#it takes a day or two to get everybody free but Eddie manages to surprise Steve with a game night

[morganbritton132]

I really love the EMTTS and every update is making my day, so thank you for being great!

I keep thinking about the shared calendar posts and have wanted to ask about it since the first post so long ago. I know it's been mentioned how annoying it is for Steve when it's not used in the way he hoped, but has there ever been a situation where it was really genuinely bad? Like, a lot of drama could've been avoided if it had been used properly? And did the kids and Eddie then feel bad about misusing it/start using it the way Steve intended? I know it drives me crazy when people intentionally ignore/misuse stuff like that that I set up. What's Steve's reaction? AHHH, so many questions!

Don't worry about answering, just do it whenever you have time and feel motivated :) Hope you have a lovely day/night!

It’s not that people don’t use the shared calendar. It’s just that they don’t use it in the way that Steve wants them to.

Like, for example, Lucas has no problem putting his work schedule into the calendar at the beginning of the month, but he never remembers to put when he picks up shifts. Robin will input her class schedule at the beginning of a semester but not her ever-changing office hours. Dustin uses the calendar frequently but he is always vague about what he’s doing (i.e. he puts ‘Moon’ instead of stargazing) and Mike blocks out time slows when he busy but never says what he’s doing.

Steve wants to know where everybody is at all times and what they’re doing. Is that a little unrealistic? Yes, and Steve can acknowledge that. But it’s still frustrating when he misses something because it was mentioned to him once and he forgot.

But also, Steve can’t drive.

He is very reliant on his friends and family. Especially because up to a couple years ago, Eddie still traveled quite a lot. Steve’s gotten better over the years at acknowledging that he needs help and asking for it, but it is a lot harder to inconvenience someone.

Steve doesn’t like Uber or any of the ride-sharing apps. It feels unsafe because he knows that there are moments where he loses time and he’s not quite in his head. There are times when he gets stuck in the fog or lost in a bad memory, and he knows that he can be reactionary. His friends know how to walk him out of that and he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt a stranger or get hurt, or get lost.

Steve carpools to school, but there have been times where that’s fallen through and he ends up feeling like he’s bothering someone because he didn’t know that they had plans already. Eddie was out of town once and Steve had a doctor’s appointment, but everybody he texted was busy so he just canceled it. He ran out of his migraine medication but turns out half their friends were at a concert so he dealt with the fallout alone.

It all kind of comes to a head one evening.

Steve is the person that plans most of their game nights and their get-togethers. They’re typically hosted at his and Eddie’s house and Steve puts a lot of effort into planning them. There’s a Saturday that no one has marked with anything, so he gets up that morning and plans a game night. He bakes and he cooks. He cleans the whole house and gets out their board games. He even sets the table for D&D even though he hardly ever plays with them.

Then Eddie tells him that he has a plane to catch. They talked about it the other day. Don’t you remember? And Dustin’s busy. He has a date. He literally told Steve about it. Mike and Will have had these plans for weeks and Max and El are at a spa. Lucas is visiting Erica in DC. He said he was going to last week, remember?

Robin is swamped with work and Nancy’s not even in town and apparently hasn’t been all week. She sent that text in the groupchat about it, remember?

And it’s frustrating.

Steve knows that it’s kinda dumb to plan a party and expect people to show up on the same day, but that’s how it’s always been, and it’s – it feels like he’s being called stupid when everybody keeps asking him if he remembers. He obviously didn’t.

All it takes is for Eddie to ask him what’s wrong for Steve to snap. He’s frustrated and he’s annoyed, and he’s a little mean about it because Eddie is the worst about using the calendar. He just says things and expects that Steve is going to remember them, and it feels like they’re making fun of him. It feels like he’s standing outside the room that they’re all in and they’re laughing at him because he doesn’t know how to get inside.

“And it’s going to get worse,” Steve says, blinking tears out of his eyes. “I’m just going to keep forgetting and everybody is going to move on, and it’s going to be like I’m not even a part of it anymore.”

“Baby, that’s never going to happen. I – We won’t let that happen. It’s just one mess up.”

“It’s already happening! You already do it.”

Eddie ends up missing his flight because he’s not going to leave Steve when he’s upset like this. He’s supposed to be working on the backing tracks for an album he’s producing, but there’s tomorrow or maybe the day after that. He does end up sending out a text to the other party members, letting them know that they’ve got to make an effort to use the calendar more. 

[laurawritesandgames]

Title: Objections

Fandom: Beetlejuice (Musical)

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Beetlejuice/Adam/Barbara, Charles/Delia

Prompt: Wedding

Content Warning: Set during coronavirus pandemic

Summary: It’s Delia and Charles’s wedding day. The Maitland-Deetz household tries to keep their irreverent demon from spoiling the big day. Little do they know it’s not Beetlejuice they need to worry about….

It had taken ten minutes, but Barbara was finally satisfied with Delia’s lashes. “There. I think we’ve got it.” She moved aside to let Delia see herself in the mirror.

Barbara had put her hair and makeup skills to the test and helped Delia out on her wedding day. Why invite over a makeup artist and hair stylist during a pandemic if you didn’t have to?

Delia examined her reflection and beamed. “It’s perfect.”

That was being kind. It wasn’t exactly one of the dramatic looks on Delia’s wedding Pinterest board. More dramatic makeup would’ve suited her dress better. Ordered from Italy, her dress was a gold ballgown with dramatic tiered tulle flounces on the skirt and a deep V neckline. The gold in the dress played off the gold accents in Delia’s bright orange hair, which was in romantic waves down her back. It was daring and sweet all at once.

When the pandemic hit, the household had talked about postponing her and Charles’s wedding. But Charles’s parents were old-fashioned, and since Delia and Charles wanted to try for a baby right away, they decided to have a virtual wedding instead.

“I can’t thank you enough, Barbara.”

“I’m not letting you do your own hair and makeup on your big day!” She gestured to the laptop. “Now go show the girls.” Her bridesmaids were eagerly awaiting drinking mimosas and celebrating Delia’s look. Barbara had met them at Delia’s virtual bachelorette party, though, of course, they hadn’t known Barbara was there. The bachelorette party had also been rather subdued, considering Delia’s usual standards. She, Barbara and the bridesmaids had streamed both Magic Mike movies, ate popcorn and drank champagne. What else could you do in a pandemic? “I’ll go check on the preparations.”

Delia’s phone, face down on the makeup table, buzzed again. Someone had been texting her all morning, and Delia had been ignoring them. Her gaze flicked to the phone, jaw tightening before she looked back into the mirror.

Barbara gestured to the phone. “I can grab that for you, too.”

A hint of a frown worked its way between Delia’s brows. A moment later, her expression relaxed, and she waved the suggestion away. “I’m fine, darling. I’ve been getting so many robotexts lately. You know, you could stay and have a drink. You’re a bridesmaid too, dear!”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I like keeping busy!” And if I bump something or the camera catches me drinking a mimosa, the focus is definitely not going to be on the bride. Barbara excused herself and went downstairs.

The walls of the living/dining room were decorated with curled gold ribbons and champagne-coloured tulle banners beneath the crown molding. The ghosts and Beetlejuice had moved all the furniture—quite easily, with telekinesis—and added two rows of four chairs on either side of an elegant pale gray runner. The rug led the eye to the laptop, set up on a crystal-laden table where the officiant would’ve stood, and the pale-wood wedding arch wrapped in the same champagne tulle. Everything looked perfect.

Adam, Beetlejuice, and Lydia, the family’s impromptu wedding photographer/videographer, were gathered around a photo album. It took Barbara a second to recognize it.

“Aww, our wedding album!” She joined the group, resting her head on Adam’s shoulder. He kissed her temple, pulling her closer with both arms. The book continued floating in mid-air.

“Obsessed with sunflowers much?” grumbled an unimpressed Beetlejuice.

“I guess so,” Adam said. “My family’s farm had a little sunflower patch. That kinda became our thing.”

“Love the mason jars,” Lydia commented.

“Hey, those were the big thing in 2009,” Barbara said. She supposed their wedding had followed a lot of popular trends: an outdoor barn wedding, lots of tea lights in mason jars, and even a photo booth. But they’d managed to be ahead of the curve on a few things. “Remember our party favours, sweetie?” she asked Adam. “They were little terrariums in stemless wineglasses.”

Adam grinned and squeezed the arm around her waist. “They were tied with ribbons that said ‘Thank you very ‘mulch�� for coming to our wedding!’”

Lydia chuckled; Beetlejuice rolled his eyes.

“Don’t encourage that,” the demon said to his friend. He continued scowling at the wedding album, but Lydia seemed happy to keep looking at the photos.

The most pages they turned, the more Barbara’s mood slid closer to Beetlejuice’s. All those photos were full of friends and family she couldn’t see anymore. Most of her friends’ Facebooks or Instagrams were private, so she couldn’t even do any light internet stalking unless she wanted to log into her old accounts and confuse everyone. Was Lisa still going back to school to get her Masters, or had the pandemic put that on hold? Was Alison still having issues with her mother-in-law? Barbara had no idea. Dead women didn’t have friends. Not to mention her family….

But a wedding was no time to be sad. She pasted a smile on her face and even managed a few cute wedding stories.

“Remember when your uncle Eddy tried to drink his wedding favour?” she asked Adam, who chuckled. “He almost choked on a succulent!”

“But he kept trying to drink from it! Three times!” Adam chuckled. A moment later, his smile faltered. “Probably because he’s a massive alcoholic.”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” That story wasn’t quite as cute as she remembered. “So, um, why don’t we do a last-minute check? Make sure we’ve got everything.”

“All right,” Lydia said. She took the photo album from midair and put it away, frowning slightly. “This is probably going to be the nicest moment I have today, so thanks for that.”

Barbara and Adam shared a worried look. Lydia was deeply ambivalent about her father marrying another woman only six months after her mother died. Lydia had used that fact to extract a lot of concessions about the wedding: Delia had let her wear a black dress and take photographs on her analogue camera instead of a digital camera.

“C’mon, kid!” Beetlejuice said. “Just wait ‘til I get the party started!” He blew a party favour, and sparkly beetles flew behind him.

While Lydia rolled her eyes fondly at her friend, Barbara and Adam shared another worried look. The young woman went upstairs to get changed.  

Barbara turned to Beetlejuice. “I just wanted to remind you about your promise, Beetlejuice. I know it’d probably be very funny to interrupt the ceremony. Maybe Lydia would even appreciate it. But this day means a lot to Delia and Charles. They’ve found each other through a lot of pain and hardship, and they deserve a fun, special memory.”

Beetlejuice waved her words away. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You don’t know this about me yet, but I love a good party. And people can finally see me! Well, only people here, but whatever. Why would I mess that up and have everybody pissed at me? I’m here for the fun and the food, baby.”

As much as Barbara wanted to believe him, she suspected that the only reason he didn’t have a disruption planned was because of Lydia’s innate goodness, not his own.

“I noticed you didn’t love us going through the wedding album, buddy,” Adam said. “Is everything okay?”

He shrugged. “It just…it looked nice. Your wedding.” He glanced between Barbara and Adam, loudly announcing, “None of that boring-ass shit at our wedding, okay?”

Barbara tried not to look too surprised—Beetlejuice loved shocking them. “Noted. But it’s also not going to be jump scares every minute, or a projector that reveals everyone’s darkest fears, or some kind of Saw situation.”

Beetlejuice’s eyebrows rose. “I was just thinking there’d be singing cockroaches and banners made of bats, but those are way better! You wanna plan it, baby?”

“I said ‘not.’ It’s not going to be any of those things. Did you even hear that part?”

He darted in close and kissed her lips. “Eh, we’ll find a compromise that works for all of us. We’re all about that life, right?” His neck stretched cartoonishly to kiss Adam on the lips as well. Then he poofed away in a cloud of smoke.

After a few moments, Adam said, “Did he just ask us to marry him?”

“I think it was a joke proposal. You know him. If he really wanted to propose, there’d be a lot more pizzazz. And possibly dead bodies.”

“Right, of course.”

“Would you have said yes if he’d been serious?” Barbara asked, curious.

“Things between the three of us have been going pretty well, but I don’t think I’m ready to jump into another marriage quite yet. And you?”

It was exactly what she’d expected from Adam. They’d changed since their deaths—six months later, their afterlives involved parenthood, isolation from friends and family, a lot more free time, and a polyamorous relationship. But it was nice when she could guess what he was thinking. Not everything had changed. “The same. Maybe in a few years or so.”

*

Before the ceremony, Charles and Lydia stayed in the living room, helping older relatives log on to Zoom and greeting people as they logged in. Charles was wearing a pale grey tuxedo with a metallic grey tie and pocket square. Lydia looked like an elegant classic Hollywood starlet with a goth twist: her black lace gown had a subtle skull pattern to it, barely visible unless the light hit it just right. Her onyx choker and bracelets looked like thorny vines going up her pale arms and encircling her neck. On her head was a raven fascinator with golden bead eyes, her one concession to the wedding colours.

The laptop screen filled up with squares of happy, smiling faces. Everyone had dressed up for the occasion, wearing suits and dresses.

“Betcha most of them are wearing sweat pants,” Beetlejuice said.

“Well, hopefully we’ll never find out,” Barbara replied. The three of them were sitting on the white chairs on either side of the aisle. Most people watching this meeting online probably assumed these chairs were only there for symmetry. As far as they knew, Lydia was the only other person physically at this wedding.

Despite her earlier claim, Lydia was smiling and chatting with Charles’s parents and, to Barbara’s surprise, Emily’s mother. Coming to your son-in-law’s wedding six months after your daughter’s death must have been hard, but if there were any issues, Barbara didn’t see them, and she wasn’t about to eavesdrop on a family moment.

Emily was sick for years. I suppose her family had a lot of time to mourn her. She thought about her parents and her sister at her own funeral. What had that been like?

Lydia took video of Delia coming down the stairs to the bridal chorus, played on speakers set up throughout the room, then put the video camera on a tripod so she could participate in the ceremony.

“I want to thank everyone for joining us today,” the officiant said. “In lieu of wedding gifts, the bride and groom have asked that you donate to the Rural Connecticut Preservation Society. I’m pleased to share that we’ve raised $10,000, which will be donated after the wedding.”

If Charles had had any reservations about donating to a charity dedicated to stopping housing development in rural Connecticut, which directly impacted his career, he hadn’t brought it up during the wedding’s planning stages. Lydia had suggested the charity, after all.

Everyone applauded.

“We will now bless the rings,” the officiant said.

Lydia took out the rings, held them both tightly in her hands, and whispered her blessing into her clenched fists. She smiled mischievously at Charles.

“I suppose if they burst into flame, we’ll know Mom disapproves.”

There were a few awkward chuckles from the assembled, none louder than Delia’s. “That’s my darling, unique stepdaughter for you! Oh, Lydia, you’re so funny!”

In a mocking, little-girl voice, Lydia replied, “I appreciate the compliment, my dearest stepmother.”

Barbara and Adam made sure that they were holding Beetlejuice’s hands so he couldn’t raise them.

The demon scoffed. “You know, I don’t need my hands to do ghost magic? I could just set the rings on fire with my mind.”

“Do not—”

“I wasn’t gonna! Jeez.”

With a theatrical flourish, Lydia showed off the rings to the laptop camera. Barbara half-expected them to be Netherworld green, but they were normal. “My blessing has been spoken. Please speak your blessings now.” Ideally, everyone would’ve been able to touch the rings and speak their blessings in private.

After a pause, Delia’s father spoke first, and others followed. The wedding program had provided a few sample blessings, but people were free to write their own. Delia’s mother began crying halfway through hers.

“Save something for the wedding speech, Amanda,” her father joked. He reminded Barbara of her own dad.

Barbara and Adam gave their own blessings. “Delia and Charles, we wish you health, happiness and love as you start your new life together,” they said, touching the rings, making sure not to brush Lydia’s hands.

Beetlejuice had declined to take part in “New Age bullshittery,” so he remained hovering over his seat.

The rest of the wedding was more traditional, probably to appease Charles’s parents. Barbara’s mind wandered. She and Adam had come so far, hadn’t they? She held Adam’s hand lightly, running her thumb up and down his palm—rather, she did until Beetlejuice forced his way between the two of them and sat on both of their laps.

“Poor baby, no one was paying attention to you,” she cooed into his ear.

“It’s the worst,” he agreed. She ran her fingers through his spikey green hair. Adam gave him some attention by resting his head on Beetlejuice’s shoulder. That seemed to do the trick—he sighed and relaxed.

Readings were read, vows were said, and rings were exchanged. Charles’s vows were simple and straightforward—too curt for Barbara’s tastes—but Delia’s were long enough for them both. Barbara fought the urge to check the time. She felt like Delia had been going for 10 minutes.

Delia actually appeared to be wrapping up when “I object!” sounded over the laptop’s speakers.

A square popped up on Zoom, revealing that the speaker was a tanned older man with more salt than pepper in his hair and bright white teeth. He had a faint accent that Barbara couldn’t place. She’d never seen him on any of Delia’s photos or social media.

Delia made a few choking noises in the back of her throat, the colour draining from her face.

Charles glared at the screen. “You,” he spat out.

Clutching Charles like a lifeline, Delia drew herself up as tall as she could. “Jeremy, log off immediately! I don’t know how you got my number or how you got this link, but get out, you narcissistic psychopath! You don’t get to be a part of my life, not after what you did!”

“Delia, my love, I know you still feel something for me—“

‘My love’? This can’t be the ex-husband, can it? Years ago, Delia’s ex had sailed away to Rome with the secretary he’d been cheating on her with.

“Hey,” Beetlejuice whispered, “I never possessed someone over the internet before. Maybe if we all work together, we can do it?”

Jeremy had opened his mouth to speak again. If ghostly powers could stop this disaster, they had to try. Barbara grabbed Beetlejuice’s and Adam’s hands and held them out to the laptop screen.

“—and I—” Jeremy continued. His gaze abruptly unfocused. Barbara tried to force words into his mouth.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, just as she’d scripted. “I’m going to log off and…and…and throw myself into a dumpster like the piece of trash I am.”

She hadn’t told him to say that. Barbara glanced at Beetlejuice, who grinned back at her.

“And then,” Jeremy continued, “I’m gonna take my toenail clippings, and my belly button lint, put them in a blender, take a shit in that blender, start the blender, and pour myself a shit-shake. It’s my regular Saturday morning routine, baby!”

Lydia rushed forward and tapped a few keys. His square vanished from the screen.

“I blocked him,” she said.

“Thank you, stepdaughter.” Delia sniffled, and Charles handed her a Kleenex from his suit pocket.

As Delia struggled to compose herself, Barbara whispered, “A poop-shake? Really, Beetlejuice?”

“It was Adam!” He couldn’t even keep a straight face, and chortled. “Okay, you caught me. Hey, I had to make sure he’d never be able to look these people in the eye again.”

Delia glared at the laptop screen. “Lydia, darling, explain to me how you set this event up again.”

“I set it as a private Zoom event. Everyone involved in the ceremony had to have a link and a password.”

“So,” Delia said, “who gave my ex-husband—who, I’d just like to remind everyone, is a cheating bastard—the link and the password?”

Slowly, one of Delia’s aunts raised her hand, her face bright pink behind her makeup.

“Millie!” Delia’s mom exclaimed.

“Mom!” shrieked one of Delia’s cousins.

Most people on the Zoom call started shouting at once. It took a few minutes to hear Aunt Millie’s explanation.

“I had no idea he was going to object,” she squeaked. “But he was such a big part of our lives for such a long time, and I thought he deserved to at least see the ceremony….”

“Aunt Millie,” Delia said, “you are no longer welcome!”

“Of—of course. I’m so sorry, Delia.” Aunt Millie took out her glasses and peered at the screen. “Er, which button do I…?”

Lydia took care of it, and banned her.

“And everyone thought I’d use my ghost powers for evil,” Beetlejuice boasted. “Look at me, doing good deeds! Being a goddamn hero!”

Barbara would’ve responded, but poor Delia sagged against Charles, tears running down her face. She tried to speak, but only managed a quiet sob.

“We’re going to take a break,” Lydia said quickly, turning back to the laptop. “See you in 10 minutes, everyone.” She muted them and closed the laptop.

Beetlejuice waved his hand to grab Delia’s attention, grinning broadly. “Thought I’d mention that if you know where he lives I could teleport to his location and, well, cause a little havoc.”

“Do we need to go over the house rules?” Barbara asked. ‘No Murdering’ was the first one.

“No murdering, this time! Just a little non-fatal revenge.”

Delia hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “No, thank you.”

“Non-fatal?” Lydia asked Beetlejuice. “Are you sure? Our wedding did set a precedent for murder….”

Beetlejuice chuckled, and the two fistbumped.

After a moment, the demon frowned. “Wait, should I fistbump you for murdering me?”

“You already completed the ‘bump—you can’t take it back now,” Lydia said.

“Shit, you’re right.”

Delia stared at the living room, lips quivering. “Maybe…maybe this is a sign. The universe must not want me to get married again!”

Beetlejuice floated over. “Delia! Signs don’t exist. Trust me, I’d know! There is no heaven, no hell, no meaning to anything! The universe is cold, distant, and uncaring. It’s basically my mom,” he joked. “But the point is—it doesn’t care what you want, and nothing you say or do can affect it.

“Besides, girl!” Beetlejuice leaned in. “Chuck is rich as fuck. Lock him down!”

Charles glared at him before turning back to Delia. “I still want to get married to you, Delia.”

“Are you sure?” She blew into her Kleenex before continuing. “There are women who…who don’t have ex-husbands that ruin their weddings and—and make a scene in front of all their friends and family….”

“Delia,” Barbara said quietly, “you’re not the first person to date an asshole. I mean, look at me and Adam.”

Beetlejuice appreciated the burn, even if it was at his own expense—he cackled over Delia’s tepid chuckle.

“Don’t blame yourself for what just happened,” Barbara continued.

Delia whimpered into her Kleenex. Charles stroked her hair lightly.

“Delia,” he said, “I stood in front of our friends and family and told them how you were the brightest light in my darkest time. I meant every word of it. Nothing will change that. I love you.” He kissed her so deeply that Barbara looked away to give them some privacy.

When they were done, Lydia cleared her throat. “I’ll go get the digital camera so we can adjust the photos faster. That way you won’t have to worry about your makeup looking perfect.” She began to set her analog camera down.

Delia shook her head. “No—you said this was your artistic vision, and I won’t see it compromised.”

Lydia looked surprised. “Oh.” Her smile was small but sincere. “Thanks, Delia.”

Delia took this as an invitation to hug her stepdaughter. Lydia rolled her eyes, but patted her shoulder and didn’t pull away.

“Besides,” Delia added, “this camera was your mother’s gift to you, and I don’t want her coming back from the Netherworld to tell me off.”

Beetlejuice facepalmed. “That is not how the Netherworld works! That’s not how any of it works.”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt to make sure, could it?” Delia stepped back. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just fix my face.”

“I can help,” Barbara said, and Delia nodded.

Once they were upstairs, Delia collapsed in her makeup chair, sighing heavily.

“I actually thought it was going to go well,” she commented. “That I’d have one beautiful day even in the midst of the world’s ugliness. I was so stupid. Nothing ever goes right for me.”

Barbara reached out to pat Delia’s shoulder before stopping herself. When Delia looked confused, she explained, “Lydia said touching me or Adam is like touching an ice cube tray straight from the freezer.”

“I don’t mind.”

Hesitantly, Barbara touched Delia’s shoulder. It was the first time she’d touched a living person other than Lydia in months, and hugs from a 16-year-old girl she didn’t know that well were rare. The older woman shivered but didn’t pull away.

“Lydia’s not wrong,” Delia admitted. She put her hand over Barbara’s, squeezing slightly. “But a hand offered in friendship should never be refused. You know, it’s been almost four months since I last touched someone who wasn’t Charles.”

“Hopefully this coronavirus pandemic will end soon.”

“I’ve been saying healing prayers twice a day.”

Barbara wasn’t sure they’d be effective, but healing prayers were more than most of America’s leaders were doing. At least Delia was listening to the science and wearing a mask when she went outside. She’d grown so much in the short time Barbara had known her.

Barbara missed her friends from when she was alive. That was natural. But she couldn’t let her loss keep her from recognizing that she’d made a friend after death, too.

“Thanks, Delia,” Barbara said. “Not just for the healing prayers, but for everything. Having two ghostly housemates and a demon would be a lot for some people, but you’ve taken it in stride.”

Delia chuckled. “I once lived in a commune of 200 people. Living off the land, growing our own food…and digging our own toilets.” She wrinkled her nose, then chuckled. “You three are a walk in the park compared to that!”

“If there’s anything you need from me or Adam, please let us know. We don’t want to trouble you or Charles.”

Delia opened and closed her mouth. After a moment, she said, “Well….I suppose I do have a rather personal question….”

“Shoot.”

“Beetlejuice—is he actually good in the bedroom?”

Barbara giggled. “He is. He’s had millennia to think about what he’d do if he ever had sexual partners again. He’s very…inventive.”

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised. He doesn’t seem the type to be concerned with another’s pleasure.”

“Oh, there’s definitely times he forgets. But then we get to teach him. Ahem. Now,” she nodded to the mirror, “let’s get your makeup touched up.”

*

Barbara wouldn’t ever be hungry or thirsty again, but the stuffed butternut squash was delicious. Delia and Charles had deferred to Barbara and Adam’s local expertise when they planned the menu at their wedding dinner. Adam knew most of the farms the vegetables had come from.

The Deetzes had said goodbye to all their guests, and the family was eating their wedding dinner in the dining room.

Delia had been going to give out the crystals on either side of the laptop as wedding favours—the stones were mostly rose quartz, moonstone and a pale white stone called selenite. But after Jeremy’s arrival, she said she needed to cleanse the crystals. “I’m going to give them a few lunar cycles, just to be safe.”

Barbara nodded, pretending she understood what that meant. “Adam, Beetlejuice and I are dead. We’ve got nothing but time!”

“I just want to thank everyone again for your hard work,” Delia said, smiling at them. “Lydia, for your photographic eye and leading the blessing. Barbara, for the hair, makeup, decorating and emotional support. Adam, for sending out all the emails and doing the tech support. All the ghosts, for intervening when a certain someone decided to crash the party.”

“It was mostly me,” Beetlejuice said. Barbara rolled her eyes at Adam, who chuckled.

“He is the ghost with the most,” Adam said, making Beetlejuice grin.

“My mistake—thank you, Beetlejuice. Thank you all for being part of one of the most important days of our lives. Thank you for being our family.”

Barbara sniffled a bit as she and Adam applauded the speech.

“I got the happy couple some extra gifts,” Beetlejuice said. “For the wedding night.”

“I’m going into another room,” Lydia announced abruptly, setting her plate down. “Another house. Another life.”

As she left, Beetlejuice grinned. “We’re rated PG-13, guys! It’s just rose petals on the bed and some boozy chocolates. Figured you two have your own toys—”

Lydia started singing loudly as she covered her ears, taking the stairs three at a time to get away.

Barbara tried to figure out what he had in mind. “These rose petals won’t become spiders, will they?”

“They’re totally normally and boring, if you must know. I ordered them off Amazon.”

“How?” Adam asked. “You have no money.”

“I typed in Chuck’s credit card, duh.”

“What?” Charles snapped.

Barbara and Adam sighed. Beetlejuice’s morality was a never-ending project that was not without its consequences.

Not for the first time, Barbara reflected that it was a good thing the Maitlands loved working on projects together.

*

After the wedding dinner, as Barbara, Adam and Beetlejuice were cleaning up, Lydia came downstairs. She was carrying another photo album and wearing a glum expression. She’d changed out of her party dress, and was wearing a comfy hoodie and sweat pants—all black, of course.

“Got a sec?” she asked quietly.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Barbara said.

Lydia showed them a photo—a younger Emily Deetz on a younger Charles’s lap, grinning at the camera in a fancy restaurant.

“My mom and dad’s wedding wasn’t like today’s. There wasn’t any structure. It was just a big party at one of the best restaurants in New York, followed by wandering the city with all their friends and family. They stopped in at dingy bars to listen to live music, they caught a comedy show, they walked through Times Square at two in the morning. They almost got mugged! Mom was hard core like that. Daddy attracts dramatic weddings, doesn’t he?” she joked.

Her smile dropped a second later. “And Daddy looks just as happy here as he did today. I was photographing him and Delia the whole time. I’d know.”

“So,” Beetlejuice said, “the big takeaway here is that Chuck is in love with the women he gets married to?”

Lydia chuckled sadly. “Something like that. I mean, one of them was a woman he met in college, while the other was his employee…. But who cares about things like abuses of power when it’s true love? Daddy and Delia keep trying to make me comfortable with their love story, but how can I be? If it were any other situation, I’d be blasting Daddy online as he stars in the latest MeToo scandal, right?”

Barbara nodded. “You’re right. It’s pretty rare for a story like Delia and Charles’s to end this way. You sound like you’re carrying a lot, Lydia. Do you want to sit and—”

“No, thanks. I just wanted to whine for a bit. Delia’s family seem nice, at least. Except for Aunt Millie, obviously.” She closed the photo album in a short, frustrated gesture. “Well, goodnight, guys.”

“Do you mind if we check in with you tomorrow?” Barbara said. “See how you’re feeling?” Sixteen was such a tough age—particularly when your father was remarrying.

“If you want.” She shrugged, as if she really didn’t care, but her small smile made Barbara hopeful that she’d made the right decision. The only thing more difficult than being a teenager was parenting a teenager she’d just met a few months ago.

Beetlejuice was frowning as Lydia left. “Guys, we gotta help Lyds!” He was nothing if not loyal. “We should break Chuck and Delia up, right?” He leaned in to Adam. “I got the perfect way to do it. You know how Delia thinks Emily can come back from the Netherworld?” Beetlejuice became Emily Deetz for a moment, still with a few mossy patches and green hair. “Well, what if she can? And then we tell Delia to GTFO!”

That he was asking them instead of just doing it was a pretty good sign.

“Well, Bug,” Adam said, “think about it—if Lydia didn’t want this wedding to happen, she could’ve objected herself. Or asked her father not to get married to Delia.”

Beetlejuice became his usual self again, looking disappointed. “Oh. Right. Didn’t think of that.”

“She’s an intelligent, sensitive young woman with complicated feelings about a complicated issue,” Barbara said. “I think the best way to help her is to listen to her without judgement.”

“Why is the right way always the most boring way?” Beetlejuice said, sighing.

Barbara knew how to get him happy again. “Now,” she said, running her hand along his shoulder, “why don’t we finish up and go upstairs? After all this work for everyone else, we deserve some…ah, quality time together.”

Beetlejuice fistpumped and chortled. “Yes! Unfortunately, because of this fic’s rating, we gotta cut it off here. I just wanna let everyone know, it’s gonna be freakin’ awesome—'cuz I’m awesome, baby.”

Barbara had no idea what he was talking about, as usual. Adam kissed her cheek, and they went back to the dishes.

[pjbehindthesun]

chapter 25: confrontations and constellations

Tuesday, November 6th, 1990

“Mmmphh? Hello?” Not the most polite way to answer the phone, true, but who the fuck calls at this hour?

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, I woke you up, I figured you’d be up early with Jeff…”

“No… I mean, yeah, he left way early, he had to be at work by 4, I went back to bed… what’s going on, is everything okay?”

“Uhm. I hate to do this before you go to work, but… can you come up?”

Cora’s voice is so small it’s terrifying. That’s all I need to know. It’s go time. I’ve barely yanked a comb through my hair, dragged a toothbrush through my mouth, and thrown on something vaguely resembling a work outfit before I’m off up the stairs. Halfway up, I remember the spare key to her place, which is hanging on a hook next to my door, but whatever, thankfully she’s left the door unlocked.

And she looks like absolute, utter hell. She’s curled up on the couch under a massive blanket, white as a ghost, looking at me with dark-circled eyes.

“I got Stone’s flu, I think,” she explains unnecessarily, obviously straining to talk through a sore throat. “Also, I kicked Alex out last night.”

Typical Cora, burying the lede. Pinching myself would be rude, right? I need to not do that. I opt for biting my tongue hard to make sure I’m awake as I scoot some of her mountainous blanket fort over to make room for myself on the couch. Ow. Yeah. I’m awake.

“What the hell happened?”

She winces as she swallows. “Another girl. Here. They were, uh, in the shower, when I… They, uhm, figured I’d be at work longer, but Colleen sent me home early last night, because of the whole…” she draws a circle around her face, which is giving the facial expression equivalent of a shrug.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

“Uh-uh. So I… came home and… found them. Kicked them both out. And then I stupidly told him to come back tomorrow and get his stuff.”

“That’s not stupid, we should get his shit out of here as fast as possible,” I muse, scowling at her. “Do we know her?”

“No. She’s Brian’s girlfriend or something. She didn’t even know about me. It’s been going on for a year.”

A year?? This is so fucking surreal. I know how to do the friend thing, I swear that I do, but the way she’s relaying this insane information so robotically, it’s really throwing me for a loop. I wish she’d scream about it, or cry hysterically, or call him a rat bastard, or something to let me vent my own anger, but clearly, we’re not there yet…

“...and how are you doing?”

“I’m alright. I just, uhm,” she glances around the apartment, “I told him he could come and get his stuff today, you know, move out, but I don’t… I don’t really want him hanging around forever trying to get it all gathered up… I was gonna try to get a head start this morning but I could use a little help…?”

Okay! An action item! I got this. We’ll deal with robotic Cora later. I’m sure it’s just a defense mechanism and she’ll break down later once she’s had more time to process. I jump up off the couch, a to-do list growing ever longer in my brain. Cora starts to get up too, but it doesn’t take a lot of effort to push her back down because she’s not very steady on her feet.

“Park your ass, woman, you need to rest.” She opens her mouth to protest, but I’m already walking toward the bathroom, calling back over my shoulder. “The first thing I can do is bleach the ever-loving fuck out of your shower. And your towels. And your sheets. And who knows what else they touched, but we’re gonna nuke the shit out of it all. Okay? And then… we’ll figure out the packing part later.” A glance at the clock tells me I don’t have a ton of time before I need to go to work. I need reinforcements. But that can wait.

I leave Cora to slump passively on the couch while I gather up a load of sheets (because ew) and towels (because extra ew) and quickly attack her shower with some bleach spray. Out of her sightline, I’m free to gag at the mental image of that dumb, smarmy motherfucker hooking up with another girl IN THE APARTMENT HE SHARED WITH MY FRIEND. WHO DOES THAT??! FOR A YEAR!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I’m obviously not going to fan those flames with her and make her feel even worse, because she’s still letting it all sink in and what she needs right now is some unemotional, businesslike help getting the logistics worked out. But it’s therapeutic for me to be able to lose my shit in here with the door closed for a moment. Okay, whoa, bleach fumes... moment over. I make the bed up with clean sheets and grab the rest to take down to the basement.

“Laundry, be right back! You good?” I call at her over a giant basket of offending laundry. She nods and manages a small “thanks” as I bustle past. Once I’m in the laundry room, I get to take out more anger on the machine, slamming doors and swearing loudly, but I collect myself before I get back to the 4th floor. She hasn’t moved an inch, and she still looks like a zombie.

“Okay, alright, uhm, I have to leave for work in like five minutes…” I tell her, glancing at the clock as my mind races.

“You’re the best. Even that much was a huge help because I was never gonna make it down the stairs,” she tries for a chuckle but ends up coughing. “I’ve got it from here, you go to work.”

“Stop talking nonsense. I just need to figure out who I can call to come help you.”

“No!” she yelps, wide-eyed. “No, please don’t tell everybody, this is so fucking embarrassing, I really don’t need the whole phone tree to be notified that my life is on fire. I can do it myself!”

“I wasn’t thinking of lighting up the phone tree, I’m just wondering if any of the guys are off work this morning. You need manual labor.”

“I can do it, Lucy, honestly.”

“Uh huh. And you’re going to have help. Stop arguing about it or I’ll fight you and you know I have the height advantage. Let’s see, first, we need to figure out when…” it takes a Herculean effort to say his cursed fucking name out loud, but gritting my teeth seems to help “...Alex is going to drop by. I want to have it all done before then so he’s not here for more than a minute. Get in, get your shit, get out.”

Her eyes start to look a little red-rimmed for the first time. “I love you, Luce.”

“You too. Don’t you fucking move. Get a little rest.”

I grab the phone off the end table, tugging at the cord to follow me, and pace down the hallway and into their den, hoping that she won’t eavesdrop quite as aggressively that way. And then I remember I don’t know Alex’s work number. I yell down the hall, she calls out the numbers, and I punch them in, imagining each phone key is one of his teeth being knocked in. To my surprise, the bastard picks up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

He sounds like shit. This pleases me.

“Alex, it’s Lucy. You’re at work early.”

“Yeah, uh,” he yawns, “I slept at my desk last night, Cora kicked me out, and I couldn’t stay at Brian’s, so --”

“-- I’m playing the world’s smallest violin for you,” I growl, trying to keep my voice low enough that Cora won’t hear but assertive enough to terrify the shitstain on the other end of the line. “Listen. You are going to come get your shit on your lunch break. I’ll have it all packed up and in the front room. If you don’t get it out of here by 1:00, we’re having a bonfire tonight at Discovery Park, courtesy of your video game console.”

He stammers for a moment before mumbling something that sounds enough like assent for me.

“Don’t be late.”

It takes a lot of effort not to slam the phone back down. Get me, I’m mature. Okay, now we have a little over four hours to get his shit out of here, but I don’t have any more personal days left this year so I can’t miss work, Jeff’s at the cafe already… Eddie? Eddie’s a pretty diplomatic guy, I bet he’d be willing to help, and of all the options, he probably wouldn’t make Cora feel too uncomfortable. But when I try the guys’ apartment, there’s no answer, so maybe he had an early shift too.

Hmm. Mike? He’s a bit of a mess, but he’s got a good heart. I’ll try him next.

“H’llo? wh’s happenin’ ‘bout me,” a slurred voice says.

“Mike? Mike! Wake up, I need your help.”

“we’re closed! n’more lettuce for today.”

“The fuck? Mike!” but he’s already hung up. Great, the only two morning people in our whole crew are already at work, and Cready’s either talking in his sleep or wasted or both. I can’t remember Chris’s number, and I’m not about to ask Cora for it because I don’t want her to freak out again thinking I’m calling the whole neighborhood. That leaves one option. She’s not going to like this. She’s really, really not going to like this.

“Hello?”

Okay, finally, someone who sounds at least halfway awake.

“Hey, Stone? Sorry to bother you so early. It’s Lucy.”

“Lucy? What the hell’s going on? It’s like… 7…?” I can hear him stretch and probably fumble around for his alarm clock.

“7:15, yeah,” I finish his thought for him. “Listen, I need your help. Cora kicked Alex out last night, she found him cheating with some other chick. As in, he’s been cheating on her with this same girl all year. As in, she found them here when she got off work.”

His sudden avalanche of bellowed obscenity makes me jerk the phone away from my head. “Okay, okay, get it out of your system, I know, I said all the same things when I heard,” I reassure him from a safe, ear-protecting difference. “The thing is, there’s not really time for that, because he’s coming back at like noon to get his shit out of the apartment, and Cora’s got the flu so there’s no way she can pack it up herself. Despite what she may think.” As I speak, I can hear her making a liar out of me in the other room with the unmistakable sounds of a suitcase being packed. So much for the whole resting idea. She’s impossible. Good luck with that, Stone.  “She’s already trying to do it herself, you know how stubborn she is. I wish I could help her but I’m out of time off for the year and I have to get to work, but I’ll be right back as soon as I’m done for the day, I just need someone to --”

“Be right over,” he says in a terse voice that’s much higher pitched than usual. I hang up and resign myself to trying to restrain Cora from murdering me for calling him.

When I find her next door in their bedroom, she’s busily filling the battered old suitcase with sweaters and polo shirts from the dresser.

“So, Alex will be here around 12… Jeff and Eddie were both at work....”

She cuts me off in a brisk tone, continuing to pack and not making eye contact, “That’s okay, don’t call anyone else, I swear I’ve got this. He doesn’t even have that much stuff. All the furniture and kitchen stuff’s mine, it’s just his clothes, a few books, records, the computer shit in the den… I won’t drop dead from the exertion of packing all of that, I promise.”

For a split second, I consider telling her that Stone is on his way over, but (a), I value my life, (b), I’m not going to have the argument with her that she needs to stay in bed because I know that will fall on deaf ears, and (c), I’m going to be late for work. That’s Stone’s problem now.

“Okay, well, drink lots of water, don’t overdo it, call me if you need ANYTHING, and call me no matter what after he leaves. Got it?” I tip an entire drawer full of socks into the bag to speed up the process, giving her a pointed stare until she finally pauses and looks at me.

“Yes, ma’am. You’re my favorite human, you know that?”

“You’re mine. Try to rest.” I pull her into a quick hug, and then I’m on my way out the door.

I’d better be your favorite human. I bleached your ex-boyfriend’s sex towels. Vivid fantasies of murder accompany me on the drive to the hospital.

***

Of course, I only remember that I forgot to lock the station wagon when I’m already on the 4th flight of stairs in her building, taking them three at a time, trying to get a grip on my temper so I can actually be useful when I get to her place. Whatever, if someone wants my car that bad, they can have it. I was so busy mentally cursing Cletus that I nearly wrecked it like four times just getting it over here, and the drive’s only like 15 minutes.

I have to take a deep breath to avoid pounding on her door, but no matter what I do, I can’t get my adrenaline levels to chill out. Down, boy. This is not the time, place, or person for the whole John Wayne hero routine. Not that I’ve ever been very good at it, anyway. With one more deep breath, I arrange my face into some semblance of neutrality and manage a normal-volume knock.

Cora opens the door, bundled up in a massive quilt and looking like death, so much so that I’m probably gaping at her like a fool. So much for keeping a neutral expression. We stare at each other in silence for an excruciatingly long time, and I would speak up except that I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. I’ve been preoccupied with all this stupid male anger for Alex, I didn’t even bother thinking about what I should say to her. Thankfully, she speaks up before I have to.

“What are you doing here?”

Okay, that I can work with. “Lucy called me.”

A skeptical crease between her eyebrows tells me that this information is news to her, so I explain as quickly as I can, “she said… she said you might need some help, uh, packing stuff.”

“Did she tell you why?” Her voice is a thin monotone.

I nod but then figure I should probably qualify so she doesn't think I’ve been prying. “I got the gist, yeah.”

“Fantastic.”

“I’m so sorry, Cora.”

“Sure you are,” she mutters with a sniff, huddling deeper into her blanket cloak.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I frown, kicking myself for not resisting the bait. She doesn't need a fight today, and I know that, but I’m still so fucking keyed up from the drive over here.

“This is the part where you say ‘I told you so,’ right? You called it, you should get to take credit for it.”

“I didn't come here to gloat, Cora.”

“Well, you should, you were right.” She rolls her eyes and refuses to look back at me, staring stubbornly down the hallway.

“This isn't exactly the kind of thing I want to be right about.”

My own voice is getting thicker as I talk because her eyes are reddening and I can't stand to see how much she's hurting, and trying to act like she’s not. When she doesn't answer me, I ask in a gentler voice, “can I come in?”

She nods and blinks back her tears, reaching for me, and I’ve got her wrapped up in my arms as fast as I can close the distance between us. She rests her head on my chest. I bury my nose in her hair, fighting the overwhelming urge to kiss her or do anything else that would make this about me, rather than what she needs. But I’ve really missed this. Every other thought vacates my brain, other than how much I’ve missed this. The way she fits in my arms. The way her hair smells. The warmth of her. Holy shit, warmth…

“Jesus, you’re burning up,” I rearrange so I can press my cheek against her forehead, nuzzling closer despite myself, “have you taken anything?”

She shakes her head, not letting go.

“Why the hell not,” I whisper.

“Didn't think about it,” she shrugs. “Anyway, it’s your fault.”

It’s still so terrifying to see her like this, and I don’t mean the fever. This calm detachment. Just like the other night, at the diner. Trying to pretend it never happened. That can’t be good. I give her one more bracing squeeze before loosening my grip, adjusting her blanket around her shoulders.

“Yeah. Okay. Sorry about that. Uh, I’ll check your medicine cabinet. You go get in bed, I’ll be right there, okay? I mean, not, ahem, not in your bed, just… I’ll be right there with whatever fever reducer I can find… obviously…”

She purses her lips in what could be either a smile or a wince and lets me steer her back toward her bedroom, rubbing her back once before I split off to the bathroom on the other side of the hallway.

Her medicine cabinet’s pretty sparse… some floss, some Alka Seltzer, a bag of cough drops that expired in 1986… the last one actually makes me laugh out loud… and miraculously, an unopened bottle of nighttime cold medicine that has a fever reducer in it. I don’t know how she’ll feel about the nighttime part, but she definitely looks like she could use the sleep, so I’m going with it. I grab the bottle, double back to the kitchen to get a glass of water, remembering which cabinet is which from the night I did her dishes. When I meet her in her bedroom, she’s sitting up, still out of the covers, with a nervous look on her face.

“I can’t take this, it’ll put me to sleep for hours!” she whines when she sees the label.

“That’s the general idea, yes. Unless you want to lie and tell me you slept well last night. Go ahead, try it.”

Through a peeved sigh, she huffs, “no. I stayed on the couch. Barely slept.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But if this stuff knocks me out, how am I supposed to help you pack?”

“You catch on quick, don’t you?” I sit on the foot of her bed, tugging the covers back to encourage her to climb under, and she obliges with a sour look on her face. “Look, I follow directions well, just tell me what I need to pack. You need to get as much rest as you can.”

“But what about Alex?”

“Let me worry about Alex.”

“Gee, what could possibly go wrong,” she quips, but she finally reaches out for the cup of dark green medicine I’m holding out for her. With a grimace, she downs it in one shot and washes it down with some of the water before letting me tuck her in like a little kid.

“Okay. I got most of his clothes into that suitcase already,” she nods at a huge bag on the floor, “there’s just the coat closet left. He’s got some stuff in the bathroom, that should be obvious enough. Everything in the den’s his -- not the furniture, but the TV, the video games, all that stuff. And then he has some things on the bookshelf, but I’ll have to talk you through that.”

“Or you could sleep and I could figure it out for myself.”

“You think so, do you?” She cocks an eyebrow and for a second, it’s like that detached fog has lifted. Jesus, I’ve missed her so much. I roll up my shirtsleeves to give myself a sensory distraction.

“Mmhmm. I’ve got a pretty good handle on your music taste, Red. What does he listen to, anyway?”

“Well, you can start with all the Elvis Costello --”

“-- oh, it fucking figures --”

“-- and the Springsteen, and the Zappa, and --”

She rattles off several more artists as I disappear around the corner and start pulling records off the shelves. What gets left behind in her collection is both a massive relief and a weird set of bedfellows: obviously, there’s the Doc Watson and the Hank Williams and the Johnny Cash and the Willie Nelson and the Woody Guthrie and the Pete Seeger and the Joni Mitchell and the Joan Baez and all the other hillbilly and/or hippie things I’d fully expect on her shelf. And among other things, she’s got a bunch of old blues and motown, a weird smattering of acid rock and heavy metal, what appears to be the complete discography of Tom Waits, ditto for Neil, and a few others I’m almost too afraid to ask about, just in case they’re Alex’s…

“Uhm… what about the Steely Dan albums?”

“Stay.”

Good girl. “Elton?”

“Go, sadly.”

“Right.” I keep them on the shelf but shove them back just a little. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “Books?”

Pretty much everything stays except the Asimov, Ayn Rand, Salinger… uhm… Hemingway and Steinbeck. You get the idea.”

That’s for sure. What a fucking prick this guy is. I start pulling titles and dropping them into the box. Every now and again, I’ll call one out to her for clarification, but she sounds increasingly sleepy, and after a while when I check in on her, she’s out cold. It doesn’t even wake her up when I make my way cautiously into her room to finish packing clothes in his suitcase and drag it down the hall. The rest of the apartment is pretty easy to sort out, and I’m taking no small joy in the catharsis of purging all traces of Alex from her place. Even his juvenile man-den takes no time at all to clear out, although I think I’ve pulled a muscle in my back moving his big stupid TV. I’m not going to tell her that, of course. Gotta keep some dignity here.

It’s about 11:00 when I’m pretty sure I’ve got all his bullshit piled up in the front room, and Cora’s still fast asleep. There’s one book title from her collection that stood out to me as being especially weird, even for her, so I snag it and stretch out on the couch to read it and pass the time. Every third or fourth sentence has me laughing, which of course still prompts disgusting coughing fits, so I do what I can to keep the noise down, but Cora doesn’t show any signs of waking. In what feels like no time at all, there’s a knock on the door and the clock is telling me it’s nearly noon.

Setting her book down and checking on her one last time on my way to answer the knock, because who’s in any great hurry to see this motherfucker anyway, I slowly make my way to the front door. His first reaction when I open it is to drop his jaw and turn an extremely unappealing shade of red. He’s looking sufficiently unwashed and exhausted and stressed out and pissed. All very good things.

“The fuck are you doing here?!”

“Keep your voice down, Alex, she’s sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, asshole, this is my apartment!”

“Mmm, not anymore, I don’t think.” It’s deeply gratifying to keep my voice as calm as possible while he gets more and more irate. I budge past him into the hallway, closing the door behind me so he won’t wake her up.

“So you’re just here playing house with my girlfriend, then??”

I lean against the door frame with my arms folded, maintaining steady eye contact while he incrementally loses his mind, even though he’s encroaching more and more on my personal space. I’ve never been big on the whole males-working-it-out-with-fisticuffs thing, but I’m sure as shit not going to let this dickweed intimidate me. 

“I don’t have to explain shit to you. And she’s not your girlfriend.”

“I fucking knew it, I knew there was something going on with you and her, you obnoxious fucking --”

“I just came over to pack up your stuff. She’s too sick to do it. That’s it. Make whatever you want out of it, I don’t care, just don’t wake her up.”

“STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO DO, I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU --”

“Hey, Stone, is there a problem here?”

The voice that cuts through Alex’s screeching is a deep, calm, resonant kind of voice, of the kind that can quiet a noisy room without even raising its own volume. Over Alex’s shoulder, I watch Eddie appear from out of the stairwell, and as Alex whips around to face him, it takes every bit of my composure not to laugh. Eddie’s at least a full head and shoulders shorter than Alex, and by rights he’s like the least threatening guy I’ve ever met -- Jesus, he makes people friendship collages, who does that? -- but right now he’s got this crazy-eyed expression that, with his tightly wound posture, seems to fill the entire hallway with its intensity. It’s a look that immediately calls to mind cobras or other animals that can make themselves larger to unnerve predators. Or, in Eddie’s case, probably a non-venomous snake mimicking a cobra, a thought that is threatening to make me laugh even harder, but there’s no reason for Alex to know any of that.

Anyway, it’s working, to my delight and relief. Alex unballs his fists and takes a big step back.

“No problem, we’re just helping our friend Alex here move out of his former apartment today. Cora’s asked him to live elsewhere,” I explain to Eddie, who maintains a deep crease in his eyebrows and a fireball stare as he keeps his eyes fixed on Alex, nodding steadily.

“Sure, yeah, let’s get you moved out, friend.”

My rabid-faced, calm-voiced bandmate seems to be enough of a wild card to subdue Alex, who mutters something to the tune of, “fine, whatever, let’s get this over with.”

With Eddie’s help, it only takes a couple of trips between the three of us to dump all of Alex’s shit outside on the curb in front of his stupid Jeep, letting him pack it all inside. I wish I could say, for the preservation of my integrity, that I handled his belongings with the utmost care and didn’t accidentally crush a fragile item or six. But hey, I’m weak, I guess.

“SEEYA!” I chirp, waving enthusiastically, a shit-eating grin plastered on my face as Alex climbs into his truck with nothing more than a sad little “fuck you, asshole.”

Eddie maintains his cobra posture until the Jeep’s on its way out of the parking lot, before turning to me to ask, “hey, is Cora okay?”

“Ehhh, she’ll be fine,” I explain, heading back inside and holding the door open for him. “I mean she’s sick as hell, so that doesn’t help, but I think she’s alright.”

“Anything else I can do to help?” he tugs at his soul patch, frowning.

“Nah, I think running him off with our torches and pitchforks is plenty for now, thanks man. I appreciate you having my back there.”

“Hey, whatever the fuck happened, he wasn’t gonna make it any better by starting a fight outside her door.”

“Something tells me he wasn’t thinking that far ahead. Not a big thinker, that one.”

“Some kind of son of a bitch or other, too, for her to throw him out like that.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy. Hey, thanks again,” I repeat once we’ve come to her door. As he opens his mouth, I cut him off, “I’ll let you know if there’s anything you can do to help, for sure.”

With that, I wave to send him down the hallway to Jeff’s place and head back inside. So much for not waking her up… she’s parked on the couch, looking groggy and wary but impossibly gorgeous. And she’s ditched her blanket coat.

“Hey! You feeling better?”

“Mm,” she equivocates, “sort of. Fever’s gone, I think. For now.”

“Hope we didn’t wake you up with our friendly little gathering.” I sit next to her, moving the book I’d left propped open on the cushion over to the end table.

She toys with a tiny hole in the knee of her sweatpants. “Sounded ugly out there.”

“Well, given the company, that’s kind of a given.” The fact that she chuckles at my joke and doesn’t tell me to be nice about Alex is like a breath of fresh air after working all day in a mine. “But nobody died. And I’m pretty sure we got all his stuff.”

“Thanks, Stone,” she mumbles quietly, a little tremble in the way she says my name that threatens to do me in. “Really, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Did you manage to get some decent sleep?”

“Yeah, not bad,” she looks relieved at the change of subject. “The meds are still kicking my ass, so if I say anything incoherent, please be kind.”

“You got it.”

“Čapek?” she nods at the book, her voice sounding a little more assured.

“Yeah, well, I got done packing early, I had to pass the time somehow. You’ve got some crazy shit on those shelves, Red.”

“I love that one.” A tired smile spreads across her face. She’s prettier mid-flu than most women I know when they’re all dolled up. It’s unfair to womankind, really.

“Yeah? War With the Newts, 1936. Where the hell do you find this stuff?”

“Got it at a weird little used bookstore back in Asheville. You’re telling me you could resist that title? Come on, a sea captain discovers a race of highly intelligent newts, enslaves and exploits them, causing them to rebel until they finally conquer the world?”

“Hey! Spoilers!” I elbow her.

“Sorry, it’s just too good. How far did you get?”

“Definitely not into any overt newt-human conflict yet, I can tell you that much. The sea captain and that other guy were still debating how to use the newts in their pearl-harvesting scheme.”

“Oh, man, so you’re pretty early, you haven’t even gotten to my favorite part!”

“Which is?”

“Hey, spoilers,” she repeats, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“I think I’d rather hear you tell it, anyway.”

After chewing on her lip for a moment, she obliges. “Okay, you know how the newts develop a trusting rapport with the ship captain, kind of a symbiosis? Like, he sends them on diving missions to find pearls, and in return, they ask him for simple tools for their own developing society?”

“Right…”

“Well, they start to ask for more and more complicated tools, showing more and more of their own hidden intelligence, and the sea captain develops more and more affection for what he sees as his own pet newts, even though they hate him for exploiting their civilization. Very good imperialism satire, by the way.”

“Of course.”

“Well, coming up soon, that symbiosis starts to break down. One of them’s going to start menacingly asking a human for one object over and over, and then the newts all start to chant:” she holds her hand out and widens her eyes creepily, “‘knife? knife? knife?”

“Jesus,” I sputter. “So that’s the beginning of the end, then.”

“Yeah, it ends up being a pretty perfect skewer of nationalism, fascism, scientific hubris… really it’s the perfect sci-fi story.”

“Yeah, and it reads like something Douglas Adams would have written if he were alive in the ‘30s, it’s fucking hilarious.”

“I knew you were a quality human, Stone.”

I watch her cautiously, unsure how much to push her on such a fragile day, but unable to help myself. I mean, this is almost back to normal for us, right? Maybe she’s feeling better already. “Careful, I might start thinking we’ve graduated from a temporary ceasefire to a lasting peace.”

“You’re making a decent case for it today,” she fights a little smile. Hope sparks up in my chest, but now is definitely not the time to make a move, for fuck’s sake.

“So, uhm, you need anything else? You got enough food, that kind of thing?”

“I think I’ll survive, yeah.”

“Well, I mean, I did get you sick… Cornell brought me soup, I feel like I should pay it forward somehow… I still owe you dinner, anyway…”

“You don’t owe me dinner, Stone.”

“I mean it though, what’s your comfort food situation when you’re sick? Everyone has one.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“Oh, most definitely, but I’ll still go out and get it for you.”

She crumples up her face, eyes shut tight. “Uhm… well, there was this one thing I always used to eat when I was a kid…”

“Lay it on me.”

“Tater tots…”

“Okay, that’s an unconventional choice for the flu, but it could be weirder…”

“...dipped in strawberry yogurt?”

“Nope. Okay, that’s it, we’re done here, you’re obviously history’s greatest monster.” I start to get up from the couch, wrinkling my nose in disgust, but she catches me by the wrist and tugs me back down, laughing. Predictably, I fold like a card table at her smallest touch.

“You promised!”

“Ughhh, fine, just don’t make me watch.” I stand up again less dramatically, and this time she lets me go, even though I’d prefer it if she didn’t.

“Wimp.”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

“Thanks, Stoner.”

“You bet.”

“I mean it. Thanks… for all of this. I don’t know how to tell you… how…” her eyes suddenly redden again, and she looks away, almost chuckling at herself with annoyance as she blinks furiously.

“Hey…” and I’m back on the couch next to her, my hand on her knee, trying to get her to look at me. “Hey, don’t worry about it, okay? Maybe go get a little more rest, I’ll be right back.”

“K.”

I give her a quick hug, which lingers as a hand on her back as she gets up and heads back to her bedroom. I wait until she’s out of sight before I throw on my coat and head out, renewing my resolve to just be her friend for as long as we can manage it, because that’s obviously what she needs the most.

***

“Hey… I’m back…”

I open my eyes to a swimming image of Stone sitting on the edge of my bed, still dressed for the outside weather, watching me through those huge, concerned owl eyes. I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly after he left.

“Hey.”

“Uhm, the food’s in the fridge. I got your requested grossness, plus a few other things that us normies eat when we’re sick, you know, in case you wanna try and assimilate.”

“K.”

“I think I’m gonna head out, let you get a little more rest. Lucy’ll probably be back in a few hours, she said she was gonna come straight over when she gets off of work.”

“Stone… please don’t go yet, I don’t want you to go…” I hardly know what I’m saying, my head’s still so fuzzy from the combination of cold medicine and interrupted napping, but I know I don’t want him to go anywhere yet. I don’t want to be alone in this place yet. I fumble for his hand to make sure my point gets across even through my inarticulateness.

“Oh...kay…” he nods, looking taken aback. “You want me to hang out on the couch until Lucy gets back? I can do that.”

“No…” I tug a little harder on his hand. “No, can you… can you stay here? Can you…” ugh, loser alert, “can you hold me for a little while?”  

Frown lines deepening on his face, he nods and stands up to shake off his coat, his baseball cap, his blue button-down. He nudges off his boots and then climbs in next to me, letting me curl up in the crook of one arm as he pulls the blanket up with the other.

“Better?” he asks quietly, once we’re situated. The answer is no, of course not, not really, but the words don’t want to be said. In an inescapable wave, every awful thought I’ve been pushing down since last night swamps over me. Like the feeling of waking up from a nightmare, discovering with sheer relief that none of it was real, except that the wires got crossed somewhere and only the horrible stuff was true all along. Only the worst things you think about yourself are left. That you’re not lovable, not even to the only person who ever tried, that you’re not good enough, that you’re a way station for other people until their Something Better comes along, a consolation prize, a dead weight. That everyone’s going to leave, eventually, one way or the other, and that you might not even be valuable enough to them to be worth leaving properly. That you can’t even take comfort in a moral high ground because deep down, you know you have the ability to treat people this way, too. The sobs shake out in terrible gasps against Stone’s chest, endless, bottomless. God, I hate that I’m doing this to him. Stone, of all people. I’ve got to get my shit together, this isn’t fair to him.

“I’m s-sorry…” I manage to choke out, once the oxygen decides to stay in my lungs long enough to let me.

“Jesus, what the hell for?” his fingers find their way into my hair and begin to rake slowly through it, repetitively, consistently, in a way that gives me something to think about other than… anything else. I wind my arm further around his middle, clutch the fabric of his t-shirt in my fingers, thread our legs together, hold onto him for dear life, trying to get as close as I can, and he responds with a steady embrace and a quick kiss on my forehead.

“You’re just,” I sniffle, trying to pull my shit together, “it’s just really unfair, it’s almost funny, how you’re like… the worst possible person for this job…”

“What job?”

“Listening to me cry over Alex. Like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not a fucking idiot.”

“God, this is so stupid, I don’t even know why I’m crying, it’s not like I want him back…” I wipe my cheeks, but there’s nothing I can do about the puddle on his shirt.

“That’s fair enough. There’s no excuse for what he did.”

His words cause an uncomfortable twinge, a familiar one. “Yeah, except I did the same thing to him.”

“Huh?” Stone cranes his neck to look down at me, disbelief etched all over his face.

“With you.”

“Uh-uh. No.” He rests his head back on the pillow and resumes his compulsive stroking of my hair. “Our thing was totally different.”

Was…Our thing was totally different. Granted, last week feels like it happened a year ago, but I’m not sure I’m ready to bury it under the past tense yet. I guess Stone is. Ouch. There’s a thought I don’t want to dwell on today.

“Uh… enlighten me.”

“Well, for one thing, you’re a pretty bad liar.”

“I’m sorry Stoner, is this you trying to make me feel better?!”

“You know what I mean. You wear your feelings --” he interrupts the rhythm of his hand to perch it on my shoulder “-- right here. And your whole Jiminy Cricket conscience muscle is way too overdeveloped. You could never do what he did. The sheer amount of deception involved in that kind of two-timing is fucking staggering.”

“Yeah, even to her.”

“Huh?”

“The girl. Cindy. She didn’t know about me either.”

For a second time, Stone arches his neck to try to get a better look at me. “No way.”

“Way.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“She didn’t know he had a girlfriend??”

“She seemed as shocked to learn about me as I was about her.”

“But, like…” he continues to gape in confusion, so exaggeratedly that it’s almost funny, “she came over to your house? Did she not notice that there are pictures of you guys together here? Like, all over the place?”

I don’t know why, but picking the situation apart like this with him actually helps me get a little distance from it again. Good. I don’t know if I can stand another attack of pathetic sobs in front of a witness. “Yeah, well, our Cindy didn’t strike me as the brightest tool in the drawer.”

He snorts as he relaxes back down again. “God, I love you. That’s another difference, by the way.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone, but likewise. But they were together for a year, Stone, I’m sure similar language was involved.”

“And that’s another thing,” he carries on, undeterred, “the length of time! Jesus! Who does that?? Fucking asshole, that’s who.”

“Well, anyway, I’m sorry. For snotting up your shirt and everything.”

“Who’s the snot otter now?” he smirks. “Anyway, don’t. You’re allowed. You just got your heart broken, you get a free pass for all kinds of obnoxious shit.”

Once again, I don’t know what to say other than thanks, and I feel like I’ve already said that so many times that it’s going to get stuck in my throat if I try again. But another thought occurs.

“Have you ever?”

“What?”

“Had your heart broken?”

“Oh, sure, lots of times. I mean, sometimes I’ve been on the other end of it, but yeah, of course.”

“Tell me about it?”

He’s silent for a moment. “Well, the first one’s always the worst, right? I’d had a couple of girlfriends in high school, but the first one I ever really loved was this girl, Annie. This was like, sophomore and junior year, so real revolting puppy love shit. Writing her name in my notebook, walking her home from school, talking for hours on the phone at night, all that stuff. Anyway, she left a note in my locker at the end of the year telling me that she’d decided to get back together with her ex. And that was it. Didn’t see her all summer, and when we went back to school in the fall, she acted like she didn’t know me.”

“Fuck. That must have been hard.” I wrap myself even tighter around him, wanting to insulate someone so good from ever being treated so cruelly. He responds in kind with a rib-cracking squeeze.

“It was. For a while. You get over it, though.”

“For the sake of argument, I will pretend what you said is not, in fact, a crock of shit and ask you the obvious question: how?”

He shakes with one of those tiny laughs I’ve come to love, the kind that seems to get stuck in his nose. “I don’t know, you kinda… you go through this stage where everything that happens to you, or around you, reminds you of that person, because you’re so used to telling one person everything on your mind, and sharing everything, and all of your stories point to them, they’re you’re reference for everything, like your…” he grimaces at his own word choice, “your North Star, or whatever. So it’s like there’s salt in the wound, constantly…”

“Sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it is. But after enough time goes by, other people start becoming new focal points for you, and you have new stories that are tied to those people, and they kinda start to fill in the sky with other constellations, until that one person doesn't seem so prominent anymore. And then one day you’re squinting at the sky, trying to figure out how that person was ever such a big deal at all.”

Past tense, present tense, whatever we are, however confusing my situation with Stone has gotten, this is exactly what I need right now: to be curled up in his arms, letting him run his fingers through my hair, while he climbs the ladder and hangs the stars back up in the sky one by one. Just like he said he would.

[eudaimonic-writes]

Whisper Your Love - Chapter 1

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005500/chapters/32251545

Masterpost

Some say life has a way of bringing you what you need, and that if you let it, happiness will come to you. Others take a more liberal approach, claim that to find happiness you must grab it by the balls and run with it... or something.

Richie Tozier has never been one to listen to what other people say, he prefers to think that the reality of life is somewhere in the middle; what you give is what you get, where you go is what you see, and what you find is what you take. Blah blah blah. So, when Richie's mom decides to leave his dad (about time) and move them out to Bumfuck Nowhere, Maine, Richie (ever the obedient son) grumbles unhappily the whole way there, but goes anyway. Despite his outward appearance and general attitude, Richie's always been a sort of "it is what you make of it" kind of guy, and so he decides, walking into Derry High on his first day of senior year, that he'll take whatever this shitstick of a school has to throw at him and he'll make it something worthwhile. 

After all, when life gives you lemons...

"Make it your bitch." he mumbles, hiking his backpack higher on his shoulder as he curves past a group of younger girls who standing by the obnoxious statue of a man with a handlebar moustache and are actively staring at him, doing nothing to hide their obvious gossiping. He grins back, tossing out his signature wink as the girl's titter and hide behind their hands, huddling in towards each other in that way all high school girls seem to do. 

Richie's early, he knows, because he's used to a longer walk to school in Cali and hadn't really accounted for the fact that Derry is half the size of his old town. Everything here seems to be half the size, even the cheerleaders, he thinks, eyes lingering on a particularly short boy in a baby blue cheer uniform, crossing the lawn in front of the school gates towards another group of people - mostly girls - dressed in baby blue. The group scream loudly as he gets within hugging distance, and soon the boy is lost among a sea of ponytails and blue pleated skirts, and Richie is left scowling at the unnecessary amount of cheer they seem to exude. Even on a Monday. 

"Tiring, isn't it?" a voice calls from behind him, and Richie turns towards a girl with short auburn-red hair standing a short distance away from him, leant against the waist high brick wall surrounding the school's perimeter with an unlit cigarette in her hand. She smiles when Richie moves closer.

"I thought Cali cheerleaders were loud, but I guess nobody told me about small-town pride." Richie remarks. The girl tilts her head, a small smile playing at her lips as her eyes rove over Richie's form. A little closer up, Richie notices that the girl is taller than he expected - though, still not tall by his standards - and has freckles all over her face that she hasn't bothered to hide with any sort of makeup. 

The girl seems to make up her mind about something, because soon she's nodding and patting the space on the wall next to her. Richie joins her, already pulling his packet of tobacco from his back pocket and his papers from his front. "Pride is one thing Derry High has far too much of." The girl says, placing her cigarette in her mouth and lighting it with a clipper. "I'm Beverly Marsh." she says around a mouth of smoke, holding out her hand. 

Richie fumbles with the half-rolled cigarette he'd managed to accomplish as she spoke, shifting it to one hand so he can shake hers. "Richie Tozier."

"So, you're a roll-up kinda guy? Think you could teach me?" She asks offering her lighter once Richie is done. Richie takes it, quickly lighting up before passing it back without a word. He takes a moment to suck in a drag, breathing the smoke out through his teeth as he leans his head back, relishing in his first nicotine rush of the day. 

"You've never rolled before?" He asks. She shakes her head. "Not even a joint?" Another shake. "Huh. You Maine kids are weird, everyone knows how to roll in Cali." 

Beverly scoffs. "Okay, Mr. West Coast, can you teach this poor East Coast Kid your magical hipster ways?" She leans towards him as she says it, flicking the ceramic clown pin Richie has on the collar of his favourite denim jacket.

Richie laughs enthusiastically, deciding that Bev would make a good friend to have around. "Sure, Marsh, sure."

He can see a sparkle of mischief in Bev's eyes, but just as she opens her mouth to say something else, a sudden burst of loud music begins playing from across the lawn. Every pair of eyes in the courtyard turns towards the grass, and Richie's eyes widen at the sight. Small town pride indeed. The Cheerleaders Richie had clocked when he first entered school grounds were now in formation, a few already chanting along to the upbeat music as a crowd of boys in varsity jackets that hadn’t been there before gather off to the side. As Richie watches, time itself seems to slow as he spots the short boy again, a pair of pompoms in hand as a taller male holds him high in the air by his foot. There's a smile plastered on his face, but unlike a few of the other cheerleaders, his doesn't seem forced. His eyes crinkle prettily as he raises his arms along with the now indiscernible chanting, and Richie's eyes zero in on the way his lightly curled hair falls slightly into his face. 

With a jolt, Richie realises that the chanting has stopped, as well as the cheerleader's movements, as one of the jocks steps out from the huddle to address the watching crowd. He's in the middle of some speech about the football team, and how they're definitely going to win the East Coast championships this year, but all Richie can focus on is the boy in baby blue, still smiling, and still perfectly balanced in the air. The speech must end, because there's a flurry of movement and the boy is gracefully dropping into the waiting arms of two cheerleaders below, and then stepping into the embrace of the jock - who must be the team captain - and promptly kisses him on the mouth.

Richie coughs and looks away, suddenly noticing that his cigarette has burned down to the filter and that he's in danger of adding to the litany of small burn scars on his fingertips if he doesn't smush it out against the wall. When Richie looks back up, the cheerleader is tucked under the arm of the jock, smiling at a taller boy with tight curly blonde hair and the most pristine collared shirt Richie has ever seen a person wear. 

A chuckle from beside him brings his attention away, and Richie turns to Bev, refusing to let his ears burn red for being caught staring. "His name is Eddie, Derry's resident Gay Angel, his boyfriend, Chris, is the football captain."

Richie grunts, chastising himself internally for being so transparent, "bit cliché that, isn't it?"

Bev grins knowingly, tilting her head again in that same considering way she did earlier. Richie has yet to decide if he likes that look. “It would be, if it weren't for the whole, raging homosexuals thing." 

 *

 Richie learns pretty quickly that Derry is both exactly how he imagine small town life, and exactly the opposite of how he imagine it - all at the same time. It's a bit of a dream town, if he's being honest. White picket fences everywhere, nice mom's in pastel blouses smiling from their pristine lawns, your local pastor living two doors down, the butcher just after that. It has that 'everyone knows everyone' vibe that he'd thought would make him feel like an outsider but, surprisingly, he fits in quite nicely with Beverly Marsh, and her friend, Bill Denbrough. He's still the 'new kid' (one day Bev points out the last 'new kid', a stocky boy with sandy brown hair sitting beside Eddie Kaspbrak at lunch, and says that it’s kind of redundant to call him that since he moved there more than five years ago. "He's just called Ben now," she'd explained, "We all kind of forget that he hasn't always been here like the rest of us."). So what Richie is learning, and what he'd expected, is that everybody here is nice, but what he hadn't expected about that, is that people are actually nice - not just smile at you when you walk by and then talk shit about you at the book club nice. He'd been fully prepared to have to shove himself back in the closet when he came here, and had been pleasantly surprised to find out that that wasn't the case; he'd asked Bev all the way back on that first day how everyone felt about their star quarterback being gay with the cheerleader, and Bev had looked at him like maybe she was reconsidering befriending him until he'd clarified that he is in fact very queer and was just concerned about how that was going to go down in the small-town life. 

Apparently, an incident a few years back had rocked the people of Derry, and since then the town had all collectively decided that it was more important to protect their own than hold hostilities based on personal preferences. And thus, the small-town life Richie found himself in was one of "see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil".

And he was perfectly fine with that. 

So, Richie sunk into his new life with an ease he hadn't necessarily expected.

Another of those things he didn't expect was quite how often he'd see Eddie around town - which, in retrospect, he really should've been expecting since the town is pint-sized and there's only so many places to hide - but Eddie really was everywhere. In his classes, Richie finds himself distracted by the way Eddie's light brown hair curls over the collar of his baby blue cheer uniform (and occasionally the adorable white knit cardigan he wears over it). In the library during the same free period, Richie spots him reading quietly just a table over from where Richie is pretending to do homework but really listening to music. At lunch, Eddie's table is close enough that Richie can sometimes hear him laugh. Even outside of school, Richie catches Eddie leaving the greengrocers with a paper bag full of veg, he sees Eddie at the cinema eating popcorn with his friends, and he sees Eddie in the street, walking with his headphones in and his nose in a book.

He doesn't mind, not really, but Richie knows his crush is as pointless as they come - and he really wishes Eddie wouldn't constantly be in his peripherals, because it doesn’t help the fact that he's also constantly on his mind.

Pointless. Richie thinks, two weeks into his first semester, as he's standing on the edge of what Bev's friend Bill described as The Rager (seriously, not A rager, The rager), at Derry's quarry and listening to shitty pop music, watching as Eddie and his boyfriend dance in the middle of a mismatched group of seniors. Richie had never partied with such a diverse group in his life, even in a diverse place like California, Richie had only ever partied with people like him; the fuck-ups, the ones who listen to fast music with too much guitar and smoked cigarettes like they breathed through them. In Cali, Richie had never ran in the same circles as the cheerleaders, or the jocks, or anyone else, so he never partied with them. When he agreed to go to The Rager with Bill and Bev, he hadn't accounted for the fact that Derry only has one social circle - and that is Derry Residents. 

"What do you think?" Bill asks - Bev is God knows where doing God knows what, Richie had discovered within five hours of knowing the girl that she's even more of a free spirit than he is. You can’t hold her down or expect her to do anything, because she'll do exactly the opposite and then call you a loser for having any expectations at all. Bill's a cool guy, if a little quiet on the quiet side; he's told that the guy used to stutter pretty badly in middle-school, but that he'd grown out of it around 10th grade. He's tall (shorter than Richie, but go figure) with a floppy fringe just a shade less red than Bev's and slightly mysterious blue eyes that he likes to underline with a smudge of black. He's handsome, but he's not Richie's type. 

"I think I've never been to a party where literally the whole school was invited before." Richie replies sardonically, frowning down at his empty solo cup. He was told when he arrived that they only had so many, so he had to keep it if he wanted any more drinks. "Or rules."

"Derry isn't really big enough to be divided... I s-suppose it wasn't the same in California?"

"Being in a clique is a prerequisite to being a Californian. If you get to high school and you haven't found your niche yet, you're pretty much a social pariah." Bill snorts, and Richie sighs. "I'm going to get another drink."

He doesn't notice as he's walking over, too absorbed in not walking straight into anyone's flailing limbs, that Eddie and his boyfriend had migrated over to the 'bar' (an overlarge table filled with bottles of assorted alcohol and mixers), but he sure notices once he finally reaches the table. He's standing on the opposite side, and he feels his limbs freezing up slightly when he hears the conversation currently going on between the two and another boy, dressed similarly to Chris. They're arguing, or, at least, Chris and the unknown (jock?) are arguing. Eddie's just looking away dejectedly, like he doesn't quite know what to do. 

Richie places his cup on the table, reaching blindly for the bottle of Jack Daniels as his eyes flit from Eddie to where it rests, right by Eddie's arm. He feel's almost awkward, like if he gets too close he'll hurt Eddie - like Eddie is a butterfly and Richie is at risk of accidentally breaking one of his pretty wings if he so much as brushes him with his pinkie. Eddie moves slightly, and Richie has more room to grab the Jack, so he does, snatching it up quickly and pouring himself a good amount before placing it back. Eddie is grabbing onto Chris's arm pleadingly, his brown eyes wide with concern.

"C'mon. Baby, drop it, let’s go dance again." He mumbles. Richie swallows, he's never heard Eddie's voice this up-close and it’s possibly the sweetest sound he's ever heard. He feels a little resentment when Chris just shakes Eddie's arm off, like it's nothing, and Eddie only sighs, eyes sweeping along the table awkwardly. His eyes rove straight over Richie - like they always do - but Richie's heart skips a beat anyhow. He jerkily reaches for the bottle of Coke to cover up the fact that he's been standing there way too long, but once again, Eddie doesn't seem to notice or care.

Others have started to notice the argument now that Chris and the other guy have resorted to shoving, and Eddie tries once again to pull away his neanderthal of a boyfriend. He tugs on the back of his jacket, and groans, "Chris plea-" just then, the guy Chris is arguing with yells, shoving Chris harder than before, and Chris stumbles backwards into Eddie, sending the boy careening a few steps back before he loses balance on the uneven ground. Richie's heart skips another beat, another several beats, and curses whoever placed the stupid drinks table where they did because it is way too close to the edge of the cliff - the edge of the cliff that, with a surprised squeal, Eddie has just disappeared off of. 

There's a collective gasp from the crowd, someone yells Eddie's name, and Richie barely has time to take in the sound of a splash from down below, and Chris leaning over the edge of the cliff before he's throwing off his leather jacket onto the table and diving off the cliff after Eddie. 

 He briefly wonders if he'll ever be the type of person to consider the consequences of this actions before the icy water is hitting him full on and shit this is nothing like the water in California - which is warm. Richie break's the surface with a gasp, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes and taking a moment to take in his surroundings. A few feet away he can hear Eddie thrashing in the water, his breaths gasping, and from above he can hear the distant screams of the entire senior class of Derry High. Richie ignores them, paddling over to Eddie and snaking an arm around his waist.

"I've got you." He murmurs, hoping Eddie can hear him. Eddie's thrashing slows and his arm grips around Richie's neck like a lifeline. "I've got you, Eddie, c'mon we need to get to shore."

"Oh my God." Eddie yelps, and Richie can hear the fear in his voice. In the dark it's hard to tell where the shore is, but he can just make it out from the light of the moon and the several dozen flashlights from above that only just reach the quarry. Richie begins to swim in that direction, ignoring the chill of the water and the way Eddie seems to drag through the water. Eddie appears to be attempting to swim, but he's mostly just making a lot of noise and kicking Richie in the shin with his weird doggy paddling, and Richie is suddenly glad for his rash thinking when he realises that Eddie probably can't swim. He could have drowned. 

They make it to the shore, and Eddie's one armed grip on Richie’s neck loosens as he sinks to the dusty ground, shaking all over. Beverly is right there when they make it, holding Richie's jacket out and Richie takes it without thinking, draping it over Eddie's quaking shoulders. The boy seems out of it, huddling into the material with eyes that are unfocused and teeth that are chattering so loud Richie's own jaw hurts - or maybe that's because his teeth are chattering too. 

"Oh my God is he okay?" Beverly asks.

"I'm not sure." He tells her, crouching back down in front of the smaller boy and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own breathing is loud in his ears, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, and he's barely aware of the sounds of several pairs of feet heading towards them from above. "Eddie? Eddie are you alright?" Eddie doesn't respond and Richie does the only thing he can think of; he reaches out and places his hand on Eddie's neck, turning his head so they can make eye contact. His eyes are out of focus at first, but soon they seem to zero in on Richie and stay there. "Eddie?" He repeats, trying to get over the jolt of satisfaction he feels at finally being noticed by Eddie Kaspbrak. Now is not the time, nor the situation, to get sappy over a dumb crush. Eddie almost died. "Are you okay? Eddie?"

Eddie still doesn't answer, but his eyes are wide and clear. He's still shaking but his breathing is less erratic, his panic seemingly calming down. He's looking at Richie like he's some kind of saint, and Richie, inappropriately, takes this moment to really take in Eddie Kaspbrak up close. Short answer: he's beautiful. Long answer: his hair is plastered to his head, though the curls are still evident in the way the strands bunch and form, he has freckles over his nose and cheekbones, and those, coupled with his unnecessarily large doe eyes make him look youthful and pixie-like. His skin, though currently pale from the cold and near-death experience, is tanned and clear, and his lips look so soft and kissable as they are, wet parted slightly as Eddie pants through them. As Richie watches, enraptured, they widen, as if Eddie is about to speak but, before he can, Richie feels a hand on his chest, none-too gently pushing him aside.

"Eddie, oh my God, Eddie, I am so sorry, baby, so sorry!" Chris is saying. Richie gapes at him for a moment, but then he looks at Eddie and Eddie's eyes have followed his and any insults he has for the dumb jock fly straight out of his head. Eddie isn't looking at Chris, his boyfriend, he's looking at Richie. His mouth is closed now, like whatever words he was going to say have lost their meaning, and Richie really wishes Chris could've been just a little slower navigating the path down to the water's edge. 

Chris is moving, and Richie thinks he's going to pull Eddie into a hug but then he just pushes Richie's jacket off of Eddie's shoulders and replaces it with his own - and that’s when Eddie seems to snap out of it. His eyes flashing back to his boyfriend and his teeth chattering anew. Chris picks Richie's jacket up off the ground and hands it to him, and it's only by sheer force of will that Richie takes it without making a dumb quip that'll come across bitter - because he's bitter but it would be weird for him to come across like it. "Hey, thanks man, I'll take it from here." Chris mutters, barely even looking in Richie's direction. Typical. 

Richie says nothing once again, and only thinks a little bit about how much he'd like to kick Chris' head in before he turns his gaze once more to Eddie, and finds, for the second time that night, Eddie looking back at him. Richie wishes Eddie would say something, anything at all, but Eddie only blinks, and then he's looking down, and Richie huffs, taking that for what it is and standing so that he can leave.

The walk home is a cold one, and Bev and Bill are only there half of the way to fill his thoughts with insults about Chris and the other neanderthal before they're each splitting off in the direction of their own houses, Bev with a hug and Bill with a simple wave. 

For the rest of the way home, Richie's thoughts are filled with every possible word Eddie could have said to him, had Chris not intervened. 

Eddie may not have gotten to speak to him, but he saw him. He looked at him. And in that moment, everything changed. 

 *

 The next school day is a doozy, Richie is approached by several people proclaiming him the new hero of Derry High (better than new kid of Derry High) and clapping him on the back. He sees Chris in the short break between second and third period, and receives a bright smile that some may consider charming but Richie just considers asshole-ish, and another brief thanks.

Yeah, you're welcome dickhead. I only saved your ass from accidentally drowning your boyfriend.

But he doesn't see Eddie. He's beginning to wonder if the boy is even in school - it would make sense for him to take a few days to recover after a fright like that - but then fifth period study hall rolls around and Richie spots Eddie at the library sitting in his usual place at the table one over from his, huddled in a pastel pink woollen jumper he's certain is probably non-regulation with his cheer uniform, with his nose, as always, buried in a book. It's a paperback this time, and white, but that’s about all Richie can tell from such a distance away. 

Eddie glances up as Richie is watching, and their eyes catch. Eddie smiles, and Richie nods, trying not to die at the cute way Eddie's cheeks dimple on one side, because his smile is lopsided when he smiles with his mouth closed. Adorable.

This happens a few times over the course of the hour long period, Richie will glance up from pretending to be doing his trig homework (as he always has) and Eddie will be looking right back (as has never happened before). Five minutes before the end of period bell is due to chime, Richie glances up and Eddie stands, Richie thinks for one heart-stopping second that Eddie is going to come over, but instead, Eddie briefly glances in his direction and then makes his way over to the librarian's desk. He returns a moment later with a piece of paper, that he folds carefully, four times. As Richie watches, Eddie reaches into his bag by his feet and pulls out a non-distinct black ballpoint pen and begins to scribble on the paper. He looks up when he's done, and Richie quickly looks down and pretends he hasn't been staring. A tapping noise brings his attention back to Eddie, and Richie is once again shocked to see Eddie looking at him - this time with intent. 

He's tapping the end of his capped pen onto the piece of paper, lying flat on the desk, and when he notices he has Richie's attention he picks it up and tucks it in-between the pages of the book he'd been reading before flicking it closed. He bites his lip as his gaze lingers on Richie once more, as if he's trying to say something, but he only drops his pen back into his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder, and with one last meaningful glance, he saunters over to the library doors just as the first bell chimes. 

Richie's spirits droop a little - he'd really thought Eddie was going to finally talk to him. 

The tables around him are emptying, and Richie collects his stuff as students begin to filter out of the library. It's then that Richie notices it; Eddie's book is still there. Richie glances around, though he isn't sure why since he's not exactly doing anything wrong, and he rounds his own table to get to Eddie's vacated one. He'll never admit it but his heart is racing, and it only gets quicker when he picks up the abandoned book. 

The Year of Magical Thinking it reads, and up close Richie can see how loved the book is. There's a faint dog ear on the cover page, like it had been in and out of bags or accidentally dropped, and the spine is bent but not totally cracked. There's no plastic wrap covering, like the rest of the library books have, and Richie's suspicions that this is a personal copy are confirmed when he opens the front page and finds no library card. This is Eddie's book. 

Suddenly, Richie remembers Eddie placing the folded up piece of paper he'd been scratching on into the book before he left, and the meaningful glances suddenly make sense. Eddie didn't leave the book by accident, he left it for Richie. The late bell rings as Richie tips the book, allowing it to fall open naturally to the page with the paper inside it, and he keeps his thumb between the pages to keep it from closing back up as he reads the note Eddie left him.

butterfly garden, 16:00 - E

Richie's grin feels like it may be splitting his face, "yes!" he whoops, making sure to keep his voice quiet as students for the next study hall period begin to filter into the library. He's going to be late, so he quickly slips the note back into the book, but as he does so, something catches his eye - a bright red mark on the page where Eddie had underlined something. Curious, Richie reads the words Eddie had highlighted, wondering if they were perhaps important as to why Eddie had left the note on this page, or if it had just been a coincidence. 

"Life changes in the instant. The ordinary instant."

Richie thinks he might get it, the way he felt back at the quarry when Eddie first noticed him - like something in the air had changed - but he's not sure if that's what Eddie was thinking about when he underlined these words. The book looks old, well loved, and Eddie very well could have underlined these words a long time ago. Richie glances at his watch and realises he’s nearly ten minutes late to his next period, and quickly drops the book into his backpack before he can waste any more time deliberating.

Whatever Eddie meant by it, he's pretty sure he agrees. Life does change in the ordinary instant.

Chapter 2

Masterpost

[zillanewt]

What’s In Your Head?

Chapter One // Chapter Two // Chapter Three // Chapter Four // Chapter Five

summary: So, the year is 1999. Eddie is 23 years old, telepathic, and lives with his childhood best friend, Bill, in Portland, Maine. He meets a young musician with a knack for speed named Richie at a bar. Based off @trashmouthloser‘s mutant!loser club headcanons!!

pairing: reddie

words: 2.6K

warnings: implied homophobia (?), implied sexual content, Mrs. K being manipulative in general

A/N: I’m very tired as I post this, so I only have two things to say. 1) I hate Sonia Kaspbrak with every bone in my body. 2) I feel as if we don’t expand enough on how her relationship with Eddie is literally built on emotional abuse. Thank you to everybody who read, liked, and reblogged!! I really didn’t expect this fic to take off like it did. It kinda was just a self-indulgent piece of drivel for me, so I’m excited y’all enjoyed it!!! Please message me if you would like to be added to the the taglist!

Much to Mrs. Kaspbrak’s frustration, it has been five years since Eddie has been back to Derry. Every time she urges him to come visit or come home for the holidays, he bickers with her until she relents and travels to Portland instead. Despite Bill’s usually patient and courteous demeanor, having Mrs. Kaspbrak in their apartment was always a test of Eddie and Bill’s friendship, because one of them would be trying to kill the other by the end of it.

But this year was different because this was the year Eddie’s mom slipped in the shower and threw out her back. It was no surprise to Eddie, as his mother was aging rapidly.

Thankfully, one of Eddie’s aunts found her before too much harm could be done, but Mrs. Kaspbrak stayed in her armchair all day now, refusing to leave the house. Now, Eddie would have to travel to Derry for Thanksgiving, instead of spending it with Richie and their friends.

He supposes he could always invite Richie to come along, but he didn’t want Richie to see where he grew up. He didn’t want to slip up and reveal the old Eddie - a mama’s boy and a sissy - to his boyfriend. Furthermore, he knew his mother passive aggressive homophobic comments would be seriously discouraging for Richie. Eddie was used to it because it was her nature. Even though she knew Eddie was gay, he felt as if she’d never truly accepted it deep down.

That’s just the way it was with Mrs. Kaspbrak.

*************

During an evening with Richie at his apartment, Eddie decided to break the news. Gratefully, Stan was out drinking with Bill as they usually do on Friday nights (which Eddie needs to ask Bill about eventually). Richie had fallen asleep during the second half of Clueless, and Eddie found his tiny snores adorable despite always telling him they’re annoying. Securely, Eddie was in Richie’s lap, pressing his back close to the other’s chest. He lightly kicked at Richie’s socked feet with his own, trying to stir him from sleep.

In response, Richie groaned and softly swatted at Eddie’s bare thigh.

“Stooop,” he moaned, resting his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck. His further protests were muffled.

“No,” Eddie said curtly. “We gotta talk.”

Lazily, Richie opened his eyes. He was wearing his glasses tonight because he lost his contacts. They magnified his dark brown eyes to a comical level.

“Can’t we do this later?” Richie drawled, tightening his arms around Eddie’s waist.

Eddie rolled his eyes but then decided there was no time like the present to just come out and say it.

“I’m going back home for Thanksgiving,” Eddie sighed, and as soon as the words left his mouth, Richie sat up straight and looked at him with wide eyes and knitted eyebrows.

“Oh.” He sounded dejected, and it shot straight through his heart. “I just thought we were spending Thanksgiving together.”

Quietly, Eddie replied, “we still can.”

It took a minute for the confusion to dissipate from Richie’s face, as he realized what Eddie was really saying.

“Are you sure?” Richie questioned. “What if your mom doesn’t like me?”

“My mom doesn’t like anybody,” Eddie deadpanned.

Richie pursed his lips and looked as though he was in deep thought for a minute, which Eddie took the opportunity to explore.

“What if she hates me?” Richie thought. “What if she knows I’m not good enough for Eddie?”

Eddie threw a side-eyed glance at Richie and pulled his face into a grimace. He couldn’t believe Richie would even think he’s not good enough, and he voices such.

“You are good enough,” Eddie chastises, smacking Richie’s shoulder. “Besides, it’s my job to overthink and worry about my mom’s opinion, not yours.”

Richie still shows uncertainty on his face. He has heard nightmarish stories about Mrs. Kaspbrak from both Eddie and Bill. His knowledge of her extended to the fact she manipulated Eddie into believing he was frail and delicate when Richie knows Eddie is anything but. Of course, Eddie had his insecurities, but he showed unparalleled amounts of strength by continually putting up with everyone’s bullshit and helping his friends. He also had the faint idea Eddie’s mom wasn’t very thrilled with the fact her son was gay.

“Well, tough shit,” Richie thought. “He deserves to be himself without fear.”

Truthfully, Richie only wanted to be with Eddie for the holidays, despite his fearful mother.

In response to Eddie’s proposition, Richie grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly, then agreed.

“Because, fuck what Mrs. K thinks,” Richie decided.

************************

Though both Bill and Stan were excited to have the apartments to themselves, Bill was still slightly concerned. The morning they planned to leave for Derry, Bill pulled Richie aside as Eddie was putting their bags into the bed of Richie’s El Camino.

“I al-almost feel l-like I’m s-sending you off to w-war,” Bill whispers solemnly. “P-please don’t let Mrs. Kaspbrak’s behavior affect your relationship with Eddie. It would d-devastate him.”

Richie grimaces and tries to interrupt when Bill shuts him down.

“I-I’d be lying t-to you if I said Eddie’s m-mom isn’t a bad person,” Bill admits, but then thinks better of it. “Don’t tell E-Eddie I s-said that.”

He continues, “she will say just about anything to maintain control over Eddie, which includes tearing other people down. She’s most definitely going to be nasty to you while you’re there, but try not to let it get to you. I don’t like Mrs. K, but I put up with her for Eddie’s sake.”

The only thing Richie could do was purse his lips and nod because for once, he was at a loss for words. Maybe just like Richie didn’t want to be alone, Eddie didn’t want to be alone with his mother in his childhood home.

****************

Not much about Derry changed since he moved, Eddie noticed. A few years ago, they installed a mall downtown and demolished a few factories as well, but it was pretty much the same as it had been in high school. He could see there were still hateful things graffitied on Kissing Bridge, but he assumed Derry teenagers never stopped being assholes.

They drove past the Barrens, and Eddie remembered the first time he admitted he was gay to Bill. His best friend just held him while he cried and shook on the dirt ground.

When they pulled up to Eddie’s childhood home, all the memories began flooding back - the endless nights of bickering in high school, the scheduled medications, the inhaler he never truly needed, all of it.

Richie could apparently see Eddie was troubled from the look on his face, so he reached towards Eddie’s hands which were twitching in his lap. He grabbed one and intertwined their fingers, giving Eddie the same reassuring smile Eddie has given him a million times.

Eddie responded in kind, feeling brave enough to step out of the car instead of telling Richie to hit the gas and haul ass elsewhere. As they begun to unload their bags from the bed, one of Eddie’s aunts stepped out of the house, glared at Richie, then called “Sonia!” from the front door.

Bill and Eddie always said Eddie’s mom was hefty, but Richie never thought she would be well past obese. She stood in the doorway in a pink floral nightgown with stray curlers in her hair, watching them through large frames on her face.

Though the nasty look Eddie’s mom made Richie want to piss himself out of fear, he pulled his lips into a wide grin for Eddie. He’s had plenty of experience with partner’s parents who hated him, so this shouldn’t be different.

Right?

Wrong.

Richie swallows the lump in his throat as he mentally realizes this thing with Eddie was getting pretty serious and it wasn’t just fooling around for either of them. And nobody, not even Sonia Kaspbrak, was going to ruin this for him.  

Suddenly, they’re standing on the porch with the beast standing right in front of them. Her gaze turns from Richie to Eddie and softened, immediately pulling her son into a bear hug.

“Oh I missed you, Eddie bear!” she exclaimed, pressing him to her breast. Richie faintly wondered if his boyfriend even could breathe.

“Eddie bear,” Richie muttered endearingly under his breath. “That’s cute.”

Neither of the other two heard it but instead continued their interaction.

“Hi, Mommy,” Eddie muffled, still pressed to Sonia’s chest. He managed to break free of her grip and gesture to Richie, which the other boy really wishes he hadn’t because soon, Sonia’s hawk-like stare was on him again.

“Ma, this is Richie! My boyfriend!” Eddie said with so much pride. The glimmer in his eye made Richie feel as if Eddie thought he hung the stars himself.

The moment was soon ruined by Mrs. Kaspbrak’s unhappy grunt, which she made no effort to hide. Richie wasn’t welcome. She didn’t want Richie there and never would. But, Richie didn’t give a shit. She was just going to have put up with him because Richie was seriously falling in love with Eddie.

Though he was used to running, he would stand his ground this time for Eddie.

*****************************

After Eddie’s mom invited them inside and Richie was introduced to Eddie’s aunts (who were slightly nicer compared to their sister), they traveled upstairs to settled in. Mrs. Kaspbrak insisted Richie stay in the guest room, but when he took Eddie’s bags to his old room, he noticed the bed was definitely big enough for the two of them.

When he mentioned it to Eddie, the other man, still unpacking, only deadpanned, “She doesn’t want us bumping uglies under her roof.”

Richie almost choked on his own spit.

“I wish we were bumping uglies in general!” he recovered, trying to seem flirtatious and not desperate, even though he was pretty desperate.

They had been together for three months, and while they did other things, they hadn’t had actual sex. Richie was practicing nothing but patience because he’d probably castrate himself if Eddie asked. He just wanted Eddie to feel comfortable and safe, so they went at Eddie’s pace, though Richie’s nature was to go fast.

Literally.

Eddie rolled into his eyes, but played into Richie’s game. “Maybe if you’re a good boy,” he teased.

Richie raised an eyebrow and drawled, “What are you talking about, Eds? I’m always the best boy.”

Before Eddie could say anything, Richie was behind him with his hands on his waist, placing lingering kisses on his neck. He took much satisfaction in the way Eddie’s neck instantly flushed, soon reaching the tips of his ears.

“S-stop,” Eddie gasped. “We can’t do this right now.”

Richie eyes lit up like Christmas lights as he asked, “later?”

When Eddie furiously nodded, Richie felt as if his heart was about to burst from his chest.

***************************

Later that evening, they joined Eddie’s mother and aunts for dinner, much to Richie’s discomfort. They spent most of the night gossiping about their acquaintances, but they still managed to find time between nasty rumors to interrogate Richie.

“So,” Eddie’s aunt started, “what do you do, Richie?”

Mrs. Kaspbrak’s eyes quickly went from her sister to her son’s boyfriend, as she waited expectantly for the answer. Eddie would later tell Richie she was thinking “I’m sure he doesn’t have one.”

“I’m a musician,” Richie said nervously, reaching for Eddie’s hand under the table for support.

Eddie’s mom scoffed, turning back to annoyingly push her mashed potatoes around on her plate. His aunts only giggled, throwing disbelieving looks to both Sonia and Richie.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind Eddie being gay if he could ever find a man worthwhile,” she said bluntly, glaring at Richie. Then she turned to Eddie, “Why do you hate me, Eddie? You must hate me because you keep bringing home losers solely to disappoint me.”

There was no answer to that question. Eddie knew what game his mother was playing. She would try to invoke guilt from Eddie, even when Eddie did absolutely nothing wrong. Though Eddie thought he was immune to it by now, it still got to him deep down.

“It’s your own damn fault you’re disappointed, Ma,” Eddie deadpanned. “I did nothing wrong.”

She looked taken aback and embarrassed her son was talking back to her in front of her sisters. Her eyes narrowed into slits, as her gaze was still trained on an apathetic Eddie.

“You got really mouthy after high school,” she hissed. “Whatever happened to ‘Yes, mommy. Whatever you say, Mommy’?”

A long sigh escaped from Eddie’s lips. He really didn’t want to do this right now in front of Richie. Arguing with his mom wasn’t a new concept to him, so he grew tired of it quickly. It wasn’t exhilarating as it was when he was rebelling against his mother’s word. It was simply plain exhausting because Sonia Kaspbrak was the most stubborn person on the planet.

“Please just let me eat my dinner,” he snapped at her, refusing to look at anybody at the table, including Richie.

After showing plenty of disdain on her face, Mrs. Kaspbrak decided to let it go for now and return her attention to her sisters.

***************************

When dishes were done, Eddie stormed upstairs with a meek and unusually quiet Richie following behind. The door closed behind them with a slam, as Eddie flopped face first into the bed and screamed into a pillow. Worriedly, Richie sat down next to him on the bed, rubbing between his shoulder blades.

Eddie’s turned his head to face Richie, tightly clutching the pillow in both hands while small tears formed in his eyes. As soon as he noticed them, he hurriedly wiped them away, hoping Richie wouldn’t see.

“I’m so fucking sorry you had to see that,” Eddie groans, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. “I’m sorry she called you a loser.”

Richie just shrugged it off, lying down next to Eddie so they were facing each other. “Nothing I haven’t been called before.”

“But that doesn’t make it ok,” Eddie whispered, feeling his energy slipping from him.

“No, it doesn’t,” Richie replies, “but I can take it with a grain of salt because I get the feeling your mom is an unreasonably petty and vindictive person.”

“Yeah,” Eddie rasped, “she is.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Richie can see the cogs in Eddie’s head turning as he considers his entire relationship with his mother. His face quickly pulls into a grimace, and he chokes out a silent sob, feeling those tears coming back up.

“She always does that,” Eddie said solemnly in between sobs. “She always tries to make me feel guilty, so I’ll do what she wants. Ever since I was a kid, she has been playing mind games with me, and I thought I grew out of being so susceptible to her bullshit, but it still hurts. It hurts to feel like I have no control because of my mother.”

The other man wrapped his arms around Eddie, holding him as he cried. For once, Richie was unsure of what to say. He just knew he didn’t want to let Eddie go because he felt like if he did, he’d be relinquishing him to Sonia.

Eddie sniffled and pulled himself together, wiping away the tears with his sleeve. Though he didn’t want to, he pulled away from Richie’s hold. He looked his boyfriend in the eye, and Richie hated the sad glimmer in those big brown eyes.

“If you want to break up with me, I’ll understand,” Eddie said meekly.

After waiting what felt like a century, Richie just looked at Eddie like he said “2+2=5.”

“Are you stupid?” Richie laughed. “I wouldn’t leave you even if your mom beat me with a frying pan. We’re in this together. Sadly, you’re stuck with me, Kaspbrak.”

In response, Eddie’s eyes lit up immediately and he giggled, throwing himself into Richie’s arms.

This time, Richie wasn’t going to let go for the entire world.

taglist: 

@asteroidbill, @ttrxshmouth, @lukemybieber, @neutral-gal, @lolrichie, @omgboiledcabbages, @breakmyreddieheart

[stillunusual]

LEEDS UNITED 1 BIRMINGHAM CITY 0

Leeds United: Casilla, Ayling, White, Berardi, Alioski, Phillips, Dallas, Klich (Roberts 61), Harrison, Costa (Douglas 84), Bamford (Nketiah 45).  

Subs not used: Miazek, Gotts, Davis, Clarke. This was Leeds United's centenary match, played two days after the club's 100th birthday. Elland Road was full, the atmosphere was fantastic and local lad Kalvin Phillips scored the winner. I had a great day, which started in Billy's Bar where we watched England trounce Australia in the Rugby World Cup, before going on a stadium tour conducted by Player Liaison Officer Stix Lockwood. At one point he received a call from Leeds captain Liam Cooper and put him on speaker so he could say "hello" to everyone. We also bumped into Norman Hunter, one of many Leeds legends who attended today's game and came onto the pitch before kick off. We had lunch in the Old Peacock, watched the team arrive at the ground, and after the match we went to Salem Chapel, where the club was founded on 17th October 1919, to see the new commemorative plaque that had been unveiled there by club chairman Andrea Radrizzani exactly 100 years later. Since I was last at Elland Road, Leeds unexpectedly managed to win something.... To everybody's great surprise, Marcelo Bielsa and Leeds United won FIFA's Fair Play Award for their actions during April's controversial 1-1 draw with Aston Villa at Elland Road (after Mateusz Klich scored for Leeds while a Villa player was down injured and pretty much the whole Villa team had been trying to get Leeds to kick the ball out of play so he could receive treatment, Bielsa instructed his players to allow Villa to walk in an equaliser from the kick off). Needless to say that all the usual Leeds haters were out in force all over the media to express their horror.... Form-wise it's been ups and downs of late. Things went from bad to worse following the disappointing 1-1 draw against Derby. Pablo Hernandez was ruled out of the away tie against Charlton Athletic (now managed by Lee Bowyer) due to a "muscular injury", but Adam Forshaw returned to the matchday squad. Leeds, as usual, dominated the possession but were unable to break down a determined Charlton side, who won the tie with a scrappy goal scored towards the end of the first half. Forshaw didn't start but came on as a second half substitue only to pick up another injury. Worse still, Charlton alleged that their on-loan forward Jonathan Leko was racially abused by a member of the Leeds team - thought to be goalkeeper Kiko Casilla. The matter is now being investigated by the Football Association and the player faces a possible six match ban if found guilty. There was some good news before the next game in that Luke Ayling signed a new four year deal and was finally fit to play again. This turned out to be a very significant home victory against West Bromwich Albion, who had replaced us at the top of the league following our defeat to Charlton. We won by a single goal - a shot by Gjanni Alioski that took a small but significant deflection from former Leeds loanee Kyle Bartley on its way into the net. The bad news was that Cooper and young midfielder Jamie Shackleton joined Forshaw and Hernandez on the injury list. Shackleton (hamstring) will be out for up to four weeks. Cooper (groin) is expected to be unavailable for six weeks. They were replaced by Ayling and Gaetano Berardi for this season's away trip to Millwall, which we lost in controversial fashion. In the fourteenth minute Berardi was sent off by referee James Linington after the defender was adjudged to have brought down Millwall striker Tom Bradshaw inside the Leeds box. The referee was well positioned to see that Berardi didn't actually touch Bradshaw, who deliberately dived to make it look like he did. Kalvin Phillips' proximity to the striker as he theatrically hit the turf also meant that even if there had been contact, Bradshaw wasn't necessarily in a position to score. It was the worst sending-off decision I have seen for years. It was also Berardi's eighth red card since he became a Leeds player, which means that he now holds the record for being the club's most red-carded player ever, having spent the last few months level with Alan Smith on seven red cards. Millwall scored the penalty they were wrongly awarded and ended up winning the game 2-1. The referee also denied us a clear penalty in the second half.... Berardi was cleared to face Birmingham City after Leeds successfully appealed his red card, but the FA didn't take any action against Bradshaw, despite the fact that he had deliberately deceived the referee. On Leeds United's 100th birthday the club made two announcements - firstly to bring the training ground and academy back into the city centre, and secondly - if promoted to the Premiership - to expand the stadium to a capacity of 50K. I wonder if it will ever actually happen.... We'll certainly have to play better than we did against Birmingham to make that dream a reality. Bielsa stuck with Patrick Bamford up front, despite the fact that he hasn't scored since the away game against Stoke and Eddie Nketiah scored a hat-trick for England's U21 side in midweek. The game followed what has become a familiar pattern - Leeds had the lion's share of the possession, we created enough chances to win the game easily, but it could have gone either way because of our persistent inability to make those chances count. Alioski, Bamford and Stuart Dallas were the main culprits in the first half. Dallas had the clearest opportunity, which resulted from one of our best moves of the game. Bamford set up Costa with a lovely back heel - his shot from the edge of the Birmingham area was blocked, but the ball came out to Dallas who then played a fine one-two with Mateusz Klich, only to blast his shot straight at the goalkeeper from a few yards out.... Bielsa replaced Bamford with Nketiah after the interval, and he made an immediate impact. We all thought he'd won a penalty when he went down in the Birmingham box under a challenge, but the referee adjudged the foul to have taken place just outside of the area, and predictably enough, Alioski fired the resulting free kick wide. Birmingham had more of the ball in the second half and Casilla (who seems to be becoming a safe pair of hands this season) had to make a couple of good saves to keep them out, before we finally made our breakthrough in the 65th minute. Jack Harrison stole possession deep in the Birmingham half and set up Phillips to power home his first goal of the campaign and send Elland Road into ecstacy. With our confidence restored, Leeds dominated the remainder of the match but again failed to make it safe and Birmingham still managed to hit us on the break a couple of times. They almost scored in the last minute when a cross into the box was headed just wide, but we held on to celebrate the club’s 100th birthday with all three points....

[curiouskarenscapers2017]

Vol.9 April 2005

    So off we went. Woke up at 4:45am had a shower and got ready. Way too excited! We went downstairs to wait for our taxi and Kim to wake up. They arrived at about 5:45 and we got to the train station around 6:00am We got our tickets which were around NT 793. Myself and Melissa did not get allocated seats and would have to stand or sit where we get a gap, realizing that the seats were already allocated. Not a problem, as they get on the train we get up and move to another empty seat. Our first hour and a half we had seats and the next hour or so we had to stand, not too bad as we were chatting away. We met up with Alicia at the Tainan station and the train got a bit busy. Kim got tired of sitting and asked one of us to sit in her seat while she gets up a bit and chats to Alicia, I took it and napped a bit and they all got seats with the next stop. We eventually arrived at Taitung station around 12:00am and was about to walk to the hostel which was nearby according to the map, but was helped by a young Chinese girl and a taxi driver dropped us off on the other side of the city! According to the map the hostel was near the old station, which wasn’t in use any more! Thanks for letting us know. Anyway, only NT100 later he dropped us off at Gringo hostel, bar and restaurant. It was closed up with no one in sight. We called the numbers and had no reply until somebody finally answered the phone. They were on their way to open up. It said on a notice on the door the place operates from 11am to 11pm….yeah right….12:30? It’s a coastal resort, they’re laid back! Very!!

  Anyway, a blond red faced guy and a Chinese girl stopped in a car while we were standing outside and she apologized profusely while opening the roll up garage type door that revealed a cozy setting of couches, dark wood floors and classic style furniture. Very nice! We sorted out our rooms and were allocated 302 and 301. Kim and Alicia were planning on staying for two days and us only one. We had to wait while the same girl, Coco, cleaned the room as well. We settled and decided on our next move which was eating! We were all starving! We went downstairs and ordered margaritas and some nacho’s and Mexican tortillas and synchrodillas..or something. Very tasty when they finally arrived as Coco was also the chef and the barmaid….surprise! We then decided to go for a stroll to find the seashore bike trail and hire some bikes. We ended up strolling and exploring the beach.

    The weather was cloudy and a tad drizzly but it didn’t stop us from exploring. We arrived at the beach and walked to the top of a grass rise and saw the ocean in all it’s glory! The sky was different shades of gray as well as the sand and stones on the beach. The whole of Taiwan is volcanic in origin and so has mainly gray pebble beaches with a few brown sand beaches in Kenting(South) and a few other scattered places. We had a few crazy poses on a huge wall that separated the beach from the grass and a group of Chinese boys tried to gather enough courage to offer to take the pictures for us. One poor boy of about 16 or so was ragged by his friends for offering to take a picture of us on the wall. Then they all wanted to take photo’s of us…I obviously asked for payment in return!

  I jumped over the wall which had huge step like concrete sections down to the sand. Many “dolosse” lined the beach and the pebbles were huge! Here and there was a section of normal looking sand, although it was gray and then smaller pebbles appeared until you finally got to the waters edge. I was in it in a flash. The water was warm and clear. Somehow the beach looked dirty! I think I am too used to a white or light beach to appreciate a gray one much. It is definitely beautiful in it’s own way. I collected some pebbles in stead of sea shells and we walked back to follow a path further down the beach. We came to an arty park where there were some native hakka statues and some modern art scattered all over the park.

  A huge frame angled into the ground caught my fancy and we all posed a few times in funny poses before moving on to a weird looking wave staircase. We got Kim to pose on this one. Then we walked by a small caravan coffee shop and decided to sit and have a cupper. They were so friendly and inquisitive. Eventually we were posing with the wife and the husband. The little caravan was very neatly organized and many pictures of white or golden Labradors were on it and we found out that it was their eleven dogs. Too beautiful and cute. So after waving goodbye we hurried on our exploration path as the weather was changing and we could see the storm coming in over the sea. We finally got the bike trail and a small suspension bridge over a river mouth. The girls posed and we made our way back to the hostel.

  We passed so many shops along the side that we decided to come back after we freshen up in our rooms. We all felt like some KFC for dinner and at about 6:00pm went for a shopping walk and dinner. We lay around Kim and Alicia’s room getting ready for our party at a club called Amigo’s that was advertised in the Gringo’s. Made sense. And at about 9:45 we went to find it. We also read that if we get there before 10pm we get free entry…important fact for me at this stage as I was on a tight budget! Anyway we got to where it said it was and it wasn’t there! It had moved! Thanks again guys! Luckily not far from the hostel or the old location. We just backtracked and found it, it also changed it’s name to Who’s. Very cool and decorated in a very up market style. Could do well in Jo’burg. Small but effective use of space. Quite new and a stunning dance floor with state of the art lighting and a lazer show. The bar was not very well organized but then the place never got busy until after about 1am. We got there and were the only other people there except for a guy and a girl. It was cool though, we got to know the manager and chatted away until about 11:00 when they said two DJ’s from Taipei was coming in to play for their promotional evening. We kept on thinking that there must be a party somewhere else because the place just never got full or even busy. The DJ’s were cool and as usual we opened the dance floor and were the only people dancing until two small groups of Chinese people joined in. But by joined in, I mean joined our circle….maybe it was the way we were carrying on, we were going wild as usual, I should add, and the next minute we were surrounded by happy people also going crazy…sooo cool! The outfits these people wear out to clubs! Interesting is all I’ll say. It is a coastal town anyway so that explains a glittering skirt with slops and a track suit top. No worries if you’re having a good time! We were shoeless at one stage after trying to get a drink in side ways, when we were abducted by some in the group and dragged back to the dance floor. We met and got to play some games with a Chinese guy called Russel, Jack and their friend Baby. They played a dice game that involved 5 dice. The one who can throw the most double numbers won. So everybody has a go and if you could get two doubles in a through the others had to drink. Cool game, I did well, but a bit unfair as everybody else was drinking! Anyway we were on the dance floor soon afterwards and danced up a storm.

 We met a Canadian guy that was there on holiday and he told us about his teaching in the Kaohsiung area, pronounced “Gowshung”. I have no idea why we’re are still at our school! The lowest salary he has ever heard of was a hundred more than we are getting, with holidays and they pay you for attending a half hour meeting once every month. We get paid peanuts and work up to 70 hours a month for free for the school with no teacher’s appreciation and that includes two meetings a week at our cost (in time)!. They don’t work on weekends! Another shocker! Why do we put up with our school? Okay, I feel much better now!!! Enough of work!

 Anyway, the party carried on and the place filled up a bit but we were still about the only ones on the dance floor, probably unwittingly the organized entertainment. At about 12:30 they had an amazing laser show! Too cool! I was mesmerized! We eventually left at about 2:30 with Collin, the Canadian guy, myself and Alicia walking back to the hostel. He invited us to go snorkeling with them tomorrow. We’ll see! We have to make some plans. Kim had left a bit earlier as she only got to bed the previous morning at about 1:30. They decided to go to Green Island the next morning, being picked up and taken to a ferry which will take them to Green Island in about 40min and spending two nights at the same place Ryno went to a while back. The guy they organized through is called Eddie, a South African guy. We’ll go someday, when the money is flowing a bit stronger.

   We decided to go to the temple in the hill just down the road and get some “mwatsie” for the girls at the school. It’s a sticky little ball with a red bean, green bean or sesame filling. We found out about a bus to Kaohsiung as there wasn’t that much to see in this town that doesn’t involve driving out the town. But we decided to go back to the hostel gather our things and get a taxi to the train station and take a train there. Easier. We got back at about 12:30 and they were still closed. We got our stuff and hailed a taxi and off we went. We got to the train station and were just in time for the next train, it was meant to be. We had 10min to catch the train. We got seats as well! We got to Kaohsiung and booked our ticket to Changhua before leaving the station on an expedition.

  No seats available for the 2hour trip, no hassles. We arrived at Kaohsiung at about 5:00pm. Organised a locker for our luggage and off we went exploring. We went to the bus station outside the train station and asked them how do we get to the harbour. The next minute they ushered us into an empty bus the guy went to start and the next minute some people joined us and off we went. Along the way we picked up an old guy with a cute round friendly face and he could speak English. We got talking. At our next stop we had crossed the river and we got off to explore the riverside a bit. It was beautiful. A really beautiful city, a mix between Taipei(the capital) and Taichung (the town down the road from us). The river is called the Lovers river in memory of a legend of a couple that died there. We walked along the river through a park with so many people and dogs and kids enjoying their Sunday afternoon in the park. We passed a film library, that would be interesting to explore sometime. We’ll be back.

 We followed our map and went down some funny siffy looking streets and started thinking we weren’t in the right place. I suppose any harbour has it’s greasy sections. We took a left at some stage and found we were finally back on track as we saw the Art Pier 2. There was a cool looking pub on the side of the road with people lining up for something. It was called the Ice Pub and from the glimpse we got inside the marquee it looked like it was done up as a ice cave. Cool! We unfortunately did not have a lot of time to explore as our train back was at 7:45pm. Melissa suggested we take a short cut to the Seaview Pavilion and we followed the traintracks until we got to the Kaohsiung Port. This reminded me so much of Durban’s waterfront. And the name of their complex? “Fisherman’s wharf”. Nearly identical to Durban’s layout. Watching the ships go by. There were many people and we got some dinner at the Pasta pot, which was part of a large food court. Many trendy looking pubs and restaurants on the outside. Very nicely and neatly done. It put me in a reminiscing mood. It felt like home!

  We walked on and got a taxi to take us back to the station at about 7:00pm. The taxi driver was very friendly and first tried to drop us off at a hotel that sounded like train station in Chinese…we obviously said it wrong! Luckily in the same direction as the station. The doorman explained to him it was the train station we wanted to be taken too and the driver nodded and smiled his red stained beetle juice teeth at us, showing he understood. It was quiet in the car and we could hear his chewing the nuts and spitting them out into a small bag…I nearly died! Melissa was sitting right next to him so it must have been even worse for her. He kept on replacing whatever he spat out. His mouth corners were red from the juice and his teeth, you don’t want to know about! We finally got to the station with enough time to get our bags and take a leisurely stroll to the platform, which turned out to be the wrong one, but we had enough time to walk to the next one without running our legs off. We managed to sit for quite some of the way but this section is much busier that the other coast. So our last half hour we stood. We arrived in Changhua at about 10:00pm got a taxi, got home and went straight to bed! I had an easy morning the following morning and could sleep late. Which I did! At about 12:00 I woke up and got ready for school. Tuesday is a holiday so Monday was just a reminder of what we were getting back to. 

Tuesday was tomb sweeping day. A day when each family goes to where their ancestors are buried and cleans it up, cuts the grass, trims the bushes and burn money. They then place some paper money on the tomb stone with stones to keep it from blowing away. They bring snacks and candy and eat it there before leaving. They spend about an hour there. The burning of money happens every so often as an offering to their gods to pay for their sins. This as you can imagine, pollutes the air something terrible. And a gray smog can be seen the next day. According to their air quality chart in the news paper Kaoshiung has the most polluted air. Taichung and Taipei are even, in just under “unhealthy” and Ilan and Hualien on the north eastern coast, the best air. They measure it in something I can’t make out but it ranges from 0 – 125. We are in the 50 – 75 range and Kaohsiung past 75. I’ll find out.  

Payday is coming! So the next few days obviously things happen and nobody has money. We had a braai on Saturday after a half day at the school with pre tests for the kids to do their Style Jet official testing later. Just to prepare them for the test more than anything. Next weekend will be the same. 

The school has now gone on a rampage with observing our classes, filming it and doing a reading competition in between! Hectic! We don’t have a chance! I think I’m being video taped over 11 times during the next 3 weeks! I’m famous!!! “Handtekeninge later”. So now they get training material and promotional material out of us for free! What a rip off, I want my money back! 

Anyway, you can obviously tell my 1 year expiry date is drawing near…. 

We had a course in “how to make rice dumplings” a famous food for Taiwan and Changhua specifically. The country has many towns that are famous for a specific food type. 

Anyway we went to visit a friend just down the road and she showed us how. They get the dough in a small circle ready made and powdered, feels like a soft plastic. The filling you make of minced pork and  dried garlic and cabbage. The cabbage and garlic you can dry out in the sun on a tray, the reasoning behind this is that if you put normal fresh cabbage in the dough it goes soggy…so you mix this all together with some ginger and voila the filling is ready. You take your circle of dough place a teaspoon of filling in the middle, fold it half and squash the edges together in a fan style. That’s it. Ready for the boiling water on the stove. You dump the in there and wait about 5 minutes and take them out….perfect! You can make any type of filling and my mind was already thinking of different fillings I can put in there, may be a breakfast dumpling will be good, egg, bacon and mushroom and cheese mix….yes!!!!! Anyway may be a boerewors or potjie filling….okay! I’m getting carried away…stop it! We had lunch and went through all her traveling photo’s. She teached Chinese in Costa Rica for 2 years and had traveled all over South America…stunning! I have to go there some time. So a Sunday afternoon with dumplings, orange juice, photo’s and good company! What a way to spend the day.

 The weekend crawled closer and we got on with a lazy disposition. We decided that Sunday would be our Lukang walking around day. Ryno said he hadn’t been yet and wanted to go. So at about 11am on Sunday we got to the bus station and got on our bus. 20min later we were in the hustle and bustle of Lukang in full swing. It had been a religious week so far, as it was Matsu’s birthday, one of their main gods. We showed Ryno our favourite shops and entered the arch just as the cacophony of music approached us.

 What a rush of adrenaline to see a parade like this in full costume and bright colours. Cymbals clashed as a group of men carried a litter with incense smoking from within. Bouncing lightly on their feet with a dark wood carved litter on their shoulders and shaking it violently from side to side. Huge brightly coloured figures marched regally past with glittering gold and silver costumes. The flat wine of their traditional pipes filled the streets as people took pictures and stared to look. These sounded much like bagpipes but the difference came in when the huge red drums being beaten by very competent drummers, flicking the short baton looking sticks nimbly between their fingers, appeared behind them. The rush of new knowledge is overwhelming and I was awestruck and was once again drawn and beaconed to follow. I ran ahead to get better photo’s of the amazingly well painted faces but they all had a small feathered fan that they held before their faces as you tried to take their pictures. They believe that the camera will cause something to happen to the spirits and maybe set them free to roam. The fan is a symbol of separation and in a wedding the bride throws a fan out the car window to reinforce their union.

    Many followers were carrying small statues of their gods covered in yellow silk sashes with red writing and people in between were burning incense while the drums kept a rapid heart beat. The huge 8ft figures past by silently batting their huge wide eyes and showing off their exquisitely made costumes. We moved further down the walk way and came to the temple where the ceremony was originating. Many people were gathered around the main ceremony area in the centre court of the temple. The painted face monsters with their protruding teeth were there as well with the huge figures of different gods performing a dance as they fell in line to start their procession from the temple. Crackers pierced the air and the smell of sulphur, crackers and incense mingled into a heady perfume enfolding all the onlookers.

We bought some traditional pastry, called cow’s tongue. Basically a “nayoshuping” butter pastry but smaller and in the shape of a cow’s tongue. They come in three colours now, a plain, purple(taro) and pink(strawberry). Very good. I’ll send a food package home soon! The walk way was alive with people and stuffed with new gifts and goods for their festive season. The little dragon puppets are amazing and I’m seriously thinking of getting a few. They reminded me of a huge puppet on strings I used to have, a big bird with big eyes and feathers. I loved it. These little dragons are about the size of a small foxy with big eyes, a moving mouth and little bells in between the furry bits and sequence, all the colours of the rainbow. It costs only NT300 which is just less than R50. Too beautiful.

The vibrant colours even on our grey drizzly day gave the market a festive atmosphere and people were in good spirits….as usual. Thousands of lanterns lined the streets between shops and department stores always giving Lukang a festive feel. Alive and pulsating. 

Suddenly the knowledge of going home makes me appreciate everything more than before. More like the first time I’ve seen them. I look at things as if it’s the last time I might see them. Suddenly I don’t have enough time and money again. Story of my life but the experiences, that’s what makes life worth living! This I write with “the Police” singing “Every breath you take” in my ears and watching the people pass by as I ride in the bus. Weird how music takes you to a place outside of the real world and let you look in. Like your own life soundtrack! Cool! People on scooters, kids n the school clothes riding their bikes home, rice paddies in between the buildings with the glimmer of an afternoon sun on the water. An old man smoking on the sidewalk, the smell of burning incense, two old ladies helping each other over the road, Chinese writing all over, and sidewalk vendors shouting their specials. The sun red in the smog of late afternoon. A banner with the words Washingwon D.C advertising a new complex to be built. No, it’s not a spelling mistake on my side! Taiwan are full of these gems. Any greeting card you pick up will have a weird ensemble of sentences lashed together making no sense whatsoever.

And so the month came to an end and we went to see Sahara at the Taiwan Hotel Cinema. Excellent movie….as usual…I only go to see excellent movies! Anyway I was in ecstasy when I found out Star Wars starts on the 5/20 and Kingdom of Heaven starts on the 5/6..can’t wait, luckily we got some coupons on our way out so I can see 3 movies at NT100 each instead of NT220(+- R44). Did I mention this before? Where is my discovery movie card now!!!!! We visited the internet café as well, hoping to hear something about my next job adventure but to no avail! Maybe next week!!!

Taiwan Times Vol 9 Vol.9 April 2005     So off we went. Woke up at 4:45am had a shower and got ready.

[mycasandstarrs]

SPN 10x02: “Reichenbach”

RIP Cole’s father. Killed by Dean.

Don’t call him Sammy.

“Now...I know Dean's family and all, but he gave you up. And you have no reason to protect him -- none.” No reason? It’s his brother, you moron.

“Look, I'm sorry about your dad. Whatever happened... Dean had a reason. I don't know how to tell you this. There are monsters out there.”

“You don't think I know that? I did two tours in Iraq. Special Ops, Darfur...The Congo. I've seen suicide bombers and child soldiers so hopped up on speed that they could barely talk! Oh, but they could sure as hell shoot an A.K.”  

Not those kinds of monsters.

“I mean vampires! All right? Werewolves. Monster... monsters.” Sam tried really hard not to go in that direction.

“It’s holy water.”

“Holy cow.”

lol

“Well, you see, that's exactly what a psycho liar would say, so... See my dilemma?” Oh, damn you.

“Cherry Pie” by Warrant. Its second appearance on the show.

Killdeer, North Dakota.

How is he the only one there?

Deanmon’s that douche.

It’s just a screaming contest between Sam and Cole.

“Shove it up your ass.” Sam is so goddamn resilient.

OH NO, NOT THE KNEE.

“Hey, big guy. How you doing? Now, no, no. Listen, daddy's really busy right now, okay?” Daddy’s busy torturing people and being a dumbass.

That kid was so close to being slaughtered.

“We need to talk about your... Anger-management issues.” Now you wanna work on that?!

Cas can’t heal himself...but Hannah can.

“Thank you. Hannah, you don't have to --you -- you can go. You don't owe me anything.”

“I know. But I want to stay...and help.”  

Aww, Hannah.

Cas was the first person Sam called when he could.

“Cas...Dean's a demon.”

“Dean's a demon? How?”

“The Mark --I-I guess it --it just messed him up. I don't know.“

“That is a vast understatement.”

OH NOOOOO. Cas face of pure devastation, that breaks my heart every time.

“Castiel...I think the Winchesters are a bad influence on you.”

“Sam and Dean may be a bit rough around the edges, but they're the best men I've ever known. And they're my friends.”

:’)

“I never get tired of looking at them. All those stars.” Me either, Hannah.

Crap. 

“Two shots here. He'll have something fancy, with your tiniest umbrella.” lol

“So...How you been feeling? On edge? Pent-up? Unfulfilled?”   

“You sound like a Viagra commercial. You know that, right?”

He does.

G A Y

Mindy and Lester Morris. Mindy’s the target, Lester’s the client.

Crowley tried to turn Dean into his personal assassin.

“Oh, there's something else that I need to share with you.” Was it that Sam introduced Lester into  the crossroad demon?

“I'm gonna have to run in to town for a new set of tires. Could take a while. You want to head inside and watch TV or something, you're more than welcome. Oh, and there's leftover three-bean surprise in the fridge, if you're hungry.”

“You're very kind.”

“Well, makes up for me being an ax murderer and all...Uh, sorry. Kidding.”

“Ah. I see.”

Aww, Hannah.

“I understand the three beans, but...What's the surprise?” Hannah was adorable.

And so is Cas when he’s sleeping.

Was it possible that Dean would’ve done it had Lester not shown up?

“What the hell are you doing here, man?”

“Well, my contact...Yeah, he, uh -- he told me that, uh, this was happening, so I just wanted to come down and make sure it gets done right.”

“Ah. 'Cause you're the expert, huh? Listen --and this is murder 101 --when you hire someone to kill your wife, you don't want to be around when the hit goes down. It's called an alibi.” 

What a dummy.

“I need you to really listen to me. You're a loser. Your lady in there -- she's a North Dakota 8. You're a 4 1/2, Max. Now, I don't blame her for stepping out -- especially if she found you were messing around first.”

“No. Oh, no. I-I wasn't...Uh -- How do you know?”

“Well, you just got that, uh, pervy, ‘I'd do anything to nail my secretary’ look.” 

NO IT’S NOT.

“Men aren't built for monogamy...because of evolution. We're -- we're -- we're programmed, you know, to --to spread our seed.” Okay, let’s kill him now.

“Yeah, well, you're a punk-ass demon! And you work for me now. So get in there and do your job, you freak!” Lester just signed his damn death warrant.

RIP Lester Morris. Killed by Dean.

Cole could’ve just let Sam go and do his thing by tracking Dean...instead of kidnapping and torturing him. He would’ve found Dean much sooner.

Looney Tunes!

Cas with kids. Always cute.

“Great guy you have there.”

“Oh. We're not... That.”

“Too bad.”

No no no, don’t give her ideas.

That was me in Economics class in high school.

“Tell me, Dean -- what are you? A demon? If so, why isn't Lester's wife dead? Did you feel sorry for her? So maybe you're human. Except you have those pretty black peepers and you're working alongside me. Why don't you do us all a great big favor and PICK A BLOODY SIDE?!” Crowley called Cas out like this in S6.

Dean and Crowley break up. Wah wah.

“You know what, Dean? It's not me. It's you.” Even the King of Hell couldn’t stand your ass, Dean.

“Maybe I should drive?”

“All right. Good idea.”

lol

Crowley turns in Dean.

They still haven’t cleaned up what Gadreel did?

Ah no, not another douche.

“You pop that lock, I'll give you Castiel's Grace and then scamper off to another planet -- another galaxy, even --and you will never see me again.”  I call such total bull.

“Poor little Hannah. You're so desperate to be dominated.”

*Hannah pulls Metatron into the prison bars.*

Thank you for that.

“He's lying. He is a liar.”

“Hey, words hurt!”

pfft.

Aww. Exercise your free will, Cas!

“I'll get out. It may take a century. May take a millennium or two, but this dump will not hold me forever.” Huh. More like a couple months.

“And when I'm free -- here's a little sneak preview -- everybody dies.” Oh well, that part’s not true.

That *is* “Hey Jude”!

Sam has finally found Dean.

“I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out... with my teeth.” Alright, Edgelord.

“You don't know what I've done. I might have it coming.” Yeah, he’s got an idea, and he STILL wants to save you.

“Well, I don't care. Because you are my brother. And I'm here to take you home.”

God, I hate Deanmon. Give me real, human Dean any day.

“I saw you...That night...After. You let me live. That was dumb -- real dumb.” Well, he wasn’t gonna kill a human 13 year old kid.

Cole’s failed fight, sprinkled with Deanmon’s douchey one liners and taunts.

Dean’s been splashed with holy water so many times...and this is the one time that it actually worked.

Crowley’s price for ratting Dean out was the First Blade.

Come on, Cole! You’re getting blood all over the books!

"Hey There Lonely Girl” by Eddie Holman.

“It's just a car, Sam.” The biggest of Yikes for that one.

“You know what, Dean? I saw what happened back there. You could have killed that guy, and you didn't. You took mercy on him.” Uh...no.

“You call that mercy? Imagine you spend your whole life hunting down the guy that knifed your father. When you finally find him... He whips you like a dog. How do you think that feels? That kid's gonna spend his whole life knowing that he had his shot and that he couldn't beat me. That ain't mercy. That's the worst thing I could have done to him.” Sam looks scared shitless, omg.

“And what I'm gonna do to you, Sammy... Well, that ain't gonna be mercy, either.” Don’t listen to him Sam.