamblyn, and Margot Robbie. 

I follow back any active Stranger Things blog/fan who interacts with me and is 18+. Ask box/inbox open to questions/asks. Minors, creeps, bots, and anyone who’s intolerant towards women, any racists, any anti- POC/WOC and anyone exclusive of any part of the LGBTQIA+ will be blocked no exceptions. Intolerant of intolerance and my blog is a safe space.

My favorite Stranger Things characters are Eddie Munson (obviously). Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, 001/Henry Creel/Vecna, Joyce Meyers, Dustin Henderson, and Argyle.

Favorite ships and couples of ST: Steddie, Chrissy/Eddie, and  Nancy/Eddie/Steve/Robin (the fruity four).

I write and take requests for Chrissy/Eddie/reader, Chrissy/Eddie, Eddie/reader, Steddie/reader, Steve/reader, Robin/reader/Steve (platonic Steve+Robin ONLY), Chrissy/reader, and Eddie/reader/Corroded Coffin groupie.

Works in progress/completed: My first Eddie/reader fic was rockstar Eddie x reader headcanons. I have also published 2 Steddie/reader holiday fics on ao3, an Eddie/Chrissy/reader oneshot, Stobin/fem!reader, and a cheerleader reader/Eddie 3 part series. My ao3 username is MelodyLangdon. My next fics to be published will be an Eddie/reader/Corroded Coffin groupie. Rockstar Eddie/fem reader fic series in progress.

18+ only and preferably 21+ following me/interacting + reading my fics. No exceptions.

My newest fics: 

Steve/fem!reader/Robin https://archiveofourown.org/works/47570095

Older rockstar Eddie x younger fem!reader https://archiveofourown.org/works/47570314/chapters/119891428

My profiles/socials: https://bento.me/melodymunsonharrington

Masterlist: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2020/03/fanfics-masterlist.html

Moodboards: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2023/03/moodboards-for-stranger-things-fics.html

More moodboards: https://melodylangdonmasterlist.blogspot.com/2023/03/cody-fern-character-moodboards-for-fics.html

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 29 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Carlos Martinez

John checks in on me in the morning via text.

I spend the day at the library, taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi and looking for a new place to live.

I can't imagine my garage will be usable again any time soon and who knows what will happen to the property, now that Lucille is dead.

In the meantime, I try not to think about John and his confession or the questions that went along with it.

Did I love him, too?

Did I even know what love felt like?

I knew it when I saw it, like I saw it between Ian and Sam but I wasn't sure I'd ever experienced it myself, at least, until now.

But where was the line between like and lust and true love?

How did I know what I felt for John wasn't just shallow attraction?

Or some vampire mate-bond shit?

We were compatible in bed, at least, that was something and he was easy to live with.

I think back on the week I spent at his house.

I liked him and I liked his dogs, I liked his sense of humor 'on the occasions he relaxed enough to let it out' and I liked the way he made me feel, like I was someone worth the effort and worth caring about.

And yeah, I want him to kiss me again, I want him to do a lot more, too.

The attraction between us is undeniable.

But if I could never touch him again, would I still want his company?

I decide that I would and maybe that's the difference.

I don't just love John's body or the things he does to mine...

'I love John.'

Maybe what 'love' means can change over time, too.

A couple who've been together for fifty years probably aren't 'in love' the same way they were when they first met but they may love each other none the less.

Whether we would get the chance to find out if our 'love' could stand the test of time remained to be seen and largely depended on John's ability to restrain himself and not literally love me to death.

In the meantime, his confession deserved a reply.

After steeling my nerves and rehearsing in my head, I call him.

"John Turner's phone. Becky Wu speaking."

I choke on whatever I was going to say.

"Hello?"

"Uh... Hi, Becky. This is... that guy you saw at John's house. Carlos. Is John there?"

"Oh, hi, Carlos," Becky giggles.

"Sorry, he's in the shower. Can I take a message?"

My head swirls with reasons why John would be in the shower and Becky would be at his house, most of which don't make sense.

"No. Just tell him I called and to call me back."

"Sure thing. He's been telling about this case you're on. Sounds like a real head-banger."

"Head-banger?"

"Yeah, you know. Makes you wanna bang your head on your desk."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it does."

I thought she meant a mind-fuck but it's sort of the same thing, anyway.

"For real. First, one or both of the Peters kill Kyle's parents. Then they adopt Kyle. Next, Mr. Peters dies, my theory is he found out and Lucille killed him, John thinks he was the killer and had a guilty conscience, drank himself stupid and fell down the stairs."

Her excitement translates clearly through her tone and I can almost see her counting off the list on her fingers.

"Fast forward to the present and Kyle is killed. Lucille is a suspect but she pays your hospital bills when you're injured. A deflection tactic? But when Kyle's parents' remains are found, Lucille butchers herself in the most bizarre way possible. Oh and to top if off, she left her house to the gardener. What kind of murderer does that?"

"What gardener? Her yard is a disaster."

"Right? And then your only other suspect has an alibi for Daryl Spark's death, if a thin one."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the first part of the night he was working at a bar, that's solid. But the second half he was with some girl and she's the only one who can vouch for that. Believe me, the DA would tear that to shreds like a cat with a ball of catnip spiked tissue paper."

"A girl? Wait, are we talking about Alejo?"

He looked like the sort who'd call you maricón (Sissy) and beat the shit out of you if you looked at him wrong but he couldn't get it up with a girl if he tried or so he'd told me.

"That's according to John," Becky says.

"You'll have to ask him when he calls. I'd wait and talk to you in the meantime but he's taking one of his 'stress' showers. He'll be awhile."

I frown at the idea that Becky knows more about John's habits than I do, even though it's obvious she would.

They may not have been in love but they were married and lived together for much longer than I've known John existed.

Unable to stop myself, I ask the burning question.

"Um... what are you doing there, anyway?"

"Just picking up the dogs. John asked me to take them back for a few weeks while he moves."

"Moves? Moves where?"

"He hasn't told you? I guess this town just doesn't have the right 'vibe' for him or something. He's thinking of taking another position in San Fran. He's got family there, you know."

I try and fail to think of something appropriate to say.

"Hello?"

"Sorry."

I hold the phone away as I cough to clear my throat and remind myself to breathe.

"Uh, no. He hasn't mentioned that."

"Oh. Well... I'll tell him you called."

Becky's tone contains a wince, as if she's wondering if she's inadvertently said too much.

"Thanks. Um... and give Rick and Morty some belly rubs from me. I'm gonna miss those two."

"Sure thing, Carlos. Bye."

She ends the call.

I stare at my cell-phone.

Then I pull up Alejo's number and call him.

He knows the shit on just about everyone, in certain circles, anyway and he might know something about this 'gardener.'

Moreover, I want to know about this 'girl' because if Alejo was lying about his alibi, then we've still got a solid suspect on the line.

He answers on the first ring, barely giving me a chance to second-guess myself.

"Pendejo? (Fool) Que va! (No way) I thought you were dead or something."

"Oh? Is that why you never bothered to call me after I fell down a flight of stairs and broke my arm?"

"What?" Alejo laughs.

"That Cabrón (Bastard) didn't tell you? I rode to the hospital with you. I was there the whole way. Then he showed up and told me to fuck off. You didn't tell me you were serious with nobody."

"I'm... I'm not," I say, swallowing.

"That guy... doesn't know what he's talking about. We're not together."

"Oh. So, you free tonight?"

Wow. Right to it, then.

"Yeah. That's why I called."

He chuckles, a low, soft sound that sends an unpleasant shiver up my spine.

"Come to the bar. I'm on shift until ten. Then we can have some fun."

"I'll be there."

"Can't wait."

He makes a kissing sound that makes me cringe and hangs up.

I grab my wallet and keys and head for the door.

I've lost my home and my business.

My aunt 'and only living family member' is missing and the only man I've ever loved has decided I'm not worth the effort, after all.

What else have I got to lose?

[a-ramblinrose]

A Weekly Reading Journal 10.13.24

My All Hallows Read is still a blast! I'm currently reading just a bit at a time from many books but I am reading so that's a win!

Currently Reading:

Fiction:

It Devours! by Joseph Fink & Jeffrey Cranor

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk

The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter

Harrowing the Dragon by Patricia A. McKillip

Poetry:

The Collected Poems 1912-1944 by H.D.

Poems For Tortured Souls by Liz Ison

Wound Is the Origin of Wonder: Poems by Maya C. Popa

Nonfiction:

Lady Killers by Tori Telfer

Graphic Novels:

Dead Boy Detectives by Toby Litt & Mark Buckingham

Something Under the Bed Is Drooling by Bill Watterson

Just Finished:

Fangs by Sarah Andersen ★★★★

Butcher & Blackbird by Brynne Weaver ★★★

Everyone In My Family HAs Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson ★★★★★

DNFs/Try Again Later:

Underground Hocus Pocus by Denise Nicole ( just a meh kindle freebie)

Spookily Yours by Jennifer Chipman (another kindle freebie and it felt really juvenile for an adult romance so out it goes)

General Reading Thoughts:

Started the week off strong and then I slowed down a bit due to fanfiction distractions. No regrets! XP

🖤👻🎃🖤🎃👻🖤

Happy Reading!!!

Current Reading Tag || General Original Content || 2024 Reading Page

And a few more ramblings under the cut:

Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead is one I kept seeing on booktube so spotting it thrifting was neat. This is going to be a weird one and I'm excited for it. Probably a book where I'll read a chapter or two at a time but not binge.

Angela Carter!!!! How did it take me so long to read her stuff??? I have a bunch of it so really how? Amazing!

Lady Killers is annoying me. When writing/publishing a group of what's basically mini biographies group them either chronologically or my theme. Not randomly with no pattern. No. Almost a dnf but it's easy to read when I walk with my Grams in the mornings.

Dead Boy Detectives is just meh so far. I looked at reviews and a lot of people say the show is better. I wanted to read at least some of the source material 1st but maybe it would of been better if I hadn't. I will finish because it take some epic bad for me to dnf comics.

Butcher & Blackbird was fun junk food but I could not take it seriously with how bad the two serial killer main characters were about NOT GETTING CAUGHT. Real names with witnesses around, obvious travel plans, texting details, and so much more. How did they not get caught? As a romance it was fun but noting special. I've heard horrible things about book 2 so I'm done with the series unless book 3's reviews are GLOWING!

[im-getting-help]

I'VE BEEN SAYING THIS FOR THE LONGEST TIME!!!!!!

It 2017 and the miniseries shows friendship! It 2019 is so uncomfortable in their relationships it drives me INSANE.

In interviews the cast seems to like eachother a lot, they have fun together, but it absolutely doesn't translate to the movie. And actually, they're barely together!! We get Jade of the Orient, the clubhouse and then the final battle, other than that they're always separated or in small groups.

They don't touch eachother, they don't lean on eachother, they look tense around one another for almost the whole film. No hand holding or hugs or nothing unless absolutely necessary. Verbal communication too, and this is the part that actually sucks the most. When they're bickering or playing with eachother it doesn't work like in the first chapter cause they never seem to be comfortable with it. They don't "laugh it off", it just escalates or ends in an awkward silence.

FOR EXAMPLE! The scene in the clubhouse when Richie tries to make a dumb joke/jumpscare and Eddie asks 'are you going to be like this the whole time?' It was the perfect opportunity for some bickering between the two, but instead we get 'right, i'll go fck myself' IT LOOKS LIKE THE LOSERS CAN'T STAND RICHIE! IS SO UNCOMFORTABLE. ALSO BEV WOULD'VE LAUGH A LITTLE!!.

Also in Jade when they ask for Stan and Richie says 'he's not going to come, he's a pussy' and nobody laughs or comments or anything, is so fcking awkward. Eddie would've tell Richie to fuck off, Bill would've said something like "that's not funny Richie" and Richie would've either apologize or take it too far. If you're not going to commit to it don't use Richie.

If you were to tell me that actually all the adult cast hated eachother I would've believe you, no doubt in my mind, makes perfect sense.

I get (or i try to understand) that they use these wierd interactions to show how scared and out of depth they feel, but they butchered the friendship aspect so much that they feel like a group of strangers at times.

THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS THE WHOLE FCKING POINT!!

And a special mention to: Benverly's kiss.

This scene is SO upsetting, i don't know what they were thinking. Your friend Richard is blind and crying! can you stop the horny for like 2 seconds???

Those aren't friends. They didn't even try to find a way to get Eddie out, and then they have the audacity to JOKE about "how Eddie would've hate being here"?! Then when the only person who apparently missed him starts crying you hug him for a sec and then go to kiss your new boyfriend?????

WHAT ARE WE DOING?! WHAT'S GOING ON?! ONE OF YOUR BESTIES OF ALL TIME JUST DIED. MY GOD.

Is so SO bad. I love those movies but is literally the worst aspect. The fix-it's i read tend to have lots of "Losers spending time together and being happy" cause for me it's literally like a death, the death of their friendship.

something i feel very strongly about is that the IT films do a bad job making the adults feel like friends. i don't know if it's a script issue, a directing issue, or an acting issue, but it's incredibly frustrating to me.

the movie does a great job showing close relationships between the losers in specific pairs (richie and eddie, ben and beverly, mike and bill), but otherwise they do not feel like friends to me (they almost get there in the jade scene, but nothing like in the miniseries, and the rest of the movie is awful in this regard). like you want me to believe eddie died and beverly and ben are just??? making out??? like richie is here sobbing on a rock and he loses his glasses and the other losers go looking and bev and ben are just???? kissing? like these are not beverly and ben these are imposters. like tell me why richie was the only one who showed any significant emotion over eddie dying. they were all friends, thats the whole goddamn point.

and idk what happens in the book, but the losers leaving eddie in the sewers is so stupid, like he is constantly noted to be tiny, and you're telling me none of the losers could carry him out? ben's whole thing (which i will be ranting about later because it pisses me off that ben had to get skinny and buff to be hot like shut the fuck up) is that he got buff and he couldn't pick up eddie? seriously? it makes no sense for the losers to leave him down there he hated the sewers the last place in the world that he would ever want to rest forever would be in a disgusting sewer. they love him and they know him they would never leave him down there

the relationships between the losers in the miniseries feel so much more substantial, yes richie and eddie are shown to be notably close, same with ben and bev, but that doesn't mean they don't all love each other. it's very notable to me that in the miniseries the losers are always touching each other, and not just in brief offhand ways, they lean into each other, they lay on each other, they caress each others faces. it isn't just that they love each other and are comfortable sitting close together on the couch or something, they are constantly actively touching each other, both because they love each other, and probably because they're so amazed to have each other back and want to commit their friends to memory. like literally any scene with more than one loser in it? they're touching each other or otherwise very close, whereas in the film you don't get that impression at all.

[akronus-writes]

In celebration of chapter 1 of The butchers bill releasing tomorrow, I’m going to pit the master list for all of my characters and a paragraph of their lore here. this is part 1, part 2 and 3 are in different posts

Akronus, the occult detective, wielder of the god-binder blade, and master of eldritch magics. Started existing at the same time as Akrosion when a magically gifted teen died in a fire, creating the two from the corpse in a form of mitosis.

Hallowed, the silver gun. Born in a poor family, hallowed ended up becoming a mercenary at 16 to support his family, meeting his then boyfriend Deltan in the work. After the oblivion eclipse left hallowed missing an arm and an eye, and Deltan a second consciousness inside Hallowed. He transitioned into a cybernetic detective and superhero.

Aldira, the ex-bloody queen. Born to a family of blood controlling crime lords, Aldira took up the family trade and recruited a number of mercenaries after a rival family killed her parents. Though after the oblivion eclipse she ended her families empire and became a hero to honour. A dead friend’s memory.

Antros, ember of fear. One of the four embodiments of fear, Antros took up mercenary work to feed himself, eating his victims fear to survive. After the oblivion eclipse, Antros found heroics to be abetter option for both the morals, and to cause fear.

Crow, master of nature magic.

After being left for dead by a group of bullies, crow adopted his moniker and became mercenary to get money to fund wildlife reservations. After the oblivion eclipse, heroics would probe itself to be the more effective option for preservation.

Clockwork, time guardian.

After witnessing his parents death at the hands of a wanted killer unlocked his ability to freeze time, clockwork took up his mantle to protect the innocent and stop people like his parents killer from hurting other again.

Jormungand, seas wrath.

The magically enchanted pet snake of Aldira’s best friend, Jormungand retreated into the ocean after the oblivion eclipse, where she would naturally unlock her ability to to enter both a humanoid form and a world snake form. And took up heroics to protect the oceans her master once loved.

Archon, the unrelenting time traveller

created when Akronus' arcane energy caused a would-be child of theirs to be sent to the future. Archon would spend the 20 years he lived in the year 2150-2170 developing "archo-tech" an array of weapons and gear that he would use as a hero when he was abruptly sent back to the present, the day after he was conceived.

@gobodegoblin @tales-of-the-caves @a-secret-rpblog @a-scientist-reborn @f4y3w00d5 @aelin-the-soft @monsterfucker-research-wizard @the-bound-demon @the-blood-mage @good-wizard @mynaemsophie

[awesomecooperlove]

How come in the same year, 2018, Vladmir Putin handed Donald John Trump a soccer ball? “The ball’s in your court, Sir.”

 

What year did Russia “invade” Ukraine? 2022?

 

What year did the FIFA World Cup of soccer start? 2022?

 

How come Russia did not participate in the 2022 FIFA World Cup?

 

How come FIFA rejected Zelensky a video speech at the World Cup?

 

Why is Russia only bombing Ukraine cities with Biochemical Plants?

 

How come the C-40 Clipper I’ve been tracking, Registration 0041, that “carried” and “brought” Zelensky to D.C. never went to Ukraine?

 

What part of exposing the RINOs and Federal Corporation of the festering rot of D.C. do you not understand at this point?

 

Explain to me how Donald John Trump gave Angela Merkel a White Flag of Surrender in July 2021 if he’s “Former President” or “Civilian.” The white flag of surrender is titled the White Flag of Truce in Chapter 12 of the Law of War Manual.

 

Explain to me why Donald John Trump exerted Executive Privilege over classified documents in November 2021 and “Biden” hasn’t? You know… only the ‘privilege’ of the Executive Branch. You know… one of those 3 Branches of Government 75% of Americans cannot name.

 

If he were real, and this wasn’t a Military Operation and COG, how come “Biden” revoked Bossman’s Executive Order, the 1776 Commission, which would put our American History, Foundation, Revolutionary War, the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, the Continental Congress, the Bill of Rights, Marbury vs. Madison 1803, the War of 1812, the Texas Revolution, the Gold Rush 1849, Martin Luther King Jr., Frederick Douglass, Booker T. Washington, Abraham Lincoln, the meaning of historic events, etc.

 

How come “Biden” and these RINOS want to cancel History and History Lessons, yet they always misconstrue, misuse, abuse, twist, and butcher quotes by the Founders and our History to fit their narratives and agendas?

 

How come so many Americans overlook this? How does this not outrage Americans?

 

Why does an honorably retired United States Veteran shows what’s happening by Laws and Orders that SUPPORT the Constitution and Foundation (Marbury versus Madison 1803) and the same Laws and Orders being interpreted correctly by Foundation and History and receive hate, threats, ridicule, slander, and defamation of character?

 

Americans living in America but don’t want to know the history of America that makes them Americans.

 

YOU are only in this Nation due to our Foundation. And there’s way too many of us that are fighting to maintain the Foundation as she stands.

 

Many people are experiencing karma from laziness and complacency from comments such as: “I’ll fight for this country if I had to.”

 

Well, you must. Every single day. You must understand your Foundation, History, and how the Government Systems, Courts, and Military operate to the best of your ability.

 

You cannot debunk the Laws and Orders because:

 

1.         Laws are changed by: Rescinding, Revision, and Revoking.

2.         The Orders have not been rescinded by those who gave the Orders.

3.         The 9 National Emergencies have NOT been terminated and addressed as prescribed by Law.

4.         The National Guard are still on ORDERS that activated them to Active-Duty. These ACTIONS prove the Laws and Orders are being upheld and carried out.

 

Majority of Americans’ laziness, stubbornness, complacency, lack of discernment, lack of education, lack of intelligence, lack of knowledge, lack of integrity, lack of honesty, lack of responsibility, lack of accountability, lack of spine and backbone, haughtiness, self-entitlement, drama loving, short attention spans, say one thing – do another, never practice what they preach, talk the talk never walk their walk, judgmental, attitude problems, lack of discipline, lack of structure, spoon fed, and spoiled… avoiding, dodging, ignoring, hiding from reality, facts, history, structure, foundation, and responsibilities are why most will stay in the same hamster wheel…

 🔥🔥🔥

[magic-can]

Sindel’s voice actress upon reading her script:

[thehyperrequiem]

Diego and the Scary Monstrous Revival (Bendy and the Dark Revival parody) cast

"Return to the cartoon studio from Diego and the Dino Machine™. See the ink-soaked kingdom of Diego Brando™ like never before through the eyes of Edge/Jolyne, an animator with mysterious abilities. Deeper, darker, and with more horror-stoked action, the Scary Monstrous Revival will keep you on the edge."

Edge (Mario + Rabbids) as Audrey Drew (Real World)

Jolyne Cujoh (JJBA Stone Ocean) as Audrey Drew (Cycle)

Starscream (Transformers Prime) as Wilson Arch

DIO Brando (JJBA Stardust Crusaders) as Shipahoy Wilson

Mikitaka Hazekura (JJBA Diamond is Unbreakable) as Porter

Mariah (JJBA Stardust Crusaders) as Betty

Wambus Troubleham (Bugsnax) as Steve McGregor

Carne (JJBA Vento Aureo) as Big Steve

Gwess (JJBA Stone Ocean) as Carley

Dr. Ferdinand (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Slicer

Foo Fighters (JJBA Stone Ocean) as Heidi

Bakugou (My Hero Academia) as Bill Danton

Ghiaccio (JJBA Vento Aureo) as Mad Artist

Changelings (My little Pony) as Widows

Queen Chrysalis (My little Pony) as Widow King

Ringo Roadagain (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Lord Amok

DIO Brando (JJBA Phantom Blood) as Shipahoy Dudley

Decepticons and Vehicons (Transformers Prime) as Keepers

Glamrock Animatronics (FNAF SB) as The Ink Jets

Limp Bizkit Zombies (JJBA Stone Ocean) as Iridescent Lost ones

Weather Report (JJBA Stone Ocean) as Henry Stein

Cromdo Face (Bugsnax) as Joey Drew

Scary Monsters Diego Brando (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Bendy/Baby Benders

Partial Utahraptor! Diego Brando (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Ink Bendy

Utahraptor! Diego (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Beast Bendy

Hot Pants (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Alice Angel

Partial Utahraptor! Hot Pants (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Susie-Alice

Yukako (JJBA Diamond is Unbreakable) as Allison Angel

Koichi (JJBA Diamond is Unbreakable) as Himself/Allison’s Boyfriend

Gyro Zeppeli (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Boris the Wolf

Johnny Joestar (JJBA Steel Ball Run) as Himself/Boris’s Friend

Giorno (JJBA Vento Aureo) as Tom

Pucci (JJBA Stone Ocean) as Sammy Lawrence

Rubber Soul, Devo the Cursed, ZZ and Steely Dan (JJBA Stardust Crusaders) as The Butcher Gang

Legoshi (Beastars) as Norman Polk

Formaggio (JJBA Vento Aureo) as The Projectionist

Daniel J. D'Arby (JJBA Stardust Crusaders) as Bertrum Piedmont

Dark Enchantress Cookie (Cookie Run) as Susie Campbell

Joseph Joestar (JJBA Battle Tendency) as Wally Franks

Caesar Zeppeli (JJBA Battle Tendency) as Thomas Connor

Snorpy (Bugsnax) as Jack Fain

Chandlo (Bugsnax) as Himself/Jack’s Lover

Tiziano (JJBA Vento Aureo) as Swollen Jack

Squalo (JJBA Vento Aureo) as Himself/Swollen Jack’s Lover

Triffany Lottablog (Bugsnax) as Allison Pendle

Floofty (Bugsnax) as Grant Cohen

Salt Cookie (Cookie Run) as Shawn Flynn

The Pillar Men and Santana (JJBA Battle Tendency) as The Butcher Gang Enemies

Utahraptors (Jurassic Park series) as The Searchers

Zombies (JJBA Phantom Blood) as Lost Ones

Megatron (Transformers Prime) as Nathan Arch

Airachnid (Transformers Prime) as Tessa Arch

Perceptor (Transformers Animated) as Alan Grey

Gramble Gigglefun (Bugsnax) as Telly Wester

Mario Zucchero (JJBA Vento Aureo) as Angus Newman

Tonio (JJBA Diamond is Unbreakable) as Dale Little

Eggabelle (Bugsnax) as Kay Lee

Beffica (Bugsnax) as Jane Todd

Gingerbrave (Cookie Run) as Lance Derby

Ratchet (Transformers Prime) as Hank Scott

Juno (Beastars) as Grace Conway

Deku (My Hero Academia) as Phil Clark

Sale (JJBA Vento Aureo) as Archie Carter

Carrot Cookie (Cookie Run) as Kitty Thompson

Quinn (Flipline) as Sally Newt

Telence T. D'Arby (JJBA Stardust Crusaders) as Hudson Doyle

Shockwave (Transformers Animated) as Chef Buck

Ironhide (Transformers Animated) as Muncie Dunn

Tea Knight Cookie (Cookie Run) as Eugene Lloyd

Thunder Mcqueen (JJBA Stone Ocean) as Carl

Scary Monsters Diego Brando (JJBA Steel Ball Run) (With Raptor teeth and eyes) as Sinful Bendy

Chapters:

Chapter 1: Drawn to Darkness

Chapter 2: The Raptor's Domain (The Demon's Domain)

Chapter 3: The Eternal Stand Power (The Eternal Machine)

Chapter 4: The Prison of Horrors (The Factory of Horrors)

Chapter 5: The Scary Monstrous Revival (The Dark Revival)

[separatist-apologist]

Right Where You Left Me

If our love died young, I can't bear witness

Summary: Six years after leaving his hometown for good, Lucien Vanserra returns to bury his father. Upon arrival, he realizes he left more behind than just bad memories.

Chapter 1: Exile

Read Chapters 1 & 2 here: AO3

Note: why work on current projects when I can have 80 WIPS all at once??

[pretend there is a graphic here]

Elain knew, the moment she saw that shiny SUV, that the last two years of her life were about to come crashing around her. Feyre was still inside, still in bed, but Elain was up early for cheer practice. Taking the three rickety, wooden steps to her loose gravel drive, Elain adjusted the straps of her backpack and hoped the idling car was just a fluke. Maybe the FBI was watching her father, she considered wildly.

The mirrored, passenger window rolled down and the lined, cold face of her boyfriend’s father appeared. Elain paused, one immaculate, white sneaker crushing the blooming marigolds dotted around her dilapidated mailbox.

“Get in the car,” Beron ordered, filling her body with a sinking sense of dread. Lucien told. He’d promised he would keep the secret and he turned around and told his dad. Elain wanted to tell him no, wanted to turn around and scream for her dad but what would he do? She hadn’t worked up the courage to inform her father of her mistake yet, couldn’t bring herself to shatter her image as his perfect daughter.

So Elain reached for the handle and slid into the leather chair, setting her back pack in her lap.

“I’d like to drive you to school today,” Beron offered mildly.

“Thank you,” she whispered, smoothing her blue and yellow cheer skirt over her thighs. Beron didn’t glance at her as he drove out of the trailer park she lived in. The homes had seen better days—everyone had, but that was before Beron Vanserra announced the car plant that the town had been built around would be going through “changes.” Changes, of course, meant layoffs, and layoffs meant the pension people like her father spent decades working towards were suddenly gone, replaced with a paltry severance. The auto industry was bailed out and the Vanserra’s continued to live in their gated mansion, but people like Elain’s father were left behind in a rotting trailer.

Feyre had managed to get a job at a nearby deli, helping butcher and slice meat at the too-young age of fourteen, sacrificing her childhood and any extracurriculars she might have participated in to feed their family. Nesta paid bills and negotiated with the utility companies when they didn’t have enough to keep the water or electric on, robbing Peter to pay Paul endlessly. Nesta somehow managed to keep everything going which left Elain to manage the house. Cooking, cleaning, routine repairs…and keeping their father from giving up completely.

Nesta couldn’t escape though she’d graduated the year before. She went to the local state school and came home on the weekends with cardboard boxes of cafeteria food she’d pilfered with her meal plan and to check her spreadsheet to see where they were. Elain knew Nesta had gotten a job as a waitress on the side in an effort to convince Feyre she could quit her own job but the extra money still wasn’t enough.

Elain would be next. She’d been accepted into community college and the minute that last bell rang, she had a job already lined up at a local bakery. Between the three of them, they figured they could pay off the trailer and convince their father to take a small, part-time job that would keep his lights on. Elain had overheard Nesta screaming at him to apply for government assistance for all the good it did. Their father loved his job working in the plant. Unless Beron was willing to re-hire him, he was never going to work again.

“Last week of school, huh?” Beron’s voice interrupted her thoughts, dragging Elain to the present.

“Yeah,” she agreed, tucking a buttery curl behind her ear.

“I heard you’re going to the community college. Congratulations, of course. Your sister…where did she end up?”

“State,” Elain murmured. Nesta had been accepted into Ivy’s, had given it all up to make sure she and Feyre didn’t die. Beron’s face didn’t betray his thoughts but Elain knew he thought it all beneath him. Thought her beneath him.

“Ah, right. Lucien was accepted into Yale. Did he tell you?”

Elain swallowed. Lucien. The only reason he knew she existed was the scholarship that sent Feyre and Nesta to the too nice private school he attended. Lucien, with his beautiful brown eyes and his wide smile…Lucien who could have had anyone he wanted and yet somehow wanted her.

That was all over. She could see it on Beron’s face.

“He did,” she admitted. She was proud of him, excited for him. Lucien wanted to go to school where his brothers had, wanted to prove he was as good as they were.

“Did he tell you that he’s decided not to attend in the fall?”

Elain glanced over at Beron’s cold, steely face. “No.”

Beron nodded. “He wants to stay and raise his baby,” Beron continued through clenched teeth. “He’s decided to take a job nearby cutting wood.”

Beron made it sound so filthy, the prospect of one of his sons doing manual labor.

“He didn’t tell me that,” Elain whispered, heart racing. “I would have told him to go.”

“Awfully hard to be a long distance father,” Beron snapped. Elain knew Beron would be angry when he learned she was pregnant and had begged Lucien not to say anything until she was so far along there was no going back. She was angry he hadn’t, that she was left to deal with his father alone.

Beron pulled to the curb a block from the looming castle-like building that housed the school she attended. “Lucien will be at Yale this fall, a single man dedicated to his studies. Lucien has a future outside this town and doesn’t need an ill-timed child standing in his way.”

Beron pulled the visor down, revealing several manilla envelopes. He handed them to her silently, waiting for her to peer inside.

One-hundred-dollar bills, each neatly clipped looked back at her. Elain’s heart raced. “Consider this eighteen years of child support in exchange for ending things with Lucien today. I don’t care what lies you have to tell him.”

Feyre and Nesta could quit their jobs, they could pay off that trailer…Elain swallowed hard. “He’ll never forgive you—”

Beron’s harsh laugh stopped her from saying any more. “He’ll never know. Heartbreak keeps a man from revisiting his past and we both know you’re never leaving this place. Take the money”

“And if I don’t?”

Beron’s eyes turned to ice in his skull. “I wonder if an impoverished teenage mother is even equipped to raise a child? I wonder if she possesses the resources to keep the child from falling into neglect…to keep the child out of the foster system? Hm? Don’t test me, Archeron. Do the right thing and take the money, get rid of that baby, and be a young woman.”

Elain blinked back her tears. “My dad…he used to work at your plant.”

Beron rolled his eyes. “You want me to give him his job back?”

“I do,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“And you’ll end things with my son?”

She nodded and Beron smiled, reaching into the console between them and tossing her another too-full envelope of cash.

“Consider it done.”

*~* 6 years later *~*

“Did you hear?” Arina Novak burst into Flour Power Cakery at five am, an hour before Elain opened, her emerald eyes shining with excitement. Blonde hair braided cutely off her pretty, tanned face and wearing a white sun dress patterned with dinosaurs, Arina was every kindergartner’s favorite teacher. That included Ivy, sitting at the front counter, eyes glued to her tablet. Arina ruffled Ivy’s copper hair before stepping around the empty glass case, flats clacking on Elain’s wooden floors. Arina knew all the gossip since she worked at the elementary school and always shared it with Elain.

“Tell me,” Elain said with a smile, popping another tray of cupcakes into the oven.

“Beron Vanserra is dead,” Arina said with a grin, not bothering to see if Ivy was listening. That name meant nothing to Elain’s five-year-old and never had. Beron had seen her in town more than once, strolling by with his pretty, young wife and had never once acknowledged her.

“Good,” Elain replied, surprised by how much relief she felt. For years, his threat of having her child removed lingered like a ghost, haunting her at night before she fell asleep. Beron’s money had financed her entire life—she’d skipped college altogether, taken that bakery job while helping Feyre graduate and get out of her their miserable town. When the owner suddenly passed away, Elain had bought the shop and the space above it, turned the second floor into a two-bedroom apartment for her and Ivy, and settled in. She’d never forgotten that day in his car nor did she believe Beron had, either. He could have yanked it all away if he’d wanted.

“They’re holding his funeral here according to that teenager he married. Apparently his ex got in last night.”

Elain swallowed. “Are they all coming back?”

Arina, outside of Elain’s sisters, was the only one who knew the truth of Ivy’s parentage. She’d never shared that information with anyone else. “Maybe. I’ll try and keep an ear out for you-know-who.”

For Lucien, who had done exactly as Elain asked that miserable afternoon. Blazing hot, unseasonably humid, standing in the open sun, Elain could still see herself lying to Lucien that she’d lost the baby and wanted to break up. He’d begged, had told her she was the only future he wanted and Elain had told him to forget her. To stop calling, to stop texting…he’d done it. The next day he’d turned up looking as handsome as he always had, grinning with his friends like she didn’t exist.

It was for the best.

That’s what she told herself, anyway. So much time had passed, Elain was sure someone else had snapped Lucien up and was daydreaming of a family with him. He would have been an excellent father.

“Thanks,” she replied, turning back to her baked goods. Arina stayed, chatting about other things in what Elain suspected was an attempt to keep her mind off Lucien, as if that were possible. It was as if Lucien’s genes had said copy/paste when it came to their daughter. She was his spitting image with her thick copper hair, her sun-kissed golden skin, her brown eyes that skewed that strange mix of orange. Ivy had his laid back nature even as a toddler, his wide, easy smile.

Arina walked Ivy to school every day so Elain could get through the breakfast rush without having to shut down for an hour. Grabbing a warm croissant, Arina smiled at the chubby cheeked. “You ready, monster?”

Ivy nodded. “Bye mommy.”

“Bye baby.”

Ivy hopped off her spot and flipped the closed sign to open. There was a small line waiting, her usual regulars coming back for coffee and something sweet. An older man held the door open for Arina just like he always did, and the pair took off down the street hand in hand.

She got through her first six customers by memory alone. She knew her seventh, too, a middle aged woman who worked in HR that liked her coffee drowning in cream. “Your usual—”

Elain froze at the sight of Eris Vanserra standing in a crisp, expensive suit. “I would be impressed if you knew how I liked my coffee.”

Oh God, she thought with terror. Eris glanced at the glass case, his eyes a match for her daughters. Had he seen her? Did he know her secret?

“Black coffee is fine…maybe a kitchen sink cookie for my mother, though.”

Elain nodded. “Eight fifty,” she replied. Eris swiped his card, reaching into his pocket for a ten-dollar bill he then shoved into her little tip jar. Elain made his coffee and wrapped up his cookie, sliding both to him with shaking hands.

“Thanks,” was all he said before striding out without a second glance back. She watched him through the glass windows of her store front, ignoring her next customer until he vanished.

“Feels strange to have those boys back,” Maureen, an elderly woman coming to collect a dozen cookies for her card group, was part of the same social class Beron belonged to, though much nicer. “Eris has gotten taller.”

Elain nodded. She had never known him well and didn’t want to start.

“Still,” Maureen pushed two dollars atop Eris’s ten. “After what Beron did to Amera…it’s nice to see him get what he deserved.”

There was a gasp from behind Maureen. Alice, her granddaughter, swatted the old woman playfully. “What an awful thing to say.”

“The truth isn’t always nice,” Maureen replied, taking her box of cookies. “You know that, don’t you?”

Elain nodded.

She knew that all too well.

Things slowed around ten and Elain cleaned up and began packing orders, grateful for some quiet in the wake of Eris’s intrusion. She doubted very much he knew anything at all or would think to look at her daughter too closely. She was stressing out over nothing. The Vanserra’s might descend on the town that birthed them but they wouldn’t stay. That gave Elain some relief and got her through lunch. Arina would bring Ivy back at three twenty and Elain would close up ten minutes later, done with the day and ready to spend the evening entirely focused on her daughter.

It was a quiet life, but it was hers. Bolstered by that, Elain had all but forgotten about Eris when the door jangled at three fifteen. Coming up from the back, Elain nearly vomited on the floor. How many Vanserra’s intended to visit her in one day?

Amera Vanserra, the ex-wife of Beron, peered around the small, cozy space with interested eyes. She made her way to the glass case, dressed casually in white shorts and thick strapped navy-blue tank top. Her long red hair—the same as Ivy’s—tumbled down her back in loose waves.

“My son said the cookie came from you,” she told Elain. They’d met, had spent time together. Elain was almost disappointed when Amera didn’t seem to recognize her. “I came to see what else you had.”

“There’s more if you get here early,” Elain explained at the sparse offerings. Amera nodded, hands folded behind her back.

“I’ll take the rest of the macrons, I suppose…and a strawberry milk.” “Good choice,” Elain replied, turning her back despite every cell in her body screaming for her to run. The bell to the door jangled and Ivy, right on schedule, burst through the door with chocolate smeared across her cheek. Arina was just behind her, guilty as ever for giving Ivy candy.

“Mommy mommy mommy! Do you want to see what I painted today?”

“Give me one second,” Elain replied, pressing the lid closed on Amera’s milk.

Turning, Elain watched Amera glance towards Ivy, her face revealing nothing. Ivy, blissfully unaware of the disaster unfolding around her, unzipped her backpack and yanked out a large, folded piece of paper with little, messy handprints all over it.

“It’s the kissing hand!” Ivy declared, showing the room. No one moved for a moment.

“How lovely,” Amera praised to the beaming little girl. “You should frame it.”

Ivy looked to her mother, bolstered by the praise. “In the hall,” Ivy said decidedly. Standing in front of the door, Arina crossed her arms over her chest, her expression cloudy. “Time to close up?”

Elain nodded. Amera, gracious as always, took her items and paid, leaving a twenty dollar tip in the jar. “My apologies. Have a nice day, ladies.”

Amera left, looking over her shoulder at Ivy one last time before hurrying away. Arina and Elain both watched, tuning out Ivy’s excited chatter. Arina locked the glass door and turned to Elain.

“Call Nesta.”

Nesta was a high-powered corporate attorney and, while helpful and terrifying in equal measure, was not the person Elain needed at that moment. Nesta was who she called when things were irrevocably broken. Grabbing her phone, she dialed a familiar number, put it on speaker, and set her phone on the counter.

“Who are you calling?” Ivy asked curiously.

“Hello?” A friendly, masculine voice answered.

“Rhys? Is Feyre there?” Elain asked, aware her voice was trembling.

“She’s at the gym. What’s up? Want me to give her a message?”

Arina and Elain stared at each other for a long moment.

“Elain? What’s going on?”

“Beron Vanserra is dead…and I need Feyre to come home.”

Rhysand paused. “Do they know?”

Elain swallowed, her voice a whisper. “His mom and brother came in today…they both saw her.”

“Give us twenty-four hours, Elain. And call Nesta.”

“Thank you,” she replied before disconnecting the call. Nesta, and everything she did, was above board and legal.

Feyre and Rhysand…Feyre had married into Rhys’s family business and had taken to it like a fish to water. Feyre was ruthless and Rhys was the mafia. She supposed, having grown up powerless, Feyre found comfort in now being powerful in a way no one could touch.

Elain didn’t care.

She’d have done anything to keep the Vanserra’s away from her daughter.

[Chapter 2: the 1]

“Elain!” Lucien called, jogging after his girlfriend down a crowded hall of people. She turned, soft brown eyes falling on him. He thought he saw a tiny spark of fear, gone so fast he must have imagined it. She smiled, pulling towards rows of bright blue lockers to wait for him. “Hey.”

He kissed her cheek, aware that any teacher who saw him try and do more would call his dad and there would be hell to pay.

“Hey,” she replied, sliding her hand into his. He squeezed.

“How are you?” he asked, thinking of the baby hidden beneath the tight cheer top she wore. Lucien was already mentally planning, thinking of what they’d need in that first year. He didn’t want her to feel like she had to work, wanted her to be able to focus on the baby and resting. He needed to ask his father for access to his trust and planned to that night. He’d use it to buy a house, to furnish what the baby would need and keep Elain comfortable for the first time in her life.

He wouldn’t replicate the failures of her father…or his own. Lucien suppressed his smile, practically giddy with excitement. He’d planned to ask her to marry him before he left for college so she knew he was serious about their future but with the baby, he’d wait a little longer and prove himself to her with the house, with the safety, with the promise that he could take care of them both.

It was the life he wanted, maybe a little sooner than he planned, but Lucien could roll with the punches. He’d take classes at the community college, he’d work at the local lumber farm, and transfer to the same state school her sister went to for night classes until he had his law degree. He had it all mapped out and figured they could live comfortably off his trust until he finished school. She could do whatever she liked in the interim which included being a stay-at-home mom. He let himself daydream a little about a brood of children and the sound of their laughter, of pounding feet and little cuddles in a bed he shared with her.

All the things he’d been denied as a boy.

That same burst of fear streaked over her pretty face. “Fine,” she told him but her expression and her tone made him uneasy.

“You sure?” he pressed. Elain couldn’t look at him, her eyes vacant and focused on something he couldn’t see.

“Yeah. Can we uh…do you want to meet in front of the school today?”

“Yes,” he replied, reassuring himself everything was fine. Pregnancy was hard and Elain was keeping up appearances, getting up early to finish the season as a cheerleader, staying on top of her studies, and running the house her father should have been in charge of.

“You haven’t told anyone, have you?” Elain asked suddenly, turning her wide doe-eyes on him.

“Nope,” he lied. He’d called his older brother for help the night before in the hopes Eris might help him with Beron. Eris had been unhelpful, as usual, urging Lucien to get rid of the baby and go to school and Lucien had hung up angry.

Elain kept her eyes on his face for a beat too long, as if she knew he wasn’t being truthful. He squeezed her hand and Elain smiled sweetly. “I’ll see you later.”

He left her outside her class with the sensation things were not right between them. He didn’t understand it and spent the rest of the day trying to talk himself out of the feeling. Things were fine, she was just tired. He was reading too much into her expression, he was looking for something wrong.

He’d nearly convinced himself when he strode out of the building and into the miserably hot day. His confidence vanished when he saw Elain waiting for him on the sidewalk just outside the school, arms wrapped around her chest, face visibly miserable.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her, his stomach and his heart plopped at his feet.

Elain wiped her cheeks, hiding her tears. “The baby…”

“Don’t say it,” Lucien begged miserably, his disappointment overwhelming. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I am,” Elain insisted fiercely.

“You did nothing wrong,” he promised, reaching for her. Elain skittered backwards and Lucien braced himself for what he’d known all day was coming.

“I want to break up,” she told him, her voice steady.

“No.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards. “No? You can’t tell me—”

“You’re just grieving, Elain,” he said, desperate for his words to be true. “We belong together.”

“We don’t,” she told him flatly, all hint of tears gone. “I don’t love you. This…this is for the best.”

“How is this for the best?!” he demanded, his hands shaking at his sides. “Elain, please—”

“Don’t do this, Lucien,” she whispered. “I don’t want you anymore.”

Her words were a knife to his throat, choking him. “I love you.”

She shook her head no. “Leave me alone, Lucien. Don’t call me, don’t text me, just…I need to put this all behind me.”

“Elain!” he cried, choking back the urge to cry. She turned her back to him and walked away. “ELAIN!”

He nearly ran after her, nearly shook her, fell to his knees and begged her not to leave him. Hell was real, he decided, and it was this. Watching her walk away, watching the future he wanted slip away…that was hell.

Lucien drove himself home, strangely numb by the time he reached the red bricked estate his family owned. His mother was waiting in the living room, knitting on the large, L-shaped cream couch. Beron strode into the room the same time Lucien did, glancing from his son to his wife.

“Everything okay?” his mother asked, glancing up at him.

“Fine,” he lied.

“I have a tour set up for you this weekend,” Beron told him. “Your brother is going to meet you at Yale.”

It wasn’t a question and Lucien, who had planned to tell his father he wouldn’t be attending, had no reason not to go anymore.

“Fine,” he repeated.

Beron stared for a moment before nodding. Lucien was tempted, for just a moment, to tell his mother everything. He wanted to share in his hurt with someone.

He went to his room, instead.

None of it mattered anymore.

*~* 6 years later *~*

Lucien hadn’t been back to Velaris in five years. He’d left the minute he’d been allowed to move on campus and hadn’t looked back. The pull had always been Elain and he knew if he went back, he’d be too tempted to seek her out, to look her up. As far as he could tell, she’d never left. Not that he was checking in on her…she’d hidden him from all her socials, had demanded he stay out of her life after they lost the baby. Lucien did as she asked and threw himself into his studies, walking in his brothers’ footsteps and getting a law degree. Eris had helped Lucien get a nice job working for an environmental agency and Lucien spent his time suing big corporations for violating the EPA.

Still, nothing had ever felt right after Elain. He was almost excited when he heard Beron died, not just because his father was a prick no one liked, but because it gave him a legitimate excuse to see her…to accidentally run into her, to invite her to coffee in the name of catching up and maybe get some closure.

Eris picked him up from the airport, silent as they drove. Lucien scrolled through his phone, wondering if his brother missed their father. Beron had been as mean as he’d been cruel and Eris had taken the brunt of the beatings until he was shipped off to college. Eris had been Beron’s protegee, though, and perhaps there was love beneath the anger.

“You alright?” Lucien finally asked when they rolled into town, zipping down the familiar main street lined with businesses that had existed long before him.

“I’m ready to be out of this place,” Eris grumbled. “How long you here for?”

“Just the weekend,” Lucien lied. His plans were flexible, depending on how his meeting with Elain went.

“Hm,” Eris mumbled, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. He didn’t say anything more and Lucien was grateful for it. He and Eris had never been terribly close though they were on good terms. Eris was likely thinking about getting back to the city and to his job.

Their mother was waiting in the foyer when Eris and Lucien arrived, a bright smile on her pretty face. Was she grateful Beron was dead, too? His mother had left the moment Lucien went to college and, regretfully, began dating one of Lucien’s professors. Beron had never forgiven her for it, remarrying a twenty-two-year-old just to be hateful in between endless legal battles to try and keep Amera from owning anything from his estate.

Arms outstretched, his mother pulled Lucien into a hug. Eris walked past them, vanishing in the winding halls of the house. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Lucien kissed her cheek. “Me too. Is Helion around?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” she said with a smile.

“Drinking or cooking?” Lucien joked. He liked Helion, in part for how happy the man made her mother. Helion was fun, he was laid back and if he’d ever yelled, Lucien couldn’t imagine it.

“A little of both. How was your flight?”

Lucien let his mother wind her arm through his, grateful to have an ally in the house that had haunted him as a boy. The ghost was gone though Beron’s presence lingered over the immaculate white walls and ornate wood fixtures.

“Totally fine. Very short.”

She took him to the dining room where a box of macarons sat. Lucien grabbed a green one and jammed it into his mouth. It was the first thing he’d eaten all day. Surprised by how good the pistachio and cherry flavor, Lucien asked, “Did you get this in town?”

“Old Ella’s bakery has a new owner,” his mother replied, her smile fading for a moment. “One of the Archeron sisters took it over.”

His heart picked up. Elain. It had to be Elain, she’d been so excited about that part-time job. Aware his mother was watching him, Lucien asked casually. “You’ve been there?”

“Yes. You should stop by. It’s lovely and Eris swears by the coffee.”

Lucien nodded, running a hand through his long hair. “Need anything? I’ll place an order.”

“More of these,” his mother replied, walking to the kitchen.

Lucien went through the motions that evening, beyond distracted at the prospect of seeing Elain despite his father’s funeral in two days. He barely slept, tossing and turning and running through a million worst case scenarios.

He was up at six am, walking through the warm summer air. It was too warm for jeans and he wished he’d pulled his hair off his face. Preparing himself for rejection, Lucien wound his way back to main street and to Ella’s bakery, renamed Flour Power Bakery. A small line waited in front of the glass door, pulled open so a small child, holding the hand of a blonde woman wearing a pink dress splashed with yellow flowers. Time seemed to slow as Lucien studied the little girl. She couldn’t have been more than five years old. Her hair was coppery gold and long, nearly to her waist. It hung in loose curls that reminded him of his mother. Face upturned at the blonde, the little girl’s russet colored eyes sparkled with laughter. Her skin was a light brown, warmed beneath the sun and Lucien was willing to bet it would darken considerably as the summer wore on…much like his own.

The baby… that’s what she’d said. She’d never elaborated, Lucien had filled in the gaps himself. Snapping to attention, Lucien realized the blonde was directly in front of him, green eyes blazing with open hatred.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she whispered, still clutching the oblivious little girls hand.

It was confirmation. He went to shove past her but the blonde was surprisingly strong. Lucien, unsure what else to do, fell to a crouch so he was eye level with the girl.

“How old are you?” he asked, working to keep his voice easy. Hiding behind the blonde’s skirt, she held up five little fingers.

“What’s your name?”

“Ivy,” she whispered.

“Ivy,” he repeated moments before the blonde kicked at him. Ivy. Five years old. Lucien stood, bewildered, to find Elain in the glass window with a line of customers waiting on her, her gaze fixated wholly on him.

“Go home,” the blonde ordered, stepping away with the little girl. Lucien didn’t speak, shell shocked and stunned. He’d just left, had never looked back, had never demanded Elain prove she was telling the truth…and Elain had stayed and raised his daughter without him. Turning his back to Elain and her shop, Lucien pulled out his phone to call Eris.

“Went to that bakery?” Eris asked by way of greeting.

“You knew?” Lucien demanded, stepping out of Elain’s sight.

“I’m not stupid. That kid has Vanserra red hair.”

Lucien ran a hand over his face. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Pretend you saw nothing and leave,” came Eris’s unhelpful response. “Get the blonde’s phone number if you must confront Elain.”

Lucien blinked. “You’re fucked, you know that? Of course I have to confront Elain. You wouldn’t want to know about a kid?”

“Hell no. She did you a favor, keeping that a secret. If you’re hell bent on getting involved, you need to file for paternity like, yesterday. Let me know if—”

“Get the paperwork started,” Lucien demanded, hanging up before Eris could say anything else that was offensive or stupid.

Elain might have robbed him of the first five years but Lucien would not miss another.

[rwprincess]

If You Leave: Part One (Richie Tozier xGen!Neutral Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.7K

Synopsis: A flashback-flashforward relationship with Richie, spanning both Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. Richie and Reader have some kind of unspoken-thing, but when the reader has to move away, they both worry about the inevitable (canonically for It, anyway) fate that whomever leaves loses touch and forgets about Derry.

Songfic based on If You Leave by OMD (but I’ve butchered the order because I needed to. Deal with it puts on sunglasses and rides away on tricycle)

A/N: I apologize in advance for any spacing/formatting and possible autocorrect errors. I wrote a good chunk of this on my phone.

CW: Swearing, Child Death/Gore mentions, Pennywise, angst

You’d ‘met’ him in elementary school, when you were both so small and innocent. For a year or two, you only ever saw him in passing; but when you were eleven, you found Richie at the arcade playing one of your favorite games and your friendship really cemented in that moment, over (several) rounds of Pac-Man. You quickly became the best of friends and he integrated you quickly into his small circle, introducing you to Bill, Eddie, and Stan. But your ties to Richie stayed the strongest. Even when you added more friends to your circle, gathering Ben, Bev, and Mike, your connection to Richie was unparalleled. You felt close to all of them very quickly, but there was something about Richie. Perhaps because you two were different and balanced each other out. You didn’t ‘Beep-beep’ him nearly as much as the others and found his constant jokes and ribbing more amusing than they did. And, Richie being the attention-hound he was, thrived on it. He craved your laughter.

Everything was different that summer. Your group felt complete, like you were always meant to be together. You were truly happy with where you were in life, but you noticed your feelings towards Richie started to change. You had treated each other the same for years but now the jokes, the innuendos, the pet names all caused you to blush and feel jittery: with excitement or nervousness, you could never be sure. But you felt like he treated you the same way he always had, the same way he treated all of his friends, affectionately annoying each of you in his special way. So, you pushed the feelings down, away, assuming they’d resolve on their own if forgotten.

In a fortunate, unfortunate circumstance, you suddenly had bigger things to worry about. Kids about town started to go ‘missing,’ just as Bill’s little brother George had. This catapulted you all into some semblance of maturity, living on edge and having to take care of one another. You soon found out why when a malevolent, shapeshifting clown started stalking you and your friends. Of course, when you had your final showdown with this bastard, it became harder to shove your feelings down, seeing Richie in danger. After Eddie’s arm had been broken and Richie and Bill were about to be mauled by Pennywise’s wretched claws, you didn’t want to let Richie out of your sight. You were worried about what could happen to all of you, but especially him. In the sewers, you couldn’t hide from what you already knew any longer; you had to stop lying to yourself about your secret. When Pennywise offered a bargain, Bill in exchange for all of you, your heart stopped as Richie launched into a rant: “I told you, Bill. I fucking told you. I don’t want to die; it’s your fault. You punched me in the face, made me walk through shitty water, you brought me to a fucking crackhead house…and now, I’m gonna have to kill this fucking clown.” When he picked up that baseball bat and faced one of his greatest fears, that was the pinpoint moment where you realized you were in love with him. He had just listed all of the reasons why he should be mad at Bill, why it would be wise to just go, but he went with his heart and defended someone he loved anyway. That soft, caring inside is what you loved about him above all else.

“You know, that was the bravest thing I think I’ve ever seen, the way you put everything aside to save Bill.” You ruffled Richie’s hair with your non-bloodied hand and he grinned at you with pride. “Promise me that you’ll never do something that stupid again, though.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I think you and I both know I have many years of stupid things to come.” You laughed together and you shook your head as he continued, “You know, almost being murdered really put that in perspective for me: I don’t have all the time in the world, I’ve gotta start working that stupid shit in while I can.”

“You know what I mean.” You looked at him pointedly, and then without thinking about it, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, trying to drive home the point that you refused to lose him.

I touch you once, I touch you twice

I won't let go at any price

Bev was the first to go. While she had only been a part of your group for that summer, you'd become extremely close. But it was best for her to live with her aunt, away from her abusive father. You still missed her terribly. She promised to write, to keep in touch, and for the first week or two, she kept her word. But soon, she faded off and you had no way to reach her, really. So she seemed like a brief, happy memory for the group. Bill's family followed suit about a year later; the loss of Georgie was too great to overcome and living where he was so ruthlessly taken took its toll on the family. His parents desperately needed to get out of Derry, to forget. And Bill, being a kid, had no say in his fate. He tearfully said goodbye to each of you throughout his last week in Maine and it felt like the lynchpin of your group was being pulled and it would unravel soon enough without him. Somehow, however, you were able to move on and those of you that remained stayed together. High school could have meant that you would join different cliques and break up anyway, but you were already pigeon-holed as Losers and stayed together, as long as you didn't move away. By your senior year, Mike, Stan, Eddie, and Richie remained along with you. "Five out of eight isn't bad!" Richie always joked.

One day, you were at the quarry reflecting on this, just you and Richie. After years of pining after him, you'd just settled into your fate accepting that it would be an unrequited love. You'd never actually told him outright how you felt, but you'd gone from hinting about it to practically beating him over the head with obvious flirtation. Unluckily for you, Richie was Richie. He spoke that way to everyone and was completely oblivious that when you did it to him, you meant it.

"Hey, Y/N? Promise me something," Richie said to you after a few moments of silence.

"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that again," you replied, not even turning to look at him. You'd learned long ago not to blindly accept hypotheticals from Richie. "Tell me what it is first."

"No, look. I'm serious," he said, sitting up, "Y/N, look at me." You did and it melted your resolve, like always. Perhaps that's why you weren't looking at him before: you knew you couldn't say no when you were actually looking at him. "This is my serious face," he continued, pointing at himself, "just...promise me that if one of us moves, we'll keep in touch. Like, call and write. Visit if we can. And no half-assed promise like those fucking chumps Bev and Bill and Ben. We'll mean it and follow through, right?"

He looked at you so hopefully, wide eyes magnified by his enormously thick glasses. He took your hand, as if to shake on the promise and seal the deal, even though that motion would be impossible in your current positions. He sat over you and the sun created a halo on his dark, unruly curls. "Of course, angel," you swore to him, calling him what he appeared to be at that moment, "I promise. We'll always be friends; we'll always be together, even if we're apart."

I need you now like I need you then

You always said we'd still be friends someday

Of course, the goal was always to get out of Derry. You all talked about it constantly. You had bigger dreams than this small, backwater town could provide; but you never wanted to acknowledge the harsh truth that that meant you'd have to leave your found family and that no one who left Derry ever came back or even wrote. Naturally, it dealt a devastating blow when your parents revealed that they had just been waiting for you to finish school so they could move away, taking you with them. Derry wasn't a college town and if you wanted to pursue that, you'd have to leave anyway, but there was a sort of nail-in-the-coffin feeling to it when your folks sat you down and told you that you'd be moving come summer.

"How am I going to tell Richie?" You lamented to Stan after telling him the news while the two of you were sat in the clubhouse, which was becoming emptier each year and felt like a relic of another time already. "He always takes it hard when someone leaves."

"The hardest," Stan pointed out, not making you feel at ease at all. Richie had a constant need to be liked and acknowledged; there was never enough attention, and each time another one of his friends left, his circle got smaller and he felt like he was 'socially suffocating,' as he once put it. "I also don't think he'll do well with you leaving, specifically," Stan continued. You assumed he meant because you and Richie were so close. It was probably a tie between you and Eddie being his best friend. But there was no doubt, you needed to tell him.

It went about as well as you expected, that is to say, Richie completely lost his mind. You had asked him to come over and went to your room together, just like the million other times you had done so throughout the years. You perched yourself on your bed, smoothing out the covers underneath you and looking down. You had been dreading this moment for hours, days really. When your parents had told you, your immediate thought was how you could possibly break the news to Richie, quickly followed by how you could possibly live without him.

"What's up with you? You're acting like your goldfish died."

"I don't have a fish, Rich." You mumbled, still not making eye contact.

"Yeah, I know, doofus. That's why I don't understand why you're so mopey," he replied and you picked at the bedspread, letting out a shaky sigh as you tried to hold back the tears and gather the courage to tell him. "Okay, now you're kinda freaking me out. C'mon sweetheart, you know can tell me anything. C'mon, tell meee." He walked over and poked you gently in the side to goad you and you allowed a half-smile to cross your lips; oh, how you were going to miss this.

"I'm moving away, Rich." You said, diving in.

"What? Away from my poking? You know that won't work--"

"No, Richie. As in my family is moving away and taking me with." You clarified and shrank back. For once in his life, Richie Tozier was speechless. Words completely failed him, and in that silence, you studied him, trying to remember every feature as though this were the last time you'd see him, even though you had several months left in Derry. He'd become so tall; he'd shot up one summer. At first he was all long legs and elbows, a 'string bean,' but since then, he'd grown into the frame some. His shoulders were broad and the long arms were filled with wiry muscle; he was stronger than he looked. His fashion sense still hadn't really grown: he was still wearing a loud, colorful unbuttoned shirt over a graphic tee, he still had thick, black-rimmed glasses that were for function, not fashion, but it suited him. Lastly, you took in his face. While his expression filled you with pain, the shocked look wracking you with guilt, his features were still so beautiful to you. The sharp, square jawline and high cheekbones; the soft pink lips, exaggerating the way his jaw had dropped at the news; his dark, lively eyes that you loved the most. His eyes always reflected so much of his soul and even though he was always trying to get everyone's attention, those eyes always made you feel like you were the only one he was focused on. Perhaps that was just an illusion, though, a fantasy.

"That's a fucked up joke, Y/N." He said, finally.

"Richie--" you began, but he stood up from your bed and took a step back.

"No, really," he asserted. "You can't be serious."

"It's not for a few months, but… I just found out, I--"

"No," he cut you off, voice becoming cold and stern with anger. "You don't get to do this to me."

"Richie, honey, it's not like I have a choice," you pleaded and reached out towards him to console him, but he took another step back.

"I've, fuck, I've gotta go." He said and quickly turned away, taking long strides out of your room. He was already halfway down the stairs before you even made it off your bed, calling his name after him.

If you leave

I won't cry

I won't waste one single day

But if you leave, don't look back

I'll be running the other way

There was absolutely no way Richie would let you see him cry about this. That's why he got the hell out of dodge so quickly, to hide the tears that threatened to fall. He also knew he couldn't trust his words and didn't want to say something he might regret. He was known for being a motor-mouth, Trashmouth Tozier, and if he started in, telling you what he thought and how he felt, he might never stop the verbal diarrhea. He knew this whole situation wasn't your fault, and he imagined that you hated it, too, but he couldn't trust that he wouldn't lash out, that all of those angry thoughts and words would come out and be your cross to bear. He also didn't trust himself from telling you how he felt about you these past few years; how he always thought that when you left, it would be together.

He kept his distance for a bit. The first two days, you allotted him that. It was a lot to process as is, and you felt pangs of guilt and pain whenever you caught a glance of him in the halls or in class. But, lying awake on that second night, it hit you how limited your time together truly was. You could not allow yourself or Richie to waste it on being petty and hurt feelings. You wouldn't let him whittle away the short, precious months you had left until you had nothing. So, you cornered him, naturally. You had asked Eddie to invite Richie to the clubhouse to...well, more or less ambush him.

He clearly did not expect you as you came down the ladder, as you heard him curse out the absent Eddie, "That fucking traitor!"

"Look, Rich. This is ridiculous. I know you're mad and upset and I am, too. But I, we, don't have a choice. My parents have arranged things and said we're moving near the end of the school year. Do you really want to spend the time we have left being mad at me? Avoiding me?"

"...No. Guess not," he pouted and kicked the dirt floor. "I just...I hate how unfair this is. It's always like this. Every Loser gets picked up and moved out and...and then it's like they never existed. Like they're only in our heads. And I'm fucking sick of it. But I never thought," he paused and swallowed hard, then finally met your eyes, "but I never thought it would be you."

"I know what you mean, but. Well, we've always talked about getting out of here, we knew it would come some day."

"Not like this!" He snapped back.

"I'm sorry, Richie, we have no choice ---"

"We were supposed to!" He cut you off with a shout, then his voice grew soft, "I mean, I always thought...I always thought we'd leave together. It's not supposed to be one or the other. What am I going to do without you?" His pleading eyes took on a wet sheen as he blinked through the tears forming. There was nowhere to run to now, and nowhere to hide everything he had been trying to spare you. "Nobody who ever leaves writes or calls and, fuck, I can't even breathe right now thinking about never hearing from you again." A shuddering gasp wracked his body before the sobs set in.

You didn't hesitate to step forward and put your arms around him. His head instantly dropped to your shoulder, wetting your shirt with his tears. "I promised you. I'll keep in touch." You thought back to that day at the quarry and hoped he remembered it, too.

"That's what they all say," came his muffled reply from your shoulder.

"I know. But I mean it. I don't know what to do without you, either, y'know? I--I love you, Richie." He tensed up in your arms and you instantly regretted saying it. He stood up fully, placing his hands on your upper arms and gazing down at you.

"But, not in the way I love you, right?" He asked and your stomach plummeted in fear, thinking he would remind you that you were just friends. "Y/N, I love you so much. I should have told you sooner, but I thought I had more time. Like it was me and you against the world. I'm...I'm sorry that I have to be afraid to lose you to tell you how I really feel. Pretty chickenshit, I guess. But I thought I'd lose you by telling you. Seeing as I will either way, I just--" You cut him off by pressing your lips to his.

"I think I do love you the same way, if I'm understanding you. I'm a fucking coward too." You laughed, but it was his turn to interrupt you with a kiss. Soft, yet passionate; filled with so many unspoken words and years of hidden feelings.

Seven years went under the bridge

Like time was standing still

You made up for lost time in the following months, much to the rest of The Losers' chagrin.

"I've heard of being attached at the hip, not attached at the lips," Eddie cried, throwing an empty cola can at you and Richie nestled together in the hammock, "Cut it out! Oh my God!"

"Oh, Eddie, dear, are you jealous?" You asked him, teasing.

"You're more than welcome to join us. I mean, I'm sure we could make room for you," Richie suggested and then laughed, turning to your slightly reddened face, "Oh, come on, you know you're my one and only. At least until you leave, then it's back to Eddie's mom!" You nearly pushed him out of the hammock for that one.

Of course, you couldn’t stop the passing of time, and the last few months sped by faster than any others ever had. You finally had the relationship you wanted with Richie and your heart felt so full, but that only meant the ache was greater as each day ticked off the calendar. You spent that last night together, from dusk until dawn. Neither of you could sleep at all, to waste what precious time you had left together. Instead, you spent it talking: laughing at memories together, crying about how much you’d miss the other, making numerous declarations of how much you loved each other (in various ways). When the time came to finally depart, neither of you could really let go.

“You know I’ll always be thinking of you, right?” You told him, holding him tightly around the waist as you looked up into his eyes.

“I know you will, I mean, look at me. Who wouldn’t?” He scoffed and gave you a goofy grin, full of fake confidence to keep his face from crumbling at the reality of the situation. “I’ll be thinking of you, too.” He whispered and kissed you on the forehead.

Heaven knows what happens now

You've got to, you've gotta say you will

I touch you once, I touch you twice

I won't let go at any price

You kept your promise longer than anyone else had. You called and wrote every day for the first month or so, but it seemed like other forces were at work, driving a wedge between you and your old life. It was odd how quickly Derry began to leave your memory. As soon as you crossed the line out of town with finality, it began to fade away. At first, it was just the people you passed in the hallways or on the streets but never knew the names of. Their faces began to blur and become hard to recollect, but they weren’t important. But as time went on, you began to lose the others, too, even the ones most important to you. You lost Ben first, as you didn’t spend as much time with him as the others. Then Mike, Bill, Stan. It took a few years to lose your grasp on Bev and Eddie, but their faces and names crumbled away from the recesses of your brain, too. Last to go, was of course, Richie. And even though your conscious mind forgot him, your heart refused to let go. You became unaware of his existence in your waking hours, but sometimes you would wake and hazily recall some dream with a boy you weren’t sure you had ever met. One with coke-bottle glasses, a carefree smile, and eyes that beheld you like you were the only person that mattered in this world.

I need you now like I need you then

You always said we'd meet again...some day