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townofcadence · 2 months ago

Note

"Echoes of the past" 👀 Artair?

Echoes of the Past

This One is Pretty Dark Horror so Heed the Tags Please!

Artair's eyes flicker open with an aching languor. Consciousness drips through him at a pace bordering leisure, drawing him through his dreamlike stupor with coaxing hands. It is only when he remembers those last moments that he snaps further awake; a maw of sharp teeth dripping with his own blood biting down, severing fat, meat, and bone alike. He tries to jerk upwards, but something keeps him pinned.

The room is dark as pitch. He can't see much, save for a few vials of something gold glimmering on a nearby table. There is an amber glow like the barest lick of candlelight, and where it flits, he can see the silhouette of a lantern.

A glance to the right has him making out the outline of a thick leather strap, tightly coiled around his arm. He tries to move but his neck is strapped as well, and the same resistance binds his legs and hips. His leg is still there. His toes can move, and his ankle too despite the restraints. He can feel the half-eaten fabric of his converse, a brush of cold air through the holes.

His brain shorts on whether to be relieved or not, when he's left the frying pan for the fire. A rolling tray sits beside the table he is on. He can see a selection of medical tools and equipment. There are a few bottles of colorful liquids as well. He is... on some kind of table.

A hard, metal operating table.

The haze is continuing to lift, and that is when the pain creeps in. It starts at the edges and he nearly doesn't notice, but the more awake he is, the more it courses through him like a second heartbeat. His chest hurts. He focuses. He looks.

It’s– a moment of pain that feels almost unreal as he shifts his gaze. It shouldn’t be real. It’s like last time but the edges are sliced clean. It’s not jagged, not stone. It Hurts all the same. And he only grows more aware of it, the longer he stares. His vision blurs with gold and green and he seizes in silence. Every muscle twitches and petrifies, until he’s locked in his body like a tomb.

He squeezes his eyes shut, but it’s too late. He knows. He knows. From sternum to navel and with a line that curves just beneath it, he is open.

His head keeps spinning, and a numbing cold creeps over his flesh. He isn’t sure he’s breathing. But he has to be, with his pulse thundering in his ears like it is. He makes a choked sound, mouth opening and closing, but all it feels like he can do it exhale. What had to be inhaling was a paltry shift that felt like this woman-- this Dawn, bringing a knife down into him. Even with closed eyes, his vision goes white.

Fight it. Fight it— he doesn’t even know how. He keeps trying to finish the mantra but the words are lost to pain, dissolving to nothing. He feels pulled apart like cotton candy, and nothing comes into focus long, the longer he exists like this. He is threadbare.

Why is he awake. Why is he awake. Please stop please please stop please please it hurts please–.

His skin burns, still damaged from the monster, from the acid rain. He's silent, mouth open but empty of sound. He isn’t even sure what he’d say, but his body paralyzes on him, and nothing can come out. Blood chokes his throat. Sparks dance over his skin, and he feels a pulsing vibration. He feels drifty and sick. He hurts until it doesn’t hurt because he can’t feel anything else but agony and he's numb. The empty moment makes him so sure he gave out. Then he’s forced to inhale and it cycles again. He can’t– how is he awake? How is he alive? Stop please just let him sleep.

“There you are, Artair. Did you sleep well?“ Dawn smiles at him; her eyes settle on him like an interesting object, her saccharine smile stretching too far on her face, but not meeting her eyes. She tilts her head. He thinks about how many photos he'd found in her study, the newspaper clipping about the storm, and his life laid out in Polaroids. “You’ve done wonderfully, boy.”

He wants to be strong. He wants to spit in her fucking face. He wants to bite her or say something cutting or make her think he doesn’t care. He wants to be strong. To be brave, to be able to tuck it all in a neat little box and show his mettle, his determination and how indomitable he can be.

But he can’t. He can’t . He feels his tears running in streaks down his cheeks. He feels blood paint his lips with a cough that leaves him convulsing– which only means more movement. and that means more agony, excruciating and building up to something until he’s sure he's going to explode.

A sob escapes him, nails digging into the metal of the operating table. He pants through his mouth to stay breathing. His heart beat drowns out almost everything but her voice, and the singing and stinging of her scalpel. She is peeling him back further, slitting her way through muscle. He spasms.

“Are you awake now? I thought you’d like to talk to me at some point. Now you can. So speak.””

A shallow breath cuts through his lungs. He forces his eyes open. They shade the world in gold and green. His vision blurs until he blinks away more tears. But he does, again and again in rapid blinks, so he can see her face. He wants to memorize it. He needs to, so he can make sure they find her later. If he makes it.

Words… his lips move soundless. He coughs more. He’s pale, clammy, shaking. Sweat beads along his brow. Her hand comes near his face again and he flinches. His body protests like he’d thrown himself into a bed of spikes, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want her to touch him.

“W—” He chokes. The word stays lodged in his throat until a few swallows loosen it again. “…Why.”

"Why?” She repeats, and a gloved hand comes to her cheek, fingers folding over her mouth. She laughs behind them, warm and tickled. the nitrile leaves a speckle of blood on her cheek. “Because you aren’t what you say you are. My curiosity has been piqued. As has someone I work for! But I thought I would see what I could glean before he whisks you away. All great researchers need to do their part and explore the unknown. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Artair- blinks. He could barely think, barely comprehend the words, let alone understanding what the hell she could even be possibly talking about. He let out a soft whimper. “I-I—” He felt an urge to cough, to throw up, and his voice died out. He didn’t— he was just human. He just— his magic was haywire! That wasn’t— he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand.

Dawn leaves him there. She returns with a pack, one he recognizes. He had been carrying it through her house, and it is filled with everything he'd grabbed. She opens the bag and roots through it.

It’s hard to think right now. But he doesn’t understand. She holds up each item from his bag for him to see. Some of them he thought he’d lost, but it seems she retrieved them too, from the bullpen. He sees his knives, all the books he’d taken, the gauze and cream and bandages, the photos. She’s showing him everything.

His brain is saturated with suffering to a point of silence. He– can’t think. Can’t understand. He wants to. He stares at her with pained eyes, brain banging against the walls of his head in an effort to work and understand. His gaze follows each item to the metallic table next to him. His arms and legs shift. It’s painful and the straps are too tight to move.

With the last of his items showcased and set on the table, she places the bag aside. Artair watches her work, fraying thoughts piecing together what she intends. She hums as she moves, slender fingers unfurling a wrapped plastic toolkit. Inside he sees– more surgery and medical tools. It makes his heart beat faster. He feels his mouth go dry. Her fingers curve over each tool, as if she’s exploring them again, leaving the barest of marks against their chrome finish. She continues to hum, before it dies away.

Her heels click as she circles him, plucking the scissors from their place. He feels her fingers caress his hair, carding through it. They tighten into a fist and and pull the strands of his hair taut. He groans as it's pulled, pained at the movement, at the way it burns at his scalp. His heart bounds, thundering against his ribs. She comes closer to his face.

Snip.

He hears the edges cut through the strands, and then she retreats to open a case. The lock is deposited within, somewhere he cannot see.

Click click click. She rounds back into his vision. His scalp aches where she pulled, but compared to everything else, it’s nothing. But it sets him on edge. She’s humming again. Her smile has never left, and she pets his head as if to soothe him like a doting mother. "Now be a good young man and hold still."

She makes his skin crawl. His head turns away from her hand. But the smile stays on her face, and he can see it in his peripheries as she rakes her gaze over him. The bindings on his arm creaks, but even the tug cuts through him until he tastes acid burning in his throat. Each breath is a labor, a testament to his grit, his need for survival.

She leaves his face for his hand, stroking at the tendons where they just show on the skin. Down his leg she goes, until she reaches his shoes.

Her hands move methodically. They’re surgeon’s hands, doing everything with this meticulous care. His toes flex as she grips his converse, and undoes their lace. She pulls them back a loop at a time, until it’s open enough for it to be slipped off. He watches each tug where her nails reflect the overhead light, listening to the coarse brush of fabric, as each lace slid further loose. She cupped the back of the shoe, pulling it free. He could see the holes in the rubber now, when she held it up, still humming. Next came the sock, equally damaged. He feels cold air and it soothes just as much as it twists his insides like he’d applied a corkscrew to his lungs.

He can see the glint of silver, and he– complies, with her earlier command. He hears his heart in his ears as her fingers hover almost– uncharacteristically careless, over a toe, so the blades of the scissors rested open on either side. His heart found its way to his mouth.

He felt the edge dragging along his skin. The scissors snipped, and he could almost cry, scream, as all he lost was a nail. A whimper left him.

“Don’t worry dear. We’re not done yet.” She crooned, patted his ankle. Her hand continued up his leg and he wanted to ignite every molecule of himself with lightning like he had these scant handfuls of times, just so he could stop her from fucking touching him.

His shoulders tensed instead. His eyes looked for the door.

He shouldn’t expect it anymore. He shouldn’t. But he could just– imagine. Imagine Elias and Eevie and Prince breaking through, rushing to his side. Imagine them touching his face, pressing their head into his and telling him he’d be okay, he’d be okay, they wouldn’t let her go any further. He was safe.

But her hand continued up his side, curving to touch his forearm, where it wasn’t restrained. They didn’t come. They wouldn’t. He…

He was alone.

And a worse, sickening thought sunk talons in his brain, making him twist further into knots: he hoped his friends who might be looking didn’t find him. He didn’t want them– anyone– to find this place.

Artair tries to shift, away from her as she nears him again. his parted chest reminds him why that is a fool's endeavor with another seize of his body. He screws up with a thready breath.

Her voice bounces in a sing-song. "Don't worry about falling asleep on me, dearie. You won't until I want you to."”

Artair’s eyes flick blearily back to her. It took a moment for the words to register, but when they do, he feels…cold. Cold at the limbs, at the tips of his fingers. He— he didn’t know what that meant. But if he focused, if he really tried, there was a faint buzz, a steady if fractional thrum of magic through the cool metal on his back. There was a spell in place.

He shouldn’t be awake. She wanted him to be.

Her gloved hands find a scalpel and let it glide along his shoulder to his bicep. He stays as still as he can, with a tremble he can't control, so it does not cut. Of course, it does not matter.

It starts as a threaded hiss through clenched teeth, as she slivers slices into flesh, tracing a perfect square. His blood is back to red-gold, glittering and stark against his pale skin as it beads and seeps from her blade's precise strokes. She seemed to measure, giving him a breath.

He screams, when the scalpel plunges further, parting dermal tissues, cutting through fat and capillaries and spilling more blood, now in a steady flow. His back arches and his voice goes out, fracturing and breaking before falling to silence as she digs and keeps digging. His chest feels like it’s tearing. The blade sings with a burn. It’s cold metal and hot viscera and his knees jerk.

His arm does too, and it sends her slightly off course. She clicks her tongue and cuts a little more away from him, makes the sample a little bigger, a perfect square.

He feels like he’s frothing at the mouth. His body wants to move, make it stop, but every twitch is worse, makes him feel like he’s so so very alive and dying at the same time. He’s aware of it, aware he could die here, aware of how she could snip and pull and tear until he’s just a collection of samples on the table in her lab. It was– visceral. It pierces through him, the realization puncturing him like stone through his gut. He could die here. He could die, she could kill him he could die–

He can’t hear her. His heartbeat is too loud. The only thing louder is the wet sound of his blood pouring into a basin beneath him, and the slick plop of his own flesh, dropping into the metal case. Is he breathing still–? It’s all white noise in his ears and his head is starting to spin.

But the magic means he can’t sleep. He can’t stop this. He can’t move. He’s helpless.

"Open your mouth, sweetheart. Keep it wide now."

He can hardly process her sugar-laced voice, but at the sound of it, his eyes flick to her. She’s smiling that smile that makes him want to rip off the rest of his skin. She’s smiling and she has a small, metal bar in her hand. She’s smiling and her eyes are sharp and cold and it makes her look more like what he feels when he sees her. He tries to edge away, turn his face, shake his head no. A hand finds the strap that curls over his neck and she yanks. It keeps him further still, belting him into place. He chokes and she meets it with a hum.

It’s such a soft one. A casual one. She might be reading an article about some new discovery in science. She might be studying a rock she’d found while hiking. She brushes at his face and he snaps at her, brain blank and limbs only not shaking from how still he’s held.

She tuts at him, like a mother scolding a child, or an owner at their dog. The metal bar is pressed against his lips. He forces them to stay closed.

She holds his nose until he’s forced to gasp for air, and wedges it in. It locks behind his teeth, jammed against his tongue and unyielding to any pushes. His chest is rising fast, breaths leaving the room spinning. The metal beneath him is getting warm.

He hears the clack of metal. He hears it and he knows what’s coming but he can hardly parse it. He can’t breathe. Saliva pools on either side of his lips, running down each cheek. His breath comes shallow, ragged, as he sees the tool in her gloved hands, feels the metal slide against his teeth as it enters his mouth. He feels tension on one of his incisors.

Tensing doesn’t help. It doesn’t help he can’t stop it he can’t stop it he’s cut open he’s injured he’s bleeding he can’t do anything he can’t fucking do anything—

He wails as it gives way, feeling flesh rip. His back arches again, curving excruciatingly upwards until he’s sure he’ll snap in half. He’s seeing stars, and static bursts along his skin. Gold fills his mouth, paints his lips.

She seems unperturbed. The metal below him warms further as he sparks. They light up her face and she’s still smiling. “Good boy.” He sees the fang in her pliers and hears the click of his tooth in the box. He gurgles and coughs, and his whole face is painted in blood, where tears don’t track it already. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

But he won’t fall asleep.

She doesn’t want him to.

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oneatlatime · 1 year ago

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Lake Laogai

This Lake had better have Appa in it. With little water wings on.

Skipping the commentary as usual.

The Previously On section suggests that a whole lot of plot threads are about to crash into each other. Strap in folks.

Lefty Sokka!

Beat up Sokka quota fulfilled by his sister's critique of his art skills. It's not like he had paper to practice with at the South Pole.

Sometimes I forget that Aang is 12, then he does something like attempt to rescue his pet from a nefarious city-wide conspiracy of silence with lost cat posters.

"Good tea is its own reward." That means no, he isn't paid enough.

Remember what I said in my last post about Iroh bringing too much attention to himself?

"senior executive assistant manager" someone on the writing team has worked retail I see. Nothing like meaningless promotions with no raise attached! It's right up there with employee pizza party.

I have to pause here and point something out. This whole scene with Iroh? This is an adult fantasy. I don't mean dirty, I mean this whole scene was put in specifically to appeal to the adults who got roped in to watching this kids' show by their children. A rich man walks through the door of your shitty retail job, immediately spots your natural greatness, and offers you a much better paying job with unlimited creative freedom and a better house to go with it? Find me a burnt out retail worker who hasn't conjured up this fantasy five times a shift.

And so the plots come crashing back together. This won't end badly.

"patience really pays off" I checked. He waited literally three seconds.

Shout out to Toph in the background playing catch with a ball she can't see. Casual flex of epic proportions.

Remind me never to go to Lake Laogai. Sounds like it's lousy with Ju Dees.

So the Ju Dees don't know about each other? Because she seems honestly confused. Does Ju Dee think she's the only Ju Dee? What happens if two Ju Dees run into each other in the street?

Posters are illegal but I haven't heard a peep about recarving a bunch of fields into a zoo.

This is maybe the second time Aang's blown up over Appa. Frankly he deserves more blow ups about the whole situation.

I don't think knocking down walls will help find Appa, but I applaud Toph's spirit.

They took out a whole wall and then exit by the door anyways. That's funny.

I really hate this guy, but I have to admit that he may be the first truly competent villain of the series.

'The Jasmine Dragon' also lets anyone with half a brain know that you're Fire Nation. Try the Jasmine Badgermole instead.

Zuko really can't catch a break, huh? He wasn't happy being a tea server, but at least he was resting. But every time he gets five minutes to himself, the main plot reappears to drag him back into the action, whether he wants to or not. Although he hasn't figured out that he doesn't want to be dragged back yet.

Every line of dialogue in this scene is a good point. Zuko's right, Iroh's right. The Zuko's right again, then Iroh's right again.

YES YES YES GET HIS ASS

That was satisfying!

I'm not understanding why Sokka is the voice of reason here. Is he incapable of holding a grudge? He's the one that had all the animosity with Jet to begin with. Shouldn't it be Aang who wants to hear him out?

Toph is a living lie detector now? I can't think of an example off the top of my head, but I'm sure that could have come in handy previously. Any other incredibly useful skills we should know about?

Jet is oddly defensive for someone who claims to know he did wrong.

Ever get so excited that your spine malfunctions?

Sokka just has a metre long map in his pocket. Good friend to have in a pinch.

Avatar first! Katara is rude to an old person!

I'm going to have fun with Toph's new ability.

Toph, you have never been more right. It is the worst city ever. You are really shining this episode.

I know this is a serious scene, but I need to point out that Jet's guyliner is on point.

This shot is jarringly out of place. I think it's because it both black and white, and live action. Those have to be real clouds.

So the Blue Spirit can talk after all. Careful, your Zuko is showing.

Wow Zuko is good at sewing. And fast too.

Sokka is having far too much fun with this whole 'prompt Jet's memory' thing. Maybe he does have a bit of a grudge after all.

Katara can reverse brainwashing now too? Everyone's levelling up this episode.

This scene with the planks is a very cool and disorienting visual.

Didn't have 'the gaang breaks into a brainwashing facility' on my ATLA bingo card.

Pretty.

OMIGOD IT'S AP- did Zuko just break the fourth wall?

Everyone always forgets to look up.

So this fight is going to be Toph v. all of the Dai Li while everyone else tries not to get in Toph's way.

That's a boat.

Toph could probably take all these guys out faster if she wasn't having to constantly break off to save everyone else from them.

The Dai Li prancing up walls is a really cool visual. It's very Ty Lee of them.

I love watching her work.

Why don't you let Long Feng escape? He's no longer threatening you, and you're down there to rescue Appa. Just let him go.

The security on Lake Laogai is a joke.

Big words from someone who also had no plan whatsoever at the North Pole.

Zuko knows that Iroh's right. He knows, and that's important. I don't think Iroh is saying anything that Zuko hasn't thought and then hurriedly pretended to have never thought about before. It's why he says 'stop it' rather than being completely confused as to what Iroh is referring to.

Poor Appa's like 'can you have a crisis of self after you free me please?'

'You've chosen your own demise." No. You chose it for him. That's some top tier deflection/victim blaming right there.

Longshot can talk!

That's one hell of a set up and pay off re: Toph's lie detecting abilities.

Poor Jet. A double tragedy: to be likeable only when you're brainwashed, and to dedicate your life to wiping out the Fire Nation yet being killed by the Earth Kingdom.

Hi Appa. It's about time buddy.

Shockingly in character for Appa's first actions to be to single handedly save the Gaang from a threat.

You skip that bastard like a stone.

Everyone go and listen to the sound Appa makes when he spits out Long Feng's shoe. It's delightful.

I am framing this.

And this too.

I can tell there's some shmymbolism here, but it's gone right over my head.

Final Thoughts

Appa is back. The Gaang has Appa back. I have Appa back. Ok. I can relax now. With any luck, this means we can leave Ba Sing Se.

This episode felt like City of Walls and Secrets, Part 2. I think it was a good decision to have a couple of episodes between the two, but I think there would be some tonal whiplash if you binged this section of season 2. Which wouldn't have been a problem for a show designed to air once a week, so it's a moot point.

So Zuko freed Appa from his chains, and presumably pointed him in the direction of a door or something. Or maybe not; Appa has a ridiculously hard head, he could have busted his way out. Either way, Zuko broke the chains. Thanks Zuko!

In season 1, Zuko finds the Avatar the world had lost. In season 2, Zuko finds the Sky Bison the Avatar had lost. So in season 3, Zuko will find something Appa has lost. I wonder what that will be?

Jet being killed by the Earth Kingdom is so deliciously ironic, and tragic, yet very in character for the Earth Kingdom's approach to this war. It's also literally this:

Smellerbee and Longshot have really gotten the short end of the stick over and over this season. They were the only ones to decide to stick with Jet. Presumably they were the only ones who believed that he had had a legitimate change of heart. And they were kind of wrong. They get to Ba Sing Se only for Jet to immediately backslide way past even where he was at his worst in Season 1. He completely discounts and dismisses their legitimate concerns for his methods and his overall health. Then Jet gets arrested and disappears for two (?) weeks. So what do they do now? Get jobs? Steal so they don't starve? Then suddenly Jet's back but he doesn't even remember them. Then suddenly Jet's dead. The whole point of coming to Ba Sing Se just died, in a way that shows very clearly that their desire to help with the war is not welcome at all in the city. So what now? Do they leave and try to fight in the war from outside the walls? Do they settle down and try to forget about the war? Things did spiral completely out of Jet's control once the Dai Li got involved, but you have to admit that he's left his only remaining friends up a creek.

Sokka had some good jokes but was oddly ok with this episode's events. Toph had some great lines and got to shine with a new skill that any writer with half a brain will bring back in future episodes. She felt like the audience substitute this episode, which is usually Sokka's role. Toph was episode MVP for sure. Poor Aang took a bit of a back seat this episode. Zuko finally hit the crisis point, and may well have made his first indisputably correct decision of the series. But, as previous episodes have gone out of their way to show me that Zuko being good always goes badly for Zuko, I'm sure freeing Appa will somehow come back to bite him.

Iroh's question of "who are you? And what do you want?" was Zuko's entire character arc this season. He took a shot at answering the "who are you?" portion in Zuko Alone, and sort of halfway got there before messing up at the end of the episode. As for the "what do you want?" Zuko will tell you (often and repeatedly) that he wants his honour back. But I think he just wants to go home. The thing is, I strongly suspect that the home Zuko wants to return to hasn't existed since his mother left, if it ever existed at all. Which means that while "who are you?" has an answer Zuko can work towards, "what do you want?" has an answer that is kind of impossible. So Zuko is going to have to learn to want something new.

RIP Jet. Your life was fucked to Hell long before you were old enough to try and salvage it. You'll probably be missed by more people than you strictly deserve. War sucks, amirite?

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #lake laogai

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justasecretflower · 2 months ago

Text

~ Sdv men watching sappy romance movies with you~🪻

Incl- Alex, shane, Harvey, Sam, Sebastian, Elliot, wizard, Gunther, willy.

Alex

The Notebook

He is definitely the type to be like 'I'm not gonna cry I'm a man' and ends up sobbing

he's quietly crying though, looking away and wiping his eyes

At the end he shrugs it off and goes like 'yeah that wasn't even sad..' he says while his voice is still shaky💀

He prefers this over horror movies though, that we'll get into next post...

Shane

Titanic

I believe he wouldn't cry

he wasn't sad or happy he was angry

the whole movie.

I am a firm believer he makes fun of characters in movies from romances to horror.

He's also one of those people that wouldn't shut up about how jack 100% could've also fit on that door.

If he sees you crying, though, he'd chuckle and wipe your tears with his thumb and tell you there's nothing to cry about.

He'd definitely laugh at you secretly, not in a mean way, just teasing.

I think his favorite genre is horror and says all the time how much he hates sappy romances, but since he's got a soft spot for you he'll watch them

Harvey

five feet apart

I think he would enjoy these movies a lot.

he's got an appreciation for all good cinema.

as a doctor he get's a little emotional thinking about his patients ever going through a thing like staying away from the person they love the most, so he does get a little misty.

If you cry, he holds you, and kisses your cheek.

he doesn't believe he's too 'manly' to watch romance, nor does he find it annoying.

I feel like most of your chill dates would revolve around watching a romance movie at home on the couch.

Sam

500 days of summer

he's in and out of this experience so he wouldn't cry

he tries to pay attention for you he really does but sometimes he just finds himself staring at you instead of watching the movie.

he prefers dates where he's actively doing stuff so he can pay attention better, sitting still for a long time is not his forte.

but if you're team Todd, he's team Todd, if you're team summer, he's team summer, you're mad? so is he, you're crying? He is too, and he doesn't even know why.

sebastian

Brokeback mountain

He's kind of just there

I don't think he's super crazy into it and crying, but I also don't think he's distracted 24/7.

he get's a little melancholy, and likes the general feel of the movie.

he likes laying on your lap while you watch the movie, pls play with his hair.

I think he likes it, isn't super into romance, likes sci-fi, horrors, but he appreciates the movie.

Elliot

Romeo and Juliet

he doesn't care if he's soft he's crying at the end and babbling on about the beauty and tragedy of their love story

definitely the type to pause at every scene, translate what they're saying, go in depth about what each thing in the scene symbolizes, ect.

he honestly is a lil annoying to watch a movie with.

if you cry with him he'll hold you and you'll cry together.

90% of you guys watching the movie was him going in depth about what everything meant and everything they said.

rasmodius m wizard

The Phantom of the Opera

he doesn't cry, but he enjoys the art of the story.

it becomes a favorite of his. Saying that, he doesn't watch movies and hasn't ever, really.

he's been busy doing wizard stuff. Whatever that is

he deeply enjoys the tragedy, the heartbreak, the beauty and depth of the story. If anything he'd also enjoy Romeo and Juliet

If you cry, he'll kiss your tears away and run his hands up your arm.

Gunther

The great Gatsby (more of a tragedy...)

He likes to watch historically set movies and documentaries

he's not huge on romance but will watch whatever you watch, just to be close with you.

he has you between his legs with your back on his torso and your head resting in his neck kind of

definitely not his cup of tea but he learns how to semi like it, since it is a great piece of cinema and extremely well written literature.

when he was younger he def was a history and literature kid so he read the book when he was younger.

willy

10 things I hate about you

how did you even convince him to sit down and watch a romance?..

he would hate on romance and how sappy it is

you'd practically have to drag him to the couch.

"Im not the romance type of man darlin"

he would half be watching and half cleaning some of his fishing rods

he is such a Kat stan

don't tell me otherwise

enjoys it but acts like he doesn't

"That was a waste of an hour.."

you will find him watching it later and chuckling.

If u wanna request Sdv use the “🪻” in your request💕

tags

#i love you #justasecretflower #sdv alex #sdv sebastian #sdv shane #sdv elliott #sdv #sdv farmer #sdv x farmer #sdv x reader #sdv willy #sdv gunther #reqs open

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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This is literally a whole essay y'all, I'm not sorry xD

My last Channie ask was such a simp daddy Channie ask but what about good boy Channie who just want his lovers strap-on??

He's been fidgeting all day with your strap-on on his mind. He knew you had it tucked away in your closet somewhere cuz you're pan and your previous partner (ended on good terms and are friends still) also had a vagina but who would throw away a perfectly good strap after that?

Exactly

No one would

You were hanging out with your ex and Channie in the kitchen when you asked him to go find your old baby-photo album buried in your closet so you can show your ex some funny baby pics you had. So he went to your shared room and went to the closet. he thought it was in that little black box buried under everything else.

He pulls it out of the closet and his pupils blow up the size of softballs once he sees what's inside. He got this curiosity from all the stories you'd tell him of how fun it was to use the strap with your ex but he'd just shake off the curiosity as something that would just pass because he'd never used one so of course he'd be curious.

Then he quickly hides it away again in your closet perfectly back where he found it so you wouldn't bat an eye. He quickly spots the photo album sitting up top on the shelf, covered in a layer of dust, and he runs it out to you and quickly retreats to the living room to get away from you two.

The day passes by quickly for you but it drug on for years for him.

You two are just cuddling on the couch watching Salt Burn (i haven't watched it yet LMAO whoops) and he abruptly sits up at one of the scenes. You pay no mind to it because you figured he was just getting a boner and was embarrassed for some reason (and let's be real, you're probably soaked by now too) but the movie wasn't exactly the reason why he got a boner.

He keeps subtly looking over at you occasionally, eyes darting everywhere if you catch him (which you can always see him in your peripheral, he just doesn't realize that) so you pause the movie and ask him "baby, what's going on? Are you okay? You wanna stop watching the movie and just get some sleep?" But of course he says he's fine.

15 minutes later and he's rocking back and forth trying to distract himself but he didn't realize it was also distracting you.

"Okay clearly you're not fine, tell me what's going on."

"No, it's nothing. The movie is almost over. Let's ju-"

"Chris."

And my god he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes before dropping his head and saying "I.. I found your strap today.. looking through our closet.. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have looked in the box"

And you just start laughing at him. He's just so cute and embarrassed and he's just your little baby : ( your Channie : (

"Baby it's fine. But why are you so worried about it? You knew I had it, I don't mind."

"It's not that. I know you won't care if I seen it.. I was just thinking.." and he looks up at you, pupil blown out and slightly glossed over "... What if *we* used it..?"

"Baby, I can just use you anyways, you're so much better than some piece of rubber"

He looks down again with his ears turning bright red-

"I didn't mean use it on you.."

Oh.... OHHHH..... oh what a dirty boy.

A crazy smile is spread across your face from one ear to the other and you pick his head up and hold it in your hands

"Of course we can! Why don't you go pick out your favorite dildo of mine while I go grab the strap?" You say as you give him a little kiss on his pouty lips.

In a matter of seconds, his head shoots up and out of your hands and he's completely surprised at your response

"Wait.. what??? You.. you'd wanna do that?? Isn't that a little.. I don't know.. weird??" He says scratching the back of his head

You laugh at him again while shaking your head.

"Baby, I've wanted to peg your pretty ass from day one. Remember how you fucked me on my bed with my standing mirror at the end of the bed? Well I was watching your ass the whole time. Who said I don't wanna turn you into a subby mess while you're desperately fucking yourself on my cock"

And the way his cock twitches in his pants while his eyes roll back in his head 🥴

"Now are you gonna go pick out my cock to use on you or are we gonna finish the movie"

and he RUNS to the room leaving you giggling on the couch.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOD I'm a mess at work over this 🥴

SUBBY CHANNIE IS SOOOO REAL TO ME IM SERIOUS

i have nothing to add HES JUST DELICJOUS

#juno’s asks ♡#user: ardef38 #asks: channie

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multiverse-imagines · 2 years ago

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DO YOU REMEMBER THE "Your Soulmate Can Hear You Sing" TIKTOK TREND?! NOW THINK OF THAT WITH TRIGUN!! 😩😍💘💝

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡This may be too much to request, so please ignore if it's too much! Or at least tell me so I'd know.... 👉👈

(Vash/Wolfwood) couldn't sleep, so they stayed up. Until he hears a voice singing him to sleep...

Reader, after turning (18 or 20) years old, they are given a song to sing to their soulmate. They chose "Fly me to the moon - Nightcore cover" It's such a sweet song, and the lyrics on it are perfect for him

In the morning, (Vash/Wolfwood) ask the others, Meryl, Milly/Roberto, and (Wolfwood/Vash) if they heard it, but they didn't. Milly/Roberto says that maybe it's his soulmate singing to them.

How would (Vash/Wolfwood)'s reaction and thought of having a soulmate?

Bonus: Reader learns they can talk to their soulmate via singing their words to him

Bonus bonus: Reader watches an episode scene of Trigun where (Vash/Wolfwood) has a singing soulmate.

Ps. I can't decide which boy to choose, so I'll let you decide to either pick both or one of them 😅

Pps. Your writing makes me squeal and kick my legs, it's just so good 😩💗💝🎯

A/N: Omg I love the singing soulmate au!!!! And you KNOW I have to do a triangle soulmate!!!!! They both deserve absolutely everything! I also hope it's not too complicated to read. I've made pov by planet, not necessarily who's personal pov, if that makes sense.. enjoy!!!

Jupiter and Mars

Vash x reader x Wolfwood soulmate au!

Earth:

You walked along the local nature trail with one earphone out while you sang to your heart's content, not caring who heard you. You kept one earphone out to best monitor your own melody, using your index finger like a conductor to help guide you to high notes and low notes of each song.

You wanted to go on a relaxing walk before going out with friends for your belated birthday. Nothing crazy, just maybe a nice dinner and playing video games.

Soon a beloved song began on your iPod. A Nightcore song that you preferred over the original for once. Its flowy piano and catchy snare beat improved the original drastically, in your opinion. You swayed in the late morning hours as you sang to the song, making your way towards one of your favorite spots on the trail.

***

Gunsmoke:

"Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars." Vash sat up in bed at the Inn to the beautiful melody, "Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars." Jupiter and Mars? Those were names he hadn't heard in a long time,

"In other words, Hold my hand. In other words, Darling, kiss me." The voice's beautiful vibrato echoed in his mind. He got up, looking around the room, and out through the window. No one was around at this hour.

***

"Fill my heart with song, and let me sing forever more." Nicholas had been listening to the angelic voice half awake in his bed, "You are all I long for. All I worship and adore." He debated grabbing a cigarette from the end table, "In other words, Please be true. In other words, I… love… you…" Nicholas sat on the bed, lighting up another cigarette as the voice began the song over once again.

***

"Did you hear that last night?" Vash asked as he joined Wolfwood, Milly and Meryl at the breakfast table.

"Hear what?" Meryl asked.

"That beautiful song. It had to be sung by an Angel." Vash sighed dreamily as he brought a bite of pancakes to his mouth.

"I didn't hear anything, what about you, Mr. Wolfwood?" Milly smiled at him.

"Yeah, I did hear some singing last night, actually." The whole table paused, "Something about the moon, right? But which one were they singing about?" Vash's eyes widened.

"You heard it too, Wolfwood?"

"Yeah, it was a really pretty song. Why would someone be out in town so late singing that loudly though?" He pointed his fork at Vash.

"Well, I looked outside, and there wasn't-"

"I'm so into you, I can barely breathe. And all I wanna do, is to fall in deep." The angelic voice returned. Vash and Wolfwood jumped to their feet, looking around the room, the other patrons seeming unaware of the siren song resonating in the two gunman's heads.

"You hear that right?" Vash hissed out, still looking for the person singing.

"But close ain't close enough 'Til we cross the line, hey, yeah. So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey." Wolfwood stared at the table, lost in thought.

"Oh, baby, look what you started. The temperature's rising in here. Is this gonna happen? Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move (ooh, ooh)"

"Vash, no one else can hear them." Wolfwood growled.

"Before I make a move (ooh, ooh)" the song soon cut off, as if they were interrupted, but the voice kept humming what must have been the next bit of the song.

"Why can only you two hear it then?" Milly asked.

"Well, if I remember from my past, sometimes people who can hear someone else's song from far away, they're considered… Soulmates…." Vash's face heated up to match the color of his coat.

"Then why can we both…" Nicholas frowned before his face snapped up in realization, "We're both their soulmate!" He exclaimed. Vash nodded, a smile spreading across his face.

"Wait. Does that mean you can hear me sing too? Now that all three of us have this… connection? Let's try it!" Vash left the table, and trotted outside momentarily.

***

Earth:

"So... On the first evening a pebble...From somewhere out of nowhere drops upon the dreaming world." A voice sang to you. You… knew this voice.

The irony that they sang this song. It couldn't be. You… you lived on Earth. B-but Johnny Young Bosch was already confirmed to have found his soulmate (and the age gap was way too massive for anyone's comfort.) It couldn't be him! But… that just meant…

***

Gunsmoke:

"Did you hear me sing, Wolfwood?" Vash came back in.

"Y-yeah, I did. It was that song that your Mom sang, right?"

"Y-yeah." Vash was embarrassed once again.

Here, my turn. I wonder if they can hear me too." He cleared his throat, and glanced around, not knowing what to sing.

He soon settled on a song with no words that he'd heard a while back. He hummed, trying to remember the song. He didn't often pay attention to music, but he did enjoy it.

***

Earth:

M-Moonlight Sonata??? From a different voice??? You paused, analyzing the voice.

"Nicholas…. And that must mean Vash too…" tears soon ran down your face as you spoke your realization. Your soulmates were Nicholas D Wolfwood and Vash the Stampede. Fictional characters. You took a deep breath with your response.

***

Gunsmoke:

"So... futatsu-me no yoru ni

koishi no ko ga te wo tori WARUTSU wo kaku" the voice responded.

"That sounds like…" Nicholas squinted.

"That's the original language that 'Sound Life' was sung in!" Vash exclaimed as the voice then turned to return the melody of the song Wolfwood had sung.

"Quick sing something back!" Wolfwood hissed at Vash. By now, their food was cold and abandoned at their new mission. However they had the attention of the other patrons at this point, so they scrambled up the stairs to Wolfwood's room.

"Are you… our soulmate? What is your name?" He sang once they got settled in a seated position on Wolfwood's bed.

"I think I am. I almost can't believe it's you two." The voice then sang their name to the duo.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nicholas sang an off key response back.

"Are you Vash and Nicholas?" The voice replied, their own names sounding like heaven to them.

"At your service, my dear." Vash sang back. There was a long pause.

"I… I may never meet you if that's the case." Their voice was shaky as they sang.

"Are they crying?" Wolfwood whispered to Vash.

"Is the infamy of Vash the Stampede and Nicholas D. Wolfwood so scary you would avoid us?" Vash almost seemed annoyed.

"N-No!" The voice was high pitched, almost not constituting as a portion of song, "You're so far away from me. A whole dimension. In my home, far away on Earth, you're not even… real." The last word squeaked out once more.

"Not.. real?" Vash whispered.

"Whaddya mean not real? We're right here for you. We can hear you." Wolfwood sang to them. Another pause.

"You're a fictional series on Earth. A story about Gunsmoke, Vash, and his attempt to save the world from his brother." They sang, "I can never reach you."

***

Earth:

The tears wouldn't stop flowing from your face as Vash and Nicholas tried to comfort you, and ask more questions. You didn't want to answer. You'd found your soulmates, and for what? For them to not even live in this dimension? For them to be fictional by all definitions? You threw a plush toy across the room in frustration. How were you supposed to ever meet them?

***

Gunsmoke:

Their soulmate didn't respond to Vash & Wolfwood's questions after that.

"What do we do now?" Wolfwood asked.

"I think they need a little time. They just found out they have two soulmates who don't exist on the same plane as they do. I… I'm kind of heartbroken for them." Vash glanced up at Nicholas, "I mean, I have you now, but think about them. They're alone… on Earth. In our world's past, they're without us." He frowned.

"You're right…." Wolfwood joined his frown. Vash took Wolfwood's hand.

"Are you… alright, Songbird?" Wolfwood asked their soulmate.

"I don't think so…" their shaky voice replied once more.

"We're with you now. If we can't be there in person, let us be here with you in song."

"Okay, Angel." They replied.

Since then, their soulmate seemed much happier to sing with them everyday. It appeared their day/night cycle was opposite to the one on Gunsmoke. Am and pm were flipped, sometimes causing some nights without sleep for both parties. In the Gunsmoke mornings, Vash and Wolfwood could ask their soulmate how their day had been. They asked if the two of them were staying out of trouble. The answer was always no of course.

Vash and Wolfwood used their new mental connection to allow them to fight with increased synchronicity. Telling each other to watch their 6, or if one of them was injured. This, however, worried you immensely, hearing them get hurt, and not wanting to interrupt their battle, even though your heart ached to help them.

***

Gunsmoke:

You woke up to the uncomfortable feeling of sand. Sand?

Your eyes burst open to see nothing but desert wasteland around you. You would have cried in a panic if it weren't for the fact you could see a town on the horizon.

"Hey, guys, not to scare you, it I just woke up I'm the desert" you sang to your boys, "there's a town on the horizon, but I don't know where I am…."

"Holy fucking shit!" Nicholas sang, but it borders on a scream.

"As soon as you find out, we'll come get you." Vash sang. You hummed in agreement.

You found yourself wandering into a local inn.

"Excuse me, I just wandered in from town, and I lost my map. Which town is this?" You asked the innkeeper at the desk."

"You're in Warren's City. Anything I can help with? You look like you lost your belongings." The man asked.

"N-No, I've actually got a friend in town, so I'll just stay there. How serendipitous." You smiled, and left the Inn."

"Warren's City…" you sang quietly, as there were people about.

"Perfect! You can stay with Frank Marlon!" Vash sang, "Tell him he owes me a favor for the bank robbery!"

"Will do." You sang. You remembered Frank from the TV series. He was a good man.

"It'll be two days before we can get there, so hang tight, songbird!" Nicholas sang to you.

You made your way to his house with the help of some passersby, and found him quite confused to see a stranger at his door. When you explained that you were a friend of Vash's and needed a place to stay until he arrived, Frank was more than welcome to let you stay. During that time, you helped with anything he needed. You managed to learn about the upkeep and repair of various guns.

Two days, just as they said, Vash and Nicholas almost busted down Frank's door, both calling your name as they crashed into you in a hug you thought would tear you apart, and squish you like a toothpaste tube. Nicholas even tripped on his way in, and scrambled to you on his knees. Hugging your waist like a child would to his parents.

"Are you okay? How did you even get here?" Vash asked, cradling your head into his chest, petting your hair.

"I-I don't know, but I'm here now… I'm here…" your body relaxed under their hug.

"Don't worry, Songbird… we'll keep ya safe." Nicholas snuggled into your side.

Since then, you've traveled by their sides, learned how to shoot a gun in case of emergency, and some hand to hand combat for extra Insurance.

One night, when the three of you slept peacefully in your shared bed, you hadn't quite fallen asleep yet, when you gently began to sing petting the hair of both snoozing men who clung to your body in their sleep,

"Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars… Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars…"

End~

Songs used

Fly Me to the Moon- A Nightcore cover

Into you- Ariana Grande (the 80's remix)

Sound Life- Rem- Trigun OST 1st Donuts

Moonlight Sonata- Beethoven

#trigun #vash the stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #trigun brain rot #vash x reader x wolfwood #soulmate au #singing soulmates au

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angel-inked · 2 years ago

Text

Silenced Fire, Chapter 6: What do I do

Things are getting interesting

*I've missed a couple wip Wednesdays, so now you guys get a whole chapter!*

@vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

Rose showed up for work the next day, wearing a short black, off the shoulder dress. Her chocolate brown curls glistened in the sun, Howard said she was beautiful and he wasn't the only one to notice. Forrest found it hard to teare his eyes away from the brown eyed firework that had walked into his world no more than twenty-four hours ago. She hummed a jaunty tone as she cleaned, her cream colored flats made a tapping noise against the hardwood as she neared the table her new boss was sat at, smoking a cigar. "Like whatcha see?" She grinned playfully. Forrest cleared his throat, avritting his eyes to the floor. "Someone's in love" Howard exclaimed in a sing-songy voice. Forrest grunted in annoyance "even if I was, she's too good for me anyway" he countered, glaring at his big brother. "Who told you that?" Rose asked, taking the seat across from Forrest. Forrest, still avoiding eye contact, grumbled something unintelligible that he had no intention of repeating. Rose plucked Forrest' hat from the table and placed it on her head, it may have fallen over her eyes because she pulled it down or because it was two sizes too big, most likely a case of the latter. Rose paused for a moment, before sticking out her tongue and wiggling it around. Forrest let out a faint but audible chuckle "I don't think that belongs to you" he said smirking a little. "I'll grow into it" Rose replied smiling. "I don't think so" Forrest explained, standing up, picking his hat off Rose's head and placing it on his own.

"You're lucky, Forrest smacked me the last time I touched his hat, and I was trying to hand it to him" Jack exclaimed. "Shut up, both you and Howard" Forrest muttered gesturing to his little brother, before walking out the front door. "He likes you" Howard explained, walking towards Rose's table, leaning his hands on the chair previously occupied by his brother. "How can you be sure?" Rose asked, leaning her head into her hand. "He's my brother, I can tell" Howard explained, sounding like he thought it was obvious. "You should go with Forrest to the store later, get some alone time if ya know what I mean" Jack snickered. Rose rolled her eyes "whatever" she replied, standing and going back to work. Surprisingly, the brothers did the same. Sure Forrest Bondurant intrigued her, but she wasn't sure if she'd say she was in love with the guy. Forrest was a mystery, at best. Rose is a well-off from, what was considered in the area, a wealthy family. Forrest is an outlaw, who ran moonshine, he was notorious even. Rose was sure her family would throw a fit if she shacked up with someone like Forrest, but it would be fitting considering she was the black sheep of her polished family. Her sister Maggie, attended dance school and sewed her own dresses. Rose preferred working the dive scene, she felt comfortable around the brothers. She felt more like a Bondurant than she did a Beaufort, Beaufort was a well regarded, middle-class name but Rose, according to her daddy, had too much interest in her grandpa's rifle and his stories of bootlegging. If she did end up changing her last name to Bondurant, well, she certainly wouldn't be the one complaining.

Meanwhile, outside. Forrest wondered over towards Cricket, who as usual was buried under the hood of his truck. Forrest folded his arms and leaned his elbows on the vehicle, waiting for Cricket to notice his presence. It didn't take long, Cricket began feeling around for a tool, jumping when his hand felt Forrest' hand. "Ugh" he groaned, rubbing a spot on the back of his head, that Forrest was sure would have a bump on it, considering how hard he smashed it against the car hood. "How can I help you Mr. Bondurant?" Cricket asked. "Help huh?" Forrest said, turning his head to the side to stare off into the distance "Well, I'm not sure you can" he mumbled. "How's Becky doing?" Forrest questioned, turning back to the young boy. "She's good, her daddy is always hollerin' at me and Juniper for one thing or another" Cricket explained shrugging. "That's nice" Forrest said, going back to staring down the grassy hillside. At this point, he might as well be a professional. "Did the new girl piss you off or somethin'? I find it hard to believe you came out here for smalltalk" Cricket asked, raising a brow at Forrest. "How did you know?" Forrest blurted, answering the question with a question of his own. "Know what?" Cricket exclaimed confused. "Becky. How did you know you liked her?" Forrest clarified. "Well, Juni was the one to set us up, why do you ask?" Cricket explained. Forrest usually didn't care much about what Cricket and his little brother Juniper got up to, all he cared was that Cricket didn't slack off at work, so all these questions were cause for suspicion. "I can't believe I'm asking you this.. but I for sure as hell ain't asking Howard and Jack for advice on this" Forrest began, Cricket was now wondering if he needed to clean his ears out, surely he misheard Forrest. "Rose is.. well" Forrest wasn't sure how to say it. "You like 'er?" Cricket exclaimed, putting it into words for him.

"I don't know" Forrest grumbled, "not sure I like anyone to tell ya the truth" he added. "Wait, let me get this straight. You, Forrest Bondurant, came out here to ask me, Cricket Pate, for relationship advice?" The mechanic exclaimed. "Well, I'm no good at this stuff and you really think I would ask either of my brothers?" Forrest explained, "besides your pretty much the only person I know who's relationship isn't falling apart at the seams" he added, adjusting his hat and stance. "Wow, you must be desperate for some help" Cricket began, "well, I'm no love doctor but I'd say ask her how she feels about you, other then that I ain't got much in the way of advice to give" he explained. "I'll keep that in mind" Forrest replied, beginning to wonder off. Cricket went back to work, thinking the conversation was finished "tell Jack I said to give you a raise and you say anything about this to him or Howard and you're throat is gonna be lookin' about like mine, you understand?" Forrest called back over his shoulder. "More than understood" Cricket called back, knowing better than to cross Forrest if he wanted to keep his hide attached to his back.

Forrest wondered off for real this time, still not sure what to do about his situation. He walked and walked, until he found himself on a secluded dirt road. He sighed sticking his hands in his sweater "what do I do.." he asked himself. Forrest met two men walking towards him, one was blonde with shoulder length hair paired with all black attire. the other wore a wide brim black hat and a suit, he definitely wasn't from around here "Forrest bondurant?" The blonde man asked. "Do I know you?" Forrest questioned, not recognizing the blondie, he couldn't see the other man's face through his hat. "No.. but we know you" the suited one explained. Before Forrest could figure out what that meant, he was hit, in the head, hard. And everything went black.

#silenced fire #tom hardy #forrest bondurant #lawless #fanfiction #hope you enjoy

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neowinestainedress · 2 months ago

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hehe i guess i should bring this here ><

please forgive them they're two dumb bitches

😭😭 but also adorably cute dumb bitches that make us feeling giddy 😭😭 i will forgive then for that

i love the concept of stoner!hyuck but i always think i'll write high/drunk characters in terrible ways so unfortunately this is all you're going to get from me

dare i say... i cooked with this haechan?

well at least you know where your strength is and USE IT WELL. As for a reader like me i'll just consume anything about hyuck that can show how hot and attractive he is 😩😩❤️‍🔥 so i'm not gonna complain (even from the start too tbh!!)

tbh i think i pictured him with just a shirt he was wearing underneath but you know what... i love this different point of view!!!

HSHDLDHSLSJ NAURRRR tbh i do think oh maybe hes just wearing the white shirt but since no more explanation given and my mind already travel to them making out in the kitchen (WHICH HAPPENED BUT NOT QUITE cuz damn imagine two sexy scenes consecutively) but he he he 😳😳

unfortunately i love this dynamic way too much and i think it shows... oops...

IT DOES AND I LOVE IT TOO SO YEAHH PLEASE KEEP GOING ✊🏻✊🏻

I'M SORRY BUT I LOVE HOW YOU SAID "here's the crucial part" ten times lmao i'm sorry for making you suffer

HELPCJSUSKS THE WAY I ACTUALLY TOOK A WHOLE DAY TO READ THE FULL FIC (i even open my notes to jot down where i wanna comment, so after done, i just copy paste) BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE I'M RIDING A REAL LIFE ROLLER COASTER BUT I GOT TO PAUSE AND BREATHE AND DO MY OTHER THINGS IN BETWEEN BECAUSE DAMN 🥵🥵 THE TENSIONS, VERY ADVENTUROUS RIDE I WILL SAY

THANK YOU OMG AOJSOAOSA

you deserve ALL OF MY COMPLIMENTS the way i dont even bother to correct my typos cuz thats how i feel when i wrote them right after reading the part so you can feel the feeling im trying to deliver to you 🥹🥹

CONGRATULATIONS! you predicted the future

I CHEERED WHEN I READ THE AFTER MANY YEARS PART LIKE OMGGGG THATS MY COUPLE!!!!

omg i really traumatized people with hits different 😭😭😭 but i've been good this time, i think i should be forgiven

oh you do!! (i mean youre forgiven!) even if you repeat the angst, i would still cheer too cuz every night i would create a (hurt comfort) story about unrequited love with (or haechan as fill in) before i go to sleep, just to feel the pain

THIS!!! i hate when rivals/enemies get together and the tension dies i needed to make sure this wasn't the case!

YEAAA LIKE PLS KEEP THE COMPETITION ON IT IS WHAT THE AUDIENCES HERE FOR

wait is this a pov question or am i just stupid and you're saying you love them so much they're you're parents 😭

I DON'T ALWAYS GO AROUND CAUSING HEARTBREAK I PROMISE!!!

NO NOOO ITS THE LATTER ONEEE 😭😭 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEYRE LIKE MY PARENTS TOO

AND YESSS OF COURSE YOU DONT AND THANK YOU FOR THAT, not that i mind too but YESSS EVERY STORY DESERVE THE HAPPY ENDING ON THE SPOT AND YOU ALWAYS DO JUSTICE TO ALL YOUR FICS

DON'T WORRY! i love reading about your thoughts and it doesn't matter if it comes out a year after i posted the fic, i will always enjoy reading it! i'm glad you liked it, i love academic rivals to lovers but i'm also picky with this trope so to know someone who enjoys it loved this fic makes me really happy.

I JUST FEEL BAD CUZ I DO COME HERE AND READ OTHER FICS BUT IDK WHEN IT COMES TO SUPER GOOD FICS THAT I KNOW AND AIM TO READ DURING MY VERY FREE TIME WHERE NO ONE SHOULD DISTURB ME, I WILL REALLY TAKE TIME. but somehow i feel like i took too much time this time and i just decided to read it two days ago even when at first i read it at night before working and continue at my workplace and the night after (hence why i said i really took a whole day to finish it) and somehow im glad i decided to read it already. YOU'RE SO TRUEEE LIKE THIS TROPE ISNT SOME KIND OF GENRE THAT YOU CAN JUST WRITE IT EASILY TO KEEP THE FIRE ALIVE UNTIL THE END. thats why it's hard to find this trope with a very very good momentum from the start until the end. AND WHEN I SAW YOU FINALLY ANNOUNCING TO WRITE THIS TROPE MONTHS AGO, I FEEL SO HAPPY I REALLY WANNA SAVE IT FOR THE BEST TIME 🥹🥹 and i didnt regret i put my expectation on you BECAUSE IT DOES BEYOND MY EXPECTATION 🥹💖💖

SO PEOPLE GET THE DETAILS I PUT IN THIS OMG THANK YOU!!! i mean i know it's stupid because if you bias haechan this are known things and i know that's why people don't come gag in my asks or comments and be like "omg you put this" but i still have to think about it and to write everything in a way it makes sense so i'm happy when people point it out 😭 OKAY I EVEN HAVE A SCENE OF THEM CALLING THEMSELVES WITH NICKNAMES "BEAR" AND "HONEY" THAT WOULD BE SO CORNY BUT ALSO CUTEEEEEE no no i agree and i LOVE THIS OMG it's canon that that's how they have each other saved in the contacts idc

AND GUESS WHO FINALLY COME BACK TO IG AND POSTING PICTURES THAT FIT SO MUCH WITH THIS FIC I FEEL SO LUCKY READING THIS FIC AROUND THIS TIME AND HAECHAN POSTING PICS DURING AUTUMN CUZ YEA I KNOW I LIVE IN TROPICAL COUNTRY BUT I LOVE AUTUMN SEASON THE MOST AND HAECHAN IS JUST SO BEAR AND THE SEASON FITS HIM THE MOST 😭😭 I WANNA CRY!!! noOO I THINK ONE THING ABOUT SFS IS, WE WILL ALWAYS BE PROUD OF HAECHAN'S REFERENCES BE IT SMALL OR BIG. I LOVE LOVE IT SO MUCH WHEN PEOPLE DESCRIBES HIS BRAND ALTHO WE ALL ALREADY HAVE IT ALL PICTURE IN OUR HEAD BUT TO READ THE DETAILS OF IT??? OH ITS MY FAVOURITE THING!! i almost forgot to say it but then i read back my reblogged and I WAS LIKE WAIT I FORGOT TO MENTION THAT YAYY IM HAPPY I MADE YOUR DAY TOO!! OMG OMG YOU'RE MAKING ME ALL GIDDY FOR GIVING THE FREE CANON GLSHSLSHD THAT IS JUST SO CUTE PLEASE PLEASEEEEEE *huffing a deep breathe* i just... love haechan brands so much like everything just fit like a puzzle pieces like... 🥹🥹 to the point I REALLY THINK THIS UNIVERSE REVOLVE AROUND HIM LIKE WHEN PEOPLE SAID "stop including haechan in this or that" I WILL WANT TO SCREAM "YEAA BUT DO EVER MEET A PERSON WHO HAS A CONSTELLATION MOLES WHICH CREATE A SMALL DIPPER WHICH ALSO KNOWN AS LITTLE BEAR AND HAECHAN IS JUST A WARM AND CUTE BEAR IN DISGUISE OF HOOMAN AND THEN THERE IS THIS BEAR CALLED SUN BEAR AND SUN AND BEAR ARE YELLOWISH ORANGE AND BROWN AND SO DOES SUNFLOWER AND SUNFLOWER LOOK UP TO SUN TO STAY ALIVE AND THE COLOUR PALETTE REMINDS YOU OF AUTUMN AND SUMMER AND HAECHAN IS, AGAIN, A WARM BEAR, THAT CAN MEAN AN IDEAL BOYFRIEND/MAN WITH COMFY SWEATER THATS NICE TO HUG DURING COLD WEATHER AND HIS SKIN IS GLOWING AND THAT REMINDS YOU OF SUMMER AND ITS HOT AND HAECHAN IS HOT--" goddamn i will never shut up about haechan brands but i need to stop myself or this will be so damn long

the friendship wasn't even that present at the start but i really wanted her to find a group of people so here we are... yeah lmao i kinda forgot about it and i have the profiles half done (tbh i only had in mind to post the after of haechan and the mc, but simply because i have to make two of them if i want to add the reader and it would take time) i also have to post the song project design. i'll try to post it next week!

yeaa i noticed that but then i thought maybe in the 2nd part she will include it cuz i remembered being excited of yangyang to be included in aside from the usual dream members (yes i have a very soft spot for yangyang if its not obvious already) AND YESS LIKE I SAID I KNOW SHE has a time where she feel insecure and there's a hints where she mentions of how she is back in past, like the struggles, things that she left behind, so im really sure youll add the friendship no matter what too somewhere near the end and its not out of nowhere, it just fit with the flow of the plot. AND OHHH YOU CAN TAKE YOUR TIME WITH THAT, i was just asking anyway cuz i stumbled upon those profiles again when i was looking for the masterpost (well lowkey looking forward to jeno's relationship with you know... his loverboy and yangyang too)

thank you so so so much for this! you have no idea how happy it makes me to know you like my writing so much! (toxic!hyuck is something we don't talk about around here (no but seriously we came a long way lol)) love you! 💙

MY PLEASUREEEE AND LIKE I SAID YOU DESERVE ALL OF IT AND I MEAN IT!!! 💞💞 and trueee hahaahaha i think i started leaving you feedback like this from that series too but yeaa we dont talk in details about that WE GOTTA TALK ABOUT POSITIVE HAECHAN CHARACTERS ONLY TO KEEP THE VIBES UP 🤭🤭 love you back too!! 🧡

moving to asks was a wise idea

as a reader i do the same unfortunately as a writer i’m too aware of what i do to don’t care sigh

i wanted to say “if he had no shirt on she wouldn’t have stopped” but tbh haechan is so sezy even all dressed with no skin showing i think it was a struggle anyway

IT DOES AND I LOVE IT TOO SO YEAHH PLEASE KEEP GOING ✊🏻✊🏻

AND I WON’T STOP!!!

taking the whole day and writing comments in the notes while reading🥺🥰iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou

no i agree typos just make it even more real and show exactly how one’s feeling at the moment

ah yes the scenarios before going to sleep, my beloved 🥰(they will ruin my life one day)

YEAAA LIKE PLS KEEP THE COMPETITION ON IT IS WHAT THE AUDIENCES HERE FOR

TELL THEM!!

NO NOOO ITS THE LATTER ONEEE 😭😭 I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEYRE LIKE MY PARENTS TOO

OH OKAY SAME THEN

AND YESSS OF COURSE YOU DONT AND THANK YOU FOR THAT, not that i mind too but YESSS EVERY STORY DESERVE THE HAPPY ENDING ON THE SPOT AND YOU ALWAYS DO JUSTICE TO ALL YOUR FICS

thank you!!!😭😭😭

my fics are REALLY long tho so i understand if people need time, and tbh i prefer to know people want to sit down and READ yk? it would be easy to just skim through it, maybe just read the smut scenes and leave, but taking time to read and enjoy what i write means everything to me. don’t tell you boss that! i’m happy it didn’t let you down! i was terrified of letting myself down too, also because it’s such a specific trope i’m not sure i could write another fic similar to this without feeling like copying it yk?

IKR??? HE SAID “GUESS WHO’S A MUSIC MAJOR OVERWORKING HIMSELF ON A PROJECT WITH HIS ENEMY?” i feel like I have many readers from tropical countries i need to stop being too specific with months in my stories and just say the season lmao. everything you said!!! i couldn’t have said it better! everything about him is just so nice and pretty and fits him so well (like dub, obviously but it REALLY fits him)

i feel like this story could’ve made a great series and i could’ve dug deeper into all the other characters and their relationships too but me and series don’t have a great history (also i know it’s bad to say, but i feel they are rarely successful, already having to split this in two didn’t make it do great numbers, more chapters would’ve done worse. and i write because i like it but it also takes time so i’m not happy when fics flop) i need to put yangyang in more things and give him more space, my baby. yeah i wanted the mc to find friendship even before finding love, yk, also to show that they completely welcome each other in their lives because haechan was so close with his friends if he didn’t care about her he would’ve never dragged her with him (if when it was for his flop plan) yeah i couldn’t do it this week rip. no of course, i put it there so it’s normal to ask, i just forget about stuff lol MY LOVES RENJUN AND JENO

thank you again! and sorry if it took me a while to reply 💞

#answered #haecastor #fic: wave

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paaaartieeeeees · 2 years ago

Text

Thank you for the continued torture I am buzzing from it. Have some of my thoughts:

"I know you don't owe me anything... not your time, not your friendship, not your love... you owe me nothing, but, please let me give. I want to give, you deserve everything that I never gave before, and I want to give it to you now."

You could tell Eddie went to therapy. These were beautifully crafted words for you, but you didn't want to let them in. Didn't want to let them touch you. Didn't want to let them come even slightly close…

…There he was.

Therapy and sobriety could do a lot, but it couldn't erase the man that Eddie had become over the past few years.

"Okay, well... enjoy that. I'm gonna go, good luck with... I don't know, life, in general–"

And as you got up, Eddie suddenly shot a hand out towards you and grabbed you by the wrist. For a small moment, you saw 17-year-old Eddie stare at you pleadingly. He almost looked... scared.

"I can't, Eddie..."

You thought of what else to say. Something good, to make him feel better. Something sweet, to make him smile, maybe. But then all you managed to say was,

"I'm sorry."

And with that, you gathered your things, turned your back and walked out. The second you were out of Eddie's sight, you broke, face scrunching up as you let the tears flow freely.

Okay but this whole scene?? OOOOF. I’ve been in this spot and it’s hard. You really captured the essence of what an actual conversation like this would be like.

"I know I'm not supposed to be calling you, I know this is stupid and I'm crossing all sorts of lines and boundaries, and I'll probably make things worse, but, fuck... what else am I supposed to do? Pretend nothing ever happened? Pretend that I don't think of you every second of every single fucking day? I can't... I don't know how I'm supposed to... that's not– I don't even want that to be an option. I don't want to pretend that having sex with you,"

Eddie NO.

Eddie paused. Sighed.

"That wasn't just a casual fuck, that was– we used that bridal suite for what it was meant for, I don't care if you don't want to hear it. That was making love. Shit, I fucking love you, I need to... You gotta– what do I have to do, you gotta tell me. There's gotta be something. There’s-“

😟

The phone suddenly clicked.

😳🫣😬 my fucking anxiety.

A heartshattering sob burst from Eddie's chest.

Eddie broke down and let himself fall onto his couch, curling up into a ball as he cried. Maybe it was the realisation of it all. Maybe it was Steve being there and Eddie being able to see the sheer fear in his friend's face. Or maybe it was just that it had been six consecutive days of this bullshit and he'd barely slept.

Oh, babygirl. 🥺

Eddie kept crying your name and it made Steve aggressively wipe at his wet eyes all angrily as he collected bottles and other trash into garbage bags.

When was this shit going to fucking end?

Oh, babygirl #2 🥺😭

"My baby," you sighed upon the sight of him, voice cracked, immediately crying. My baby? Where the fuck did that come from? Somewhere deep within, you thought. It pained you on its way out, you could feel it pull up from the pit of your stomach.

At first, I too was like “my baby”? But then it just made sense. Like, I realized why as reader did.

It was always the same type of shit with the two of you. Always so much effort. And it was just, never ending. This was who you were. Three friends who just... had a lot of bullshit happening, all of the time. You and Eddie always with the drama, and Steve kind of always there to help. It was always the same story. This was never gonna be over.

Yiiiiiiiikes, but like true.

"Why does everything hurt so much?" Eddie let his arms wrap around your calves and broke your heart as he silently cried.

Okay THIS WHOLE BATH SCENE 🔪💔

"Let me love you," Eddie whispered. "Let me love you like you always love me,"

Me: 😟🥺 Also me: 🫡

Just before Matt had walked out, he'd said, "If it had to be someone, it's pretty cool that it was Eddie Munson."

It was just like you'd fucking said all along: Matt was too good for you. You didn't deserve someone like Matt.

oKAY bb, this HUUUUUUURTED. Sweet baby Matt.

Steve laughed, but it was humorless. It said, yea, we'll see about that dipshit. Eddie understood. Therapy had made him understand that everything was going to need proof. He'd ruined trust with everyone. This was nothing new, especially not now that he'd relapsed.

YUUUUUUUUUP. been there.

You'd placed blame for his relapse fully with yourself, and Eddie gasped, couldn't believe you were actually being serious and hugged you close.

"Baby, I'm not the way I am because of you. It's because of all the..." Eddie waved a wild arm around.

You understood.

But he knew you were going to be there. Was so very sure you'd be there. And he'd be there too.

"Foundations for this shit show were laid long before I'd ever even met you," Eddie kissed into your hair. "Don't you ever say anything like that to me again. We're not even. I've got a lot more work to do, trust me."

And so you did. Decided you were going to trust him.

I am SO GLAD that Eddie recognized this and named it and took away that pesky blame from reader because he’s right, it doesn’t belong to her. AND making the decision to trust someone when they’ve hurt you because of their addiction is such a struggle but it really does help when that person makes a living amends.

Not perfect. Far from perfect actually. There were going to be hard days to struggle through, difficult moments he wouldn't know how to deal with.

But he knew you were going to be there. Was so very sure you'd be there. And he'd be there too.

I’m, ughhhhhh, just 😭🥹❤️ This story is so beautifully written and so heart wrenchingly, devastatingly gorgeous. Hats off to you. Bravo 👏👏👏

P.S. you are inspiring me to get back to writing my Eddie x oc fic PRONTO

Never Over

♥ ♥ rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Following “Only Now”, “Over Now” and “Then Again”, the story continues. You agreed to have coffee with Eddie, because Eddie needs to speak to you. Sure, he wrote that letter, but he needs to have an actual conversation. So you do, and then, afterwards, it sort of… all just, goes to shit.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, mentions of smut, angst, substance abuse, hard drugs, alcoholism, lots of being sick, addiction, codependency, withdrawal symptoms

Author’s note: So, I was really convinced that this story was over for me. That the three prior parts to this would remain a trilogy, and that, if I were to ever write for Eddie again, it would be something entirely different. But then I got a message from my girlie and, shit. Here we are.

Wordcount: 10.7K

(find all four parts of this story here)

The rumbling of the engine and the gentle rocking of the vehicle did a good job of slowly letting Eddie fall asleep. It quickly became too difficult to keep his heavy eyelids open still, but the wide grin on his face was there to stay.

It was late, and the day had been long, but Eddie was happy. So very happy. Everything was coated in a light layer of joy, satisfaction, contentment, fulfillment and love. Even grumpy band members with snarky comments coming from the other bunks didn’t spoil his mood.

They weren’t rose-tinted glasses that falsely made him think everything was perfect, because he knew they very much weren’t perfect. However, there was a beauty in being sure.

Eddie felt sure, and Eddie would tell everyone that he felt sure all the time.

You, on the other hand, were very consistently unsure. About everything. Constantly.

The entire week leading up to meeting Eddie for coffee after Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding you’d been unsure. Eddie wanted to talk. Had to get things off his chest. And you’d said, or, had written in your case, that you’d go to meet him. But you were so very unsure about the whole thing.

You were very hesitant. Completely in two minds. On unsteady footing. Wobbly legs. Constantly all up in your head, overtaken by thought and hesitation. Yes, you were going to meet Eddie for a coffee because, why not? But no, you really shouldn’t go to meet Eddie, should you? Especially not after regret found you fast after what you’d done. It was sort of waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs in the grand lobby, where you spotted it in a huge mirror and it kind of scared you.

The person staring back at you was someone who just cheated on her boyfriend. With Eddie. Who was still upstairs, in Nancy and Jonathan’s bridal suite. Asleep.

Regret.

It immediately made you want to sneak back upstairs and take that note that you’d left. You should have never fucking done that. Everything about it had been delicious, but, at what cost? Thank God you at least looked fine. You’d been on top for a reason; not a hair was out of place. No one was to suspect anything had happened.

“Hey,”

Except maybe Steve.

“Where’s Eddie?”

You looked at Steve in the large mirror as you smoothed out your dress, and you didn’t really know what to say. You didn’t want to lie to your friend, but you could hardly tell him the truth, could you?

“Where’s Matt?”

You omitted Steve’s question with one of your own, as if knowing where Matt was at influenced the answer you’d give him. It would, actually, but that’s not what you wanted Steve to think.

Too late though.

Steve looked at you a second before answering, “Joyce has got him in a death grip, actually got him onto the dance floor– hey, are you okay? Did Eddie leave?”

“I’m fine,” you smiled, turned to Steve and tried to let your smile reach your eyes. “We talked.”

You did talk. Well, Eddie talked. Eddie got to say a lot of things, needed to get things out that you only half-listened to.

“Long talk,” Steve raised his eyebrows and clicked his tongue. The judgment coming from him made you roll your eyes.

“Yea, well, there’s lots of things to talk about, isn’t there?”

You walked past Steve, ready to get back to the party, but Steve grabbed you by the arm before you could.

“You wanna be honest with me?”

“Steve,” you pleaded, not wanting to get into it. The ‘not now’ followed unspoken, silently. You were trying to do your best to keep all the bad feelings at bay. Everything was so fun a minute ago, you’d been so in control of everything. High on power. Where had all of it gone all of a sudden? You realised just then how fleeting all of it had been.

“Where’s Eddie?” Steve asked again.

“Upstairs.”

Steve’s expression fell and his grip loosened in surprise. You took your chance to escape him and power-walked as fast as your heels could carry you, back into the solarium. You saw Steve enter seconds after you did and were glad he hadn’t gone up to find Eddie but had instead decided to stay out of it.

Smart man.

Smart men minded their business.

But then you saw him walk over to Robin and nod his head before stepping outside with her following his tails. There was no way they weren’t going to talk about you. But, so what? They could talk. You made the conscious decision to not care, because your boyfriend, the very one who didn't dance, was on the dance floor, getting instructions from Jim Hopper as Joyce tried her best to get him to follow her lead. They had every onlooker in stitches.

Then suddenly something panged in your chest and realisation dawned.

Matt was too good for you.

You didn’t deserve someone like him.

Fuck.

Look at that goofy goober. There wasn't a bad bone in that body.

You were going to have to tell him. Tell him everything. Oh no, and he fucking loved Eddie too. Loved Corroded Coffin. Matt was such a fan, and you had just... ruined all of it, hadn’t you?

Shit.

You saw Hopper applaud proudly, booming voice going, "You got it, kid!" when Matt got something right, and he laughed as Joyce encouraged him, praising him for even trying with her at all.

Yea. You were going to have to tell him.

Not today, though. But soon.

Your coffee meeting with Eddie hadn't gone like you had expected. You hadn't known what to expect at all, really, but you had never anticipated for Eddie to be quite so brutal. So toxic. In a way it helped, because it just proved to you that Eddie was still Eddie, no matter how honest and up front he was now.

He was just sober now. Had a bit more insight and knew how to use his words right.

Walking into the coffee shop, you saw that Eddie was in disguise, already sat at a table in the far back. He had his hood up and was wearing sunglasses indoors which inadvertently only pulled more attention towards him, but it was whatever. It's what celebrities did, and sometimes it genuinely helped, so Eddie wore the uniform of a rockstar that didn't want to be bothered. You got yourself a coffee and sat down opposite him.

You kept your coat on and gave a tight lipped smile as Eddie removed his sunglasses and reached across the table to grab onto your forearm for a moment in greeting as he smiled warmly. Eddie seemed a little nervous, but excited to see you.

You were distant. Cold. You needed to be, because for seven agonizing twenty-four hour days you'd thought of everything Eddie could say that held potential to reel you back in, and you weren't going to do that to yourself.

Eddie wanted to talk. So you were going to let him talk. Talk, listen and then leave. That was the plan.

And so, Eddie talked.

Eddie talked to you with a tilted head, apologetic scrunched up eyebrows and hands that reached to touch you every time he mentioned you. Eddie talked and forgot all about his coffee.

He spoke of childhood trauma that shaped him, his attachment issues, his inability to root anywhere properly and of finding solace in familiarity. How he looked for escapes, easy fixes to cure him from the outside in, and how awful he felt about everything he'd ever done to everyone to make them feel bad.

"Especially you."

You had a hard time looking him in the eye, studied your coffee instead.

"I'm glad you're better now," was the first thing from your lips. Besides small nods and tight smiles, you hadn't said anything yet.

"I really meant everything I wrote in the letter I sent,"

You nodded slowly, then took the last sip of your coffee and looked at your empty cup for moment. Eddie took your silence as an invitation to repeat the things he'd written. After listening to it for a few seconds, you cleared your throat and interrupted him.

"You don't have to–... I read your letter. I know what it said."

You sounded colder than you intended, and winced inwardly. But maybe it was good that you came off extra harsh, because you saw it take effect immediately.

Eddie's jaw tensed as he sat back in his chair a little. He looked at you a moment, then asked, "Have you told him?"

Matt.

"There's nothing to tell," you shrugged, and it made Eddie scoff. He looked around the room, as if to check if anyone else was hearing this. Nothing to tell? Come on. There was plenty to tell.

Eddie reached into his pocket and retrieved a note. Your note. The note you had left on the pillow that said you'd go have a coffee with him.

"This was cute," Eddie held it up between his index and middle finger, then flung it onto the table where it landed in between you.

You inhaled a sharp breath as you looked at your handwriting.

"So, um, thanks for this Eddie, good luck with–"

"Whoa... hey, you're not just leaving?" Eddie sat up in his seat.

"We've had coffee. You wanted to talk, and you talked."

"But... no, wait, that's not– we slept together a week ago,"

"Shut the fuck up," you panicked, hissing through your teeth as you ducked into your shoulders and looked around to check if anyone had heard him.

"Tell me," Eddie sat up, moved in closer, both elbows back on the table. "What do I need to do to make it right?"

You blinked at him, a little dumbfounded.

"You putting that on me?"

"No, I– I just... I'm just asking, is there anything you think I could do or say that will fix everything I've done?"

"That's a big ask, I don't think so,"

"There's gotta be," Eddie said, confident. "There is. I'm gonna figure it out." and he sat back, legs spread wide with a disgustingly smug look on his face.

There he was.

Therapy and sobriety could do a lot, but it couldn't erase the man that Eddie had become over the past few years.

"Okay, well... enjoy that. I'm gonna go, good luck with... I don't know, life, in general–"

And as you got up, Eddie suddenly shot a hand out towards you and grabbed you by the wrist. For a small moment, you saw 17-year-old Eddie stare at you pleadingly. He almost looked... scared.

"I can't, Eddie..."

You thought of what else to say. Something good, to make him feel better. Something sweet, to make him smile, maybe. But then all you managed to say was,

"I'm sorry."

And with that, you gathered your things, turned your back and walked out. The second you were out of Eddie's sight, you broke, face scrunching up as you let the tears flow freely.

You were going to have to tell Matt. Tonight. You had to.

But then you didn't, did you?

Because what were you going to tell him?

"Hey remember that celebrity that you really love? Yea... same."

You couldn't.

And so, you didn't.

Until a few days later, Eddie called whilst you were at work. A classic move. Eddie knew you wouldn't be able to pick up. Knew he'd catch your answering machine instead. He wanted to leave a message.

Eddie paused. Sighed.

The phone suddenly clicked.

"Hey," a male's voice answered Eddie.

"Is this um... is this Eddie Munson?"

Just over a week after you and Eddie had met for coffee, Steve was meant to meet Eddie ahead of a Corroded Coffin gig. Small venue, not far from where Eddie lived, and they were going to get Indian food. That was the plan. But then Eddie didn’t show, and Steve waited for thirty minutes before asked if he could make a call.

No one answered.

Worry shot over Steve, because Eddie had been good. Eddie had been really reliable these past few months. They didn’t meet up often, but when they did, Eddie would check and confirm their plans several times. Eddie made sure to not fuck up anymore, to be there for his friend, to make this right and prove to himself and to everyone else that he was doing better now. That he was sober and present and better.

But thinking of it now, Steve hadn’t heard from Eddie since they said they’d go for Indian food ahead of the gig Steve was going to attend. That was well over a week ago. He contemplated for a minute but then decided, fuck it, and left the restaurant. Something wasn’t right.

When he rang Eddie’s doorbell, he was buzzed in pretty quickly and it gave him a little hope. Maybe Eddie had just forgotten. Had gotten stuck in a song writing mood where he’d forget all about time and space and was just creative. In the flow. Spaced out, but in a good way. Steve crossed his fingers that Eddie was spaced out in the best way.

But stepping out of the elevator, he walked past a sketchy dude, the type of smug, criminal-looking guy Steve would usually steer clear off, who he saw had left the door open to Eddie’s luxury apartment.

Inside Steve found Eddie on his couch, expressionless, sort of dead-eyed. He didn’t even look up until Steve accidentally kicked a glass bottle that clattered loudly against the floor tiles, and even then it didn’t really seem like Eddie was fully in his body.

“No, no, no, no… Eddie, what the fuck,”

There were fresh coke lines on the table in front of Eddie and bottles just, everywhere. Some empty, some still somewhat full.

Fuck.

Eddie had relapsed, and he had relapsed hard.

The place looked ransacked, like Eddie had partied for a full week and hadn't let the cleaners in. There was just, shit, all over.

Eddie barely even heard Steve, but there was a shimmer of recognition in Eddie’s eyes when he saw him, followed by a disconnected smile.

“Harrington,”

Steve had never seen anyone like this. In this state. He knew Eddie had problems with alcohol – everyone knew of the alcoholism, it had been widely reported before. Just like everyone knew of his stint in rehab. And sure, Eddie used to deal a little in high school. They'd get high on bad quality weed together on Fridays sometimes, but Steve never thought that Eddie was the type of dude to snort actual lines of cocaine off tables. Especially not in his own home. Especially not by him fucking self, alone.

Shit, Eddie had been so good. He’d taken responsibility for the bad things and he’d been so good about everything.

“Forgot about dinner?”

Steve knew logically Eddie probably didn’t know what time it was, or even what day it was. He was about to miss another one of his own gigs, for fuck's sake. But the mention of food did something to Eddie.

Steve saw Eddie grow green in real time whilst he stayed overwhelmingly calm.

He’s about to hurl, Steve thought, suddenly panicked because Eddie’s place only had expensive furniture, the type of stuff Steve could never afford. And Eddie remaining so deeply calm only fucked with him more, because, why wasn’t Eddie rushing to a toilet?

Eddie leant forward slightly, only a little, and was just going to throw up right where he was sitting, so Steve darted around, found a sort of long vase stood in a corner and planted it right in between Eddie’s legs. Eddie immediately started filling it up, emptying his full stomach contents until Steve was sure the vein on Eddie’s forehead was going to pop and his throat had to be absolutely aching.

“This isn’t… fuck man, what are you doing? What happened?”

Eddie spit into the vase a few times, wiped a hand at his watery eyes, then at his mouth and sort of... babbled something. Steve could barely follow any of it, none of the noises sounded like actual words, until he caught your name. Eddie said your name and Steve thought Eddie was about to throw up again, but instead, Eddie looked at Steve and seemed a little more present. Sad and fucking hurt, but present.

“Ed… you can’t be–”

A heartshattering sob burst from Eddie's chest.

Steve looked around, sort of… defeated. Everything was a mess. The apartment had drugs and booze all over. Eddie was drunk, had coke crusted around his nose, was sweating, was crying and was sick. It was all fucked up. He had a gig in two hours. Steve needed to call people. Steve needed to get help. Steve needed to call someone, get help and...

He needed to get rid of all of the shit.

If Steve was going to help, he needed to start with getting all the substances out.

“Here, come on,” Steve took hold of Eddie’s arm and pulled him up. Helped him into the bathroom and sort of, propped him up next to the toilet with his back pressed against the tub. Then placed a glass of water next to him.

“Small sips,” he instructed, not even sure if that really was what was best.

Eddie's cries sounded worse in the bathroom, and Steve didn’t know what to do. Eddie’s voice echoed throughout the whole apartment now and sometimes, it was just wailing that turned into more vomiting, but then other times they were words, things like, sorry, I fucked up, I can't, I don't and your name.

Eddie kept crying your name and it made Steve aggressively wipe at his wet eyes all angrily as he collected bottles and other trash into garbage bags.

When was this shit going to fucking end?

When Steve called you, you let the call go to your answering machine.

You'd been crying and didn't need to talk to Steve right now. You knew Steve knew. Had heard from Matt, who had probably told him everything. Steve would say things like, I told you so. And, you brought this onto yourself. Shit you didn't want to hear. Truths you couldn't really face right now.

But when you heard Steve's voice on the tape, everything changed in an instant.

Steve's voice cracked, like he'd been crying and he sounded desperate. Panicked. Completely stressed out of his mind.

"I need you to come over, I'm sorry... I didn't want to call you, but you need to– I need you. Eddie's been... he's relapsed. It's bad. I don't know what– how I can–"

The phone clicked.

"Steve?"

You'd picked up , and Steve sighed a breath of relief. You were both sniffing down the line.

"I'm sorry," Steve said again.

"Where are you?"

"Eddie's apartment. It's... you need to know it's bad." Steve's voice didn't leave any room for questions. This was serious business. Steve would never call you over to Eddie's apartment if it wasn't absolutely desperately needed for you to be there.

"I'm on my way."

You'd never been to Eddie's apartment before, but you knew exactly where it was. Knew to steer clear of the area. Avoided it at all cost for a very long time, and found stupid excuses when Matt asked about it.

Steve buzzed you in and waited for you outside Eddie's front door. He needed to warn you extra before you were going to walk in, but stepping out of the elevator in a frenzy, you didn't let Steve stop you.

Just waltzed right in.

But the apartment was quiet, and it was just... messy. Kind of disgusting, actually.

You'd already been crying, emotions had been running high all day, so tears found you fast as you clasped a hand over your mouth. Steve caught up with you, said that he'd been cleaning for a little while already, but he didn't know what to do with the cocaine on the table, or the pills he found in the kitchen.

You sort of looked around in silence together for a moment.

This was insane.

You were scared Steve was going to say anything about Matt. About Matt finding out. About you and Eddie fucking in Nancy and Jonathan's bridal suite. But Steve said nothing of the sort.

"Corroded Coffin was meant to be on stage in an hour," with a broom in hand, Steve was a little relieved to now share the burden of all the horror he'd walked in on. He'd also called Eddie's manager. Said Eddie wasn't feeling well and wouldn't be able to make it. Everything told Steve that his manager knew. Understood. But nothing else was said, nothing about drinking, or drug use, and Steve thought that maybe they already knew, because Eddie also hadn't shown up for sound check.

"Where's Eddie?"

Before Steve could say anything, you heard someone cough and retch. Bathroom.

"Wait, stop," Steve tried, but it was to no avail.

You found Eddie, arms folded over the toilet seat, messy head of hair resting atop, heaving.

Steve frowned at it. He hadn't called you over to let you fall back into old patterns.

Eddie heard you and dove down deeper into himself, moved away a little, but remained on the toilet seat still. Refused to look at you because you weren't meant to see him like this. Ever. Pathetic excuse of a person.

"Eddie?" your voice was soft, small and high-pitched as your throat constricted with emotion as you kneeled down next to him. Eddie turned away, and when you reached a hand to softly touch, not to startle, but to comfort, you felt Eddie was shaking.

Steve stood in the door of the bathroom and looked at his two friends. The two people who'd been his best friends for a long time. One hiding his face into his arms over a toilet bowl, the other now moving from her knees onto her butt to sit with him, resting her chin on the other side of the toilet seat, one hand touching his arm, thumb slowly rubbing dry skin, waiting for Eddie to acknowledge her presence. One of them pretending they weren't even there, the other desperate for a connection to be made. Both quietly crying; your lip quivering, Eddie's shoulders shaking.

If this moment wasn't encased in the most awful, absolutely horrid circumstances, in a bathroom that could really use a fucking clean, Steve would've thought it was almost sort of romantic.

But it was bullshit, is what it was.

Seeing the two of you together like this, something dawned on Steve. Something that he somehow had always known was now staring at him, right in his face.

This was just like when you were 18 and Eddie had been sick after a house party where he'd been laughed at, had been ridiculed by some jocks. You'd sat with him all night until you'd both fallen asleep in the bathroom where you'd left mascara streaks on the floor tiles.

Or like when you'd been in a fight with your dad and Steve and Eddie found you on the steps of Wayne and Eddie's trailer. You'd hidden in their bathroom all night with Eddie on the other side of the door, softly talking to you until Steve decided, this wasn't what he'd come over to Eddie's for, and had gone home.

Or like when Steve had thrown you a surprise birthday party when you turned 19, but Eddie hadn't been able to make it because of work, and you'd just sulked all night. Steve had put so much effort into the preparations, and then, all throughout the party, he had put effort into cheering you up.

"Eddie, what did you do?" you whispered, and your voice revealed a little fear, but it carried mostly care.

"He fucked up is what he did,"

"Steve," you scolded.

"Wha–... am I wrong?"

Steve's anger built. Completely inappropriate, you thought. This was a delicate situation. A situation you'd been completely kept out of before. All those times you hadn't answered Eddie's phone calls all those months ago. All those times Steve told you that, Eddie was going to be fine. He was going to be fine, at some point. Get the help he needed. Get over whatever the fuck he'd been doing. You'd protected yourself and you'd listened then. Trusted that Steve was right. Gained strength in yourself and didn't allow Eddie to be a part of your life.

You had felt guilty then too, but... never like this.

This was the type of guilt that made you pick up when Steve called. The type of guilt that made you not even question going over to Eddie's apartment. That made you want to fix things. Fix Eddie. Fix all of it.

Guilt was the main emotion of the day. The real star of the show.

"Well? Eddie?"

Steve stood in that doorway still, broom in one hand, the other on his hip. Brow furrowed. He looked like his mom and his dad simultaneously, which, you weren't going to mention. You had no death wish.

"You've been crying out for her for over an hour, so I got her for you. She's here. Now what?" Steve spat.

Frustration and fear accumulated into this anger cocktail that Steve was spewing out at Eddie. Inability and helplessness, the complete not-knowing-what-to-do of it all that really didn't help. And now Eddie hid away and pretended you weren't even there and it rubbed Steve wrong.

Steve threw the broom he was still holding which landed hard on the bathroom tiles, making you flinch, before he left the two of you alone. Went back to the kitchen. Started furiously clearing counter tops. Had to not see you for a second.

"Eddie," you whispered, hoping that maybe he'd look up at you this time. Look you in the eye. You recalled how just over a week ago you'd been so dismissive of him. Heartless. Tried your best to come across it, at least. When you still thought that if you let Eddie in, he'd come between you and Matt, not realizing that... Eddie had sort of always been in between you and Matt anyway.

Cold and heartless was not the version of you that Eddie needed right now. And it wasn't the version of you that you wanted to be for him.

Eddie made small noises. You thought maybe he was going to say something, but then you saw his whole torso tense up, making Eddie hunch his back as he threw up again. Your hands were fast to push back his hair, collecting it behind his head into a ponytail that you tied with a hair tie you found near the sink. It revealed his face to you. Bloodshot eyes. Pained expression. Wet from crying. Awful skin.

Jesus Christ, it had just been over a week.

Eddie looked dead if it wasn't for blotches of colour that heaving brought to his face.

Not much came out of him. It was mostly just bile, by now.

Eddie struggled through it, stomach muscles spasming, nose snotting, eyes streaming and you had curled yourself around him all the way, like a backpack, pressing a cheek against his shoulder blade. You held him like that for a while, not really knowing what to say, or what else you could do.

A sudden loud clang made you turn your head. You caught a glimpse of Steve walking away, a huge big stinking vase now placed behind you.

"Rinse that out," Steve called out.

Yes. Good. A task. You could help by rinsing out what was very clearly a vomit filled vase, but when you were about to get up, Eddie clasped a hand onto your forearm.

"Stay," Eddie trembled.

"I'm staying, not going anywhere,"

You squeezed Eddie, carefully, but tightly. He seemed to need it.

"Just gotta clean something. I'll do it in the bath, I'll be right behind you,"

Eddie breathed heavily, tried his best to control it, to relax his stomach and not let it spasm, and let go of you. Rinsing out the vase in the bath was disgusting, but looking at Eddie helplessly sat by the toilet still, you couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of wanting to take care of him.

Wasn't that what it had always been?

Eddie would come back to Hawkins to be taken care of. And you always took care of him without asking any questions. Loved it. Loved him. Just couldn't stand him leaving every time.

Vase clean and turned upside down to drip-dry on a towel, you turned back to Eddie, stepped closer to him and that's when Eddie reached back, took hold of your leg. Tugged your jeans, pulled you down, turned a little, found handfuls of your shirt and pulled and tugged until you were sat on the floor in front of him, legs curled around his hips and his around yours. Arms folded around his back, and his strongly around yours. Embracing each other, impossibly tight, clinging, like that would cure everything.

Eddie cried again, buried his head into your neck. He smelled really bad.

"You're such an asshole," you said, your own lips quivering again. You kind of meant it, but hoped it would bring a little comic relief too.

"I'm a fuck up," Eddie agreed.

"You're both bullshit," Steve suddenly deadpanned and it made the both of you turn your faces to look at him.

"I was thinking, I really shouldn't say anything, because who am I... you know? This isn't my business. But then, you made it my business." Steve rubbed his brow, frowning deeply, clearly annoyed.

"Steve, let's not–" you tried.

"No. Let's!"

Steve crouched down right in front of you, elbows on knees, eyebrows raised high and nostrils flared. This is what Steve did when he was angry and had things to say. He'd get real close before he'd scold. Would make sure that you really heard what he had to tell you.

"I don't care what the fuck is going on here right now, between the two of you, but I'm done with it. It's always the same type of shit with you, like I'm stuck in a loop and there's no way out! Fucking groundhog day!" Steve got back up, intimidatingly towering over you, both hands in his hair before he continued.

"I'm not gonna come 'round and listen to you bitch and moan about why Eddie left this time," Steve said as he gestured a hand at you. Then he turned to Eddie. "I'm not gonna tell you–" Steve suddenly closed his eyes, breath shaking, trying real hard to keep it together. "You can't even fucking look at me straight, dude,"

Eddie was still drunk.

"I'm not gonna do it anymore. You can figure shit out for yourselves. I'm done." Steve turned, was about to walk out, but you stopped him. Said, "Steve, he relapsed," like that magically excused everything. But Steve stopped in the doorway, turned his head a little and said, "Yea, but so did you. Eddie with alcohol and whatever his dealers will sell him. You, with him."

Steve walked away. You thought maybe he'd just go into the kitchen again, but when you heard the front door slam shut, you knew he'd been serious.

You looked at Eddie.

Steve was right. Eddie had no control over what his eyes were doing.

"Let's get you clean. Then, bed."

Eddie obliged. Happy someone took the lead for him. Happy you took the lead for him.

But Eddie wasn't so happy the next morning, when he woke up at 4AM, sheets drenched in sweat. He was fucking freezing. You hadn't been able to sleep much and had set up camp in a comfortable chair that you'd moved to sit closer to the foot of Eddie's bed, where it was easier to watch TV. Volume all the way down.

"You should leave," Eddie croaked when he saw you.

"You should sleep more,"

"Slept plenty," Eddie tried sitting up, but was quickly fought back into the mattress by his own nausea. The pain in his head, in his stomach... he knew just the fix for it.

"If you think you're going to be able to find anything, I threw all of it out. Vacuumed up whatever you had lying around, washed everything else down the drain." You said it a little shaky, unsure of how Eddie was going to react.

Eddie thought for a second. He could definitely stick his nose into a dusty dirty vacuum, didn't feel like he was particularly above that type of behavior.

"There's nothing here, so go back to sleep," you were trying to fight off sleep yourself. Wanted to be awake in case Eddie would... in case something would happen.

Three days passed where you didn't leave the apartment. Three scary days and four scarier nights of caring for Eddie, never knowing if what you were doing was right, but doing them anyway.

You cleaned, finished Steve's job and made the place look tidy. Mess free. Aired it out, let Eddie complain about the cold that you skillfully ignored as you worked. You'd thrown all of it out. All the booze, the pills, the coke, the one discarded dirty syringe you found that you really hoped somebody else had used - you'd gotten rid of everything.

You asked Eddie if he wanted water, tea or a nap every time you caught him awake. And every time he'd sort of, frown at you. Didn't need your soft care, just needed a bit of... anything to take the edge of, but then, he always took you up on it. Always had a sip of water, maybe a little bit of tea and then would lay back down, always tried to go back to sleep.

Eddie slept a lot, but pain would wake him at odd hours. Always covered in sweat. Always shaking. Sometimes you'd worry he'd be sick again, but he'd growl he was just hurting.

Anger seeped out through his skin, and you knew it was never aimed at you, but you'd secretly cry once Eddie would drift off again.

On the second night you'd stayed over, you'd woken up on Eddie's couch around 1AM, went to check on him, and found Eddie drinking his mouthwash in the bathroom.

"Eddie?"

"Oh, shit, fuck–" Eddie scrambled to close the bottle, to hide it from you.

"What are you..." you took a small step back, scared of what you were witnessing.

"Don't leave," Eddie said, voice already cracking, afraid that you'd actually walk out now.

You took another small step back which urged Eddie to launch himself at you, arms encasing your strongly, Eddie's damp body pressed harshly against yours in an uncomfortable hug. One you didn't participate in.

"I'll get you a change of clothes," was all you managed to say when you felt how clammy he was.

Eddie sobbed and muttered things about how pathetic he was as you helped him freshen up. You sat him down in a chair as you changed his sheets. He had to stay close, couldn't really be trusted to be left alone, not even in his own apartment, apparently.

"Go back to sleep," you said when you'd finished, and you wanted Eddie to lay back down in bed so that you could sit in that chair he was sat in now, and watch him. Hold guard. But Eddie sort of looked up at you, and you thought he was going to say something. Something sweet, maybe. Something important. But then you both heard his stomach churn, and Eddie had to make a run for it.

He threw up the mouthwash, bright blue vomit clattered into the bath. Eddie seethed with anger, told you to leave him alone. "Don't want you to see me like this," he cried, and he promised he wouldn't touch the rest of the mouthwash, but yelled at you as you washed it down the drain with shaking hands.

Eddie cried. Vomited until it was all bile again, and you urged him to eat.

"Eddie, what if you die?"

"I won't fucking die,"

"You drank mouthwash!"

Eddie retched more, unable to stop it and unable to quite believe people could feel pain like this.

"You wanna go back to rehab?"

Eddie looked at you as if to say, is that a threat? You looked at him, and your expression read that it was a threat. Eddie didn't want to go back to rehab. Really, really didn't. Couldn't have you near him, but absolutely couldn't have you far. He reached for you, scared fingers dug into your skin, and you held him whilst he held on.

On the third day, you'd gotten Eddie to have a little soup and a few bites of an apple slice. Quite a bit of water, too, and Eddie seemed calmer then. Seemed to finally have snapped out of his mood.

You sat up on top of the covers in bed with him, and put on Pretty Woman.

"I'm not watching that big mouthed wench," Eddie had objected. Didn't want to watch romantic comedies with you. Happy people with happy faces and huge fucking smiles.

But you pretended you hadn't heard him, kept the movie playing until you were both sat against Eddie's headboard leant into each other, Eddie's head resting upon your shoulder and your cheek pressed into his hair.

This was nice, you thought. Almost like old times, a little.

Eddie would cramp up in waves. He'd be fine for a while, lucid, and present, and then suddenly, he'd be writhing. You always had a bucket ready, and helped him through it. Eased him back into his pillows, and would climb back into bed next to him. Always over the covers.

It was awful, but this was the process, you thought. It was complete misery, all kind of gross and disgusting, and Eddie was mortified but grew clingy. Needed you there. And so you were, but always over the covers.

That was, until Eddie, when the movie was nearly finished, groaned a little. His face was blotchy, eyes all red rimmed and his hair a tangled mess. You forgot what Eddie looked like without his bangs stuck to his forehead. He always seemed to be wet.

"You all right? What do you need? Water? I can make you more soup,"

"No, I'm just... cold,"

Eddie let his teeth chatter, and you looked around the room for a second.

"Eddie, it's fucking boiling in here,"

"Can you turn the heating on?"

The heating was on.

You took a good look at him. He didn't look as grey as he had a few days ago, but he still looked miserable. Sick like you'd never seen sickness before.

"I'll run you a hot bath,"

You helped Eddie ease into the water and sat on the ledge behind him, Eddie between your legs, so you could wash his hair. Eddie always loved it when you washed his hair, would really melt under your touch as you massaged soapy suds into his curls. But, his hair was one bit bird's nest, and so now, it was an agonizing job that needed doing. You were as gentle as you could be, but Eddie would wince as you worked to detangle the matted mess in the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, baby,"

"Why does everything hurt so much?" Eddie let his arms wrap around your calves and broke your heart as he silently cried.

Eddie let you wash him until he was all clean and then let you braid his hair after. His hands hadn't left your body since you'd helped him into the bath, and you hoped that it meant that he was over the hump. That this was a turning point, and everything was going to get better now.

That night, you'd slept with Eddie under the covers. You big spooned him. Held him tight. Whispered that everything was going to be fine, and the fact that Eddie didn't seem to be so sweaty confirmed that you were probably right.

It was all going to be fine.

At some point, Eddie turned and tried to kiss you. He pressed his lips onto yours, and for a second, you sort of let it happen. Let your mouths brush together. But it didn't feel right. Eddie was vulnerable, and you were exhausted, and it all felt wrong. So you stopped it. Broke the kiss. Moved your head away a little.

"Let me love you," Eddie whispered. "Let me love you like you always love me,"

"Later, Eddie. You're unwell,"

"I'd be yours, if you'd be mine," Eddie's voice cracked.

Beautiful words that made your chest swell. But these weren't things to dive into now.

"Later, baby. These are things for later."

You didn't reject Eddie, but to Eddie, it felt a little like a rejection, and he buried his face into your neck. Hid in there and kept it there, all snuggled up, until you both fell asleep.

The next morning you stirred awake at 8AM which really felt like sleeping in at that point. Eddie was bone dry. No sweat. No tears. You even detected a little colour in his cheeks.

It was time. Eddie had eaten, had managed to keep it all inside and so, it was time.

You'd done enough.

Home.

You slipped out, wearing one of Eddie's T-shirts still, and didn't leave a note. No dumb, stupid note. None of this was cute, or funny, or in any need of a sad little note that Eddie could keep and then throw at you later. Or, like you'd done, could keep in an old shoe box with other stupid things that you couldn't just get rid of.

You just left. Went home. Sort of trusted that you'd see Eddie later. Maybe. If he really had changed, was willing to at least try to change, like he'd said.

"I'd be yours, if you'd be mine."

You wanted it to be true so badly, but his actions were going to have to speak louder than his words.

You forgot what would be awaiting you at your apartment until you actually stepped inside and were greeted by your own mess. Drawers pulled open, half your clothes on the floor, big empty spaces left where Matt's things used to be. Slapped down and broken picture frames - completely your doing, not Matt's, but glass had shattered and you'd just... left it. You had even ran a bath for yourself, and then had let the soapy water sit and grow cold, because you didn't really deserve a bath, did you?

You remembered how you'd found Eddie's voicemail message two days after he had left it, listened to it with Matt in the room, and listened to it until you heard Matt pick up the phone. The tape had caught his voice, but then it cut off. Matt knew now, but Matt was just as non-confrontational as you were, and had known for two whole days. Hadn't said a word. But the truth had now been spoken into existence with the both of you looking at each other, and there was no way either of you could pretend still. Could pretend to not have heard it. Could deny any of it.

"What else did he tell you?"

It was the worst question to ask Matt, because it revealed there was more to your and Eddie's story than you'd ever told him.

"Enough," was all Matt said, never elaborated.

So, that was it then.

You'd sat on your couch, sort of dazed, stared into space, not even able to really cry even though this was a situation that deserved tears. Then Matt slowly started packing up all his things around you. Matt had stuff all over, hadn't technically moved in with you, but really only ever spent one, maybe two nights a week at his own place. Matt didn't move around with anger, but left the place messy, dropped your things on the floor without caring to pick up after himself. Good, you thought. Stand your ground, Matt. I deserve shittier treatment.

Just before Matt had walked out, he'd said, "If it had to be someone, it's pretty cool that it was Eddie Munson."

It was just like you'd fucking said all along: Matt was too good for you. You didn't deserve someone like Matt.

Self-hatred, absolute vile loathing of every single aspect that build your person, completely consumed you. Regret. Shame. So much guilt. You felt like you needed to hurt yourself because Matt hadn't hurt you enough. He hadn't yelled, hadn't shouted, hadn't said mean things. You only started crying once Matt was gone, and that alone added to all you had to be embarrassed about.

And then Steve called and offered you the greatest distraction of all. Eddie needed taking care of. And Steve was going to let you.

Back in your home now, it all came flooding back, and you sort of fell into the same state you'd been in then. Slumped back on your couch. Crying. Drowning in a weird version of self pity, sort of overwhelmed with how shit it all was. Steve mad. Eddie a mess. Matt gone. You empty. Alone.

You just sat like that. Stared into space, tears running all the way down your neck into the collar of one of Eddie's T-shirts you were still wearing.

Then, your doorbell rang.

You looked at your buzzer a minute, not really moving.

It rang a few more times, until it stopped.

A little bit later, footsteps followed on the stairs, and then, a knock on your door. A muffled mention of your name.

"Eddie?"

You got up, opened the door and found him there.

"I rang different doorbells until someone let me in," Eddie explained, but you didn't really react to that.

Eddie was here.

Actions were going to have to speak louder than words.

He was here.

Eddie looked over your shoulder, behind you, eyes scanning your pigsty of an apartment.

"Oh, shit," he commented, looked at your tear-stained face that was still staring up at him, gaze empty, because that's how you felt. All empty.

"Okay. Come on, your turn. Go sit down." Eddie took you by the shoulders and guided you back to you couch where you let yourself fall back on your spot.

"Tea?" Eddie asked, and then answered for himself, "Tea."

Eddie made you tea. Then started tidying. Cleaning. Just started putting everything in places where he thought they belonged. Did things wrong, but you didn't correct. He took broken picture frames, threw out shards of glass and tucked the photographs into a drawer. Ran a laundry after. Emptied the bath and rinsed and scrubbed the soap rim the water had left behind. Dishes next.

Eddie was sweating, more than was normal, and you knew he was struggling still. Probably felt sick to his stomach. But he was here, and for the first time in for fucking ever, you felt your battery charge with Eddie there. Eddie was charging your battery instead of draining it. Weird, but this was it. The thing. Eddie said there had to be something he could to do fix it. This was it. Eddie was fixing it.

Eddie saw you had three messages waiting on your answering machine, then told you, "Hey, you've got three messages waiting on your answering machine. Want me to play them for you?"

You nodded.

They were all from Steve.

"Hey, are you still not back home?" followed by a heavy, frustrated sigh, "You're going to end up killing each other, you know that right?", then a silence, followed by a loud beep.

Second message.

"I hope you're not answering because you're at work, and not still wiping vomit of Eddie's chin..." a beat, then, "You're like the wrong sides of two magnets who try to keep pushing themselves together. It's not gonna work!" another loud beep.

Third message.

"If you're not answering because you don't want to talk to me, I get it... I shouldn't have called you over to Eddie's place, I didn't know what I expected to happen, but... I spoke to Matt, just that afternoon, and he... sort of explained what happened, and, seeing you and Eddie be all cutesy– it made me mad for him. Matt's a good dude, you know he didn't deserve that... but guess what he said? He was like, this is going to be the best story ever – Eddie Munson stole my girlfriend. Can you believe that?" Steve fell silent for a second, then said, "Sorry I yelled at you. Please call me back when you get this... I'll call again tomorrow if you don't."

Loud beep.

No more messages.

Eddie just looked at you, tried to gather your reaction, but you were giving him nothing.

"You OK?"

With your eyes trained on your coffee table, you gave your head a tiny shake no.

"You wanna nap? Lay down for a little bit?"

They were words you'd said to Eddie many times over the past three days. Instead of answering him, you slumped sideways, rolled yourself up in a little ball, knees against your chest. Eddie immediately stepped closer, took a throw blanket and tucked you in.

"Can I lay with you?"

Eddie hovered, but you didn't answer. Couldn't answer, your throat had closed up with all these negative emotions, all of them aimed at yourself. You didn't deserve softness right now. So then, Eddie didn't lay with you, but instead sat down in a chair. He could just sit there while you slept. Not touching, but, he was close. That was all he wanted, anyway. To be close.

You woke up when your phone rang.

Eddie was quick, tiptoed to the phone as fast as he could and hoped it hadn't woken you up.

"Hello?" he answered, voice hushed.

There was a silence on the other end of the line, and then, "Munson?"

"Harrington," Eddie smiled a little smug smile, happy he caught Steve on the phone.

"Yea?" Steve asked, and Eddie knew what he meant. "You're actually doing this?" Steve challenged.

"I think we might be... well, I am, anyway. We'll see if she'll let me."

"I swear to God, Eddie. I'm not-"

"I know. I heard you the first time."

Steve scoffed.

"You seemed pretty out of it then,"

"I was," Eddie confirmed. "But you were very clear,"

"No fucking it up, Eddie,"

"I won't."

"Remember? Be mindful."

Oh, Eddie remembered.

"Hey Steve?" Eddie swallowed, knew his words weren't enough, but needed to say them anyway. "I wanted to say I'm sorry, and, um... thank you... you didn't have to, you know... just, thanks."

"You're good. Is she there?"

Eddie turned around and saw you were awake.

"Just woke up, hang on - it's Steve, you good to talk to Steve?"

You held a hand out as you sat up, knowing the cord could easily make it to your couch, and Eddie passed you the handset as he sat back down in his chair.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing out of your mouth, voice all strained.

Steve was silent for a second. He couldn't just accept that and move on.

"You were right. I'm total bullshit," you admitted.

"Hey," Eddie frowned.

"Sorry, we're total bullshit,"

That wasn't what Eddie meant, but that did make him smile. You heard Steve sigh.

"You're not bullshit. I actually think, and this is going to sound fucking wild coming from me, but I talked about it with Robin and she agrees... I think you actually might just be perfect for each other,"

Eddie was close enough to hear Steve on the other end, and he placed a hand on your knee. Let you know he agreed, too. He really fully fucking agreed.

"Stop, you're going to make me cry," you joked, but actually meant it.

"You gonna let Eddie comfort you this time?" You could hear Steve's smile in his voice, could picture it perfectly and copied it.

"I think I might, he's doing a fairly okay job right now," you looked at Eddie. "You've done plenty, Steve,"

Passage of the token. Eddie squeezed your knee.

"I love you, but..." Steve searched his mind for the right words. "But, you're just... a lot, the both of you,"

That made you laugh. He was fucking right.

"Could you still handle, like... 50 per cent of me?"

Eddie leant over, whispered, "Ask him if he can do 40, I'll easily do 60,"

"40?" you asked Steve, and Steve laughed.

"30 and it's a deal,"

Eddie heard, loudly said, "I'm not watching romantic comedies with her, dude!"

"All right, all right. 40."

You laughed and loved how it felt to laugh together, all three of you. You couldn't remember the last time the three of you laughed together like this.

"Love you Steve,"

"I love you too. Hey, is it weird if I come over? We could do a late lunch, maybe?"

Eddie took the phone from you, said, "Yea, no, that's gonna be weird,"

"What? Why?" Steve was confused, but it only lasted a second. "Oh gross, you're going to be open about fucking now, aren't you?"

"Bye Harrington,"

Eddie didn't even properly hang up the phone, but had simply dropped it to the floor instead before moving over to kiss you.

He then fucked you right there on your couch.

Afterwards you'd looked around, had said, "We're even now," and Eddie had burst out laughing. "Oh no, sweetheart, we're far from even. Are you forgetting who caused you all this trouble?" Eddie said, and when you just looked at him. He then pointed a fat finger at himself.

"Yea, but, did you not reach for a bottle after what I said to you?"

You'd placed blame for his relapse fully with yourself, and Eddie gasped, couldn't believe you were actually being serious and hugged you close.

"Baby, I'm not the way I am because of you. It's because of all the..." Eddie waved a wild arm around.

You understood.

And so you did. Decided you were going to trust him.

Eddie got more help. More therapy. More AA meetings. More keeping busy with other hobbies, like cooking. And baking. He made sure he'd see you every day, would never stray too far, even though you literally lived above and worked in a bar... this was never going to be easy. But Eddie had you, and he promised he'd take care of you and of himself.

You found a way to be together, and then, seemed to never not be together. Joined at the hip again, but without Steve this time 'round.

Steve came over all the time, though. Visited at least once a week. For lunch, or for dinner. To watch romantic comedies with you, and Eddie would join, just because actually, if he didn't focus on her mouth too much, Julia Roberts wasn't that terrible of an actress.

The band had taken a short break, and Eddie had decided they should be open with the public about why. Said it would actually help a lot if people knew about how difficult addiction could be. Would make it less of an awkward conversation whenever he had to explain to people he was actively practicing sobriety.

And Eddie did good. Got real good at all of it again. Had good days, and then good weeks. He felt more and more himself, and Wayne recognized it too. He kind of had his nephew back, said he'd missed him a lot and hadn't known if he'd ever really would get to see him again which had made Eddie cry.

Eddie was doing good, and Eddie knew a large chunk of it was because he had you now.

But then, after a few months of doing good, touring was back on the table, and Eddie immediately grew nervous.

Loneliness was Eddie's biggest trigger, and it wasn't being alone that was an issue, because on tour, you were never really one hundred per cent alone. There were always people all over. Everywhere. All the time. The real issue was the feeling of being alone, especially when surrounded by so many. Eddie's cure for this dull ache of loneliness had always been a lil' drinky drink. Just, a little sippity sip, a tiny little drop. Just one drink, you know, to take the edge of.

Eddie knew this about himself, and so, he was nervous. Scared. Sort of, riddled with anxiety.

You'd suggested some form of training. "We can sleep apart from each other for two consecutive nights, only call each other when we can find the time, just to try it out? See what that does? And then if that goes well, do three or four nights next..."

At 3AM on that first night, Eddie had snuck his way into your apartment and into your bed. Hugged you real tight, like he'd been gone for months.

"That was only a few hours," you'd croaked after checking the time.

"Few hours too many," Eddie'd whispered.

"How are you ever going to do this?" you were more awake then, wanted to have a talk. Face this head on.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't cling to you so much," Eddie said, worried you'd judge.

"That's all right," you were quick to make sure he didn't feel any judgment. "I quite like being clung to,"

"I promise I'll get better at this,"

"It's going to take time," you warned, knowing tour started just over a month from then.

"Someday, I'll be better." Eddie snuggled closer, eyes closed, tired.

Someday didn't come fast enough, just like you'd predicted, and so, with some creative paperwork and serious conversations with your landlord, your boss, Eddie's management and the band, arrangements had been made.

Eddie needed you there. And you had your own thing, your own personal problems, serious issues, with Eddie leaving. So, it really worked out for the best for the both of you. The solution to both of your problems was one and the same. You were going to go on tour with them.

"Did I not tell you that you're perfect for each other?" Steve had said with a goofy smile when you told him.

You became part of the Corroded Coffin entourage, not with any other specific job than just... being there. It took a some adjusting, because Eddie was different when he was Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin. There were certain expectations, and Eddie felt like people wanted him to fall into his rockstar patterns, do the things he always did when out on the road. Go to parties, bring parties back to hotel rooms, invite who ever seemed like a fun time onto the bus, drink a lot. You had no idea how Eddie would've even done this if you hadn't been there and, you'd never tell Eddie this, but you were convinced that he probably would've killed himself.

You slept on the tourbus together, had tried to squeeze into one bunk together, but that was only really doable for naps. There wasn't enough room to even roll over without shifting and scooting your whole body when you laid in a bunk alone, by yourself, so doubling up was never comfortable for long. Not for the long stretch of rest Eddie needed after shows. That's when you'd sleep on bunks opposite each other. You would remind each other how many more nights until you'd share a hotel bed again, and then let the rumbling of the engine and the gentle rocking of the bus lull you to sleep. You'd close the curtains to your bunks enough, but never all the way, always leaving a gap so you could see each other.

And sometimes, even the small distance between your bunks was too much distance, and Eddie would reach out a hand from underneath his curtain. You'd grab it and then you'd fall asleep holding hands that dangled in the middle of the walkway.

Everyone else hated it.

"This is worse than when they'd sleep on top of each other in one bunk those first few days,"

"Close your eyes and go to sleep, man. You don't have to look at it,"

Salty comments would come from bunks beneath you, and from behind your curtains, you'd smile sleepy smiles at each other.

Happy.

Eddie was so happy. So sure that this was it now.

Not perfect. Far from perfect actually. There were going to be hard days to struggle through, difficult moments he wouldn't know how to deal with.

But he knew you were going to be there. Was so very sure you'd be there. And he'd be there too.

Eddie was happy.

Had his past with you.

Cherished his present with you.

Felt sure about his future with you.

And that was all he'd ever really need. You.

the end

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie

@munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @harringtonfan4 @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s

@thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munsons fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie x y/n #stranger things 4

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toonqueen · 2 years ago

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Day 3: Mysterious Duck

Lolol This is a scene from a not yet done fic with Gladstone vs my Nega Gladstone. At this point they had already met earlier in the story soooo. It is what it is. If only I could finish the story lawdddd. I did flesh it out more for this prompt so I did do more writing on it so maybe the whole story will be done SOMEDAY. This one hasn’t been betaed. When I asked to get off of work earlier some days in November for a 'writing thing' instead I'm scheduled 7 days in a row. DELIGHTFUL.

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

“The horse was spooked by something in the barn this morning. I was going to have Gus go check it out when he gets back from town. There's probably a raccoon rummaging around in there again,” Grandma Duck explained to Gladstone as they sat on the farmhouse porch.

“I can go check it for you!” Gladstone offered rather abruptly.

Elvira raised an eyebrow, slightly suspicious of her usually anti-work grandson. “You don’t need to," she said, "you’ve done enough work today. I’m just glad that you’re taking away some of the items from the garage. I hope you get some use out of them." Smiling, Grandma Duck added, “I’ve enjoyed you coming to visit more often.”

“It’s no problem at all!" Gladstone exclaimed, laughing a bit too nervously. He stood up from the bench, placing his glass of freshly squeezed lemonade on the small table. “Since I’m here, I’ll take a look around the barn for you, too. You can stay here. It’s fine!”

Before Elvira could say anything else, Gladstone was gone, running to the barn. He paused when he got to the side of the door.

He hadn’t quite told his grandma the full story regarding certain events in his last adventure with Magica. While he had mentioned a parallel universe where everyone was different, he left out a few details.

The most crucial being how one of the portals to this "opposite world" was beneath the old barn.

Magica had successfully cast a spell that closed up all the "Negaverse" portals in the tri-city area.

However, Gladstone had a lingering feeling that his alternate self might muster enough luck to open one back up. He hoped his luck was superior, and all he would find was a raccoon.

Gladstone peeked through the open barn door like a cop on a TV show. He wasn’t used to trying to hide. Even as a kid playing hide and seek, he didn’t even have to find a good hiding spot to avoid being caught. His luck did all the work. But his Negaverse counterpart's own luck would probably negate that somewhat.

If his doppelganger was even here at all.

Gladstone heard the rattle of old metal milk cans shifting slightly. The sound reverberated as if one can had been knocked against another. They hadn’t been used in decades and several sat untouched in the corner.

Untouched until now.

It was just as he feared. What was standing by the metal cans wasn't a raccoon, but Gladstone’s Negaverse twin: Grimstone Gander.

However, Gladstone could tell Grimstone wasn't entirely there, not in a natural way. He was translucent like a classic ghost. Gladstone could see right through him, the milk cans visible behind the spectral figure.

Gladstone deduced his doppelganger was possibly using magic to project himself through the portal. Maybe attempting to open it from the other side.

There was an out of place line of shadow coming from the floorboards below, reaching Grimstone’s ankle. When Grimstone tried to go move away from the shadowy tendril, it pulled taut like a rope. It seemed whatever projection the Negaverser was using couldn’t go any further than a certain radius from the portal under the barn.

Gladstone was instantly relieved. The tension and worry left his body. He remembered the last fight the two had gotten into. Gladstone had won in the end. His luck--for the most part--had been superior.

For the most part.

The overconfident half-goose didn’t feel the need to hide anymore. Instead he leaned against the barn doorway smugly, quickly drawing attention to himself with a chuckle. “Long time no see," he jeered, "looks like you're not having any luck breaking in.”

The transparent projection of Grimstone stood upright at Gladstone’s words. The Negaverser’s whole "body" turned to face his counterpart. He shot Gladstone a glower that could kill.

“Now that you’re here, maybe my luck will change,” Grimstone replied, keeping his eyes locked with Gladstone's. “How about I borrow some from you.”

“Ha, not going to happen. You’re not really really here. You’re still locked out!” Gladstone taunted, certain he was correct in his assumptions. He didn't think it was physically possible for Grimstone to glare at him any harder than he was, and yet he did.

“Luckily for you, I suppose, that your Magica could cast such a powerful blocking spell. Curious that she knew how to do that completely out of the blue. It’s like she had that one already practiced and prepared." Grimstone cocked a feathery brow. "Very curious, hm? My Magica was honest with me, explaining why she could not undo it. At least I can rely on my Magica to tell me everything.”

“My Magica tells me everything!” Gladstone argued defensively.

Grimstone smirked, seeing that got a rise out of his counterpart.

Gladstone remained leaning in the doorway, casually defiant as ever.

In a split second, Grimstone had moved from across the barn, now standing face to face with Gladstone. So quick, so fluid, like a shadow; their beaks were nearly touching. He gripped and dug his fingers into the wooden barn door. While he was a magical projection of sorts, he was still capable with some limited physical interaction with the world around him.

Grimstone wasn’t here but Gladstone could still feel his breath on his face. His entire demeanor and body oozed intimidation and dominance.

However, Gladstone was unfazed and stayed where he was.

Grimstone ignored the lack of response and spoke in a gravelly whisper. “Are you willing to bet on that?" he offered. "If you're right, I won't bother a single soul in your universe ever again, but if I'm right... you have to open the portal for me." He glanced down at the floor, at the portal beneath their feet. "The way your Magica’s spell works requires you having to invite us into your realm; we cannot enter on our own volition. I understand wanting to keep this one closed. However, there is one in St. Canard that would be nice to have reopened.”

“Agreed,” Gladstone replied, still smug. He had correctly deduced that Grimstone's form was only a projection. Gladstone was confident he was now two for two in this deal his counterpart wanted to make. "I’ll take you up on that bet.”

Grimstone pulled his face back slowly and flashed a sharp grin.

“But you'll need proof to back your claims up. I'm not just going to believe anything you say,” added Gladstone.

“Oh, trust me; I have proof. And you will know I speak the truth once I tell you."

Grimstone then delightfully shared the most hurtful secret he knew.

@cataradical here and heehehe i did beta it :3c

#duckverse #duckverse 2022 #gladstone gander #grandma duck #magica de spell #grimstone gander #negaverse gladstone #negaverse

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instantpansies · 4 months ago

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and- THAT'S the end. fuckkkkk. so well done. i'm glad the whole second half wasn't taken up with hypothetical future, it didn't feel too drawn out or irritating when everything zoomed back to the present. "...the green knight" title card at the end ougoughghghhhh bc "sir gawain and..." was at the beginning!!! perfect. so good.

final thoughts:

first of all, as i've been saying, it's aesthetically really beautiful. the filmography is great. framing, colors, the placement of shots, all amazing. the really long shots did drag after a while - i've been calling them "pans" but not all of them were, either way they're very long and felt a bit unnecessary. not too bad tho. builds up a sense of desolation for sure, which is great.

performances were great all around!! dev patel is sososososo good, his emotionality came across in a very raw and human way. in the backdrop of a fantasy, a tale told thousands of times, he isn't legendary or even really heroic. he's simply a man who isn't always good or strong or brave or principled, who at the end of the day decides to do what he knows he must. and that's oughhh. you know?

i thought the plot was pretty solid. this story is a classic to begin with and i really like the direction in which it was taken, very personal and artistic and real. human. i keep saying it but it's true. a bit strange when it got to the "journey home" thing into the future and then came back to the present. i've seen it done well and poorly, and mostly i was just confused. to be fair, i had just spent an hour looking for a song on youtube at the very very beginning of the scene so i probably wouldn't have thought it was as long or confusing if i had, you know, been paying attention the whole time. and hadn't paused it for an hour. next time perhaps.

a couple things i thought were a bit tricky - the role of his mother (morgause) throughout was kind of vague. like we see her do some enchanting sort of stuff, and it's implied that maybe she sends the green knight?? but then gives gawain the belt. but then he loses the belt. and then gets a new one (the same one, but from an obstensibly different person). also the blindfolding thing?? not sure what that was supposed to represent????? maybe just recognition but there were other easier ways to do it so i honestly can't tell you what's up with morgause in this film.

there was a bit where the camera pans around in a circle to see him a skeleton on the ground, then pans back around to see him alive in the same spot again and i'm??? not sure what's up with that. i mean, as far as we can tell he definitely did not die tied up in the forest. sooo i honestly have no idea what they were trying to say with that shot. extremely confusing. bamboozling, even. especially considering the huge amounts of foreshadowing the does get resolved in the whole rest of the movie.

essel, his love interest, is only that. she doesn't have any interest beyond him. and like, i get it, that's her folklorically-assigned role, but idk. seeing her in a couple more scenes might have made me like her more but as it was she wasn't presented particularly sympathetically. i mean gawain was kind of an asshole to her so i was sympathetic but that's not how it was presented. especially since it's from gawain's perspective or a third party (think athena in the odyssey - outside observer with a vested interest in the main character. but like, if she was the cameraman) the whole time. anyways, this film doesn't pass the bechdel test. it's not really supposed to so i'm not mad. this is a highly singular, highly personal story about a man. okay.

THE CGI FOX SUCKS SO MUCH!!! i have already said a lot it so i will not say more. i hate it passionately. i will not be acknowledging the fox.

the sound design and music is really good. the soundtrack utilizes a ton of folk sounds and instruments along with a synth that mixes in really cool ways. the sync of the music to especially lighting cues and some movements is super satisfying and done in a really obvious way i don't often see. would like to see more honestly. games do it. i can see the horror influence, that's really where i can think of music doing a similar thing. sound design is peak as well, very subtle, well mixed, the dialogue is adequately audible (i would recommend subtitles tho bc they're speaking in a fictionalized """"old english"""" the whole time), i liked the atmospheric noise and especially the different sounds of silence throughout the movie. there were a lot of moments where the music would cut out for a long period and you just get a shot with really nice atmospheric silence and whatever little sounds gawain is making. you don't notice how loud movies are until you watch quiet ones and it's been a while since ive seen one that does it as well as this.

so yeah! there are other things i could say, im sure, but idk. i could definitely stand to do some more analysis of the symbolism and artistry later on! there's a lot of it!

summary:

"the green knight" (2021) is a compelling, moving, and very rewatchable fantasy film. it combines elements of modern fictionalized biopics (you know where they take a musician or whoever and make them really legendary but also show them crying or having sex or whatever), art film, and classic fantasy, in a way that is really satisfying and feels unique. watching it is an enjoyable and actively fun experience! the central character feels very real and patel's performance is spectacular. i would absolutely rewatch this film, and recommend it with a rating of 15 shots of dev patel's soulful eyes out of 19 talking cgi foxes. watch it if you'd like!

ok i'm watching the green knight (2021) it looks okay! and dev patel is so <3 and the appearance is very pretty

#toast watches #toast watches the green knight #the green knight #the green knight 2021 #sir gawain and the green knight #arthuriana #film #analysis #toasty talks

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johnsamericano · 4 years ago

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𝓓𝓪𝔂 10:

кιм נυиgωσσ

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @silent-potato @whathamelon @unknown5tar @ajhdr @mrcarbonatedmilk @curieouscapt

warnings: unprotected sex (reader’s on the pill), y/n is kinda odd but in a good way, thigh riding (? Sort of.

“Please, Yuta. I need you.” You pleaded, falling onto your knees as you held onto his hand.

“Stop, people are watching.” He pulled you up, slightly vowing to the students staring at the little scene. “I’ve already told you I’m too busy with my own projects.”

“Yuta.” You whined, feeling like you were running out of options.

“I have a couple friends that might be willing to help you, but I can’t promise anything.”

As expected, all of them rejected you. Everyone was too caught up with their own work to care about yours. But one magnificent day, you found your muse. You met him at the cafeteria, he was simply eating pizza, yet he looked like a model.

He pretended not to acknowledge your piercing gaze, but as you started walking to his table he couldn't help but blush, playing anxiously with the pages of his textbook. Why was the goddess of the art department walking towards him?

“Hi, I'm y/n.” You casually sat in front of him, extending your hand towards him as if this wasn't the first time you'd seen him.

“I’m Jungwoo.” He was literally the epitome of cuteness, his pretty cheeks tinted pink and his brown locks casting shadows over his forehead.

“What’s your major?” You rested your chin over your palms, eyeing the book on the table.

“Mechanical engineering.” He surely didn't look like an engineer, but that sort of made him even more attractive.

“That's cool. So listen- wait, before that, can I grab a French fry? I'm starving.” He nodded, his eyebrows knitted together. “Thank you.”

You chewed on the savory fry, moaning at the flavor.

“So, what were you saying?”

“Oh, right!” You cleared your throat. “So for my final project, I have to paint a human portrait, but it turns out, none of my shitty friends wants to help me.” He couldn't help the small laugh escaping his lips. “Unbelievable, right? So I had no other choice but to hunt down the perfect muse by myself. I was about to give up just when I saw you, sitting here all by yourself like some mysterious rom-com guy.”

“Do you want me to be your muse?”

“Well since you're offering, I'd be more than happy to paint you.” He was about to object, but you resumed your nonstop chatting. “Of course, I’d pay for your time, not too much though, my part-time job doesn't pay that well.”

And that's pretty much how he ended up meeting you every Tuesday, sitting for two hours straight while you painted his gorgeous face. The mood was always cheerful with you around, always making small talk and provoking some smiles from him. He got to know you better during the month you spent together. Jungwoo realized you were the most authentic person he'd ever met, maybe that's why everyone on campus was so enamored by you. On the other hand, he was nothing like the shy boy you first met at the cafeteria. He was so bright, his laugh so pretty that it made you want to hear it every day.

“This is our last session.” You announced as soon as your canvas was fixed in place. “Time goes by so quickly, don't you think?”

“Yeah, sure.” You noticed the saddened expression on his face.

“What’s wrong, woo?” He loved the nickname you decided to give him on your first session, it made him feel closer to you.

“It’s just a pity that we won't get to see each other as often anymore.”

“Who says we won't?” You started moving the paintbrush over the canvas, adding the final details to your portrait.

“You still wanna hang out with me?”

“Of course I do! You're finally opening up to me, I won't risk losing the progress we've made.” His heart felt like it’d escape his chest any minute.

“I thought you were just using me for your project.” You gasped, approaching his seating place with the paintbrush still between your fingers.

“How dare you, Kim Jungwoo?” There was a dramatic pause before you painted the tip of his nose.

“You didn't.” You wiggled your eyebrows, running away from him as he stood up. “Get back here!”

“Stop!” You threatened him with your brush, back pressed against the wall. “I won't hesitate to paint you again.”

“Scary.” His chest was touching yours, faces barely centimeters away.

“Where’s the shy Jungwoo I met?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” His knee positioned between your legs, pushing against your core. “What is it with that face?”

“Have you been deceiving me from the beginning?” You tiptoed, trying to hold back the small whine threatening to fall from your lips.

“No.” He raised his knee, this time, the imminent whine managing to get past your mouth. “I really was shy around you, but you're so easy to be with. I feel like I can be myself when I'm with you.”

“By yourself, you mean your horny self?” He started moving his limb back and forth, making sure to apply pressure on the right spot.

“I wasn't planning to do this, I didn't even know you wanted to see me after your project was done.” His finger pads danced over your neck, causing goosebumps over the sensitive skin.

“Well, then, are you gonna kiss me or should I take The first step?” He giggled before attaching his mouth to yours, a variety of new sensations growing at the bottom of your stomach. “God, I wish my project would've been related to nude portraits.”

“I would've definitely called the cops if you had asked me to be your nude model.”

“Mean.” Your face inched closer to his lips once again, slightly biting into his skin.

“Are you alright with this?” He lightened up the pressure on your heat, making sure you were both on the same page.

“Yes. But I don't know about making love in a classroom, though.”

“Making love?”

“I don't like the way ‘fucking’ sounds.” He chuckled. “Would you rather have me calling it sexual intercourse?”

“Stop talking before my dick gets soft.”

He lifted you with ease, sitting on the stool you usually used with you on his lap. His hands rubbed the sides of your thighs affectionately, slowly lifting the fabric of your purple dress to reveal your panties. He wasted no time on moving them to the side, quickly using his digits to make sure you were wet enough.

You helped him undo his jeans, clumsy hands struggling to get the zipper down.

“Allow me.”

“Be gentle, alright?” You placed your hands behind his head, toying with his brown locks as he aligned himself with you. He nodded. “I need verbal confirmation, woo.”

“I promise to be gentle, y/n.” You felt his tip prodding at your small hole, bracing yourself for the imminent pain. “Look at me.”

He started sliding inside you, your fingers accidentally tugging his hair. He didn't complain, though, too immersed in your face to even notice. You glanced at him, noticing how handsome he was from up close. His eyes looked like they carried the stars- no, the whole universe, you'd definitely have to paint them one day.

“Can I move?” You nodded, holding back the smile creeping up your lips as he started thrusting upwards. “Not even in my wildest dreams would I have imagined we'd end up like this.”

“Well, I'm glad you accepted to be my model.” You let out an open-mouthed moan, his dick hitting your G-spot.

“Pill?” You nodded, letting him do all the hard work while you enjoyed yourself. “Pretty.” He kissed your throat, holding your glutes to push himself further into you.

There were no words needed to know you were both incredibly close to release, just a few more thrusts had your pussy pulsating around him, his warm cum coating your walls.

“This is the best love-making session I've ever had.” You let your body fall against his, causing him to lose balance and almost fall down. “Sorry.”

“Well, we can always repeat this. Maybe I can actually be your nude model for your next masterpiece.”

“Who is this guy?” He chuckled, the corner of his eyes picking the image of the recently painted portrait. “Don’t look!”

But he was already admiring the product of your hard work, and it was amazing, to say the least. It was a picture of him smiling, sunlight coming in through the large window panel beside him and directly hitting his face.

“If you don't get an A, I'll write a complaint.”

“I like your way of thinking. I'm getting the feeling that you and I will be a power couple, only if you want that too, of course.”

“Let’s go out for dinner and I'll think about it.”

#nct smut #nct fluff #nct au #nct imagines #nct ot21 #nct x reader #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios

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bonesandthebees · 3 years ago

Note

Hallo :DD!

Just finished reading chapter 15 of world forgetting and first and foremost, I would like to give you a big warm congratulations in publishing it! Hope you know that I appreciate the time and effort you put into writing these fics and I absolutely love this fic just as much as your previous works like Clinic and Under the Brine. Don’t forget to take some time to rest and unwind as well cause you deserve it, cheers to another wonderful chapter <33!!!

Now unto the chapter itself: no thoughts, head empty, only crimeboys and I love it so terribly much!!! There’s something about your characterization and writing of crimeboys in particular that I adore and pulls at my heartstrings constantly, a perfect balance of angst, fluff and hurt/comfort. You wrote the fight scene between Wilbur and Punz so well and seeing Tommy constantly going at it with Punz to protect Wilbur, my heart was not ready for that at all :’((!!!

What more during the next scenes during the aftermath of the fight. Protective characters in fiction are genuinely my biggest soft spot and weak point so seeing Tommy so over protective on Wilbur made me have to pause and stop reading every now and then just to recover. It’s those gestures and actions such as Tommy scrambling from Techno’s grip, kicking, screaming, crying and constantly holding unto Wilbur and refusing to let him go that made not only the scene but the whole chapter and crimeboys dynamic in itself all the more meaningful!

The next portion that followed was just as amazing, we got a little bit more information on Wilbur’s backstory! Mind genuinely blown with how you came up with his powers and the background behind his tangible and intangible state (the bit talking about Limbo as well made me sad but the way you integrated it into the story and Wilbur as a character is so terribly good and clever!) Of course, the last bit of dialogue where Tommy and Wilbur talked about the concept of being “a monster” and all had me running around in circles, you really write the crimeboys mannerisms and dialogue so well!

The way you wrote Tommy’s thought process and genuine worry throughout this chapter was absolutely fantastic, he might be stubborn but he genuinely loves his brother. And for all of Wilbur’s complexity and dynamic as a character, there’s something to be said about how straight forward his love and care towards Tommy is throughout the narrative. It genuinely reminds me so much of c!crimeboys lore wise on the Dream SMP itself, there’s so much complexity to their relationship and a lot going on between them yet that raw brotherly affection they have for one another amidst everything remains the same, something that you never fail to capture with each and every chapter.

In the end, I want to give you a massive thank you for this wonderful chapter. Your writing is just as amazing and wonderful as always and I wish you all the best for your other writing projects and chapters to come <33!!!

anon this is so so sweet oh my god i am sitting here smiling like an idiot bc of this message AAAA

I have SUCH a weak spot for protective tommy. I feel like in a lot of fics I read because wilbur is older he's automatically assigned as the protective one, but when you look at the actual c!crimeboys dynamic on the dsmp tommy is far more outwardly protective of wilbur. that's not to say wilbur isn't protective of tommy, but tommy definitely shows it a lot more so it's one of my favorite things to include in my fics

and akldsjfkld thank you that whole conversation about being a monster was so fun for me to write and I was very proud of how I captured crimeboys voices there. so so glad you liked it!!

so glad to hear tommy's thought process was captured well too, because there was so much going on this chapter I was worried his thought process was a little unclear or things just might generally be confusing but I'm very happy to hear that wasn't the case. the dsmp!crimeboys dynamic is just so good and I love trying to capture the complexities of it in different worlds like this one so tysm anon <3

(also I appreciate the reminder to rest, dw I'm not pushing myself to write. it's genuinely my favorite past time which is why I update so much. writing is very rarely a chore for me, and more often than not it's the only thing I want to do with my free time)

anyway ty for the lovely message anon it made me smile so much :D

#ask #anon #bones writes

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downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles · 4 years ago

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We Met Within This Screen (chapt. 5)

[Donnie x fem reader]

sfw, chapt. 4 here

Just as Donnie had predicted, the night air was cold on his scales. Right upon leaving, Mikey brought up to Leo going in pairs this time, to cover more ground, he said. An extra thorough patrol. Donnie honestly couldn't make up his mind and so by then he was flying by the seat of his pants, not objecting to Mikey's plan, but also not agreeing. He doubted Leo would be convinced, anyway. They didn't do duo patrols that often.

"I was thinking we could split up this time, you know, me and Donnie, you and Raph?" suggested Mikey, closing the manhole behind himself.

"I thought you liked it when we're all together," Leo commented.

Donnie shot Mikey a look, trying to tell him to cool it, but he shrugged, "Come on, it'll be like some kind of training or...something," Mikey went behind Leo and shook his shoulders, "aren't you into that?"

Internally, Donnie facepalmed. Unless he actively tried to stop this, it was going to happen, wasn't it? One way or another, probably; it all depended on how Leo was feeling that night. Raph was indifferent. He didn't care whether they were all together or in pairs, just that he got to flex his combat skills some. If he could, he'd go out and do it on his own, even.

Leo looked around, considering Mikey's suggestion. "Okay," he agreed, eventually. "You and Donnie take East, Raph and I will cover the usual route and then—"

"No," Mikey interjected. Both Leo and Raph's brows furrowed as they stared at their brother. He motioned toward Donnie, "Me and Donnie can take that, you guys just go on ahead," he smiled. "You know I like checking out the skatepark!"

"No skating," Leo said.

"I'll just watch whoever's there, then." He pouted.

Raph snorted. "Yeah, make sure he actually pays attention, Donnie."

"As usual," Donnie sighed, and looked at Leo.

"Well, what do you think, Don?"

The decision is up to me?

Turns out it was his all along, but he wanted to feign innocence in saying that Mikey was the one to drag him through it. Easier to not take responsibility and let life happen at you rather than making a conscious effort, at times.

"I guess we can do that," Donnie answered reluctantly. He could have said no. Why didn't he? In the corner of his eye, he saw Mikey beam, giving him a discreet thumbs up.

"Alright, meet back here by four AM, and if either of you run into big trouble, call. We'll come," Leo said. "Same for us."

"Yeah, we'll holler for ya," added Raph dismissively. "And nah, a big dog doesn't count as trouble, Mikey." He sounded gruff, but in actuality, he was still chuckling to himself over that years later. After they got over being annoyed that he had called them from that far while they were on a supply run. Chased by a junkyard dog—some of their least favorite parts about visiting those places.

"Hey, it was mean! And way fast!" Mikey protested as they parted ways, them taking to the East and red and blue the opposite way.

As per course, Donnie and Mikey took their normal route, and his heart skipped a beat when they met the scene of their last run-in with criminals. Not because of them, no, but because of the familiar apartment building that was now more intimidating than he'd expected. They circled the area like they normally would have, but Mikey came to stop them on a roof just opposite of the complex, eyes searching each window. Obscured by the height of the building, he sat on the edge.

Donnie didn't know what to do with himself. He stood back a good ten feet, somehow paranoid of being spotted even though he knew it was not possible from their angle in the complex. Mikey was comfortable, and weirdly at peace as he sat there quietly on the edge, assumed to be waiting for his brother to make a move. But Donnie was stuck in place.

"What are you waiting for, D?"

The sudden question broke him from his stillness. It was true; he didn't know what he was waiting for.

"I—I don't know what you want me to do, what are you thinking?" Donnie asked in return, stepping back a little further as he noticed movement behind the curtains of a lit window.

"Get your phone out and talk to her," Mikey told him, waving his hand at the apartments. "What did we come out here for if you aren't gonna make it right, bro? Do some smooth talk, tell her you're sorry and you wanna get to know her better…"

"This is absolutely a ridiculous plan," Donnie said, though as if his hands had thought of their own, they reached for his phone, and a moment later he was looking at the messages. Still nothing. Radio silence on both of their ends. How would he approach it? "I'm sorry I went from hot to cold so fast. Please talk to me again." Too strong. "Sorry, can we get a redo?" Too casual. "I'd like to apologise for being a jerk." Okay, that's just not good. Reconciling was going to be as difficult as he'd thought it would be.

Mikey came over and looked at his phone screen and his brother floundering, thumbs stuttering across the keyboard, deleting the text, retyping it over and over again for perfection where he wasn't going to find any–

"I got this, let Love Doctor Mikey handle it," he said, taking the phone right from Donnie's hand.

"You've never been in a relationship, not even talked to anyone, how would you—"

Mikey shushed him. Donnie was going to snatch the phone away but he spun around, draping himself over his shoulder. "Just let me work my magic, dude!"

Donnie couldn't watch; he had to turn away. How sure he was that Mikey was going to say something uncalled for, something weird or bone-headed, and the wait was killing him. What if she didn't even respond? Was that better than doing damage control for Mikey's shenanigans? For someone usually decisive, he could not for the life of him make up his mind about what he wanted at that very instance.

The phone vibrated.

Mikey cheered. "Got her on the line, now you just gotta reel 'em in," he grinned, handing the phone back to Donnie.

"Hey :/

I thought you wanted to stop?"

Mikey kept trying to lean over to catch a glimpse of the screen, but Donnie felt that it was a personal moment, so without skipping a beat, he activated the electric current in his staff and poked it behind him into his brother's plastron.

"Fine," Mikey whined. He stepped in one last time, "But don't hold out on me here!"

Trying to find an graceful way to patch this all up, Donnie replied:

"I apologise for that, and I know you probably want an explanation, but it's hard to explain

Moment of weakness?

I guess...

Anyway. I'm not expecting you to suddenly be cool with it, if you don't want to talk to me I understand

Sorry."

Mikey noticed Donnie's dismal expression and he mellowed out accordingly, standing close but not putting a hand on him, nor saying anything. He didn't watch the phone, but Donnie's face and slumped shoulders. He'd thought it would have been going better by now.

"I won't lie, I'm still confused

But if you're going through something, I'm right here for you

Don't worry about it. Just don't give me a spook like that again, I thought it was me

lol

Okay it's not funny but this is a little awkward"

Donnie's heart sank reading that. He'd made her feel bad, even question herself over his problem. Never had he wanted to make her think it was her that drove him off.

"No, no, it was never you

Again, I can't really explain…

Is it okay if we just try this again?

I understand if not."

"Jeez Bo, I already said it's alright

I WANT to keep talking to you, you're cool

So let's forget about it, yeah?

Friends again :) "

And like that, his heart took a leap. A smile slowly spread across his face, and without looking away from the screen, grabbed Mikey by the shell, pulling him toward. "Look at this!" he exclaimed.

"You see it too?" he quirked, pointing at the apartment complex across the road.

Donnie paused and looked over his shoulder at him, "What?"

On one of the balconies sat a lone girl, on her phone, and if Mikey looked hard enough, he could see a smile. Definitely a smile.

"Ah!" yelped Donnie quietly. He scurried back against the wall of the attached building behind him, as far as he could.

"Dude! Come on, this is perfect!" Mikey nudged him, and when he didn't hop up onto his feet, dragged his brother near the edge of the roof. Donnie was boneless but unwilling, his mind stuck on the fact that she thought he was cool. Him, cool. Was he? She didn't know even the half of it. She didn't know he was a martial artist, technically a genius, and that he'd gone against some of the worst the city had to offer. And without that, she still thought he was cool, as an average guy.

As average as what my circumstances will allow me to be.

Feet dragging all the way, Donnie's stomach did a flip as they met the ledge, peering carefully over it in a crouch. They were prone, watching the girl who was completely unaware of their presence. He was, simply put, enraptured, for a second there, studying her features as much as he could from where they were. The details of her face were not distinct due to the distance, but he could tell she was both nothing like he'd imagined and so much more. For once, he didn't immediately question the validity of the situation; there was no "it could be a coincidence", or "it's too unlikely that she would be out just as they were". Not right away. But it hit him when Mikey spoke.

"You're so lucky, D," he said wistfully. "Really." Head rested on his forearm, his gaze fell on not one thing, but the whole scene, a somber smile gracing him. He was excited, happy for his brother. But deep down, Donnie knew that though Mikey wasn't envious of him in a resentful way, it had to have stung to witness such a thing unfold for someone not himself. Their youngest had always craved connection the most. He looked away from the girl, "I wasn't gonna let you throw away an awesome chance, was I?"

Releasing a heavy breath, Donnie crawled away from the edge, but his eyes remained on that balcony. It was weird to watch someone who didn't know they were being watched. Not in that context.

"I...guess I may be," Donnie responded. But it would only get more complicated from there. His phone vibrated, breaking his trance, and the message he found read:

"Anyways, with that out of the way, what are you doing?"

Just watching you from a roof, nothing much, Donnie thought.

"Currently out enjoying the night"

"Isn't it kinda cold?"

"What about you?"

He knew what he meant, because he was there watching her as a chilled breeze rolled through, but she told him she wasn't doing anything. Only relaxing and talking to him.

It took him a few minutes to get his bearings. To know that he now had tangible evidence that she was a girl, an ordinary person, and that said person really thought he was cool. Worth the effort. He felt exceedingly difficult for not being able to give her a rightful explanation, but comforted by the fact that he wasn't being demanded of one. He felt light. Almost weightless, with Mikey next to him instead of his other cynical, skeptical brothers. For a moment, he had nothing to worry about.

From across the roof, he could still see the yawn escape her mouth. Probably an indicator that it was time to wrap things up. He didn't want her to stay up too late; it was already odd that she was up at such an hour, almost two AM, but glad nonetheless.

"Are you tired?"

"Yeah

I think I'm gonna hit the hay

So goodnight, Bo

Talk to you later (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞"

She got up, leaning on the railing which faced them.

"I want to stay up with you but—"

Donnie sucked in a sharp breath as she looked up, just barely able to see from underneath the balcony above her. He snagged the strap on Mikey's shell and yanked him back with him away from the edge of the roof, taking cover behind the wall.

"Shit," hissed Donnie, "do you think she saw us?"

These shells, they make us look so big!

"Relax, bro, even if she did, it was only a little bit. Besides, we could be anyone from this far, they don't have pigeon vision."

"You mean 'eagle vision'?"

"They're both birds!"

Donnie deadpanned and peeked over the wall. She'd gone in. Three minutes later, he hadn't gotten any texts yet about something weird on the rooftops, so he could finally relax, groaning lightly. "Too close," he breathed out, "Mikey, we need to go, Leo's going to notice we're not back in time if we don't hurry up and get the rest of this route done."

"Already on it," he whooped, vaulting onto the next roof.

As Donnie was scaling the wall of the attached building, he felt his phone vibrate, and curious, he checked it one last time before getting on his way.

"One question before I go

You ever see stuff you can't explain but even if you did you'd sound crazy?"

Oh, no.

"No, I don't."

Chapter 6

#donatello x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt fanfiction #donnie x reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #donatello #leonardo #raphael #michelangelo #fanfiction #leo #donnie #raph #mikey #tmnt

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leos-regression-cove · 2 years ago

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Nothing in the Parenting Books Prepared Me For This

34. After Work

Synopsis: Mobius comes home from work and finds Loki caregiving for a tiny Sylvie.

Word count: 866

Stand Alone?: 1/2 parts

Warnings: mention of messing, mention of physical impairment via magic,

Notes: Flashbacks are so difficult to write! This one wasn't perfect, but I'm still pretty happy with how cute and fluffy it turned out.

Read it on AO3!

The doorknob turned and Mobius stepped inside the home with his jacket over his forearm and briefcase in hand (it wasn’t necessary as nearly everything in his office was digitized, but old habits die hard, and he insisted on having a printed copy of everything).

Loki was lounging in the recliner, asleep. He seemed big, at least in his dress, which consisted of a button-up shirt and khaki brown slacks that fit shockingly well. He looked as though he should’ve been the one going to work. The play As You Like It lay on the ground as if it had fallen out of his hand, which was limply reaching for it over the side of the chair.

The odd thing about the scene (if we only look at Loki), was that he had a very dark green, nearly black, pacifier in his mouth. However, this strange occurrence was quickly explained once you noticed the baby girl in his lap without hers, sucking on her thumb and dressed in the cutest little summer dress onesie ever made and a big bow in her hair, napping as well. Loki had one arm around her midsection, no doubt petting her back when they fell asleep. She seemed to have been in the middle of running her fingers through the ends of his shoulder-length curly hair when she fell asleep.

Sylvie’s eyes slowly opened, she was a rather light sleeper, and Mobius picked her up, also removing her pacifier from Loki’s mouth as he did so. He took her to the kitchen to wash it. “So, what did you and Loki do while I was gone today?” he asked absently.

“Baba play!” she told him.

“Baba?” he asked.

“Baba Woki,” she explained.

“That’s going to get confusing if you two keep calling your bottles that, too.”

“Muma Woki?” she tried.

Mobius almost laughed. “You should ask him when he wakes up.” He paused and turned off the sink. “How did this get in Loki’s mouth, anyway?” he questioned, holding up the pacifier.

Sylvie smiled. “Snore,” she giggled after mimicking a snore with a piggy-like gurgle.

Mobius put the sanitized pacifier in her mouth, “you are so silly,” he said as he picked her up and moved her towards the table.

He sat with her there. “We’re going to do something fun tonight, you know that?”

She feigned babyish shock as he bounced her on his knee.

“Yeah, Sam and Bucky invited us over for dinner.”

“Bucky baby?”

“I dunno; I didn’t see him today. We’ll see.”

“Bu’h baby!” she cheered.

“Maybe.”

The commotion forced Loki to stir. There was an odd taste in his mouth and he was slightly groggy, but he got up anyway.

“Hey, Baba,” Mobius teased from his spot with Sylvie. “We’re having dinner at Sam and Bucky’s tonight, are you up for that?”

“Yeah… As long as I’m not the designated little keeper.”

“You won’t be, I promise… So how was today? I hope I didn’t miss anything fun.” Mobius’ voice changed dramatically halfway through his sentence as Sylvie grabbed his nose forcing his voice to be high and throaty.

He grabbed hers back while they waited for Loki’s answer.

“Good… good I think,” he nodded. He thought about the big tantrum she had right after regressing, and trying to find her lunch, and cleaning up a messy diaper (with magic. No way in Hel he was going to actually fix it by hand) that was accidentally left on Sylvie just a minute or two too long and had left a bad rash, and then there was trying to get her down for a nap, which frankly took way too long for his impatient nature.

Of course, there was a lot of sweet playtime in between the problems, when he got to hold her in his lap while she played with her toys, it made him almost feel whole. Such a sweetie, the way she wiggled and rolled and jingled her simple baby toys. Am I that cute when I’m little? he wondered. He did not know, although he assured himself he was definitely much cuter.

The truth was that they both were adorable, equally cute and charming, and probably the most two littles were capable of.

Another thing they had fun with was Loki’s powers; he ever so gradually impaired Sylvie’s motor skills. She giggled as Loki helped her balance to stand. He did it to himself fairly regularly, but it was a new experience for Sylvie, and he didn’t want to spring it on her the first few times she was a baby. He played with her voice, too. Her ability to form words became more and more difficult, but it seemed that her natural littlespace was enough to mess with her vocabulary, so the spell Loki cast was more frustrating than it was fun, as soon as the novelty wore off.

“Yeah… It went well,” he concluded more confidently this time.

“That’s great!” Mobius smiled before cooing at Sylvie.

She hugged him enthusiastically, kicking her legs and twisting her hands into his shirt, and babbling behind her pacifier as Mobius picked her up to go get ready for the evening ahead of them.

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years ago

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Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 11: Under Pressure •

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blatant homophobia from Nicklesmart The Beatboxing Jester™️ in disguise as someone you know, internalized homophobia throughout the whole chapter. As usual, will put a skip marker for the heavier scene before and after if you need/want to skip. It is not light, ngl 😔 [trigger words: f*iry + the f slur, each used on exactly one occasion, and (as an insult) queer. I'm so sorry, this was not easy for me either and please do not read this if any of this in any way bothers you, i won't be mad if you skip the chapter 💕]

A/N: Next chapter will be all fluff I promise 🥲, I'm so sorry, but I needed something that could solidify Richie and Y/n's friendship for good, and her helping him through his worst fear is the best way to do that and will be explored in other ways throughout the rest of the series, specifically in the sequel. all that aside, I missed you guys and this series so much!!

LGBTQ+ RESOURCES AND SELF HELP LINKS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE CHAPTER

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

- 𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 -

Richie keeps his eyes trained on the dried mud on his navy blue slip-ons as he makes his way across town, his mind buzzing twice as fast as it normally did. He felt as if his entire body had been put through a blender; his skull still vibrating in his head turning his brain into jelly. His stomach empty and lurching as it twisted into knots far more impossible than what you'd see from a circus performer and his heartbeat could rival a hummingbird's. Not to mention he was walking with two extra legs he'd grow from time to time, another freaky affect the physical and mental toll these past few weeks had put on him and his eyesight. The caffeine he had been living on hadn't helped him one bit either he reckoned.

Insomnia had become his best friend in the past few weeks, hence this last-minute trip to the old gravel pit just behind Derry Town dump. At least, this was the lie he told himself to pluck up enough courage to call Y/n up. Richie hoped she could talk him through it, give him some advice. He was never this nervous to talk to her and deep down in a corner he wished to bury forever - that small part of himself that begged to be free - knew exactly why. This small, repressed Richie Tozier that lived locked away in the center of his heart was calling the shots that day. Hell, he probably had been his whole life but he wasn't ready to admit that to himself yet, let alone his true attentions of seeking her help.

All he knew is he was nervous as all hell, his palms were sweating, he couldn't stop fiddling with his glasses and he was sure one wrong move and he'd shit his pants. For fucks sake, he needed to shake this! He had already freaked Y/n out, that he knew. He could still hear her voice over the receiver. It was soaked in static and every 's', or 'c' sound she made felt like a pencil was being shoved into his eardrums cause of her shitty outdated telephone.

"You," she had asked with a pause. "want to meet at... the dump?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, scratching the same spot behind his ear for what had to be the billionth time out of nervous habit. "you got wax in your ears, L/n?"

"Nope. Just, a little confused is all. You seem kinda... I don't know, squirrely," she said wearily, and through a sharp crackling hiss from the receiver he can make out a nervous chuckle on her end. "You sure nothin' jumped up your ass or anything?"

He bit his lip. Hard. As if punishing himself for drawing her suspicions this early. What if she somehow caught on to what he was gonna talk to her about? Her walk to the gravel pit would surely give her enough time to get to that conclusion, and Richie wasn't daft. He knew he wasn't exactly subtle about... "insomnia". What with how many times he teased insomnia, called it that special nickname he knew it hated but secretly loved. That forbidden flutter in his chest when insomnia would laugh at his jokes, and the small but precious moments they shared from time to time when the others were late that would stay in his heart and mind for weeks to come. But it didn't matter now, as everyone knew; insomnia kept Y/n's company now.

Thankfully his mouth was faster than his brain, and it fired a rapid response before a lull could form.

"You bet your fur," he fires, his lanky arm had rested awkwardly against the wall beside the wall mount. "I am right as rain, toots."

He of course hadn't seen it, but she had frowned at her phone. Her concern was growing with every word spoken from him.

"Yeah," she snorts, throwing back a sarcastic remark. "Cause you sound it."

She had eased a bit, growing soft and falling back into their usual banter. Their special dynamic always seemed to coax down his guard a bit.

"You're talking like a 1950's gangster in a speakeasy," She straightened a little and had begun pacing as much as the phone cord would allow her. "Ya know... More than usual."

Y/n smiled when she could practically hear the smirk taking over his face, and she certainly had no trouble picturing his hunched shoulders and intimidating snarl he was most likely dawning.

"It's a little somethin' called moxie, kid," he spoke with curled his words, imitating all the gangsters he had seen in those cheesy old films. "somethin' you just don't have,"

Y/n had rolled her eyes again, at least Richie could see her doing so when he heard her respond. "Right, right. My bad Baby Face."

"Hey!" He barked, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor as if she could see him. His voice lowered in a thick Chicago accent. "That's mista Baby Face to ya."

"Mista Baby Face Nelson!" She strained, her annoyed shout tainted with a laugh. "Are we meeting at five or not?"

Richie released a quick and silent breath, expelling as many nerves as possible.

"You bet your fur."

The exchange kept playing over and over in his mind and Richie wondered if the same rang true for Y/n. He hoped not, cause that would mean she was thinking about it too much. Hell, he was thinking about it too much now. A heavy sigh rolls off of his chest as every anxiety collectively manifests into its own dark thought.

Fuck, he really had it bad.

How pathetic he was.

Eddie would surely be horrified to know what Richie really thought of him, that was for sure.

And as if he hadn't felt crazy enough, the thoughts actually began to feel like voices calling him from the darkest shadows of his mind.

'And the other Losers? You'll be lucky if they even look at you again.'

Richie was surprised to find himself fighting back, pushing back as much as he could. Despite all the jokes and jabs, he couldn't be completely alone. A small part whispered in his heart that he wasn't, and he thought briefly of the turtle strangely enough but it was gone just as soon as it had come. All he knew was that whatever was telling him this thing was stubborn. But so was Richie Tozier.

He treated it as an intrusive thought. Made a decision then and there that it was, never occurring to him what it could be if wasn't.

No way. Not those assholes, he tells the voice. These are the Losers for fucks sake!

The more he thought about it the more he was sure of it. God forbid Eddie did find out, which Richie had no intention of, and what would happen was in fact unclear. But no matter how he looked at it, he just couldn't picture the little spaghetti man ever cutting him out of his life completely. Not by choice at least.

Now Ben, that lovable sappy haystack of his that was too passionate for his own good. Richie may not be the silent type but he does pick up on things, and Hanscom's affections for Beverly Marsh were far from subtle. Always opening doors for her and turning redder than a tomato when she smiled at him. Not to mention Richie was about ninety percent sure there was a poem of some sort involved. And that was just Beverly, Ben was always thinking of the Losers. Now Richie knew for sure that boy had no hateful bone in his body to the point it was fucking annoying.

Mike, Richie felt, might be a little similar. The kid had a lot of heart, always going on about the animals on his farm. Would even go as far to say he considered them his friends, what with how much Richie knew about Mooriuel the calf and he hadn't even met her for cripes sake! Richie imagined he'd be a bit more shocked but would try some sappy speech when he came around. Would make a whole big thing of it, pat him on the back, and even invite a conversation. He scoffed at the thought, the image of Mike slapping him on the back and his signature grin... Yeah, he appreciated the hypothetical gesture but it wasn't Richie's style.

He could easily see Big Bill sputtering up a storm, but managing a smile. He'd probably even manage to forget their differences long enough to say something stupid but supportive. And Beverly and Stan were the ones he worried about the least. Stan would probably be too indifferent to care, throw him some snarky ass comment like, "took ya long enough, dipshit," and Beverly? Well, Beverly had always been cool, very laid back. She never took shit, and she never dished it out if she didn't think it was deserved which Richie admired greatly. This was one of many reasons he was so shocked she had taken Bill's side in the fight.

The thought brings him back down again, and as soon as the memory touches him so do the nerves in his jaw tensing up again where he had been hit. He could feel the punch all over again. And he suddenly remembers why he is here.

He is here, he realized.

Just around the bend, coming into view was the gravel pit. Old and crumbling it was, and overrun with weeds and bushes. One could easily scale in and out of it, and at the very bottom Rich had discovered one day was a beaten and tattered leather seat from a car that found its way from the junkyard just a ways over. This was where he told Y/n to meet him.

Y/n...

Jesus fuck, what would Y/n say? How would he tell her? Would she still wanna be friends with him? Would she laugh and crack a joke, not taking it seriously? Would she hate him for it? More importantly, why in the ever-loving fuck was he here and willing to tell her?

His gangly legs tumble into a sprint as he picks up momentum descending the uneven terrain. The rubber soles of his shoes kicking up the layers of dirt and shaved gravel that lay beneath the rocks and he had to put effort into not crashing as he comes to a stop. He manages to avoid a nasty fall, completely ignorant to the fact that his right foot had been only inches away from a root peeking out from the rocks surely would have broken his neck had he made even one wrong move. He puffs out his chest, dusting himself off, and once again tries to dispel the nausea broiling in his stomach like hot tar.

He closes his eyes tiredly as he drags his feet to the leather bench, letting his backside fall through the air and into the somewhat plush cushion with a deep groan. "Fuck."

His fingers rub his tired eyes, his fingertips finding bits of crust he hadn't gotten earlier and his knuckles brush his glasses further up onto his forehead. Not quite knowing what to do with the overwhelming thoughts and emotions clouding him, his fingers dig further into his eye sockets until all he can see are inky splotches behind his eyes.

Richie doesn't know why he would ever think those things of Y/n. He hadn't ever told her this, not directly at least, but she was just about the only person in the world he trusted most. He knew in his heart of hearts this was why he found himself dialing her number before he could even register what he was doing. Even after their separation and the bitter feelings they took with it, the Losers were and always would be his best friends in the world.

So why did everything about this feel so wrong?

From the moment the phone call ended, he felt like he was waltzing into a trap like some putz...

"Well, look who it is..." snarled a voice from up above the surface.

Richie's blood ran cold and it felt as if the remainder of the air in his lungs had been squeezed out like air in a deflating balloon. He whipped around at the voice, his head twisting up at the silhouetted figure so fast he was shocked he hadn't broken his own neck. The figure held their hands on their hips, thousands of the sun's rays spilling around them as they blocked out a part of the sun, an advantage they reaped from where they stood before Richie at just the right angle. His breath caught in his throat as he had recognized the voice immediately, but the figure didn't quite match the voice.

The last thing person he needed to see right now was Henry fucking Bowers, that was for sure.

The universe agreed so it would seem. The figure shifted, just out of the light revealing the teasing smirk of his best friend Y/n. Her hands snapped together, her palms forming a handgun, the barrel aiming right at Richie's forehead.

"The jig is up," she snarled. "We knows it was you. You was the ones to steal from Big Bill's dame, and I wouldn't be surprised if yous was in cahoots, neithers."

Despite the fear that had clutched his heart only seconds ago, a small chortle left Richie at how awful her accent was. Hadn't she learned anything from him? A smug smile overtook Y/n's face as he broke. She holstered her handguns and gracefully descended the pile of gravel. His smile expired not long after, and despite the thin veil of clouds creeping over the sun the light in the sky was much too hard to even glance at his friend without blinking back several painful searing tears from the harsh light. But he could still make her out.

She was dressed in her usual ratty and eclectic garb; a mix of something far too big for her frame and something that seemed far too tight to be comfortable. Richie was certain she had never once owned even a thread of clothing that had always been hers. Her s/c brow had its usual, light glossy sheen of grease that Richie had learned very early on to not ask about. But there was something about her now, something he couldn't quite place.

Though one question kept popping up in his mind. One that left an itch in his brain he couldn't quite scratch in his dazed state. And that was how could he have possibly thought she sounded like Henry Bowers?

He finds himself looking down at the gravel now, wiping away as much of the sun's damage pooling in his eyes as he can. Unbeknownst to him, she watches him studiously, the ghost of her smile still on her lips as if she was enjoying his discomfort. His long and gangly limbs are folded awkwardly, still, onto the leather seat that sits on the ground. Finally, she takes a seat beside him with a huff as he had.

As he rubs his tired eyes for a second time she takes a long look around, breaking the silence when her trip around the gravel pit lands on him.

"Well, you've looked better." She quips, offering a smile.

Richie snorts, pushing his slipping glasses up the bridge of his nose with a friendly smirk. "This comin' from Raggedy Ann?"

They both breathe a small laugh and for a moment - just one beautiful, fleeting moment - Richie forgets he was ever scared. This is what he needed.

"So," she says, pulling his gaze towards her, sending him a cocky smile as a knowing look sparkles behind her eyes. "I'm guessing there's a reason I'm here, and not helping you with your summer training?"

Richie, for reasons unknown to him, feels his muscles tense up again involuntarily. Like a puppeteer suddenly yanking the strings, ripping his shoulders up to his ears and his muscles bracing. He felt rigid and he was, but he was doing all he could not to show it. All his unease came back in steady waves marching up the sand, but what could he do now? He could already feel her eyes burning holes into the side of his head as he kicked around a sizeable rock with the toe of his shoe, studying him. Waiting.

Finally, his shoulders slumped in a shrug, lower lip in an indifferent pout as he looked around at the sky hanging above the gravel pit.

"Just needed a change from all those ugly mugs, I guess," he manages a laugh, and he rises to his feet to lazily chase the rock that had rolled out of his reach.

He can feel her eyes on him still, and he doesn't know what to make of it until finally she breaks her silence with a chuckle and rises to join him. She catches the rock with the heel of her dirtied sneakers. They're worn down to the very last thread and several shades off from the original color. She kicks the rock back to him, and they engage in a lazy game of rock soccer.

"I can understand that," she says calmly, eyes trained on the rock as it tumbles across the gravel with several chunky clanks. "Reckon it'll be good for you, too,"

He frowns confused without looking up at her, winding one lanky leg back before one big kick. "Whad'ya mean?"

"Well, you don't wanna spend your whole summer inside of an arcade, do you?"

Richie's face freezes in a frown, the rest of his body going rigid. His eyes cement on the rock underneath his shoe, willing away the veil of tears that threatened to fall. Had he not been so caught up on why he was here, Richie might have had a clear enough head to realize Y/n wasn't there for that conversation, nor had she heard about it from anyone there. Instead, all Rich can think about is the small hypochondriac boy that had stolen his heart.

He can hear the conversation he had with his best friend, all those weeks ago when school let out. And if felt like a lifetime since he had seen that squishable, pouty little disgusted frown Eddie always put on that made Richie's inside melt. As if reading his mind, Y/n spoke.

"This is about Eddie, isn't it?"

Her tone is gentle but veiled. Something was concealed about the way she held herself, ever since she had arrived, something that Richie couldn't quite place. And there it was. He was right about her suspecting him, he must be. Richie battles the lump forming in his throat, and he can feel his ears turning pink under her unwavering and unblinking stare.

Richie does all he can to fight a snarky response, not knowing how else to navigate and survive the intensity of his feelings. All he manages to do is nod.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

"Rich, it's okay," she says, taking a step forward, his gaze is pulled to her eyes. And here it is, he thinks. The moment he had been dreading, the moment he hadn't even allowed himself to think about. "...I miss him, too."

His face caught in another frown. That's definitely not what he expected her to say. Quickly as he could, he wiped away a spot of snot at his nose. He had managed to keep the tears at bay but now they had found another way out. He felt like a fucking fool, and he wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Of course she didn't know what he was talking about. Why would she - how would she? His spirits were crushed, and he suddenly didn't feel like getting into it now. She seemed off today, not that Richie cared. All he wanted was for this whole day to be over with, not even knowing the worst had yet to come.

She studies his reaction, almost as if she had been waiting for this and she blinks for what Richie is now starting to realize must be the first time since she got here. Y/n's face screws into a frown, and yet there still lingered an uneasy smile that taunted him. Her eyes squint suspiciously at Richie, her head tilting in an expression he never knew he had always feared would come.

She laughs finally, a shrill and grating laugh he hadn't quite heard before and she nudges him playfully. "Oh, come on! It's not like you've got some faggy crush on him or something?"

When he doesn't answer, she scoffs, turning away and shaking her head in disbelief for a moment.

Richie felt he just might vomit. Or cry. Or both. He had never felt so distraught, so dejected. So broken.

How could she be saying these things?

He tries with all his might to conjure a response, any fucking thing at all so he wasn't some blubbering broken chump breaking down in front of her. But for the first time in his life, Richie "loudmouth" Tozier was speechless.

That fuck-awful grating laugh returns, a sour look screws up her face as she looks him up and down in disgust.

"Wait, seriously?" She gapes with a scoff, making him feel about two inches tall. "You actually think he'd want to be with some fairy freak like you?"

"F-f-uck off," he sputters, though he does not feel better.

The trembling in his voice, the vulnerability, hearing it in himself strips any remaining scrap of confidence he had left. He's crying now and there's no hiding it. And she heard it in his voice, he knew that now as he looks at her. Her lips curl into a malicious smile and she takes another step closer, Richie fumbles a step back.

"He isn't some," her nose crinkles as she continues to advance on him, the fire in her eyes building as he stumbles back to escape her sudden venom. "rotten queer like you."

Y/n spits the words out like they were poison on her tongue, and this was true in every way. Her fiery stare never left Richie, it burned holes right through him as she advanced on him like a wolf on a wounded doe. They were nearing the edge of the gravel pit, and Richie had nearly run out of room when her finger stabbed his chest like a sword's final strike to the heart, pushing him to the ground as she spoke those poisonous words.

Richie felt his backside meet several jagged rocks that brought even more tears to his eyes, though none of them hurt as much as her words. She towered over him now, the sun beating down on her back and pouring over her shoulders, trapping Richie in her shadow. She shakes her head, and he can still make out the pathetic look on her face as she glowers at him.

"It's girls he likes. It's me he likes." she points to herself, shaking her head. "He was mine the second he saw me, but you?"

She scoffs again, and her shadow releases him as she kneels to balance on her feet, legs folded before him with a snide look.

"You've always been the insufferable loudmouth he couldn't get rid of." A sharp laugh escapes her, the clutch on his heart tightening to dangerous amounts he fears it will give out. "Well, I guess he doesn't have to worry about that now, huh?"

His heart feels as if it has been ripped to shreds, the claws of the wolf had struck and now he was drowning in his own sorrows as pain as the heartbreak filled his lungs. Richie could no longer see behind the thick wall of glassy tears that blanketed his eyes, and the sounds of his own sobs amplified his embarrassment and despair. He was hopelessly broken, and he could feel himself crumble, each piece disappearing amongst the gravel underneath him until he couldn't be found. He blinked only once, but it was enough to send every tear racing down his cheek at once.

Another malicious smile contorts her face, her e/c eyes burning darker until they looked almost a completely different shade. Her lips seemed to stretch on and on and on in a way only one thing could. And it was then that it occurred to him.

Not one thing she had said to him is something he could have ever prepared himself for, each word constricting his heart and lungs and swelling his throat with the ever-growing lump.

Nor was any of it something she would ever dream of saying, he knew this now.

[■■■■■■■■■■■■]

This wasn't Y/n, this was never Y/n. She had never showed, and if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own fucking head he would have caught on from the second "Y/n" arrived. Especially that entrance, Y/n surely would have fallen on her ass on her way down into the gravel pit never mind the fact her accent wouldn't be nearly as shit.

But none of this mattered now. This thing that looked like his friend had him cornered, and It knew it.

A wicked grin overtook the mask of Y/n's face that chilled Richie to his bones, and yet it also reassured him. Y/n was tough and could be scary from time to time, but he knew she could never be capable of the pure evil that now danced in It's eyes. Richie's body was already in motion, his arms and legs scrambling for any sort of grip that could take him up the side of the pit and to safety. But the gravel beneath him was always shifting, rolling out from underneath him when it wasn't raking his palms to pieces and all he was accomplishing was a small plume of dust that clung to his backside.

Richie didn't know where it came from, but his actions were faster than his feelings as his fist collided with It's nose. And no sooner did the heel of his shoe collide in a painful crack that sent It's head back, did his eyes widen in horrific shock. The painful crack that would surely haunt him for many nights to come, had not been from the collision of his heel on It's nose but It's head - or Y/n's as this was still It's disguise - had snapped completely back and dangled completely off It's/her shoulders.

The only thing connecting her head to her shoulders was the suit of s/c skin. Protruding from the center of her neck just under the skin was the end of her spine where it had disconnected, giving away a disturbing lack of muscles and veins in her neck as if it had been hollowed out like a pumpkin. Her head rolled back and forth limply, and Richie could feel bile climbing up his throat, ready to burst out his digested mac and cheese.

His mind was screaming at his legs to run while all was still but a small part of him knew this was all a gambit, that it didn't matter if she was frozen stiff or not. Richie knew as soon as he booked it, It would spring to life with something even more twisted. That now, without his friends, he was as good as dead.

And It was more than happy to prove Richie right.

The clone of his friend sprang to life, It's head still rolling around on It's shoulders. Connected only by the skin of It's neck, and moving around like some fucked up slinky toy. Richie was already halfway up the gravel pit, bits of rock and dirt finding their way into his shoes as he kicked up the earth though that was the farthest thing from his mind.

By the time Richie reached the top of the pit, he could no longer hear the thunderous boom of his heart attempting to break loose from his chest, which was saying an awful lot. His screams echoed out into the air only to be swallowed by the screams of other children and Richie didn't know how he knew this but he knew those were the screams of Betty Ripsom, Ed Corcoran... Georgie Denbrough. The bloodied screams of It's victims were drowning Richie as he ran for the junkyard, and he wondered if he might live to hear them stop.

The screams were so fucking loud in his ears he could see them. Each of them a blinding, deafening, gut-wrenching, and blood-curdling scream that danced through the air like ribbons as they begged for their lives. Richie cried out and he couldn't even hear his own voice, but he didn't let this stop his legs from pumping as hard as they possibly could. He was nearly to the junkyard, surely he could use something to fend It off but he knew he was just buying time.

He could taste the blood on his tongue from where his teeth bit into his cheek. In all his short life, Richie Tozier would not have guessed child-eating clown to be the way he'd kick the can. When ever the thought of death began troubling him, he always liked to picture something like a western. Him and his rightful enemy squaring off against good and evil, he'd shoot first and save the day but still sustain an injury and bleed out. But it'd be a hero's death. And that was something.

But this... this was something born out of darker than evil and Richie was about to be pulled into the gravity well of this black hole and swallowed up. And he knew in his soul, the very pits of his stomach it would reach out with its shadowy arms and pull him into darkness.

And it did.

Richie had been rapidly approaching the edge of the junkyard without realizing and within an instant found himself on the ground, caved in on himself as he tumbled in the dirt and rocks accepting he was to join them soon enough. He closed his eyes and waited for death as a hand curled around his shoulder and pulled him around. Another jolt of shock shot through his entire body at the sudden contact, locking his jaw and paralyzing his entire body in fear as he was met with the new threat. He didn't dare open his eyes, and certainly not when he heard his best friend's voice again.

"Richie! Richie?"

It was her again, he realized. Y/n's real voice, the one that he heard on the telephone that was dripped in static. The one now dripped in fear.

"Richie?!"

When the boy opened his eyes, they were filled with terror and his sobs continued. A lense Y/n never thought she'd see Richie look at her through. Her heart broke in an instant when she realized he was afraid... of her. Instantly, she released him and let her backside fall back into the gravel. She watched through a thick wall of tears as he trembled, crying to himself, and never in all her life had she seen Richie Tozier so broken.

It tore her apart.

She didn't have to be a genius to realize what had happened here. Before she had even reached the junkyard on her bike she had heard his screams strangled through the wall of trees gating the area. When she had reached the gravel yard, she was happy to see him still in one piece but he was running for his life from an invisible force. The damn coward had gotten what It wanted and scared him shitless, but why would he disappear just because she showed? She had wondered.

Now she was beginning to understand. It didn't need to be here to scare her. Just the sight of Richie in such a state was enough to tear her down and it took just about everything in her not to scream into the sky from a mix of fury and fear.

Besides the tears that race down her cheeks and wet her legs, all Y/n could feel was a painfully numbing fear. Fear that Richie would never be the same. Fear that Richie would never speak to her again. Fear that Richie would never trust her again. Fear for whatever the fucking hell that thing did to Richie. Fear that It would do it again.

All she felt now was fear for Richie.

Y/n doesn't bother to fight the sob that breaks loose, her bottom lip quivers violently and her arms fall to the gravely pavement beneath her. As if her head had filled with lead, it grew heavy enough to fall into her chest where her chin landed, shaking several more tears loose.

"I'm s-so sorry, Richie,"

Y/n yearns to say more, but her body is physically weak from sadness and shame. Yet still, she repeats it in her mind hoping with everything in her it slips out of her mouth, or maybe if she thought them loud enough he'd hear them in his mind.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry for whatever happened. I'm so goddamn sorry...

"I'm sorry," she whimpers. "I promise..."

I promise I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise I'm not gonna hate you. I promise I'm gonna be there for you, from now on. I promise.

Her sniffles blend with his own, and Richie is unsure why this is the moment he knows for sure this is the real Y/n before him; maybe he was just too exhausted to think it through, perhaps it was the godawful sound she was making trying to keep herself from snotting as bad as he was but he knew It had gone. And the Y/n sitting beside him — crying with him, was the one he dialed up today. This was the Y/n he had been prepared to bare his soul to. His true self.

So with one shaky hand — the other still tucked in close to his chest — Richie's left hand slid out from under him and across the gravel to Y/n's open palm. Her fingers were digging into the gravel, sharp edges of the rock digging into her skin as if to assure herself she was really real. Suddenly, she felt Richie's shaky palm slide underneath hers, carefully taking it.

Y/n picked her glassy stare up from the ground to look at their intertwined hands, and she melted a little. Several of those fears — not all of them, but some — were ebbed away and she looked to Richie. He was still curled up in the dirt, his eyes closed and silent tears streaking his dirt-covered face. Each tear paved a path of clean skin, washing the dirt away in wild streaks where ever each tear had fallen. Several large and swollen beads of tears collected at his chin where they dangled, threatening to fall.

She gave his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was there for him as she had promised him. And she was ready to sit with him for as long as he needed.

For hours that feel only like minutes, they sit together in tear-filled silence, clinging to one another's presence and the knowledge that they are now all they have left.

And there was no way they were letting go.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here are some LGBTQ+ resources for mental health and self help if you feel you need them:

How do I find LGBTQ friendly therapy?

An article on safe ways to find the best sources of help that are right for you

The Trevor Project

Self Care Tips for Trans and Non Binary Folks

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