#my brain likes to wake me up at that time whenever 911 airs

[youlooklikeasixtiesqueen]

idk if i want to stay up and find a livestream for 911 to watch at 2am or if i'm ok with waiting until it's on disney+ canada tomorrow evening 😭

[penpatronuswhump]

WHUMPTOBER 2020

No. 8

Fandom: Avengers

Whumpee: Bruce Banner

Caregivers: Tony Stark and Natasha Romnanoff

Title: The Death of Bruce Banner

By: PenPatronus // PenPatronusAooO

“We’re not naming it Veronica!” Bruce told Tony in a ‘for the last time’ voice. “Just name it what you name all the other ones – Mark 48 or 49 or wherever you’re at.” The two friends were in their lab in Avengers Tower. It was two in the morning – the perfect time for Stark/Banner brainstorming sessions. Something just coalesced at 2am. Maybe it was the quiet in the Tower or the coffee they shouldn’t drink or the darkness outside the tall windows. Or maybe it was just the mad magic of science on full power when the moon was just right.

 “The other ones have names, too, you just haven’t bothered to learn them,” Tony said. He stood in front of a holographic schematic of the Hulkbuster armor with his arms folded against his chest and one fist under his chin. “How about I name this one, and you name the next one, huh? Compromise? Deal? Bruce? …Bruce?” Tony turned towards his fellow scientist and frowned when he saw Banner leaning heavily against a silver lab table. “Banner, hey, what’s up?” Tony jogged over and put his hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

 “I, uh…” Bruce winced and slid his hand between two buttons of his button-down shirt, massaging his chest. “I don’t know. I feel… Weird.”

 Tony noticed the sweat on Bruce’s brow and the slight shake of his hands. “Hulk weird?”

 “No… Human weird. Like, uh… I don’t know it’s just… My ribs feel heavy.”

 “Your ribs feel heavy?” Tony felt the heat, then – a furious fever in Bruce’s cheeks. “Hey, buddy, why don’t you sit down.” Bruce nodded. He reached blindly for a chair and only found one when Tony moved it. Banner sat down heavily in it, and put his face in his hands. Tony kept his hand on his shoulder. “I thought you never got sick. Green Giant heals you, right? I mean, he gets shot into Swiss cheese and you walk away.”

 “God – my head…” Bruce suddenly clamped a hand around Tony’s forearm. “Feels like my skull is changing shape. Is my skull changing shape?”

 “Not this time,” Tony gulped, “but look at your skin.” Bruce obeyed. There was a green tint to it. Not Hulk-green but about-to-puke green. It was all over. He felt his own pulse and Tony could tell by the look on his face that his heart was either beating dangerously fast or dangerously slow. “Bruce, maybe we should get you to a hospital.”

 “Maybe… Maybe I should sit down,” Bruce wondered. His words were slow and slightly slurred.

“Buddy, you are sitting – Bruce?” Bruce suddenly started to shake from his toes up to his nose. Tony grabbed onto his upper arms with both hands. “Bruce!” It happened so quickly – as most shocking things do. Bruce fell out of the chair, and would’ve knocked his head on the floor if Tony hadn’t been there to slow his fall and then catch his body. The seizure caused every single muscle in his body to shake like a guitar string. “JARVIS!” Tony called, “call 911! And wake the team!”

 ----------

 Natasha was just about to call it a night and allow herself to drift off to sleep when a voice suddenly said, “Where are we?” Her heart did a loop-de-loop. Bruce was awake and looking at her and speaking and, oh, her heart flipped happily over again. She crawled across the king-sized bed and gave Banner a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “So… Heaven?” Bruce quipped with a slight smile.

 Natasha returned his smile. “Asgard, actually.”

 Bruce found himself in the nicest bed he’d ever been in, inside the shittiest old barn he’d ever seen. “This is Asgard?”

 Natasha put up her finger. She had her phone to her cheek. She winced when a high-pitched buzzing sound erupted from it. “Bad service out here,” she joked, winking. “Stark? Yeah. He’s awake.” She pocketed her phone and returned her attention to Bruce. “This is an empty island far, far away from Odin’s kingdom but, yes, this is Asgard.” Bruce tried to sit up in bed, but Nat put a hand on his bare chest. “Not yet,” she said. “Take it slow.”

 “What happened?”

 “We’re not sure. Seizure of some sort. You’ve been asleep for a week.”

 “A week?”

 Pounding footsteps outside. The barn door opened and Tony and Steve entered. “There he is.” Stark clapped his hands together once, then sat on a corner of the bed, opposite to Nat. “How you feeling, buddy?”

 Bruce was just assessing that now that he’d gotten his bearings. “Stuff… hurts,” he concluded, half-aware that he sounded half-lucid. He reached up and scratched at the almost-beard he’d grown. “Especially my head. It’s throbbing.”

 Tony nodded. His smile was so forced he looked like he was wearing a mask of himself. “Did you tell him yet?” he asked Natasha.

 She shook her head vehemently. “Waiting for you to.”

 “I think that’s a job for the team leader.” Tony looked up at Cap and spread his fingers out, gesturing for him to speak. Steve almost insisted that Tony be the one to give Bruce the news, but he saw something foreign in Tony’s eyes. He couldn’t name it, but it was something like a begging expression. Tony really didn’t want to do it.

 Cap cleared his throat. He moved to stand behind Tony and folded his arms against his chest. “You have a brain tumor,” he said. “You’re dying.”

 Bruce snorted. “If I have a brain tumor, the Hulk has already healed it.”

 Steve shared a knowing look with Tony. “Well, this one isn’t healing. It’s right above your pituitary gland and it’s getting bigger every day. It’s pushing hormones into your system that are messing up all your organs. The docs at home can’t do anything for you. We were hoping the scientists on Asgard would have a solution, but they don’t. And…”

 “And?” Bruce prompted.

 “We’ve tried to get the Hulk to come out, to heal you, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

 “Even kicked you in the balls,” Tony said. When Bruce glared at him Tony shrugged and said, “For your own good!”

 Natasha pursed her lips together and looked down at the sheets covering Bruce’s body. “We brought you here in case you change,” she explained. “Nothing smashable on this island but us.”

 “I’ll get him to come out and play,” Bruce said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Get off the island.”

 “We’re not scared,” said Nat. “He’s been recognizing us lately. He knows our voices, he knows our faces. The lullaby works most of the time.”

 “And if he’s being a jerk I’ll just call in Veronica,” Tony said with a sneer.

 “We are not calling it Veronica!” Bruce suddenly shivered. “Oh! Do something else to make me angry. Might be working.”

 “Uh… The flat-earthers are right!” said Natasha.

 “Trump is the greatest president the world has ever seen!” said Tony.

 “Tony’s smarter than you!” said Steve with a chuckle.

 Bruce frowned and put his hand to his chest. “Hmm.”

 “Hmm?”

 “Whenever I get a little emotional I can… Feel him. He’s this extra weight in me that kind of wakes up and lets me know he’s there. I don’t…” Wide-eyed, Bruce looked up at Tony. “He’s there. I can feel him but… I think he’s sick, too. I think… I think he’s dying.” Suddenly, to the shock of the other three, Banner tossed his arms into the air and shouted happily. “I’m dying!”

 “What the hell is wrong with you?” Natasha asked. “This is not how normal people react to a brain tumor!”

 “You don’t get it,” said Bruce, which was true because none of them did. “I’ve been hoping to die ever since I got the Hulk. I’ve been trying to die.”

 Nat frowned. “Don’t…”

 “Nat, the Hulk is nothing but a dangerous burden. He destroys, he kills. I thought he couldn’t be killed but something has changed. If we can get rid of him, the sooner the better.”

 “That means getting rid of you!”

 “So?” Bruce’s smile was as wide as his face. “This – this is a miracle!” Nat suddenly leapt to her feet and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door as she left. The three men watched her go in silence – one of them flabbergasted. Bruce cleared his throat. He tried to look Tony and Steve in the eye, but their attentions were on the floor. “You get it, right?” he asked them. Neither replied. “I want you to stop trying to cure me,” Bruce ordered. “No pills, no brain surgery, no Asgard magic medicine. Let me die.” Tony suddenly leapt to his feet and stormed out of the barn, slamming the door as he left. “What?” Bruce called after him.

 Steve sighed and pulled a wooden chair up to the bed. “Bruce,” he said, “what would you do if Nat was dying? If Tony was?”

 Bruce flinched at the thought. He settled deeper under his blankets and echoed Steve’s sigh. “I’d tear the world apart trying to save them.”

 “And you don’t think we’d do the same for you?”

 “I don’t want you to do the same for me. Don’t you see? I don’t care if I die. All I care about is preventing the Hulk from hurting people. If that means death, then so be it.”

 “You are a valued member of this team and an indispensable scientist to the world and, more importantly you’re our friend and we love you,” Cap said quietly, and all in one breath. “We’re not giving up.”

 “Well, I am,” Bruce said, equally quietly. “Happily.”

 ---------

 A month passed. Bruce lost weight. He had seizures at least once a day. When he wasn’t asleep he was vomiting, and when he wasn’t vomiting he was suffering from headaches that almost made him cry. Half of his hair fell out. He could barely walk, refused to eat, felt dizzy, and when he had the strength to he pulled out his IVs. The team tended to him the whole time. But no threat from Thor could get him to eat. Clint tried the “airplane method” with a spoon like he did with his kids, but that didn’t work to get Bruce to eat or to laugh. Every physician in Asgard came to see him, but none could help.

 Nothing worked. Bruce was dying.

 One morning, about an hour before dawn, Bruce suddenly woke up gasping for air. The other five were in the barn and all rushed to his bedside. It was Tony that Bruce held a hand out to. Stark took it, and held Bruce’s thin, cold hand in both of his, warm and snug in his lap where he sat on the side of the bed. Candlelight lit the scene and a few morning songbirds sang outside the barn. “Think this is it,” Bruce wheezed. “You can name it Veronica. Not that you’ll need her anymore.”

 Stark laughed – one of those short snorts that propel tears and snot. “I’d give anything…” he started to say. His eyes filled up with tears, and then emptied. “I fix things. I’ve always been able to fix things and if I can’t, I have the money to pay someone who can but this… Bruce, I have, maybe, ten friends in the world and half of them are in this room… I can’t lose you.”

 Banner managed a smile. “Love you, too,” he said. His lungs sounded like they were full of rocks. “Miss you.”

 “Don’t do that. Don’t say goodbye,” Tony said. Then he relented. “Miss you.” Tears poured. “So much.”

 Bruce closed his eyes and the rattling stones went silent. A squeak came out of Natasha and she collapsed into Clint’s arms. Thor put a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder. Tony checked for a pulse and when he found none, he folded forward and put his forehead on Bruce’s chest.

 And then the Hulk came out. Banner’s body stretched and cracked. The five Avengers backed up against the walls as the bed collapsed from the green giant’s bulk. Hulk sat up, roared happily, and then gave the others a grin with gravestone teeth. “Hulk!” he roared. “Only Hulk now! Hulk forever!”

 “Well he’s looking perfectly fit,” said Steve.

 “Strong as ever,” Thor pointed out.

 It dawned on Clint a second before everyone else realized what was going on. “You don’t think…?”

 Tony raced forward. Hulk had to duck his head under the barn’s roof – his body took up most of the room – so his chin was close to the floor, at the perfect angle for Tony to punch it. And he did. With all his strength. Hulk roared so loud that the wind he created pushed Tony back against Steve. “Don’t—!” Steve advised, grabbing Tony’s upper arms. Stark fought him off and approached Hulk again.

 “You son of a bitch!” Tony hollered. “You didn’t heal him on purpose! You let him die so you could be rid of him!”

 “Hulk is Hulk now!” the giant yelled back. “Only Hulk!”

 “You giant green dick!” Tony continued. “You nut-less, soul-less asshole! I will fucking kill you, you hear me? I will bury you for this!”

 Natasha rushed to Tony’s side and grabbed his hand. “Let me,” she hissed at him. “Let me try.”

 Tony blinked red eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve, gave the Hulk the finger, then retreated to Steve’s side.

 Natasha approached Hulk. She sat down in front of him, mirroring his crossed legs and the angle of his head. “Hey, big guy,” she said. “Sun’s getting real low.” Hulk snorted at her like a bull. “Do you want to hurt me?”

 Hulk blinked big, round, and hard. “No smash ‘tasha.”

 “Hulk smashed,” said Nat, accusing. She pointed at her heart. “Hulk smashed bad. Hulk smashed Tony, Hulk smashed Steve, Hulk smashed everybody.”

 “Hulk not care,” he decided after a moment of contemplation. “Hulk just want to smash.”

 “You wouldn’t have said a few minutes ago,” said Natasha. “Not with Bruce’s heart in you.”

 “Banner imprison Hulk! Hulk smash Banner!”

 “If you smash, you hurt people,” Natasha reminded him. “Do you want to hurt people?”

 “Want to smash!”

 “Bad Hulk!”

 “Smash!”

 “Then smash me!” Nat stood and spread her arms, turning her body into a cross shape. “Do it!”

 Hulk roared. He raised both hands and hammered them down.

 His fists stopped an inch from Natasha’s hair.

 “You wouldn’t have done that a few minutes ago,” Natasha said. “Not with Bruce’s heart in you.” She put her hands to her hips and lifted her chin. “Bruce keeps you good.”

 Hulk retreated. “No smash ‘tasha,” he repeated.

 “You won’t,” she said, “if Bruce is alive.” She waited a few seconds, then said, “Give him back to us.”

 The Avengers could practically see the gears going in the Hulk’s brain. He sniffed and snorted and looked around the room like the answers were hanging on the wall. Then he sighed and reached his finger out for Natasha to take. “Sun… Getting… Low…”

 The great monster crumpled like paper. Bones shrunk and tendons shortened. He curled in on himself and suddenly, there he was. Suddenly there was a naked Bruce Banner standing in the middle of the barn looking beyond bewildered. His hair was back. So was his weight. In fact, he’d never looked healthier.

 “This can’t be Heaven,” Bruce deduced. The team didn’t answer. They just hugged.

 The End

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Hearthway Hollow Chef Ryker Part 2

Again, many, many thanks to @momolady​ for letting me post my bastardized version of her story because I just couldn’t help myself from changing little details into big details into remodeling the whole damn story and playing god in her universe which please don’t do, that’s very disrespectful, of course I realized it was probably disrespectful and all that after the fact and will not be repeating those transgressions in the future. But I have been saving these pics, especially that picture of “Ryker” ever since I commissioned her and I want everyone to seeeeeee. I do have fanfiction of this story, that will be coming up soon. It’s a 2.5 which basically everything that happens between chapter 2 and 3. And all these health problems in this part? Those are all real, those are all mine that I deal with on a daily basis. Enjoy. 

Hearthway Hollow Chef Ryker Part 2

“Mom, why aren’t we going?” Del whines from the passenger seat. 

“Give me a second, hun,” I grumble. I try cranking the car again but the engine just whines for a moment before shutting down. “The car isn’t behaving.” I knew I should have brought the camaro. That car had never failed me. They just don't make cars like they used to. 

I had stopped in Hearthway Hollow so Del and I could see the wolf reserve, but after breakfast this morning the car wouldn’t start at all. I take Del back inside and start searching through the phone book to find a tow service. 

“Looks like we may be stuck here for a few more days,” I tell Del. “The car is going to probably need a few repairs.”

“That’s ok. I like it here better,” Del says with a big grin. “Are we still going to be able to go see the wolves?”

I sigh and sit down with her on the couch. “I’ll try to get us there, no worries. Once the tow truck comes I’ll see if they know of any places where we can rent a car.”

“Ok,” she says with a shrug.

“You’re not upset we’ll miss the beach?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “Not really,” she shrugs. 

“Oh? Why is that?” I ask curiously. 

“I only said that place because you seemed excited to go somewhere,” she murmurs. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

I grab her up and hug her so tight. “You’re so sweet! But this vacation was supposed to be for the both of us.”

“I like it here,” she murmurs, resting her head on my shoulder. “So is it ok if we stay here a little longer? It’s nice and you’ve already made friends here.”

“Amelie and Shahan?” I ask. I kiss her forehead. “So you like them?”

Del nods quietly. “I like Ryker too, he’s cool and he made good on his promise.” Del added. 

There’s a knock at the door and when I answer it’s Jack from the hardware store. “Oh hey,” he waves. “I thought the name sounded familiar. We’re here for the car.”

“Thank you.” I hand him over the car key. “Do you by chance any know of car rentals around here?

Jack takes out a card from his pocket. “This is the place you’ll wanna call. They’ll drive the car right over too.”

“Thank goodness,” I sigh. “I promised to take Del to the wolf reserve, and of course, the car won’t crank. I knew I should have brought the camaro, they just don't make cars like they used to."

"You have a camaro?" Jack asked excitedly. 

"67 SS, 350 with nos." I answered before I showed him a picture of it in all its emerald green glittering glory as he whistled lowly. 

"Wow, yeah you should’ve.” Jack chuckles. 

“But it doesn’t have air conditioning, I know there’s a company that makes air conditioners that can be retrofitted but I just haven’t gotten around to it.” I explained.  

“Well, isn’t that how it always is when you promise your kid something, something else breaks?” Jack chuckles. “I have your number, so as soon as we know what’s going on, I’ll give you a call.” Jack offers before he loads up my car onto the tow truck after I’ve emptied it out completely. 

I tell him goodbye before I go inside to call the number on the card. As i’m waiting for an answer, I see Ryker’s note laying on the counter. After I slept on it and thought it over, I didn’t know if I would have the courage to start messaging him, I was only going to be here a day or two and I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to see him again after this trip. But now that it looked like I was going to be spending my vacation in Hearthway Hollow, maybe if wouldn’t be so bad to call him and hopefully get the chance to see him again. 

I make plans for a car to be dropped off at the cabin then I call Big Billy and explain the situation and agree to come in and rent the cabin for a week since I didn’t know how long it would take for the mechanic to fix it and send Ryker a quick text. ‘I’m having car issues and munchkin has decided to spend our vacation here. Any tips on how to continue to bring her out of her chicken nugget “shell” would be much appreciated.’ I text him but he doesn’t answer back and I pout at my phone. Maybe I just had my hopes up too high. 

I sit back down on the sofa while Del paints with her watercolors on the coffee table in front of the couch and watches cartoons when my phone chimes again, the chef has replied. My heart thrums excitedly to see what he’s said.

‘Who is this?’ came the response. 

I frown for a moment. ‘Zara. Zara Norris, Del’s mom. I was with Shahan and Amelie last night. I have a Michigan cell phone number, this message isn’t spam I pinky swear.’ I text back, hoping that would jog his memory. 

It’s another long moment before my phone beeps again. ‘Sorry, I work late and sleep in late. I’m not a smart morning person. Yeah of course I’ll help. More than happy to.’  And my smile blooms brighter and my heart does somersaults in my chest. 

‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you!’ I quickly apologize.

‘No worries. Did she enjoy the doggy bag I sent?’

I smile adoringly at my phone. ‘Yeah, she loved it, we both did, thank you so much, everything was awesome and delicious, it was the best meal of my life last night and then again this morning, thank you for the cheesecake too! That was the best I’ve ever had!’

‘Great. I’m gonna get coffee. Talk to you later.’

I smile to myself, wondering if I would ever get to see him again while I was still in Hearthway Hollow or if this was as close as I was gonna get. 

After a while the car was dropped off and I was given a key. I signed a few papers for the rental and gave a down payment for the first two days. As I was looking over the car and making sure I was used to the controls I saw something strange in the rearview mirror. There was something in the trees, moving around a bit. As I turned, I saw it go down the hill and onto Amelie and Shahan’s porch. It was a wolf, a massive one too. It went in through the open door and I panicked. I didn’t have Amelie’s number, nor did I know Shahan’s or where he worked. In a moment of desperation I dialed Ryker’s number.

“Hello?” he sounded confused.

“I-am-so-so-sorry-to-call-like-this! But-I-just-saw-this-wolf- walk-into-Amelie-and- Shahan’s-place! And-I-know-Amelie- is-home-alone- and-Shahan- isn’t-there- and-I don’t-know- anyone- here! What-do- I- do?! Do- I- call- 911?!” I spew out a stream of conscious thought that stringed together as one single word.

“Whoa, whoa,” Ryker started. “Calm down, a wolf?” He asks as he still sounds like he’s groggy. 

“Yes! A wolf, a huge one!” I’m nearly screaming and near a panic attack as electric shocks like lightning bolts shoot down my arms and into my hands until it feels like needles and knives are cutting into every nerve ending and down my legs making my legs spasm and into my rib cage, into the flesh in between each rib so it’s impossible to breathe until it subsides and into my face so my face twitches and twists against my will so and I cry out in pain because it’s unbearable and blinding for a moment and I’m overwhelmed. 

“I’ll be right there!” Ryker assures me before he hangs up.  

“Ok.” I spurt but he’s already hung up the phone. I give my body a moment to relax from the attack and use a breathing exercise to get me calmed down and stable as the attack stops and subsides and once I’m recovered, I attempt to dial him again but I go straight to his voicemail. “Oh crap, I’ve really done it now.” I groan and bang my head on the steering wheel. Great, now I’m a spaz. He’s going to tell me to loose his number. Way to go. 

I glance back to the cabin where Del is inside. I don’t want to leave her alone but I feel like I have to go make sure Amelie is ok. Then again, what am I going to do against a wolf of that size? As I’m trying to keep myself from panicking anymore because panic = pain for me, I see a car pull up to the house. It parks around then side where I can see it and Ryker gets out. He goes to the front door and a while later comes out the back. Amelie and Shahan are with him on the porch and they’re both as calm as can be. 

“What?” I whisper to myself. Ok, maybe I’m crazy and I’ve snapped again and I’m seeing things. 

The three of them wave up at me, but I feel so stupid I have a hard time waving back. I get a text on my phone. 

‘Mind if I come up?’ Ryker asks.

‘I feel like an idiot, are you sure?’ I answer.

‘I’ll have a look around the place, make sure there aren’t any wolves there. Just in case,’ he texts back. Is that a joke? I can’t tell. Well, time to face the music. 

I watch as he walks up the road to the cabin. He’s wearing a dark blue henley with the buttons undone, showing off the dark pelt on his chest. His hair is disheveled, looking like he combed it with his hands. It’s beautiful, whereas my hair is just ringlet curly and hella frizzy.

“Good morning,” he says with a smile. “You ok?” He asks worriedly. 

“Yeah, I’m just a spaz.” I try to downplay but he’s not buying it. “I have conversion disorder. Whenever I’m faced with any stress or anxiety or especially panic. My brain can’t process that or internalize it, it simply converts it into physical pain. I get “shocks” which feels like I’m being electrocuted and it travels all over my body, into my face, down my arms until it feels like red hot needles and knives are cutting and burning into every nerve ending I have, into my ribcage between each rib so I can’t breathe and down my legs into my feet until they feel just like my hands. It’s very painful.” I explained and Ryker just looks heartbroken to hear it.  “So yeah, thinking I saw a wolf walk into a house totally panicked me and I didn’t know Shahan was at the house! I never should have called, maybe I'm crazier than I think I am and am just seeing things.” I grumble in shame and I can’t bring myself to look him in the eye. 

“Hey, it’s ok, I would freak out too.” Ryker reassures me and closes the space between us and hugs me tight and I melt in his big strong arms and I’m pleasantly surprised when I feel so at peace and safe, like even if I was surrounded by a pack of wolves right now, I’d be ok, like nothing could ever get to me. 

“I’m just sorry it caused you pain, that’s all.” He murmured regrettably. 

“Thank you for not making fun of me.” I whimper as I continue to cling to him. 

“What? No, never! Have people made fun of you for this?” He asked his own outrage making his voice have a growl that sends a shiver down my spine but a smile bloomed on my face as he just continued to hold me. 

“Yeah, my husband, used to, he was a narcissistic asshole though. When I first got conversion, it got misdiagnosed as fibromyalgia and MS and I used to have to use a walker to get around and he would call me ‘gympopotomus’, a cross between gympy and hippopotamus.” You revealed as he took a sharp but deep breath in and held me even tighter as I could feel the hot air practicallyq come out of his ears as he buried his face in the crook of my neck and slowly released the breath as his jaw clenched. 

“He was a good and decent father to Del and he wasn’t so bad that he beat me or anything, he just wasn’t the nicest or kindest person, he struggled with sympathy and empathy.” I tried to explain. 

“And apparently being a decent human being.” Ryker huffed. 

“Yeah…” I sighed sadly before I withdrew from him which he seemed reluctant but let go of me and took a small step back to reestablish the distance between us.  

“Tell you what, just to be safe, I’ll look around while I’m here. If there’s anything suspicious, I’ll take care of it and make sure everything is..as it should be.” He reassures me and I’m relieved he’s not being sarcastic and he’s completely sincere and genuine. 

“Thanks.” My face is growing red hot as I look at him, my own smile growing bashful. Something about him just sets off all the bells and whistles for me to see him look so...normal and casual and comfortable. I follow him as he walks around the cabin, unable to take my eyes off of him again as he walks around the side where I had heard scratching the night before as he seems to start walking quicker to avoid looking at the claw marks under the window as his cheeks get rosy again before he clears his throat awkwardly, his sharp blue eyes study the ground for a moment before looking off into the woods as he rubs the back of his neck for a moment as things grow awkward again and I feel the need to break the tension. 

“So uhm...Ryker,” I chuckle. “That’s an interesting name.”

“My dad loved Star Trek,” he huffs. “So yes, I am named after that Ryker.”

“I knew it!” I gasp with a victorious smile then make myself shut up. “Sorry. I just had a gut feeling. I used to watch the show when I was younger. My uncle had every episode of every star trek on VHS and I grew up on it, Picard was of course my favorite but Ryker was a close second.” I grin. 

“And you’re a Norris? Like Chuck Norris.” He grins cheekily. 

“Yes, exactly like Chuck Norris, unfortunately not related to him. Because if I was, hey, when I did push ups, I’d push the earth down and my tears could cure cancer and venomous snakes would die if they tried to bite me.” I rattle off, remembering all the Chuck Norris jokes off the top of my head which makes Ryker bust up laughing. “So we both have famous names, that’s nice.” I  finish. “And before I was a Norris, I was a Wright girl so I grew up with being Zara Left or Zara Wrong, I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” I shrug as Ryker chuckles to that as his grin grew a little mischievous. 

“Oh I don’t think you ever stopped being the right girl.” Ryker flirts and my jaw drops and I giggle and blush like a teenager again. 

“So, Wright like the Wright brothers?” Ryker asked curiously. 

“Wright like Frank Lloyd Wright, the architect, now that one I am related to but distantly.” I answer. 

He turns to me with that same soft smile like I’m the moon again. “Believe it or not, my dad met my mom at a convention. She was working the hotel it was at and well, despite the fact he was dressed in a starfleet uniform, he managed to charm her.”

“That’s really cute actually.” We walk up onto the back porch where the sliding glass door is, the curtain still open and I can see Del through the dining room into the living room, still watching TV and painting. 

“I like to think so.” He leans over the railing.

Ryker motions to the door. “What’s Del doing?”

“Watercolor painting.” I answered. 

“Wow really?” Ryker asked, impressed. 

 “Oh yeah, Dell and I both love watercolors. I bought her a Paul Ruben’s set which are professional watercolors, she has her regular palate and her glitter palate so she’s good.” I explained as I gestured to show him about the size of it as I lean over the railing next to him so we're almost shoulder to shoulder as we look out over the woods.  “The only thing she’ll run out of is the watercolor paper. I suppose I’ll have to go shopping for more supplies.” I smile up at him. “That’s why I asked you for the food help.”

“How long you here for then?” He asks as he turns around, leaning back on the railing with his hands on it, making his broad chest and shoulders jut out and my eyes rake down him again as my mouth goes dry as I realize he’s asked me a question I should be answering as I once again mirror his body language by turning around and leaning back on the railing but I loosely cross my arms over my belly a little self consciously. 

“Uhm-” I try to collect my thoughts. “Honestly I don’t know. I haven’t heard from the mechanic yet. It could be a day or two or a week if the car is salvageable and if it isn’t I’ll just have my parents drive my other car down and I’ll finish my vacation in that but it doesn’t have air conditioning. So I don’t know.” I shrug. “Granted if I have to I’ll just spend my whole vacation here and I told my parents and my inlaws I’d be two to three weeks.” I amend. 

“Oh,” he blinks before his grin grows into a full blown smile. “That’s plenty of time, we can find a way to work something out, I’m sure.” He offers and my heart is back to a hummingbird pace. 

“Del likes it here, so I think we’ll find a way to pass the time.” A smile spreads across my face. “Just gotta research the town a bit and see what we can get into here.”

“Well Hearthway has lots to do. There’s the big park, I’m sure Del would like that. There’s South Paw lake you can take her to and go swimming or the community pool if you prefer, there’s trails galore you could go hiking, there’s a place that has horses and horse back riding lessons you could ride and take on the trails. There’s going to be day camp for kids coming up really soon, Billy and his family started it a few years back. Kids go there and get to do crafts and all sorts of stuff. I’m sure if you asked Billy he’d let Del join in.” Ryker offers. 

“Really?” I gasp. “She would love that!”

“I’m sure you could find ways to preoccupy yourself with other stuff too.” Ryker’s words has my insides feeling like pudding. 

“Yeah well,” I chuckle softly. “I’ve been trying to do that for a year now.”

Ryker furrows his brow and tilts his head. “A year?” Ryker repeats. 

I open my mouth as I try to decide what excuse to give. I then sigh and shake my head, deciding I would be blunt about it. “Michael, my husband and Del’s father- had his heart attack almost a year ago and passed away and it’s been a bit of a challenge to figure out what to do with myself, I quit my dayjob and completely focused on Del and getting her through this while I try to figure out how to get myself through it too.” I bite down on my cheek as I see the expression that washes over his face and I can see he has several things going on at once in his mind and I give him a moment to try to ask me something but he can’t seem to settle on anything. “But Del and I are fine, we go to therapy regularly, we’re both artists and we both like working with watercolors, acrylics and clay as our creative outlets and thankfully Michael thought ahead and planned ahead and had life insurance policies at work and then had a private one too so financially we’re fine, we’re not destitute or anything and every day it gets a little easier. But it’s best that we find ways to move on and heal. That’s what this whole vacation was about. I wanted to show Del we could move on, move forward and embrace something new without feeling like we’ve abandoned the old,  that as long as we had each other, we’d be ok, and we are.” I assured him. 

“You’re so young, I can’t imagine,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Zara.”

I shake my head. “It’s ok, really.” I then laugh. “I’m not all that young. I’m 33. I was 19 when I married Michael and I was 25 when I had her and that was after three years of trying too.” I explained as Ryker blinked in surprise before he just had this warm reassuring smile that makes me feel like I’m melting again. 

“Well, if you need anything while you’re here, you have my number, don’t be afraid to use it.” He runs his fingers through his thick hair. “Oh but, the food,” he chuckles. “So, are you a good cook?” He asks curiously.  

“Well I’m no michelin star chef,” I tease as Ryker barks a laugh and shakes his head. “But I like to think I’m fairly decent, I believe in the four food groups, butter, bone marrow, bacon grease and lard and one does not get this pudgy only eating salad.” I joke as I grab and jiggle my pudgy belly for emphasis as Ryker busts out laughing having nodded in agreement to my sentiments. “But seriously, even I’m banging my head against a wall with Del. She used to be a such a great adventurous eater and once Michael passed, she did a 180 and now she only wants to eat the foods Michael liked and Michael had one hell of a narrow food palate. I don’t know if that’s one of the ways she’s choosing to grieve or what but all it’s been for the last year has been lots and lots of chicken, pork, beef and venison. In that order because he liked to hunt and she thinks deer chili is better than beef. But we’ve eaten the last of it now and I’m uncomfortable accepting any other “sources” of it.” I explained. 

“Sources?” Ryker repeated in confusion. 

 “Michael’s friends who also hunt who now think they have a shot with me to get at Michael’s life insurance money, which they all have allusions of grandure as to how much I have and they want Michael’s stuff and live the idyllic life he seemingly led with me because and I quote “ I was their gold standard for a wife” while I was married to Michael and to them I say “Fuck off.” Because they’re all losers who I have absolutely no interest in, they’re repulsive to me because they did see Michael be an asshole to me and they would just laugh at his “jokes” at my expense and there is no way in hell I’m putting up with anything like that ever again and they can go to hell.” I reassured him which he beamed so proudly at me back. 

 “Well, how about this?” He claps his hands together and rubs his palms together. “You go and stock up on groceries for your time here, and I have tomorrow off. I can come over and show you some tips and we’ll take it from there.”

“Really?” I gasp in awe, a bright excited smile blooming on my face, lighting it up like sunshine itself. 

“Yeah, really,” he says with a grin.

“Let me pay you,” I quickly offer. “I can’t let you do that for nothing.”

He shakes his head. “No way. Not often I get to show off my skills to a willing audience, much less a more deserving one.” he grins. 

“Well, I’m a licensed massage therapist!” I counter. “Therapeutic and medical massage,” my cheeks burn. “I can give you a massage in payment. I'm licensed and everything.” I offer coyly. 

A shy smile flickers over his face. “A massage? Really? Would I have to get naked?”

I lose my breath for a moment at the thought. “Not unless you’d want to be, you’d be covered with sheets and blankets and stuff. I would just have to tell my mom to pack my table and supplies in the trunk,” I squeak.

“Never had a massage,” he says thoughtfully. “Ok, sure. One massage for cooking lessons it is!” Ryker agrees before Del sees us and comes outside. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Del asks as she tilts her head. 

“I thought I saw a wolf and freaked out like a spaz.” I admitted. 

“Well there are wolves around so it’s ok. Your mom said you’ve been painting.” Ryker quickly changes the subject. 

“Yeah, let me show you!” Del invites him in by taking his hand and dragging him into the house before she has him sit down on the sofa with her. 

“Wow! You painted this?” Ryker exclaims as he sees the works of art and is impressed by Del’s skills as Del started talking his ear off and showing him her old sketches but before we know it, he has to leave to go into to work and we have a wolf reserve to visit. 

And they do bring out the baby wolves who are cuter than a bug’s ear. So fluffy. After that I get a call from the mechanic, and the car is toast. Like it’ll cost more to repair it than it’s worth. So I tell him to scrap it and I call my parents and tell them the change of plans and to drive my camaro down because I know that won’t fail me which they agree to then I shoot a quick text to Ryker and inform him of the changes. Part of me really wants to see the look on Ryker’s face when he sees the car. I want him to like it. Hell even Michael knew it was a “panty dropper” and it was. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m really lucky, it might do that again. Hopefully. 

After we visit the reserve we head to Big Billy’s and I explain the new situation and now instead of renting the cabin for $65 a night, we now get to rent it for $100 a week, another ‘kid and bad luck discount’ which I won’t argue with and Del gets signed up for the kids camp which she is ecstatic to start that weekend, then we head to the grocery store which is amazing, packed with everything I could possibly want or need and I go nuts because if Ryker is coming over tomorrow, I’m going to show him my best dishes and hopefully he’ll like them. The only thing I notice that is strange is that there isn’t a meat section, there’s a seafood section though. An employee tells me the reason is because of the local butcher shop, it has a monopoly on the meat in town.

Del and I then go to the butcher’s shop to pick up meat. Inside it’s like a little deli, very cute and quaint. The man behind the counter looks like an angel in a painting. His hair is platinum white and he has the most amazing gray eyes.

“You’re new!” He says brightly. “What can I get you?”

“Hi, uhm, yes,” I chuckle. “We’re on a surprise vacation here. I just need to pick up a few things to get us through the week.” I say. 

“Well good, we’re happy to have you, my name is Adam,” He offers his hand for a handshake which I readily shake. 

“Zara Norris, pleasure to meet you and this is my daughter Delilah, Del for short,” I reply. Something about him makes me feel comfortable, like he’s the world’s friendliest puppy. And I look over his selection and my jaw drops and my mouth waters. He has the usual, chicken, pork and beef and a wide variety of fresh sausages. But he also has mutton, lamb and goat too, plus game meat!  Pheasant, boar, venison, rabbit, duck, goose and turkey, both wild and domestic. I want it all. That employee wasn’t joking when they said this place had the monopoly. They even have charcuterie in addition to the lunch meats and cheeses. I’m in heaven. So I get a bit of everything.  

After shopping, Del takes a bath using the bath bombs she’s brought with her in the big claw foot tub in my rooom as I’m putting the groceries away I hear something strange. I look around for a moment then hear something outside again. I go to the sliding glass door and push back the curtains which I had closed before we left, sitting in the trees beyond the porch I see a massive wolf. This one looks different than the one I saw earlier, this one is mostly black with bright blue eyes, almost husky-ish but still very wolf. 

I nearly scream but I keep myself quiet since I don’t want to freak Del out and I have to keep my own emotions in check because I don’t want to have another panic attack and start shocking again. I’m not sure what to do, I just stand there staring at it, breathing heavily, afraid that if I move my eyes away, it’ll vanish. The wolf gazes back at me with eyes so blue it makes me break out in goose flesh. It lifts its head then rises from the ground and I watch as it walks towards me and I can only hope it can’t break through the glass. 

“Can we talk?” It says.

I almost pass out but I shock, my whole body spasming and jerking as I cry out and whimper before I bend over and lean against the glass and try to catch my breath before I look up to see it’s in a submissive pose on the back porch before it tries making itself smaller by crawling on its belly towards me slowly, it’s tail tucked between its legs and it’s whining like it’s the one in pain. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s ok, I’ll never hurt you I swear on my life, please, Zara,” it murmurs. “I don’t want you to be scared especially of me, that’s why I’m doing this now.” The wolf backs away as far away from me while still being on the porch before it slowly stands up on his hind legs, his body, taking on a more human shape and I suddenly realize it’s not a wolf wolf, it’s a werewolf. And it knows my name. 

Against all reason, I take it for it’s word and manage to recover and I bravely open the door and step out onto the porch but slide the door shut behind me.

“I’m sorry I…” he huffs. “I wanted to do this right, but I didn’t want to scare Del or you, especially you. I also didn’t want to force something on you if you weren’t ready.” It explains. 

I furrow my brow as I look at them and suddenly it clicks, the voice. “Ryker?” I whisper before I slowly start to walk over to him. “What’s-” I look around in a panic. “What the hell is going on?”

“Let me explain.” He walks up onto the porch. “Hearthway Hollow, it’s much more than what it looks like,” he says with a gentle voice.

“Wait. That wolf I saw this morning?” I realize and put two and two together. I’m an idiot. 

“It was Shahan,” he says.

“Is everyone here a werewolf?” I ask curiously. 

Ryker sighs and nods his head. “Let me explain, please.” He smiles gently at me. “It’s a long story.”

We end up sitting on the stairs of the porch, talking for a long time. He tells me how Hearthway Hollow is a sanctuary for werewolves, a place where they can find a home and not have to hide. There is a tradition when a ware finds their mate, one that requires consent at all costs. The ritual includes the ware going hunting and leaving dead animals for their intended to show that they can provide for them and their family. But since I had Del, Ryker didn’t want to scare her, let alone me. He decided to come to me, as he was, and explain everything to me and I’m so grateful, so so grateful he did and the longer he talks, the more human he looks, at least in his top half. 

“The moment I saw you in the restaurant I was absolutely floored,” he whispers. “But you had a kid, and a wedding ring and I thought for sure I missed my chance. But-” he laughs softly. “This morning, I was so excited when you messaged me I literally fell out of bed and hit my head and then when you called in a panic, I panicked and I had to fight not to shift to come running over and risk scaring you even more than I already have.” He looks at me with sad, soft eyes. “You just lost your husband. I didn’t want to force something on you and Del like this. Besides, you’re not going to be here long.” Ryker sighed sadly. 

“I’m not-” I hesitate and sigh. “I don’t think I’m worth it, Ryker.”

He stares at me in shock. “What?”

I sigh tiredly. “You’re a bit younger than I am, you have all kinds of possibilities ahead of you and you could get anyone you wanted and trust me, I have been through the ringer. I have...let’s just say that I’m obviously not mint in box.” I try to explain delicately. 

“No one is,” he scoffs.

“Listen,” I hold his hands in my own. “You deserve better than this, better than me.” I tell him and my heart breaks and my voice cracks. “I’m a widow with enough baggage to fill a jumbo jet. I’m a single mom to a precocious but supremely spoiled child. She is the only grandchild on both sides of my family. Not to mention the laundry list of health problems I have so much more than those migraines and the conversion disorder- I have Crohn’s disease, chronic fatigue syndrome, I’m manic bipolar, I have depression and anxiety and PTSD. I’m basically six kinds of crazy. I’m not great with money and the only reason I’m doing as good as I am is because Michael was and his father helped me with the life insurance policies so I didn’t blow it all already. I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I said that Michael’s friends thought I was the gold standard but that’s only because they don’t really know me. They haven’t seen me at 3am when I’m in the middle of a Crohn’s flare and puking my guts up and I’m dehydrated to the point my veins collapse and they can’t get an IV in and blow every vien they try until my arms are more bruises than anything and they have to resort to a picc line or a port. They haven’t seen me in a manic episode when I blow a thousand dollars on a shopping spree. They haven’t seen me in a suicidal depressive episode when I’ve tried to kill myself via overdose and have to commit me to a suicide center for a week until I snap out of it. Granted I’m on really good meds for the latter so those last two things haven’t happened in years but still. When I say I’m broken and you can do so so so much better than me, I mean it.  I’m flattered, I truly am but I can’t help but think you’re better off...” I’m cut off as Ryker kisses me. His lips are soft and warm and I cannot help but be pulled into him.

I meet his kiss, wanting it so badly. It’s been so long, so damn long and he tastes so fucking good! He wraps his arms around me, hugging me to his strong, warm body and I cling to him like he’s my lifeline. 

“I think you’re beautiful and definitely worth it. Even if you only have a dollar to your name, I don’t care, I can afford to take care of you and Del, no problem. None of those issues make you any less valuable, especially to me. I’m just sorry you suffer but if I have to spend the rest of my life in and out of hospitals or whatever, I’ll happily do it. You’re an investment, one that I’m happy to make and your love and affection is all the dividends I could ever want or ask for.” he whispers. “And when I look at you I don’t see what you see. I see my mate and to me that’s all that matters, I don’t want anyone but you and if I have to wait, I will, I’ve waited my whole life for you. I’ll wait as long as I need to because you are absolutely worth it. Plus I like Del, she’s funny and a much cooler kid than I think you realize, she’s awesome and if we gotta go slow for her we’ll go slow for her. You being a single mom? That’s not a problem for me, in any way shape or form. You aren’t used and broken like a box of tissues or a toy in a box. You’re a human being who’s lived in the world and this world can be heartless sometimes, no one makes it out unscathed.” he scoffs. “You’re this beautiful, soft, lovely and amazing woman. You’re so strong and resilient for making it this far. Give me a chance to prove it to you. Please.” Ryker pleaded as he holds my face in his hands so he keeps his gaze locked with mine and occasionally wipes the rivers of tears I’m crying away. 

I try to hold back the tears but I can’t. I bury my face against his chest and sob deeply. He holds me the entire time, rubbing his hand up and down my back. He kisses the top of my head and buries his face into the crux of my neck and shoulder and when I’m done crying, he wipes away my tears.

“I’m sorry,” I blubber. 

“It’s ok,” he whispers. He kisses my cheek then smiles lovingly at me. “Let me court you, while you’re here Zara,” he says gently. “Let me treat you like the queen you are and Del like the princess she is. We’ll figure it out.”

“Ok,” I whisper softly. “But you have been warned,” I sniffle.

“So have you.” He kisses me again. “I don’t intend to let you go so easily. So try all your tricks.” He chuckles. 

“Oh yeah, sobbing on your shoulder and telling you all my problems is a great one.” I try to laugh.

Ryker runs his fingers through my hair then cups my cheek. As I gaze into those beautiful blue eyes I realize I may not escape Hearthway Hollow and if I do, I probably won’t be gone for very long. 

[enderrealms]

Linking Hands, and Linking Hearts: a Reddie Fanfic

I’ll probably continue this! But right now, I leave this here. Be free!

((This is my version of a fix it fic that takes place after It 2 where they are able to get Eddie to the hospital and he lives and stuff))

~~~

Richie Tozier was a fucking mess all around.

First, he threw up everywhere because of Mike’s god forsaken phone call. He didn’t even know why, at the time. First show in a while that he bombed, to nervous to do or say anything properly. So much for his confident reputation.

Then, he drove all the way down to the shithole town that he grew up in. Which he only realized just then. Just arriving in Derry stirred some memories right up. Some good, some not so much. Nothing too awful yet, except the looming fear and dread everyone felt.

And then he walked into the restaurant to see Eddie Kaspbrak standing right in front of him, and everything flooded back.

“Oh right. I’m gay,” he thought. That wasn’t a new one. He had been in the closet for as long as he could remember, which was even more time now that he had returned to Derry and everything had come back in patches. But when he saw Eddie, everything flew straight back into his mind. Including his huge crush on Eddie that was more love than crush.

Shit.

The dinner had gone well, joking and having fun with the other Losers. His heart skipped a beat whenever Eddie even so much as looked in his direction- fluttering when they arm wrestled, any time he made physical contact with Eddie motherfucking (que shitty “your mom” joke) Kasprak. But: Eddie was married. That was a shocker and a half, and though Richie never thought in a million years that Eddie could return any affection, it still stung.

Of course, when the fortune cookies came out, all hell broke loose.

He didn’t even want to think about that chaos, including the chaos of finding out about the murderous clown monster that they had to kill because they cut their fucking hands 27 years ago. And the sad chaos of finding out about Stan.

Stan. Stanley. Richie’s best friend as a kid (of course Eddie was that too, along with Bill, but Eddie was different, and though it was 27 years ago, and they were way over it, Richie still held some contempt for Bill over the fight they had then. So Stan.

But now Stan was gone, and everyone was devastated. They were all handling it in all sorts of ways, most of them drinking down their pain once they got straight to the hotel, but everyone was dealing with it. Stan would not be forgotten. They would not forget again.

The next day was a nightmare of course, going to the Neibolt shack and fighting the god forsaken clown. And facing It beforehand while in town looking for his weird object thing that he apparently needed. The words stung in his brain. I know your secret. Richie was always scared of clowns. It didn’t help that he was nearly killed by one several times.

And then he got trapped in the deadlights.

He saw things in there, horrible, horrible things. He watched Stan die. He watched them all die. It was horrific, and he’d never forget it again. It felt like ages that he was trapped in the gaze of the deadlights, hovering like 20 feet off the ground. But really, it was only a little bit, because his fucking knight in shining armor Eddie came in and stopped that. Hovering over him with the biggest, cutest grin on his face, so confident that he just beat It.

Richie didn’t want to remember what happened next.

The weird talon-like thing that stabbed Eddie right in the chest. The splatter of Eddie’s blood in him as he stared into the panicked expression of the love of his life. The fear in his eyes. When he was tossed about the room like a ragdoll. He didn’t want to remember, yet he couldn’t forget.

Richie didn’t leave Eddie’s side until it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t do it until he was needed by his friends to kill It once and for all. Then it was right back to Eddie.

Thankfully, he was still muttering little incoherent phrases, meaning he was alive. For then.

After using Richie’s jacket to try to staunch the blood flow, the rest argued about who should carry him, until Richie broke through all of them and said he’d do it. Nobody argued. Bev immediately called 911 as soon as she could. Richie rushed onto the ambulance before they could stop him, and everyone else agreed they’d meet them there.

It was torture to see Eddie be whisked into surgery; to know he was probably in pain, and had a low chance of living. Eddie slumped into a hospital chair, and he waited.

Eventually he was allowed to stay in Eddie’s room, with enough convincing, and that he did. He spent all of his time there, sleeping there, eating (barely) there. The one time he left was to take a shower, and he came straight back afterwards. It had been about 4 or 5 days in the hospital (he lost count), but it felt like an eternity.

That’s where he was now, slumped in an uncomfortable hospital chair (not like he minded much), asleep at night in Eddie’s hospital room.

He had spent the whole day staring at him, his friends coming and leaving. Eddie was their friend too, but they were also sorting out their situations and stuff; where they were going after Eddie wakes up and is out of the hospital. Richie should probably be doing that too, calls from his manager getting incessant, but his only care was Eddie. Only Eddie. It had always been Eddie.

Even when he couldn’t remember; it had been Eddie. When there was something missing from his lame life. Eddie. When he remembered. Eddie. That night at the hotel, knowing Eddie was only a few rooms away. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Eddie was his everything.

~

Eddie’s eyes slowly blinked open, greeted immediately by darkness.

It wasn’t completely pitch black, but it was pretty dim. He could make out a shape slumped in a chair next to him. At first, his chest filled with disappointment as he believed it was his wife. Why was he disappointed? It was his wife. But when he looked closer, he realized that the figure was too slim. Plus, they were asleep. Myra would never sleep in the hospital unless she was the one sick or injured. Upon further inspection, he realized that it was Richie.

Richie.

Richie fucking Tozier. What was Richie doing there? Eddie didn’t even remember why he himself was in…

Oh.

Oh!

Everything came back to Eddie that moment. Everything. The clown. The damned town. Richie hanging in the air, haze trapped directly in the deadlights. Being stabbed by It. He couldn’t recall much of anything after that.

A warm feeling blossomed in his chest when he looked back at Richie, still fast asleep in the chair, which he could only assume was very uncomfortable. Richie was there with him. He was glad. Glad to have a friend there with him. That was it. Right?

He doesn’t think about it more, because he compulsively decides to wake Richie up.

“Rich. Richie.” He whispered into the darkness. Richie gave a jolt, and jumped from his seat.

“What? What happened?” He whipped his head around in confusion. Eddie waved.

“Down here, Rich.” Richie gazed at Eddie, wide eyed. Before Eddie could do or say anything (probably make fun of him) he was enveloped in Richie’s strong embrace.

“Eds, oh my god Eds! I can’t believe you’re awake! The doctors told me you were gonna live, but part of me didn’t believe them and-” he was cut off by Eddie placing a hand over his mouth. Richie gazed back at him.

“Shut up. Also Don’t call me that.” His face contradicted his words. He was happy. He almost didn’t notice how close he was to Richie. Almost. He didn’t realize until Richie pulled fully away, dragging his chair as close as he could to Eddie’s bed.

“How are you feeling, Eds?” Eddie just rolled his eyes at the nickname, and smiled.

“Like shit. Like someone is pressing on my chest and making it hurt.” He sees Richie’s worried expression, and adds, “I’m fine, though.” Richie nodded, and then grinned once again.

“Hey, I know the feeling,” Eddie raised his eyebrow, intrigued. “It really presses on my chest when I’m under your mom-”

Eddie slapped him.

~~~

To be continued?

[aquarianlights]

Life is great, guys. :) (It really does get better.)

So I just wanted to talk about this for a minute coz for those of you who don’t know, this blog isn’t like an aesthetic blog or whatever; it’s a personal blog. I’m usually flooding it with verbose text posts, vlogs, selfies and whatnot. I haven’t been able to do that since finally pursuing my passion of medicine because the field is all-consuming. But I’m back for like another week or so, kind of. Lol. I’m going to be writing up an update on what’s going on and why I disappeared for so long and all that because I’m doing some REALLY COOL STUFF! :D And I’m excited to share it with everyone! :) I really missed you guys and I missed my blog. I may not get that text post up tonight, but here’s this one. Lol.

I know I have said I beat my depression before, but even now as I have slipped back into a depressive state and even seriously had points where I considered suicide, life is still really great. I even had a night where I relapsed for the first time in 2 years and gave myself exactly 3 cuts and had pills laid out ready to OD and you know what? The decision to text my next door neighbour (who is turning into a good friend) to come over and chat instead of going any further with all of that was SUCH an easy decision to make.

You all know how impulsive I am. I’m on the extreme end of the borderline  personality disorder spectrum. I’m as impulsive as they come. Even as depressed as I can get sometimes, overall, I’m still happy. And I want to illustrate how that can be so that everyone with depression can understand exactly HOW it gets better and what you have to look forward to in life.

There was a time when I was having a total breakdown on my closet floor. Like, panic attack and all. Couldn’t breathe, felt like I was legitimately going to die, had my phone on 911 with my thumb over dial because I really did feel like I was dying from the panic attack. As I laid there, sobbing and gasping for air, torn between “I wish I would just die” and “I should call 911 coz I feel like I’m dying”, my panic attack began to subside. As it did, I laid there sobbing unable to get up, unable to even move. But what was the very first thing my mind thought at that moment as my mind began to clear? Normally, I would think “God, I just want to die” or maybe thinking of ways to kill myself or ways to justify killing myself. But no. I didn’t. The very first thing I thought was “Wow, I’m so glad I’m alive. My life is the best it has ever been, it is so wonderful and I am so happy. I wouldn’t want to lose it.”

In that moment, after a horrible breakdown, all I could think about was how happy I was and how great my life was.

And even now, despite me being more depressed and suicidal than I have been in 2, maybe even 3 years now, I feel more motivated, driven, content, in control of my own destiny, powerful and like I really enjoy the life I’m waking up into than I ever have in my entire life. For once, I don’t mind waking up into *my* life. Sure, I would change it in a fucking heartbeat if I could. I think everyone has at least one thing about their life they would change. But I’m now one of those people that wakes up and feels motivated and excited to take on the day more often than not, instead of waking up with pain and this unbearable weight holding you down in bed not allowing you to even get up. I’m no longer that person that wakes up and just instantly bursts into tears and does everything in their power to go back to sleep. Those days are finally over for me... I dare say for good.

I don’t know what I did to deserve being happy. . . but I’ve worked so goddamn hard to get to this point. I’ve taken all the right steps over all these years and I guess it has all paid off. I’ve gone through a decade worth of finding the right combination of medications. I’ve finally found the right psychiatrist/psychologist team for med management and therapy. I’m exercising every day, I’m starting to do a bit of yoga, I’m trying to eat right and *trying* to learn to cook (even though it isn’t going well lol), I’m not starving myself anymore, I’m going to physical therapy once a week, I’m keeping myself busy, I’m exercising my mind constantly, I’m doing all the “homework” my therapist sends me home with every week...

After ALL the trial and error of sorting through therapist after therapist... I FINALLY found which “kind” of therapists work for me and which don’t so I can INSTANTLY tell from almost the very first session now if they are going to work for me or not. If I can’t tell, then by the end of the month, I’ll know for sure. I know all the coping mechanisms in the book and I now utilize every one that works for me. And when my therapists ask me what I need from them, I know exactly what to tell them.

I have worked SO. GODDAMN. HARD. ...and it has paid off. It has FINALLY paid off.

I Pavloved my brain honestly. And it worked.

See, my VERY FIRST psychologist as an adult told me I had “Learned Helplessness”, which I did, due to my mother, who is still trying to inflict it on me. It had caused a *LOT* of my depression. This psych had suggested to me that I do corrected thinking, which I’m sure a lot of you are familiar with.

It’s where every time you have a negative/bad/degrading/those kind of thought(s), you *immediately* correct it in your mind and if possible aloud, as well. I thought that was stupid back when I was 18. I thought everything was stupid back then. That psych tried so hard with me and kept me for a year before she finally had to discharge me for noncompliance after I refused to speak for like.... 10 sessions. Idk why she tried so hard for so long, honestly.

Fast forward like... at least 5(?) years from that time.

I was living with my parents after one of those many traumatic break ups I had. Idr which one. But it was one that reminded me of my learned helplessness. And I was in with a new psychologist and they told me the same thing and I was like “oh”. So I started doing it.

Fast forward like a year later. It’s now a habit. I’m now doing it subconsciously without me even realizing it. But the bad thoughts are still the primary thought and I’m still having to correct myself. It’s just that I’m not consciously doing the correcting anymore.

Fast forward to that moment in the closet. That was the first time I realized that my negative thoughts are no longer the primary thoughts anymore. The corrected thoughts are now the primary thoughts. Those were things that I had been telling myself over and over to try to convince myself to believe it. “Fake it till you make it.” My psychs had always told me “even if it isn’t true, if you tell it to yourself enough times, you can make yourself believe it”. Now, studying medicine, I know why. It all makes sense now. Conditioning is so real. And it works. It changed the entire way I think and go about life. My outlook on just about everything has totally changed and the way I do things has just flipped. Things that would have sent me to a psych ward for a suicide attempt in the past in like 0.2 seconds are now motivators for success for me and give me reason to keep doing what I love. It’s unreal what positive conditioning can do if you just change your entire outlook by devote yourself to correcting all your negative thinking every single time until your brain starts doing it on its own.

I’m going to buy a clicker that they use on dogs and click it every time I feel motivated because that’s something I still sometimes struggle with more than happiness and I need motivation more than I need happiness, honestly. (I had to pick one or the other; Can’t pick both, you have to focus in on just one when doing this.) So I’m trying to sort of...bottle motivation, if you will. If I can just click it every time I feel a rush of motivation, which is at random throughout the day multiple times a day, in about a year or two time (I hope, maybe longer), I’ll be able to click it and get a rush of motivation from the sound. :)

ANYWAYS.

I know I post a lot about my journey with mental illness, so I just wanted to let you guys know that, uh... it hasn’t changed. My “it gets better” posts are still happening. It did get better. It stayed better. Just because I feel suicidal or depressed sometimes doesn’t mean it isn’t better anymore. It is still very much better and I am still very much as happy as can be. I am allowed to feel suicidal and depressed within my bubble of overall happiness. That’s what a lifetime of major depressive disorder and suicidal ideation can do to someone. I still feel like I beat depression even though it is a bit more prevalent in my life now than it has been in a long time. I feel I beat it because I can deal with it so much better than I ever have been able to do before. It’s so much more than sadness, but it’s not something that is going to ruin me and kill me like I was in danger of prior to this transformation, if that makes sense. I’ll kill it before it kills me.

So.

I’m going to write up that update post on what is going on in my life. Why I just disappeared off the face of the planet all last month and a little before that and a little after and so on and so forth. I’M DOING SOME REALLY COOL THINGS, YOU GUYS, AND I’M SO EXCITED FOR THE COMING FALL SEMESTER!!!!!! :D

Be sure to read that whenever I get it posted up! ...maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. Idk. Probably tomorrow, honestly. [shruggy emoji] I’ve got a lot going on right now, but everything is so much slower paced than I’m accustomed to at this point so I feel like I have so much free time. Haha.

Anywayyyyys...

It gets so much better, you guys. Just hold on till it does. And if you ever need anyone to vent to, just hop on in my inbox. Anon is always on! I don’t wanna lie, but chances are, I probably won’t answer you for like... weeks to months at a time to be totally honest coz I’m hella busy, but know I’ll read them! I always do. :)

-KQR

[thatonelucky]

The Jingle Jangle Shamble

So this was a prompt sent in by @lucyyannabel ! Hope you enjoy love! 

Prompt - Betty turns to Jingle Jangle in order to stay awake and find out the identity of the Black Hood. Two days after beginning to take the drug, Jughead finds her in the Blue&Gold shaking to the point where she can’t even hold a pen, looking utterly exhausted. He quickly discovers the source of Betty’s trembling.

               Betty felt like she was drowning. The air had been kicked out of her lungs and she had no safety rope to latch onto. There was nothing that could pull her up to the surface. The only thing she ever wanted now hates her. The look he gave her broke her heart in two. She wanted desperately to hold him close and tell him it was all a lie but she didn’t have the right to. She couldn’t put his life at risk for such a selfish reason.

               She hadn’t slept in a week, she was weak. The sound of the lollipop theme tune engrained in her brain, keeping her from closing her eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. At first, she drank coffee and drank energy drinks to keep herself awake. She was fully aware of the risks but she knew what she was doing. She stayed up all day and all night, never stopping once. At first she was only researching lightly. But the more she heard about Jughead the harder she worked herself. Her main aim was to discover who the black hood was. She didn’t know how, but she knew she had to do it. Not just for her, but for the people who died and the people who have been hurt by this predator.

               The thought had never crossed her mind before, it never would have. But the energy that she saw at Veronica’s party only made her indulge the idea more. It was harmless, she wouldn’t have too much. It’s a onetime thing.

               And so, as evident as ever, the onetime thing turned into a bedtime ritual. Betty thought she could stop whenever she wanted, she knew she had good self-control. She would never let drugs control her. Right? Wrong. Betty couldn’t stop herself from using the drug as an escape. Her usual tight ponytail transformed into a curly mess of golden waves, being a good hiding spot for her red rimmed eyes to back away from direct contact with anything else. Betty couldn’t focus on her grades, her friends didn’t care about her anymore, Betty was spiralling and no one noticed. Well, not until now.

                 Betty had been hiding out in the Blue and Gold offices for most of her time at school. The dusty office reminded her of the good times with her and Jughead before any of this crazy mess happened. She likes to stand and watch certain spaces, acting out in her head the stages of Jughead falling in love with her. A stray tear fell from her eye as she was staring at the very spot where Jughead’s desk used to be. Before he ultimately left her.

               Betty was writing up some drafts for a new issue of the paper but her hands were shaking too much. She couldn’t tell if it was from the drugs, the lack of sleep or the dull ache in her heart whenever the thought of Jughead crosses her mind. She just sits and stares for a while, letting herself fall back into the warm memories of the first time Jughead kissed her, the first time Jughead held her hand, the first time Jughead called her his girlfriend and the first time Jughead said he loved her.

               “I love you,  Betty Cooper.” “I love you,  Betty Cooper.” “I love you,  Betty Cooper.” “I love you,  Betty Cooper.” “I love you,  Betty Cooper.” The words replayed over and over again in her head. Her mind was spinning with pictures of his smile, the way he held her waist, the kisses he would leave just behind her ear. Everything was so familiar.

               “Jughead Jones, I love you.” She spoke out to the empty desk chair opposite her.  She attempted to pick up the pen again, her whole body wracking and uncontrollable. She closed her eyes and prayed for some control. Control.

               “Betts?” A rush of urgency was filled in that voice. The same voice that occupied her thoughts at that very moment. If he wasn’t in a Serpent jacket, Betty might have thought that it was her mind playing tricks on her. But inevitably, he was stood 6 feet away from her, a look of panic etched on his features. She had no words to speak, her body shivered at a faster rate, craving a release.

               “I-I- I’m sorry Juggie.” Betty stuttered over her words, her head feeling very dizzy suddenly. In an instant Jughead was at her side, catching her before she fell to the floor unconscious. Her body was still shaking but she was unresponsive. He screamed for help, ripping his phone from his back pocket and dialling 911. All he could do was hold her tight and cry into the hair atop her head.

               Jughead couldn’t remember much of what happened after that. It was all a blur of tears, paramedics and a hospital waiting room. She’d been in the recovery room for almost 2 hours now. No one was allowed to see her. Alice and Hal had rushed from work to the hospital. Upon finding Jughead crying in a hospital chair, Alice said no words but pulled him into an embrace, letting her own tears flow freely. Alice may be stone cold, but she’s not heartless.

               “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get there sooner and I didn’t see the signs. If she dies I don’t know how I’ll cope. I love Betty more than I’ve ever loved anything.” Jughead sobbed, the shaking of his body much like Betty’s. He hoped to the Lord above that she would pull through. Alice only stroked his hair, keeping him in her arms until he calmed down. He wondered if this was what having a mother was like. Maybe something close would do.                              

               “Family of Elizabeth Cooper?” A man in scrubs walked down the hallway, searching for the Cooper family in question. Hal stood up immediately, ushering the man over. “She’s stable; the drug mixed with the exhaustion caused her to have a seizure. We managed to reduce the drug level in her blood but right now she’s resting. You can go in and see her I’ll just need a parent or guardian to come and sign some paperwork for me?” Everyone sighed in relief, she was stable and that’s all the mattered. Hal offered to go and sign the paperwork whilst Alice and Jughead rushed to Betty’s room.

               “She looks so frail. So drained of life.” Alice cried quietly, walking over to the bed Betty was asleep on. She wasn’t wrong. Betty’s skin was a whiter shade of pale, her hair looked messy, and she looked weak. “That’s not my Betty. Someone has to have forced her. There has to be another side of the story.” Alice sat next to Betty’s bed, grasping Betty’s cold hand in her own. Jughead followed in suit, mumbling agreeance before seating himself on the opposite side of Betty.

               Not much more was said that night. Alice and Jughead slept beside Betty in their respective chairs whilst Hal had volunteered to take the floor. All of them waiting for Betty to wake up. And when she did, she told them the truth.

               “The black hood’s been harassing me for a few weeks. He made me cut off Veronica and Jughead. He said that if I didn’t he’d-“Betty stopped, looking at her hands as if any of this was her fault. “He said he would kill them. I had no choice. I was so alone and I figured if I found out who the Black Hood was then I could get back to Juggie quicker.” She paused again, glancing at Jughead who squeezed her hand reassuringly, giving her a loving stare. “I started to take Jingle Jangle to stay awake. I was prepared to do anything if it meant getting my life back quicker. Then this happened and I’m so sorry.” Betty sobbed lightly.

               “Betty this isn’t your fault. None of this was you baby.” Alice placed a kiss on Betty’s head, laying her down and tucking her in. “Try to get some more sleep. We’ll be here when you wake up.” Betty nodded at her mother and then looked at Jughead.

               “Can I have a minute to talk to Jughead? Alone?” Betty sat up, ready to face whatever came next. Jughead smiled lightly as Alice and Hal both kissed Betty on the head and then left the room, promising to bring back coffee and some real food.    

               “Betts, I love you. I didn’t stop loving you and I promise that I’m never going to. You don’t need to protect me. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” Jughead held onto Betty’s hand staring into her emerald eyes with every word he spoke. Trying to prove to her in some poetic way that he meant everything he said. “You gave me one hell of a scare; I never wanna be without you again. Okay?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Betty smiled tiredly.

               “Okay.” She uttered out, kissing him for the briefest second and laying back down to get some rest. Jughead stroked her hair until he was sure she was asleep. Watching her chest rise and fall at a steady rate reminded him that this was all going to be okay. He has Betty. She’s alive and the Black Hood has another thing coming if he thinks that Jughead if ever going to leave Betty’s side again.

  He was a man in love. 

Remember I accept prompts and any feedback you’d like to give me! Just send me an ask!

[theoddcatlady]

Mismatched

I have heterochromia.

My mom has it too, only hers is sectoral heterochromia. A part of her left eye is brown while most of it is blue. Mine’s complete. My right eye is brown, the left is blue. As a kid I’d get the most excited reaction out of the adults-

“His eyes are so beautiful!”

“Wow, they’re different colors!”

“How stunning!”

I’d like to say that my eyes are only one part of myself, that it’s just a slice of the pie that makes up me. But really, the only fascinating part of myself is the heterochromia. I’m average in grades. Height. Strength. IQ. Not much stunning charisma either- I tend to stick to myself.

But in the end, it’s my eyes that saved my life. And maybe the lives of a few others.

The killings started my sophomore year. A young couple going out to smooch in their car was found dead, mangled by some wild beast. Their faces had been eaten off, their tongues ripped out, and their eyes completely gone.

I didn’t know them, they went to the private school. All the same, the stories started up about the Gosbecks Knoll Beast.

My mom laughed when I told her about it. Apparently the ‘Beast’ was around in her highschool days too, two people turned up dead before it stopped. Conveniently, at the same time a bear was brought down in the area. She told me just not to go smooching any girls around there and I’d be fine.

Of course this is when I corrected her and said ‘boys’ but this really didn’t take her by surprise. Mom’s good like that.

However, this time, The Beast wasn’t content just to gnaw on the faces of horny teens on our Lover’s Lane.

When I’d gotten to school about a week after the first incident I knew something was wrong. Everyone was quiet, and a lot of people were crying. I found my friend Trent and asked him what was up. He criticized me for not checking my Facebook before he told me.

Douglas Stafford. Better known as Doug. Senior. Everyone loved him. He was a nice guy. Heck, even to lil ole wallflower me. I’d gotten lost my first day of freshman year and he pointed me in the right direction. Even offered to walk me there. I never talked to him again, but damn. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

He’d turned up dead in his parent’s garage. His face gnawed on just like the pair from earlier.

The next day there was a school assembly where the principal even teared up a bit and told us that it was okay if we were upset and if necessary we could take an absence from class to talk to the school counselor. Doug’s girlfriend Cathy was in the front row bawling. They’d dated since their little freshman years, and it was pretty obvious they would’ve one day gotten a house with a white picket fence and a dog.

Cathy was the last casualty of the school year, a few months later she was found dead in the forest. The Beast hadn’t been the one to kill her though- she’d hung herself and apparently Beastie helped himself, at least according to the rumors.

During the summer everything went quiet, and soon the talks of dead teens faded into the background. I think Doug’s parents started up a fund for depressed youth. I spent ninety percent of the summer in my bedroom playing way too many video games.

I also came out on Facebook. I got a lot of approval. A lot of ‘you’re perfect the way you are’. And a lot of ‘dude it was OBVIOUS.’

However, Trent didn’t see it as most people did. He unfriended me almost immediately and when I got back to school he’d apparently been badmouthing me to our mutual friends, none of them wanted anything to do with me anymore.

It hurt. I won’t lie, it hurt a lot. But I chose to ignore it for the most part. So I lost all my close friends. Big deal. I could get new ones.

Yeah, no, not happening.

Like I said, my social skills suck. The only reason Trent and I were friends in the first place was because we were assigned to be project partners in the fourth grade. We got a B. And now whenever he talked to me every other sentence had the word ‘fag’ or ‘queer’ thrown in someplace. Shows how little I knew about my best friend right?

But this is when the murders REALLY picked up the pace.

The first victim of junior year was Camille Dunn. She’d missed her bus home and decided to walk. The next morning a dogwalker found her stretched out on the sidewalk. Eyes gone and face eaten off. The Beast was back.

Clearly there was some madman or wild animal on the loose and everyone put up their guard. But now I think this is when the Beast got really cocky. He realized he could get away with this shit.

The next victims were in their damn house. An elderly couple, John and Beatrice. They lived across the street from me. When I woke up the next morning to sirens, my heart sank. I thought Beatrice’s heart finally gave out on her.

Noooo, the Beast just decided to up his game by ripping out said heart. It was the same thing though- ate the faces and the eyes. It got into the house through the back window, judging by the bloody prints. Kids whispered about how supposedly the prints looked like a humans but clawed. Sightings of The Beast grew in number. A freak that had fangs and glowing eyes, his only desire being to hunt and kill.

Of course my mom immediately kicked in a curfew and kept the house secure. At night I’d hear her wake up and walk around, as if to make sure we were safe.

I believed in the Beast when she saw it too.

I woke up to hear her scream and I ran to the source. My mom was white as a ghost, her hand on her heart as she stared out the now empty window.

“It… it was there. I don’t know what it was, but- fuck, fuck, call the police, call the police right now!”

My mom doesn’t cuss. She’s a classy lady like that. I grabbed the junior baseball bat I used as a kid and called 911. Cops showed up surprisingly fast and mom told them what happened while her eyes still darted to the window on occasion.

She’d gone down because she couldn’t sleep and it was at the window. Its shape was vaguely humanoid but its eyes did in fact glow. That’s when she screamed. It must’ve not expected her to see it as it took off running. And sure enough, when I went into the backyard the next morning, its feet were indeed clawed. I didn’t bother collecting evidence as I’m sure everyone would’ve thought I faked it, but I knew the Beast was real.

Two days later I got kidnapped by my so called ‘friend’.

I was walking home from school when Trent ran up behind me, acting all buddy buddy until he got close. Then I felt a switchblade press against my side. Trent was still smiling, but it was cold, dark.

“Start walking, you fucking queer.”

The biggest ‘well shit’ moment of my life.

I didn’t try to be the hero and get the knife, Trent was bigger than me and I didn’t have a prayer. We walked until we got to his car, where he pushed me into the backseat and he duct-taped my hands and feet together.

He drove us out of town to this abandoned old shed. Two other guys I didn’t know were waiting there, and I saw more knives. I was close to pissing myself while still being neck deep in denial. Surely this had to be a joke though. Just a prank to scare me.

Trent dragged me inside and slammed the door.

It was dark and I couldn’t see a thing. I got whacked in the stomach and the air whooshed out of my lungs.

“You fucking fag. How many times did you touch me when I slept over, huh?” I could hear the sneer in Trent’s voice.

I groaned as I was shoved to my knees. “Never, Trent. You’re not exactly my type,” I said as I struggled against the tape.

I got kicked across the face and I hit the floor. I felt one of my teeth come loose and blood start to pool in my gums.

Trent squatted down next to me. I could barely make out his silhouette in the cracks in the shed.

“Fucking liar. You’re a freak. And now you’re gonna be another victim of the Gosbecks Knoll Beast, old buddy.”

I felt the blade press right beneath my blue eye.

“Hope your mommy doesn’t miss your creepy ass eyes, faggot!”

I wanted to shut my eyes. Hoped that he’d drive the knife right into my brain so I didn’t have to feel it. Instead I felt my eyes stay wide open as the blade glinted, and I suddenly made out Trent and his three goonies…

Yeah. Three goonies. There were only two outside the shed.

Guess the Beast really doesn’t care for copycats.

I heard the scream before the tallest of the figures slammed the other two heads together. When standing straight up he almost reached the ceiling. Trent whipped around and the blade nicked below my eye.

“What the fuck-“

Another whack and Trent was on the ground. I heard him choking and realized I smelled blood.

The figure moved onto me and he hoisted me up to his level. I felt claws tear my shirt. I was certain I’d be dead.

Then I felt the monster pause.

“… Eyes?”

I passed out.

When I came to, it was now dark outside, and we were no longer in the shed. Now we were in a cabin, lit by a lantern.

And I saw the Beast in his entirety.

He looked vaguely human, wearing what looked like a loincloth, had pale skin and black stringy hair that hung down his back. His skin was occasionally broken up by patches of scales, and his fingers looked like a tiny blade stuck out of each. His spine was lined with thin bristles that would rise and fall with each breath.

Trent was hung up in the corner by a hook, awake and filled with terror. I could smell more blood. The Beast examined Trent’s face thoughtfully before his middle finger carved through his cheek.

I shut my eyes tight when I heard Trent scream.

The Beast made almost no sound at all, other than a soft hum as he worked on carving off Trent’s face. When I took a peek, I saw the gleaming white of Trent’s cheekbones.

My eyes shut again.

Finally when the screams went quiet, I heard footsteps approach. Felt his huge presence kneel over me. His hair smelled like pond weeds.

“… Open. Open your eyes.”

I did, although I’m not sure why.

His face was kinda human. Had a strong nose and gaunt features. But it was his eyes that caught me.

They glowed all right. But the left one was yellow, and the right eye was violet.

The Beast inhaled sharply before his hand reached up to my face. I flinched and tilted my head away but he only hushed me as he lightly caressed my cheek. His claws didn’t even break skin.

“… Eyes. They don’t… match.”

I swallowed. “N… neither do yours,” I pointed out.

The Beast grinned, his crooked teeth flecked with blood. “No. No they don’t,” He said, almost if he was trying not to laugh.

I don’t know what possessed me to do this, but I reached up to touch his face too. His skin was oily, it almost reminded me of a fish. “They uh, look good though?” I offered. Play nice with the monster, maybe you can go home.

This comment struck him, he looked shocked. Then he pulled me into the most uncomfortable hug of my life.

“… Only one. Thought I was the only one,” He sobbed, I felt his greasy tears hit the top of my head.

Really not sure of how to handle this, I patted his back, careful to avoid the spines. God knew they were probably poisonous. Thankfully the Beast seemed to appreciate this.

I’m really not sure how I fell asleep with a giant stinky monster practically spooning me, but when I woke up, the police were there. According to them, someone called 911 from my phone and told them where to find me.

Trent’s body was found strung up in the other room with the other two guys. They’d been almost entirely butchered. It was a miracle I was alive, according to the police.

I attended Trent’s funeral. I don’t know why but I did. His sister apologized for all the bullshit he did to me. I saved her the knowledge of the fact he was going to murder me and make it look like the Beast did it.

When I got home late that night I found mussel shells on my windowsill. I took them inside and let them rest on my dresser.

Top of my dresser’s covered with little ‘gifts’ now, from snake skins to smooth rocks to glass beads. I haven’t seen him since that night but sometimes I catch a glimpse of those mismatched eyes, glowing from my backyard.  

[roll-weird]

My upraising as a Slytherin

When I was born, obviously the Harry Potter books weren’t written yet. I was about 7 years too early, but going off of the Harry Potter Lore, the battle of Hogwarts happened in 1998, and had I actually went to Hogwarts, I would have attended in 2001 - post 911, so it would have been an interesting uprising. Let’s look at my parents first before diving into my childhood: My dad was without a doubt magical. The way he’d create things out of nothing, though would have been easier with magic, he always appreciated the hard work. He grew up in a small household with two total rooms, the livingroom/bedroom, and the kitchen, alongside a brother a sister and actually in the custody of his grandparents. Outside was a small farm where they would get the majority of their produce, primarily (because they’re cheap) eggs (which is why later in life he couldn’t stand the taste anymore). He was many things in his lifetime, a carpenter, a navy soldier during vietnam, survivor of numerous low chance survival car wrecks, an airlines worker - the way he’d skirt death time and time again, it’s a wonder I even exist. He was a great dad to have teach me the ropes, give me everything he could and then some, show me that pain and suffering and heartbreak doesn’t have to be the end. Before getting too sappy, what house would he be? Well, he never did anything for personal gain, he was too self sacrificing to be a Slytherin. Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were always at the front of the list for me because of how brave he was, and how creative he was, but what I realized tonight was that he was without a doubt a Hufflepuff. He was always loyal to those he cared about most, he treasured hard work and justice above all else, and he loved the community that revolved around feeding people. I remember when family would visit, he’d wake up at the crack of dawn, and get cooking. I can almost taste the smell of bacon in the air, the fried tortillas, the eggs (which he made just for us), the small “silver-dollar” pancakes - of which he made what seemed like infinite of. He loved this, and although he also loved the recognition whenever he built or cooked or worked himself to the bone, he never did it for that reason, he did those things because he was dedicated and patient, he did it because he was a humble Hufflepuff. He’s sadly no longer with us. It’s been nearly eight years. My mom on the other-hand was the fourth of six children to a sleazy car-salesman who taught her quickly how to be number one. She grew up changing her mind on her dreams numerous times, because she had the privilege to do so. This is not to say she didn’t work hard, but her method was more of the manipulative, silver-tongued kind. She always went into a job, taking up the menial roles, but doing them well, in order she weasel her way up to the top. He family was far from loyal, there were secrets, feuds, betrayals, especially when each child was trying to get some of that inheritance. My mom was a Nurse, and granted, she did care about people, it would never be at the expense of her own life. Granted she always took what little we had growing up and managed to always make my Christmases and Birthdays huge, and made it seem like although we were in the lower middle class tier, that we were upper. This, as it would turn out was because she wanted above all else to maintain the perfect cookie-cutter family photo, and didn’t care about our souls at all. Growing up, I assumed she’d be a no-mag, or a Ravenclaw due to her studiousness of the medical arts, but more recently it’s never been more clear that she is a Slytherin. I remember times going to classes or sports events and her chanting me on to be the best, even when I just wanted to play and the pressure drove me up a wall (disclaimer, I was never the best, so she would quickly try to change what I was into at the time, made things difficult to hold down long term friends, made it look like I was way more of an over achiever than I actually am). My mom is the type of person to hear something is sold out, and she could pick up the phone, and talk her way into there being one miraculously left - where as a recipient I’ve always appreciated, but as someone who’s worked in sales that’s annoyed me to no end. This strive to make herself the best, and make those around her the best has cemented her place as a Slytherin. So, I imagine as a child of a humble Hufflepuff and a controlling manipulative Slytherin, my first trip to Hogwarts at age 11 would have been loaded up with Slytherin merch I accepted regretfully, and a few words of wisdom from my dad which I would cherish forever. I’d waddle up to the sorting hat - the chubby lil kid I was, alone, scared, but excited to start something new. The hat would go on my head, and unbeknownst to me, much like Harry Potter, I’d go in with the “anything but Slytherin” phrase running through my head - to which the hat would respond “why not Slytherin?”, and I would go into detail about how absolute power can corrupt absolutely, and how controlling and manipulative my mom was, and how I never wanted to be like her, or like that loser Voldemort who failed miserably at waging war on the Wizarding World, He’d tell me to open my eyes and look at the row of green dressed upper-class wizards, to which I’d catch a smile or two, maybe even a familiar face. “Do they really seem so bad?” the hat would ask “No, I just” - “It really would suit you, and the wizard you will grow into quite well, ‘quick witted’, ‘cunning’, ‘ambitious’, but ‘resourceful’. Those sound like traits you could see in yourself?” In that moment my brain would flash a portrait of my dad, “Yes, I want that” “Then so be it, SLYTHERIN!” it would shout, to thunderous applause. Thinking back to the real world, as a child, I didn’t know those traits that defined the houses that well, I just really loved the color aesthetic, but growing up into an adult, I see it, not with the coldness of my mother, but with the resourcefulness of my Hufflepuff dad. Granted, my ambitions tend to fluctuate, but I always keep my pride in check. I’m a Slytherin.