#wait where's the other post i made about a joint popping out lmao

[starshine-selfships]

Pufu. Darling, beloved, light of my life. Will you come with me to the urgent care center

[capricornus-rex]

The Longing For A Familiar Feeling

Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: Cal sustains a grave injury while going against a Jotaz in the chambers of the tomb. You obliged to tend to his wounds and nurse him back to health.

A/N: This basically counts as a backlog because I eventually ended up getting requests on the fly. The outline has been in my notes since April lmao so here I am fulfilling my compulsiveness to have everything ticked off the list.

Though, I hope you guys will enjoy this fic as you enjoy my other stuff! Your support has been an awesome impact ever since I came back here just to write a single oneshot last January ;;w;; I’m emotional again, I should stop now. Please enjoy the fic! ^w^

Also posted in AO3

Other reference: This one

Tags: Soft! Cal Kestis, Affection Starved! Cal Kestis, Intimate! Cal Kestis

Masterlist

The Tomb of Miktrull was unexpectedly more crowded than either of you expected.

Not only did the Tomb Guardian preoccupied you and Cal, but so did the Stormtroopers, Purge Troopers, and Probe Droids!

This day just can’t get any worse, can it? You thought, imagining yourself saying it out loud through clenched teeth.

The now-malfunctioning probe droid closed in on you and you timed the exact second before it self-destructs and Force-pushed it towards that trio of scout troopers coming at you. They instantly die in the explosion.

Cal rushed to back you up after defeating the Guardian. The Purge Trooper may be dead, but there were still two more scout troopers remaining. The odds are even—which may not be so bad, at least for you.

“I hit her! W-Why did I do that?!” the scout seemed to have regretted his action for pommeling you in the stomach.

You sent a clean streak of lunges at the scout trooper, your strikes were strong enough to break his defenses—after all, what good’s an electro-baton if your enemy’s a Jedi?

Cal easily took down the scout commander, he winced when he tried to stand up straight but he hid his pain from you when he gestured on taking on the lead.

“Look, there’s the gate,” he pointed out, Force-pulling the rope and then latching it onto the mechanism.

“Be careful, there’s that Jotaz,”

“It seems to be too busy with the Stormtroopers,”

“There’s the Jedi!” a Stormtrooper pointed out and signaled some of his men to fire at you.

“Not anymore!” you blurted, immediately deflecting the blaster fire and sending it back to their direction, leading some of the projectiles to the Jotaz—however, the mindless animal thought that it was still those soldiers who were still hurting it.

All that’s left was you and Cal against the Jotaz. The fat creature roared and lumbered towards the both of you, springing itself with its feet positioned for a flatfooted kick at either of you. Luckily, the two of you were quick and then dodged in opposite directions. Cal attacked it from behind while you drew its attention in the front, dodging its backhanded swipes by sliding against the flooded floor and searing its fleshy legs in the process.

While hunched and still coming at you, Cal took the opportunity to run up on its back and pith his lightsaber into its skull. Just when the moment seemed right, the Jotaz suddenly retaliated, feeling for Cal’s next movement and smacked him hard with its claws when the creature spun to face him.

The boy was sent flying across the other side of the chamber, lying flat on his back and partially submerged in the water. You were taken aback about how suddenly this animal became perceptive—at least, just this particular one—and had to up your game. While the Jotaz asserted its dominance against Cal, you afforded that moment to finish it off; it was close to dying and so you had to do the deed, sending a flurry of attacks, denying it as chance to attack you, and a succeeding Force-push made it stagger—finally allowing you to use your finishing move against it.

“Cal!” you ran up to him, kneeling down and ignoring the water seeping onto the legs of your pants. “Cal, open your eyes!”

A metallic smell wafted in the water, even though the chamber was quite dim, there was a noticeable red tint swirling over the back of your hand underwater. The source was from Cal’s body, but you searched for the actual wound—the Jotaz had cut Cal’s back and he’s bleeding out fast.

Promptly, BD-1 popped a stim for you, you caught the green syringe and injected it into the flesh of Cal’s bicep. His eyelids shot open when the viscous green substance packed a punch in his bloodstreams. You helped him sit up and searched for something—anything—in your person to press against the wound to clot the bleeding.

Lying right next to you is the corpse of a Stormtrooper, underneath the armor plates the dead soldier wore a black, cotton undershirt; you scrambled towards the body, tore the arm plates off until the entire sleeve showed—you gave it a good, harsh tug for the seams to pop until you’ve torn a considerable length of cloth for a compress. You dipped it in the water before putting it on Cal’s wound.

“Here, just keep pressuring on this, okay?”

The ancient elevator was there at your disposal, you supported Cal on your shoulders, hobbling towards the large cylinder and used your joint weight to trigger the pressure plate. The tube rumbled and felt it rising back up to the surface.

“[y/n], I can… I can walk,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

There wasn’t any harshness in his tone, but the firmness of his voice made his point clear. The two of you managed to get out of the Imperial base and made it to the part of the cliffside where there’s a pack of Stormtroopers waiting.

Cal pushed himself, still being able to fight but only utilizing half of his power; due to his growing weakness, the most he can do in combat in banking the shots, barely engaging in melee, and he couldn’t even use much of his Force abilities even if he wanted to.

“Bleeding’s stopped,” Cal mumbled under his breath.

“Keep it wrapped then,”

The healing stim could only do so much for the wounded Jedi. Cal’s pace was slow, traversing the obstacles suddenly became strenuous for him, but he pulled himself together until both of you came out of the mouth of the cave and caught sight of the abandoned village from the top of the slope. His body felt heavy and every muscle around his wound felt like tearing, he still thinks he’s doing a good job putting up a brave face.

“Come on,” he led on, walking ahead of you.

The trooper standing by the edge was startled by Cal’s entrance, barely having a second to stance himself, the soldier was easily subdued by the boy. The trooper’s companion eventually appeared and defeated him in less than a minute.

“This way, the path’s shorter,”

The two of you circled that house and climbed up the metal bridge where two more scouts are waiting on the other side. The commander was evidently more powerful and stronger than his subordinate, but that didn’t faze either of the Jedi, another Stormtrooper heard the din of the skirmish and pulled the trigger—to which Cal had skillfully deflected and sent back to the soldier.

Cal’s deflection became a window of opportunity for the scout commander and made an underhand swipe of his baton against the redhead’s torso—submitting the boy to his knees—and when the commander was about to finish him off with an overhead swing, the Stormtrooper’s body jerked at the impact of a lightsaber lobbed his way and fell limp to the soil.

“You okay?” you extended your hand in front of Cal, he gladly takes it and you pull him up carefully.

“Yeah, I’m good,”

The sluggishness in his body was apparent, his legs dragged to the direction he wanted them to go but it’s obvious that he cannot carry himself anymore. He stumbled back on his knees again seconds after he planted his feet on the ground.

It’s not plausible, you thought. What stood between you and the Mantis is a hangar that’s probably guarded by Stormtroopers and their KX droid or Haxion Brood hunters waiting to jump on you. The only solution you can find around you is take shelter in one of the houses. You became Cal’s crutch as you led him into the bigger house in this section of the village, BD-1 spliced the door controls and the door hissed open.

The little droid spotted the fusebox and overcharged it so all of the lights in the cottage flickered to life, revealing that the house is only one, large furnished space; you settled Cal on the couch to let him relax and catch his breath, while you searched for medical supplies. For ever cabinet you rummaged, you muttered an apology—supposedly for the absent residents in the home—you’re only apologizing to the wind. You came back to the common room, dropping all the supplies you’ve collected on the table.

“It’s not much but I think it’ll be enough to get you patched up,”

Cal proceeded to undo the top of his jumpsuit, color flushed in his cheeks when he saw your eyes counting the cuts and bruises on his body. Droplets plopped back into the bowl as you wrung the towel tight, he winced occasionally whenever you carefully dabbed the towel on and around the wound.

At first, you dismissed the occasional spasms of his body as pain reactions whenever the water from the towel seeped into the wound.

“I’m gonna have to put some Bacta gel on everything, okay?”

He nodded and you proceeded to scoop a pea-sized dollop of the healing gel for each injury you see. The translucent mint green gel partially obscured the redness of the cuts and the bruises—both old and fresh. Cal flinches whenever your finger presses onto his skin, rubbing the cool substance in circling motions on his injuries, but his muscles gradually soften a few seconds later.

Her hands are so gentle… He cooed in his mind. Secretly, he wanted you to find more of the wounds just so he can continue feeling your touch.

“I’m sorry, I…” Cal stammered.

You blinked, taken aback by the apology, “What are you sorry for?”

His head hung low, his eyes jumping from one bruise to the next, his lips parted to say something.

“I’m too much trouble to bring with,” he murmured.

A somber smile curled along the line of your lips, Cal’s shoulders jolted when he felt the center of your palm press against his jaw, the muscles of his face twitched when you ran your thumb across his cheek.

“No, you’re not,” you cooed lovingly. “Besides, I like taking care of you.”

Your words somehow made all the tension in his muscles disappear, his eyebrows furrowed, and he released a big sigh as he placed his forehead against your shoulder. Initially, he hesitated but he still gave it a try—his arms snaked around your waist, locking his hold on you by clutching his wrist with his free hand, and allowing himself to savor this feeling. He buried his face on the crook of your neck and his eyelids fell when your fingernails massaged and raked his hair—this prompted him to pull you in closer to him until your thighs sat over his lap.

It was a pleasant feeling for the young redhead. All of a sudden, his courageous Jedi demeanor morphed into that of an innocent child. This was something he lacked for a long time and he was glad to find it in you—the person who cares so much about him, the same way he does for you.

[masonscig]

first line tag game

thank you for the tag @crackerdumortain !!!!! yours were so much fun to read omg !!!!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors!

[disclaimer: i write for the choices fandom and some for litg so you’ll see a mix of those fandoms on this list LMAO]

1. stay [twc – mason x sofía]

The first time was casual. She had a knack for musing her thoughts aloud, tossing her harmless opinions out for anyone who’d catch them.

She was good at starting conversations in that way – while he’d never been one for talking.

She never did it with heavy topics, though.

2. thieves in the shadows [choices – blades au – mal x zilyana]

bullets pelted the crates they were crouched behind, wood splintering in every direction. bodies were strewn across the warehouse, the unmistakable pools of blood streaking across the stone.

“raine! to your left!” immy yelled her way, barely sparing her a glance before unloading her clip, shell casings clinking against the ground.

the gun trembled in yana’s hands. she’d shot one before – practice at the gun range, glass bottles in a back alley – but never a live target.

3. if we meet again [choices – open heart au – bryce x spencer] 18+

year one

The ride from the airport to her parents’ home was long and grueling, the slushy ice pelting the windshield barely passing for snow.

It was practically sub-zero outside, a stark difference between the mid seventies weather she’d just left.

4. clandestine [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

“hey. hey wake up –”

she stirred at the greeting, but jumped when he kicked the desk. her face contorted into a grimace, the imprint of her tweed jacket on her cheek outlined in pink. “hmm?”

“you fell asleep again,” he said, plopping a bag in front of her.

5. undying [choices – blades – mal x zilyana]

Zilyana stirred, resituating herself against Mal’s bare chest, feeling his arm instinctively tighten around her shoulders. When she realized she was missing the sound of his deep breathing, accompanied with an occasional soft snore, she cracked an eye open to see his chin tipped upwards, his gaze trained on the ceiling.

6. talent show [choices – platinum – shane x dom]

There wasn’t a day that went by where she didn’t cross his mind. Even since they were kids.

He admired so much about her – her fiery spirit, her drive, her unwavering tenacity.

And he’d been in love with Dom for as long as he could remember.

7. redeemed [choices – platinum – raleigh x dom]

As soon as he stepped off stage, he was shuffled to his tour bus, Fiona on his heels. She looked like the human embodiment of rage in a grey blazer, a look in her eye that made him thankful he wasn’t the one it was directed at – or at least he hoped he wasn’t the reason she was two seconds away from a murderous rampage.

8. hidden [choices – foreign affairs – blaine x carina] 18+

Her cheek slipped out of the palm of her hand, forehead smacking the desk, nearly jumping out of her skin at the abrupt awakening.

“Ow.”

She prodded the tender spot on her face, thankful her foundation was thick.

A soft snore caught her attention – next to her, Blaine was passed out. Leaning back in his chair, his head was thrown back, arms crossed against his chest, the textbook on its face in his lap.

9. is this fate? [litg au – bobby x mc] 18+

The peroxide was cold when it hit her skin, the liquid bubbling on her knee, relentlessly stinging. She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“Sorry… should be over soon,” he murmured, wiping up the stray liquid that streamed down her leg with a small rag.

The heaviness of the atmosphere between them was almost too much to bear – they’d barely spoken since he helped her onto the counter in his small office, leg propped up between his own, where he sat in his desk chair.

10. asvista cove [litg college au – bobby x elena]

Bobby’s thumb flicked the lighter repeatedly until he got a consistent flame, moving slowly from left to right over the edge of the blunt. His cheeks hollowed out as he sucked in, the tip of it an auburn ember. He pulled it out of his mouth and sucked in an even deeper breath, holding it.

When he blew out the thick cloud of smoke, he passed it to her, coughing under his breath. “Whew. Your turn.”

She followed suit, the thick smoke coating the inside of her lungs, bitter and heavy. She exhaled, the shroud smoke enveloping her view of the sealine.

11. reticent [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

She was bare.

Bare in the way that one is when they’ve been stripped down and torn apart with a trained gaze just calculating enough for them to feel seen – parts of her she didn’t know she’d hidden splayed out like withered pages of a book, dog-eared and marked up like a frequently reread novel.

One he’d reread because it was familiar, because it had fallen into his lap (he hadn’t searched for it), not so much because it was his favorite.

12. more [twc – mason x sofía] 18+

He laced his fingers through her thick hair, reveling in the way his skin looked contrasted against the midnight of her hair.

[the way i can’t post more than this bc it’s....... very nsfw right out the bat LMFAO]

13. calm before the storm [choices – open heart – bryce x spencer]

Since the moment his hands trembled amidst one of the most important surgeries of his life, Bryce was holding on by a thread.

With each half-assed joke he cracked, each wavering smile, each time he tried convincing others – including himself – that he was coping, he fell apart more and more.

The first night he went home after Spencer was quarantined, he trudged through the halls of Edenbrook, like he was dragging his legs through wet concrete. He was nearly magnetized to her bedside, not wanting to leave, but he needed to rest – he’d been awake for nearly a day and a half by the time he clocked out.

14. envy | part two of the attached series [twc – mason x sofía x felix]

He strode down the hallway, hands in his pockets to give the illusion that he didn’t give a shit, when he was most definitely on edge. His fingers flicked his lighter open and closed against the twill lining of his pockets, trying to focus on the soft clicking noise it made instead of the swarm of thoughts clouding his conscience.

He still couldn’t figure out why he cared so much.

15. comfort | part one of the attached series [twc – mason x sofía x felix]

He noticed it before she did.

Her pulse didn’t jump the same way it did the first dozen times he walked into the room. The blood didn’t rush to her cheeks, or creep up her neck, the crimson flush absent even when he tried his hardest to fluster her. And it normally took next to nothing to get her to turn into a bumbling mess.

16. out of time [choices – open heart – sienna x danny]

She sprinted down the hallway, pager still beeping erratically on her hip, the weight of the numbers enough to make her feel like she was slugging through wet concrete.

No, no, not him, please, not him, she chanted to herself, vision blurring with tears before she had the chance to let the negative possibilities set in.

17. unrequited part three [choices – open heart – bryce x spencer]

She slumped into the seat in the deserted waiting room, her joints popping as she stretched, her deep sigh echoing off of the tile. She was exhausted.

She could usually push through the worst of her shifts, but fatigue settled into her bones, a lethargy she’d never experienced entrapping her like a net, and she couldn’t fight her way out of it this time.

18. signs [choices – ride or die – logan x raquel]

“A final in sign language? Couldn’t you just have a conversation with the teacher or some shit?” Logan sat across from her on the couch, watching as her fingers bent and flexed, transfixed.

She stopped abruptly, screwing her mouth to the side in concentration. She repeated the same few moves, getting more and more frustrated with each sequence.

19. mementos [choices – ride or die – logan x raquel]

The sound of his boots slapping against the damp pavement reverberated off of the brick of the alleyways, his gasping breaths adding to the symphony that was his escape.

20. warmth [twc – mason x sofía]

“You’re going the wrong way,” Mason grunted, looking particularly stiff in her passenger seat.

“I thought we could take the scenic route,” she shrugged, flicking her high beams on as she turned off of the main road leading downtown, easing on the brakes when the tires hit the gravel.

okay so....... i didn’t really realize just HOW MUCH i’ve written since the summer? i’ve fallen into a pattern where i think i’m a failure bc of how slow i am to write because i have so many series i’ve started and dropped off and wips i’ve abandoned but.... i’ve managed to write for most appreciation weeks i’ve both hosted/participated in and i’ve written for THREE fandoms.... i don’t normally gas myself up but? i’m really? proud of myself? KSJDJKSD if you read this far thank you and you’re prob watching me have a breakdown over how much i’ve managed to write oh my GOD ok i need to lie down KLSDFKASFJD i didn’t even think i could hit 20 but i did???? alright i’m officially gonna treat myself at some point bc i did all this in less than a year.... these are from the end of july 2020 to now..... wow ok im done i promise SKDFJKSDF

tagging: @raleighcarrera and @pixeljazzy !!! <3 

[blueamberrosefiction-blog]

My Idol Fate - Chapter 1/?

Emily woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring a hit song 'Like a Dream'. A small smile curled on her lips as she listened to her favorite singer, her idol sing notes beautifully from her phone.

'Like a dream

Take this day on

Stronger with each passing beat

March forth

Defeat this day..'

Sighing, she eventually hopped out of bed and stretched, feeling her joints pop pleasantly. Rolling her head, she skipped to her chest of draws. On it was a hairbrush, mirror and several bottles and palettes of makeup. Brushing her brown curls, she tied them up in a single ponytail with two wisps falling by her face.

After a brief trip to the toilet where she washed her face and brushed her teeth, she decided to lightly apply some brow brush powder to reveal her ever hiding eyebrows. Satisfied, she skipped to the closet and pulled on her school uniform.

It consisted of a blue polo shirt with the school's logo, a grey pleated skirt which reached the knees, grey thick tightly, flat black shoes and dark grey cardigan. Happy with it, she ran a hand through her hair and grabbed her backpack. Grinning she pulled her Samsung from the charger port and left the room.

On her brief walk to school she listened to her favourite pop group again, BTS. Having finished the walk and her song, she switched the phone off temporarily and went to her first lessons' classroom. Sitting in her usual seat in her Science Class, she unlocked her phone and sent a quick text to Mina.

Emily; Hi, where are you?

Mina; Sup' twinkle toes, I'm at the school gate. Wbu?

Emily; In class, hurry up. And I'm not twinkle toes Miss-Know-It-All.

Mina; SSSSUUUURRREEE LMAO.

Rolling her eyes Emily took out her school supplies. In her hand was a notebook that contained notes and cut outs of biology. Placing it down on her desk she reached for her pen when her hand brushed the poster she had ripped excitedly off a lamp post during the weekend. Seeing Mina plop into her seat next to Emily, the smaller girl wasted no time in shoving the poster in her best friends face.

'Mina look!' She squealed, 'its auditions for Idol Camp! The winners get a contract signed for two years!' She said, practically bouncing in her seat.

Mina read the poster with wide eyes and snatched it from Emily. She then glanced around the room and leaned towards Emily and in a whisper spoke 'Meet me after school okay? We can't talk about this here.' She then shoved the A4 poster into one of her notebooks in her bag and pulled out her own stationary and biology notebook.

Smiling widely, Emily settled in her seat and waited for class to start. As her teacher came into the classroom, she mentioned that she was looking forward to receiving the essay's she had set for the class before the half term today. Looking over at Mina with a horrified expression, Emily knew she was totally screwed.

****

Groaning with distaste, Emily ran a hand through her curly hair and packed her stuff up. Science was finally over, and after getting a good scolding from her teacher for not doing an essay she had apologised and offered to rewrite the essay which the teacher had quickly agreed to.

Dragging her feet, Emily made her way to Mina who was waiting at the classroom door. Giggling, Mina threw a friendly arm over her shorter friends shoulders and poked the older girls pouting cheek.

'Chill. It coulda been wors.' Mina purposely mispronounced words as she knew it annoyed her friend. The two girls made they're way to their next lesson, which was a whole corridor and four flights of stairs away. Climbing the horrific staircase, the two girls settled in their maths classroom.

Since their teacher for this class was aware of the shenanigans the duo often pulled around school, he had sat them on opposing sides of the classroom. This meant that Emily sat at the front in the corner by the window and Mina sat in the back by the door. Bidding each other a dramatic goodbye, complete with fake tears and sobs, the duo split up and sat in their respective seats.

//: Hi, this is Admin Blue!^^  I hope you enjoy my first chapter. I do promise the action will increase quickly, but me and Admin Amber think it best you get to know all the characters before we throw you into the plotline.

[mikeshanlon]

he’s all that: chapter one

fandom: it

pairing: reddie (richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak)

word count: 3.8k

on ao3

summary: 

Richie smiled smugly, “You’ve got spunk Kaspbrak. I like that.”

“Why don’t you try shutting the fuck up Tozier,” Eddie retorted as the line moved forward, “So what is this, if not some ploy to get me to tutor you? Some sort of dork outreach program? Because I’m not interested.”

---

Or: The one where Richie Tozier has six weeks to get into a relationship and make someone fall for him. Only problem? That someone is the anxiety ridden, goody two shoes Eddie Kaspbrak, and he can't even stand to be in the same room as Richie.

warnings: there is drug use in that bev/mike/richie are HUGE stoners. 

a/n: hello!!! hope you enjoy this fic, i will try to update it at least every other sunday (i'll figure out the exact number of chapters before i post chapter two, but it probably won't be more than 10). you don't need to have watched she's all that to get this, although there will be some small easter eggs/quotes from the movie. but the movie has not aged well and is very Heteronormative so like.... no need to watch it lmao. 

Senior year— it was what just about any kid in the public schooling system looked forward to. You were high school royalty, enjoying the last hurrah with booze and dancing before being sent off to make your mark on the world. Lanky limbs that weren’t yet grown into became muscled and toned, hips were wider and swayed. Brains were wiser, skin was touched more, and smiles were brighter. It was a time of transformation and change.

Except, senior year was almost over, and Richie Tozier felt like he hadn’t really changed at all. Sure, in the last four years he shot up to 6’2, his voice was deeper, and he wasn’t such a fucking outcast; but really nothing else felt different. He still only passed his classes on genius alone, had a problem respecting authority figures (partially due to the fact that his parents were still pieces of shit), and never knew when to shut the fuck up.

Derry, Maine itself stayed the same too, like a town in a snow globe encased with mom-and-pop businesses and ignorance. Other than iPhones, the small Starbucks on the corner of Main and Belmont, and the fact that the townspeople were slightly less homophobic and racist (slightly being the operative word); Derry was pretty much a time capsule for banana bikes, bullies, and double features with popcorn that had too much salt and not enough butter.

Take the cliques and social hierarchy-- a staple in any American high school, especially one in a small town. Despite it being the 21st century, the cafeteria still had tables for jocks, geeks, nerds, and preps, straight from some 80’s or 90’s teen flick.

Richie, like most things in his life, didn’t necessarily fit into one group or the other, toeing the line between social pariah and popular party dude. He supposed it was the side effects of being the class clown with too-big-for-his-face glasses, a diagnosis for ADHD, and his tendency blazing at any given moment. Funny and wild enough to show up to any party, but not exactly cool enough to hang out with for anything else.

Honestly, it didn’t matter either way, because instead of worrying about what table to eat the cafeteria’s barely edible food at, Richie usually spent his lunch smoking with his friends. It was time to catch up and unwind before the last few classes of the day— and there was no way he could get through chemistry without being high.

As soon as the shrill bell rang, Richie hopped out of his seat, grabbing his shit before placing his (probably failed) history quiz on the teacher’s desk on his way out into the halls.

He weaved through the couples sucking face and the worried AP students, his unruly black curls bouncing like a hyperactive halo around his head as he walked towards his locker.

“‘Sup Tozier!” someone called out to him, a familiar face at the weekend ragers, although he never learned his actual name.

Richie nodded, “Hey, what’s up Keg King?”

“Not much. Hey, you coming to see me defend my title this weekend?”

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” Richie smiled lazily, patting the other boy on the back before strolling along.

It wasn’t a coincidence that his smile faltered as he passed what was left of the Bower’s gang. He and Hockstetter had graduated the year prior, although like most bumfuck racists hellbent on beating up ‘dorks and queers’, they stayed in Derry. The remaining two, Belch and Victor Criss, weren’t nearly as powerful or psychotic as their elders, but they had a reputation to uphold. They weren’t exactly slamming him down on the asphalt in front of the arcade like they did in middle school, but they weren’t friendly either. Mutual respect was even a stretch. He’d enjoy seeing them get their asses handed to them, and he was sure they felt the same.

Richie popped open his locker, catching the loose papers and pencils that inevitably fell out. A small mirror hung on the blue metal door, rendered practically useless because of all the smudges covering it. The remaining space was littered with stickers of indie bands, and post-its with doodles and notes to himself or from his friends.

Have a great day trashmouth <3- bevs

Sparknotes ‘Pygmalion’

Come to the quarry after school!-mike

It’s a good day to be gay

Next time u get drunk enough 2 facetime us reading the entire bee movie script pls invite us so we dont have 2 deal w/ that sober- b+m

Buy more cigs and weed

U lewk hott big sexxxi ;) - xoxo

Richie was unashamed to say he wrote the last one to himself one day when he looked particularly good.

He struggled to stuff his history folder into the looming mess, but eventually crammed it in there, slamming the door shut before anything else could fall out.

After checking that he did indeed have his lighter, bag of weed, and papers in his denim jacket, Richie made his way to their usual spot. They liked to smoke at the stairs behind the art room, which was tucked away in the back of the school, overlooking the field that separated them and the middle schoolers.

Throwing open the orange door to the stairs in his usual dramatic fashion, he found his two closest friends, “Ms. Marsh, Lord Michael, how fare thee chaps today?” Richie greeted in his (awful) british accent.

Beverly Marsh rolled her eyes as she lit her joint, “Fine, until I heard that horrible voice.”

Richie threw a hand on his chest, a pained expression painted on his face, “Oh, how you hurt me so.”

“Hey, I mean it is his best impression,” Mike Hanlon commented from the steps, fist bumping Richie as he sat down across from Beverly on the top of the stairs, back to the railing. The sweet boy lit up the bowl in his pipe, inhaling deeply.

“Aw, thank you Mikey, you sure know how to make a girl swoon,” he cooed, mimicking a southern belle.

“Well, you don’t really have any good one’s in the first place,” Mike smirked, blowing out the smoke in his mouth while Beverly snorted, taking another drag.

Richie rolled his eyes, taking out his bag of weed, “Fuck off Hanlon.”

Mike extended an olive branch in the form of paper lunch bag filled with a sandwich, chips, and a can of coke. It was a daily occurrence for them— the Tozier’s rarely had any food, and even if Richie wanted to eat from the cafeteria, he didn’t exactly get a lot of money from them.

“My upcoming munchies thank you dear friend.”

He opened his bag of weed, attempting to balance the paper on his knees so he could roll his own joint. This failed miserably as the weed fell out, getting all over his Radiohead t-shirt.

“Shit.”

Beverly sighed, holding out her hand, “Let me roll it Tozier, you and I both know I’m better at it anyways.”

“What?! I’m perfectly capable of doing it by myself. I roll a damn good joint Marsh,” he shot back incredulously.

She plucked a stray piece of weed and gave him a pointed look. Richie groaned before handing his stuff over, Beverly handing him her own joint to smoke on in the meantime.

“How’s your day been Rich?” Mike asked from his spot on the steps. Typical farm boy, concerned with his friends. Richie often wondered how such an angelic person hung out with him and Bev, but Mike had his fair share of rebellious traits.

“Ah, well, you can tell it’s been just dandy. I can’t wait till we get out of this fucking hell hole,” Richie scoffed before taking a hit.

“Only seven more weeks,” Beverly reminded, eyes and hands focused on rolling.

Mike nodded, “Crazy. Can’t believe we’re finally graduating.”

“Thank fucking god, Derry is a suffocating shithole,” he said, “I know I’m an idiot, but Jesus, everyone here is a fucking bigot.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed, not saying much else. They understood. It was hard being one of the only black kids in school, let alone pansexual (although most people didn’t know this about him). The prejudice he faced wasn’t something he often spoke about, trying to be as positive as possible.

“This kid in english was saying bisexuals are sluts today,” Richie successfully blew a few smoke rings, “Like, I am one, but not because of my sexuality, asswipe.”

Bev laughed humorlessly, handing Richie the freshly rolled joint and taking back her own, “No need to tell me what that’s like.”

No, the redhead had been getting called a slut over nothing since the seventh grade; the rumors and shaming only getting worse when she too came out as bi.

A comfortable and reflective silence fell over the three, occupied with their thoughts and getting high. Richie placed the joint in between his chapped lips; struggling to light the tip as his white lighter sputtered, on it’s last moments of life. Mumbled expletives fell out of his mouth before he was successful, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in before letting it all escape.

His dark brown eyes scanned the poorly maintained sports field, filled mostly with middle schoolers running around and yelling. Part of him envied the carefree nature of it all, but the other remembered how fucking shitty middle school was and any jealousy washed away.

Not too far from them was what was dubbed as ‘the kissing tree’. The old trunk was littered with carvings, initials surrounded by hearts claiming that their love was ‘forever’. It was juvenile, small town as fuck, and heteronormative— though most things surrounding romance in Derry were.

Of course, Richie had been obsessed with it as a preteen, and knew his own name was on there (a few times).

What caught his eye now were the couple under it, making out passionately, flush against one another, like if they stopped they’d die.

Honestly, that would be preferable, as one of them was Gretta Keene, one of Richie’s biggest mistakes.

Gretta was one of the most popular girls in school, and she was also a grade A bitch. Her green eyes sent glares akin to daggers, and her lipgloss covered lips provided insults that went too far. Including frequently calling Beverly a slut.

It wasn’t like Richie had a huge crush on her or anything. Their relationship was merely born from constantly being at the same parties, cross faded and wanting a quick hook up to distract themselves. Mike had commented that it was only a matter of time, except one became many more, despite the fact that Gretta only got with jocks.

Their arrangement caused Bev to freeze Richie out for two months last semester, breaking their four year streak for best couples costume at Betty Ripsom’s annual Halloween Party. Bev was more important to him by a long shot, but per usual, he kept fucking everything up.

Most of their ‘moments’ were shared in some stranger's bed, or dancing in a kitschy living room to pop music, sharing a blunt or swigs from a bottle of whiskey. None of it was on purpose, but rather a byproduct of being intoxicated and having a high sex drive.

In fact, they had only been on two actual dates when they were together. The first was at the drive-in a town over, the pair sat in Richie’s beat up station wagon, some shitty b-movie playing on the large projector. Gretta shared a pack of cigarettes with him, and it was probably the only kind thing she had ever done. Richie tried to make conversation, so that their relationship actually had some sort of substance other than weed and alcohol; but Gretta quickly shut him up, sticking her cherry coke flavored tongue down his throat.

He took her out to his favorite diner for their other date, figuring that they might have a chance to actually get to know one another without an acceptable place to make out. They sat on opposite sides of a booth outlooking Main street, an old-timey song playing on the jukebox.

This plan proved to be a grave mistake, because Richie finally understood why Bev often said, “Satan himself thinks Gretta Keene is too cruel.”

He repressed the memory, if he remembered it he’d get too pissed off. Instead, Richie thought of their break-up, how she had beat him to the punch.

He had been waiting at her locker, leaning against #405 and picking at his nails, humming a song by The Smiths under his breath. Gretta approached, clad in a pink mini-skirt and a tight crop top, smacking her half-priced bubblegum.

Richie cleared his throat, standing upright, ready to chew her the fuck out for being such a horrible person, “Gretta, let’s talk—“

“We’re through Tozier.”

“What the fuck?!” He had gaped at her, “No, I was going to breakup with you!”

Gretta shooed him away with her manicured hands, “Please, you’re a fucking nobody. Irrelevant. You should be glad we even fucked around this long.”

A small crowd had formed around the two, “You’re the one who kept coming back for more.”

“And you’re the one who actually thought this could be something. So cute. But I don’t date losers and I don’t date attention-whores like you.”

Like he said, grade A bitch.

“Jealous?” Mike snapped Richie from his thoughts.

His cheeks reddened, embarrassed that he was caught staring, “What? No. I pity the poor bastard that’s with her. Fucking breath smells like a fucking dog ate a pack of Winston’s. Straight up ass.”

Beverly chuckled, but her eyes held a little bit of resentment, “You used to smoke those Winston’s with her.”

“I thought we had an agreement that we would never speak of the Great Gretta Keene Mistake again?”

“Sure, but you’re the one watching her,” Mike pointed out, packing a new bowl, “Missing the one that got away?”

The other boy’s tone was joking but Richie sent him a glare, “She’s fucking irrelevant to me okay?”

They hummed in agreement, but he could see the slight doubt on their faces.

Richie ripped open his bag of chips and threw one in his mouth, “She thinks she’s such hot fucking shit, but she’s so replaceable.”

“Richie, it’s rude to speak with your mouth full,” Mike admonished his bad manners.

“That’s not what your ol’ pops said last night when I was suck-“

“Beep beep, Richie,” Mike warned.

Bev shook her head, “Really Rich? His grandpa?”

“When opportunity strikes,” he flashed a shit eating grin before taking another hit.

“Anyways, while I second the sentiment that Gretta isn’t all that, you haven’t exactly had a relationship since her,” Bev accused.

“Okay, what the fuck is this, ‘pick on Richie day��?” he said, readjusting his position, “Besides, I’ve been with plenty of other people.”

“Please, this isn’t middle school, and I’m still not buying the whole ‘my bedpost is covered in notches’ bit,” Bev inspected the joint between her fingers, now just a stub.

“Well, obviously it’s not. I’ve had sex in many different beds. Yours included,” Richie smirked.

“Beep beep. You know you aren’t allowed over after you almost burned down my aunt’s apartment.”

“The apartment was fine. Everyone knows if you put the temperature up super high food cooks faster. Those tater-tots would’ve been delicious. Bon-appetit,” Richie spoke in a poor french accent, and his eyes widened, “Bon-appetot. Bon-appetatertot.”

He fell into a fit of giggles and Mike chuckled across from him.

“You are a walking disaster Richie Tozier,” Bev said, though an amused smile sat on her lips.

“Richie’s poor life choices aside… One night stands and drunken make out sessions don’t count,” Mike returned to their previous topic, “I mean something sort of serious. Something you put effort into.”

“I don’t put effort into anything Michael dear,” Richie countered.

“Not true. You put effort into a lot of dumb shit,” Bev put out her joint, “Like when you tried to climb the water tower at 3 am naked. Or the time you tried to get the principal to grind with you at homecoming.”

“You can’t blame me for that. Mrs. Marton is a vixen. Can’t believe she resisted my charms.”

Mike laughed, shaking his head, “Point is, it kinda seems like you’re stuck in a rut.”

“I get plenty of action,” Richie boasted, taking a drag from his joint, “Plus, I could make any girl or guy in this piece of shit school fall in love with me.”

“That a bet?” Bev grinned mischievously.

“You know what, why the fuck not?” Richie shrugged. He was bored, and he wanted his friends off his fucking back, “Terms and conditions?”

“Mike and I get to choose the sorry fuck who you’ll be pursuing—“

“No, I don’t wanna be a part of this. Isn’t it kinda fucked up? Getting with someone for a bet? Why don’t you just try to date someone without an ulterior motive?” Mike suggested.

Richie rolled his eyes, adopting an Australian accent, “Now where’s the fun in that mate?”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You get till prom to sweep this person off their feet. A committed relationship, not just a hookup. If you win I’ll get you a shit ton of the finest weed the county can offer,” Bev continued, “If you lose—“

“No need to tell me, because I won’t fail,” Richie smirked, “I’m a total knockout.”

Bev’s face mirrored his own, “Fine, it’s your funeral.”

Both of them spit into their palms before shaking their hands, bonding the bet.

“C’mon, let’s go find them— you only have six weeks.”

The three of them packed up their shit, passing around the rest of Richie’s joint so it wouldn’t go to waste before they headed inside. Bev spritzed some perfume on them in an attempt to mask the smell of weed, making Richie smell fruity and floral. He popped a stick of spearmint gum in his mouth, deciding to save his sandwich for AP Calc next block.

It was a rare occurrence for them to roam the halls before the lunch bell rang, so a few of the students stared at them as they went on their search. Mike smiled at just about everyone they passed, a fucking angel per usual.

“What about him, he’s kinda cute,” Bev suggested, nodding her head to a blonde boy holding a skateboard.

Richie shook his head, “We made out at that beach bonfire over the summer. He almost vommed in my fucking mouth. The money maker! These beautiful lips are fuckin sacred— how could I smooch and tell amazing jokes if he fucked em up? These babies ooze charisma and sex appeal.”

“More like ooze bullshit,” Mike quipped.

“I think you’re just jealous that you won’t be the one I’m wooing Mike n Ike.”

Bev snorted, “I pity the poor fuck who you’ll be annoying till prom,” her eyes lit up, and she turned to Mike, “Hey, we might be able to enjoy some peace and quiet for a while!”

“The minute we became best friends with Richie I gave up all hope for tranquility.”

“Hey!” He protested, although Mike was right.

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” the other boy finished sweetly.

Richie planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek, “Oh Mikey, you are the most wholesome-est boy I ever did meet,” he slipped into his southern belle persona, “What about you Bevvy darlin’, got any words to butter up my biscuit? To milk my udder?”

She rolled her eyes and continued walking ahead of them, turning into another hallway.

“Fine, I know you love me Marsh,” Richie used his long lanky legs to his advantage, catching up to stroll alongside her quickly, “What about Betty Ripsom?”

Bev scoffed, “Please, too easy.”

“What?! She’s like, a good ol’ Christian girl. I’m a deviant! My skype username used to be tozier666! Or wait, it was tozier42069… I can’t remember.”

“C’mon Richie, we all know she had a massive crush on you freshman year,” Bev replied.

Mike nodded in agreement, “You wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Like most things,” Bev said, “Anyways, you’d just use that to your advantage. Although, I am liking the whole ‘polar opposite’ approach.”

Richie groaned, of course he had a hand in his own misfortune.

They continued to travel the halls, Beverly’s baby blue eyes scouring for a victim.

“You sure are digging your own grave today Rich,” Mike commented.

Richie nodded, “R.I.P. Richard Tozier. Big Mouth and even Bigger Wan—“

“Found ‘em,” Bev interrupted, a grin on her face.

She pointed down the hallway in front of them, where two boys conversated as everyone walked around them. The taller one had auburn hair, and was lanky like Richie, although the other boy seemed a little more muscular. The other looked like a fucking middle schooler, and Richie wasn’t sure how the little brat even got in there.

It took a minute, but Richie realized that he did actually recognize them. They didn’t interact much, not being in the same circles, but the two boys had been going to school with him since the days of recess. And they had been bullied since then too.  

So, correction, she pointed to where two of the biggest losers in school were talking about what was presumably some nerdy shit. Great.

“What, Big Bill?” Richie raised an eyebrow, “He’s not too bad. Ignore the stutter and the fact that he’s best friends with total dorks and you have a shy lil cutie. Nice handiwork Marsh.”

“You know, you’re a total dork and we’re still friends with you,” Mike quipped, his own way of chastising Richie.

Bev shook her head ‘no’, “Not Denbrough, the other one.”

Richie’s eyes settled on the smaller boy, and the realization that he was totally and utterly fucked set in.

Eddie Kaspbrak. The kid peaked at 5’6, and his lack of muscles along with the fact that he wore an honest to fucking god fanny pack didn’t help his 12 year old boy appearance. Of course, the fanny pack got worse— it was full of pills, eye drops, hand sanitizer, lotion, chapstick, and most importantly, his inhaler. Yes, Eddie was a fucking asthmatic hypochondriac and germaphobe, with an equally insane mother. Richie didn’t doubt that the asshole spent more time perusing WebMD than texting or checking social media.

He wore chunky turtlenecks in the winter, and in the hotter months, his tanned legs adorned tube socks and short-shorts (they were awful, although Richie had to admit they made his ass look great). His small hands gripped onto his stuffed backpack (kid already had a fanny pack full of shit, what else did he have to bring to school?). Eddie’s brown hair was always found in a overly gelled comb over, not a hair out of place. He reminded Richie of an off-brand Fred Savage with severe anxiety.

Mostly, Richie knew Eddie Kaspbrak would hate just about every little thing he did. There was no way they’d even be friends, let alone anything more.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me Bev.”

a/n: thanks for reading!!! richie and eddie will actually talk next chapter, don't worry. also for any concerned about the gretta/richie thing it's not Too Big of a Deal as it is in the movie, i just need it for some plot points (but overall richie is like 100% over gretta and it was just something stupid he did).

[hanalwayssolo]

My Attendance Is Bad, But My Intentions Are Good

A/N: My last piece is for day 2 of @glaiveweek! Permission to write my Kingsglaive babies having a happy time. Written in Crowe’s POV, because. My girl. Deserved. Better. :) Inspired by the entire team dynamic in Brooklyn Nine Nine (I want to explain this further but gosh I think it merits a different post) and governed by most of my headcanons with these cuties (again, to be explained probablyyyy on a separate post), so please expect lots of crack, shenanigans, a truckload of pop culture references, etc. 

Ahhh and tagging some folks again: @eternallydaydreaming2015 @hypaalicious @louisvuittontrashbags @cupnoodle-queen @theyearofdiamonddogs @nifwrites @themissimmortal

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM Glaives, we have a situation.

Crowe was still awake in the comfort of her bed when she caught Nyx’s message in the Glaive group chat—one that Tredd renamed lil fuckaz for the heck of it earlier—and she followed the trail of messages that popped in her phone screen.

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM I know you guys won’t believe this but

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM Check the captain’s calendar

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM and get this: he’s free tomorrow

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM AND HE’S NEVER FREE

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM And then I remembered

Nyx Ulric 3:02 AM WHY OF COURSE

Luche Lazarus 3:03 AM yes nyx we know it’s the captain’s bday tomorrow

Crowe smiled at Nyx’s overeager message thread; knowing Nyx, she immediately assumed her good lad of a friend was somewhere in downtown Insomnia, drinking his stress away. Also, she didn’t expect Luche to be awake at this hour. In any case, something about this conversation confused her. Apart from Nyx’s rowdy chat etiquette—which she was fairly used to—what bugged Crowe was her memory of things: she clearly remembered getting partied out a couple of nights back thanks to Drautos’s birthday party hosted by no less than the Glaive’s personally-dubbed veteran party animal, Clarus Amicitia.

There was a brief minute of pause in the group chat commotion, and then:

Nyx Ulric 3:03 AM Nobody asked you Luche stfu

Nyx Ulric 3:03 AM Anyway. As I was saying.

Nyx Ulric 3:03 AM Yes, it’s the captain’s birthday tomorrow

Luche Lazarus 3:04 AM i’m willing to bet my ass you’re planning an outrageous surprise party

Nyx Ulric 3:04 AM You can bet your pasty ass i will and WE SHALL DO IT

Before Crowe could even chime in, Pelna already butted in the conversation, and started wrecking his own havoc:

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM count me the fuck in

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM i’ll buy the cake

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM clarus didn’t let me buy the book cake last Year :(

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM *boob

Pelna Khara 3:05 AM ***boobs

Pelna Khara 3:06 AM had to correct that so y’all know the cake was shaped as a pair of boobs not just one

Of course, where there was trouble, Crowe already thought that Tredd was close by, raring to add to this steaming pile of shenanigans.

And when Crowe saw his name pop into her screen, she grinned. When it came to her personal assessment of her friends, Crowe was always right.

Tredd Furia 3:06 AM lmao

Tredd Furia 3:06 AM i’ll go buy the booze my fam

Tredd Furia 3:06 AM also is it just me or nyx is using punctuation marks or am i just 2 high

Nyx Ulric 3:07 AM Fuck you Tredd

Nyx Ulric 3:07 AM I was trying to drive a point

Pelna Khara 3:07 AM nah tredd just too high i can secondhand smoke your joint even from here

Tredd Furia 3:07 AM fuck u pelna :) :) :)

Nyx Ulric 3:07 AM Anyway thanks guys, we’ll do this in briefing room A

Luche Lazarus 3:08 AM i didn’t agree to the alcohol losers but whatever

Nyx Ulric 3:09 AM u scared daddy’s gonna dish out some disciplinary action, leader? ;)

Luche Lazarus 3:09 AM fuck u

Axis Arra 3:10 AM i can’t believe tredd woke me up for this shit

Nyx Ulric 3:10 AM And Crowe, I know you’re awake I can see your tiny bubble just lurking in this convo

Pelna Khara 3:11 AM wow axis just responded to a group chat conversation

Pelna Khara 3:11 AM blessed be the stars

Tredd Furia 3:11 AM this surprise party’s gonna be litttttt af

Nyx Ulric 3:12 AM hi there axis you and sonitus take care of the food

Axis Arra 3:13 AM ok

While the conversation rolled along, Crowe still had this nagging feeling that the entire arrangement was too… odd. Luche easily joining this nonsense was already out of the ordinary, but Axis—quiet and soft-spoken Axis Arra—replying to this mess and just agreed to help organize this shitstorm? Crowe had seen her friends do strange things, but this one weirdly made her queasy. Not to mention, they have been acting rather funny around her these past couple of days. She stared at her phone screen, trying to rake her thoughts on that last party. She was definitely sure that party happened. She could still taste the acrid smoke from that sordid bar, and she could still remember hooking up with that heavily tattooed man whose name was the only thing that she lost in her nebulous memory.

Just when Crowe was about to protest for a clarification, another message arrived from Nyx:

Nyx Ulric 3:15 AM btw where tf is Libertus at

Luche Lazarus 3:15 AM Poor Libertus Ostium, he is missing action

Luche Lazarus 3:15 AM So now I’m facing Nyx Ulric with his own faction

Pelna Khara 3:16 AM he’s very attractive in the north, Lucians like his chances

Tredd Furia 3:16 AM he’s not very forthcoming on any particular chances

Nyx Ulric 3:17 AM Gdi you all have been making hamilton references for a MONTH

Nyx Ulric 3:17 AM Can we get back to the task at hand please

Crowe sighed in exasperation as she scrolled away to more chunks of messages. Before the chat group could spiral into a new brand of trouble and out of its original topic, she finally managed to type her response:

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM libertus ran an errand with the crown prince’s advisor glasses boy

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM anyway

Nyx Ulric 3:19 AM THERE’S OUR FAVORITE MAGE

Pelna Khara 3:19 AM hi crowe moon of our lives

Tredd Furia 3:19 AM our khaleesi is here

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM you guys are fucking idiots

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM ANYWAY wasn’t the captain’s birthday three days ago???

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM pelna you even posted photos on your instagram acct

Crowe Altius 3:18 AM With the caption “today the Big D was born let us rejoice”

Crowe sat up on her bed and waited for a reply, but she later realized that she just unleashed a treasure trove of disaster with her last statement:

Pelna Khara 3:19 AM hey u gotta love that caption

Tredd Furia 3:19 AM and u gotta love the Big D

Nyx Ulric 3:20 AM i know luche does ;)

Luche Lazarus 3:20 AM haha very funny nyx

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM hahahahahahaha nyx gdi i choked on my fucking beer

Pelna Khara 3:22 AM that was some mighty fine dish that got served

Luche Lazarus 3:22 AM u sure u didn’t choke on some big d tredd :)

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM nope. but hey luche

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM ur ass is grass

Tredd Furia 3:22 AM and imma mow it

Axis Arra 3:23 AM eyyyy

Nyx Ulric 3:23 AM LMAO OK SEXUAL TENSION ASIDE

Nyx Ulric 3:23 AM Relax you guys

Nyx Ulric 3:23 AM I know we all love our big captain drautos so much

Crowe Altius 3:24 CAN SOMEBODY PLEASE ANSWER MY FUCKING QUESTION YOU BAGS OF HELPLESS DICKS

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM as you wish khaleesi forgive our brethren

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM to answer your question: yes, but that party was from the higher ups

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM his actual birthday is tomorrow

Pelna Khara 3:24 AM crowe my sun and stars trust me on this

Luche Lazarus 3:25 AM i can confirm pelna’s statements

Tredd Furia 3:25 AM same

Axis Arra 3:25 AM ^^^

Sonitus Bellum 3:25 AM hi

Nyx Ulric 3:25 AM i confirm pelna’s statements as well

As well? Nyx hated attaching that in any phrase, Crowe remembered, for reasons beyond her. Despite the group’s typical rascally response, Crowe still felt skeptical about the whole affair. With reservation, she decided to give her overthinking head a rest and get along with their shady plan.

She quickly thumbed another message:

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM fine whatever

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM count me in

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM anything i need to do nyx?

She chewed on her lip, praying to the gods that she won’t be assigned with something out of her comfort zone, so she added:

Crowe Altius 3:28 AM and by anything, i mean anything except talking to the other commanding officers and anyone from the lucian council pls

Crowe particularly had a severe dislike talking with her other superiors, specifically Cor, Clarus, and even King Regis himself, after saying something completely inappropriate at a Kingsglaive gala two years prior. After that embarrassment, she sealed everyone outside of her Glaive circle for self-preservation.

The sudden inactivity in the chat group made Crowe want to throw another message for good measure, until Luche broke the momentary radio silence:

Luche Lazarus 3:33 AM more booze

Crowe Altius 3:34 AM right

Nyx Ulric 3:35 AM You’re the best, thanks

Nyx Ulric 3:35 AM Let’s all meet tomorrow at 2pm sharp

Nyx Ulric 3:36 AM I’ll try to stall the captain to give us time for prep

Crowe sank back to her sheets and turned off her phone so she could finally get some decent shut eye without the distraction from the Glaive chat group. She stared at the ceiling, trying to quell the unusual excitement  that bubbled up in her chest, until it was brutally ambushed by a feeling that often creeped up on her whenever she started to enjoy any form of happiness.

On occasions such as these, Crowe wondered how celebrating birthdays would feel like. It was not as if she wanted to keep her birthday from everyone else—she just never knew what her actual birth date was. Having brought up as an orphan, she had figured that birthdays were only afforded to people living with their biological parents. Or people with legitimate paperwork. She had neither the luxury of those things. Sometimes, she would look at herself in the mirror, study her face, and scrutinize her chocolate brown hair, her brown eyes, and the angular structure of her cheekbones. Crowe thought that maybe, this was how her mother would have looked like, or her father...

Crowe groaned in disdain. She didn’t need the pity party at this ungodly time. She pulled the sheets over her head as she promptly derailed the depressing train of thought, pressed her eyes shut, and forced herself to sleep.

Crowe did as she was told and brought additional liquor with her on her way to the Kingsglaive HQ. She was pretty certain that alcoholic drinks were prohibited around the Citadel premises, but no one seemed to have caught her, so she just casually marched on toward the hallway. She rounded into a corner, where she saw Nyx standing by the doorway leading to the briefing room, holding his phone close to his ear.

When he saw Crowe approaching, he tucked his phone in his jacket. Nyx nervously beamed, “Hey there!”

Crowe raised an eyebrow out of suspicion. “What are you doing outside? Where are the others?”

Nyx answered, “Well, actually, they’re on their way but Captain Drautos is already coming in any minute—“

“Weren’t you supposed to be the one to keep him occupied?” Crowe asked, narrowing her eyes at Nyx. She had a bad feeling about this.

Nyx held her by the shoulders. “Yes, but change of plans. Look, can you please help holding off on the Captain for a while—“

Crowe instantly shrugged his hands off. “Nope.”

“Please?”

“Not interested.”

“With a cherry on top?”

“Gods, Nyx—you had one job.”

“Alright, fine,” Nyx ceased making any further effort, raising both his hands in casual surrender.

That was surprisingly easy, Crowe thought. If anything, Nyx was persistent, but this...

She let it slide. Crowe rolled her eyes and sauntered past Nyx. She opened the door and—

“Surprise!”

The confetti exploded from the party poppers in myriad of colors, together with the booming voices of the rest of the Glaives. The entire open space of the briefing room was filled with familiar faces—Libertus, Pelna, and Tredd each had a Li’l Malbuddy balloon in their hands, while Axis, Sonitus, and Luche carried a Li’l Malbuddy plush toy. The walls were decorated with scarlet-colored streamers and rows of gold letter balloons.

It took a while for Crowe to register that the balloons spelled a Happy Birthday Crowe! which totally did not make sense to her at all.

“Wait, what’s going on? I thought—guys, is this a fucking prank?” She bewilderedly trailed off. She was about to lash out until she saw Captain Drautos walking towards her, which even added more confusion to this entire event. “Captain?”

Drautos shook his head and addressed the Glaives. “You fools, I told you she wouldn’t get it if I didn’t give this to her first,” he casually smacked Nyx at the back of the head. They all burst out laughing. “Anyway, it’s because of this—“

The captain handed a brown envelope to Crowe, which she flipped open. Inside was a record, a file with her full name and her… birthdate.

Crowe gasped and croaked out the words in disbelief. “Wait, today’s… my birthday?”

“We found your records with Clarus’s help,” Drautos explained. “I regret ever mentioning it to Nyx as soon as I found out—the word spread like wildfire among your peers. It was a surprise that you didn’t find it out, with Nyx being a loudmouthed idiot. Anyway, the Glaives thought of throwing you a surprise party since you’ve never celebrated your birthday with us before—or uh, I’m sorry, I mean, it’s not that you didn’t want—“

“It’s fine, sir,” Crowe stared at the file she was holding. There it was, written in permanent ink: full details of her birthplace and birthdate. It didn’t disclose any info on her biological parents, but Crowe couldn’t care less. She read and reread, helplessly trying to wrap her head around all of this, until all she could say was: “Thank you. Really, guys, thank you—but wait. That thing in the chat was…”

“That was actually Nyx about to spill the beans with his drunken little mouth,” Pelna admitted, stepping closer with the Li’l Malbuddy balloon hovering above his head. The rest of the Glaives followed, gathering around Crowe. Pelna continued, “I was with him so I had to punch him right in the mouth for being dumb. We had a different chat group specifically for Operation Crowe. We humbly thank the gods that Luche was just smooth enough to save that conversation and we all had to improvise to throw you off the scent.”

“Well, someone had to keep you guys in check so you’re welcome,” Luche smugly added. “And by the way, you gotta thank the crown prince’s advisor for this merch. He tipped us off on where to find these.” Luche, Axis, and Sonitus rewarded Crowe with the Li’l Malbuddy plushies.

“You guys were… all together in this?” Crowe asked, and strangely enough, she was genuinely touched by the idea that everyone joined for this effort. She wanted to squeeze everyone into a hug and beat them all up for giving her feelings.

“Of course—everything for our little sister,” Nyx grinned, slinging an arm around Crowe’s shoulders.

“Don’t make me claw your eyes out,” Crowe said, elbowing him on his side that Nyx winced in pain.

“Whatever. Happy birthday, munchkin,” Nyx hugged Crowe. With the thought finally sinking in, tears of utmost happiness began to threaten her eyes. She wanted to punch herself in the face for wanting to cry.

Crowe looked curiously at Nyx, still controlling herself with her happy tears. “So is this why you guys have been acting weird for the past days?”

“See, I told you guys she’ll notice,” Libertus remarked. “Now, give her the damn cake before she starts crying!”

“I’m not crying! There’s just, I don’t know, a rock in my eye...” Crowe sniffed, and the rest of the crew laughed.

Libertus playfully shoved Nyx away from Crowe and wrapped her into a big bear hug. “Happy birthday, Crowe.”

“Thank you guys so much,” Crowe said with a teary-eyed smile on her face.

Roaring fits of laughter bellowed around the room when Pelna finally brought out a ghastly dick-shaped cake with a candle sitting at its tip.

Tredd announced, “So I know Pelna promised a boob cake, but Luche wanted the D—“

“It was the only cake available, asshat—“ Luche interrupted with a sneer. Everyone was still laughing at the atrocity of the confection in front of them.

“Sorry Luche, the D’s not for you,” Pelna teased. “Give this one a blow, baby girl.”

“Oh my god, I hate all of you!” Crowe laughed and cried. When it came to the business of brewing the finest hilarity and crazy antics, Crowe couldn’t trust anyone else aside from her comrades.

Everyone joined in and sang her an equally cheery and drunken happy birthday. And on occasions like these, Crowe found it difficult to permit herself to relish the happiness. But in the company of the people Crowe now considered as family, she finally did—and there was no place in Eos that she would rather be.

[aquarianlights]

Depending on how tomorrow goes, I may or may not go MIA from every single social media site and texting app that everyone knows me on without any notice but this. I’m not really telling anyone. Posting a mass update here and maybe fb later. But even if tomorrow goes “well” or anywhere in the “good” category...I may be too overwhelmed to be talking to anyone or on any kind of social media for a while. Hours, days, weeks. If it goes poorly, expect me gone for at least a month. If I’m still alive by the end of that---which I should be, coz I will have Echo right by my side and he will never leave my side again and I will do everything in my power to push through and be positive and be a good dad for him---then I will eventually crawl back onto social media. But my queue may run out for the second time in my entire time since I made this blog like 6-7+ years ago. It’s only run out once so far and that’s because it wasn’t maxed out and slowed down before I got institutionalized once and that was a longer stay than normal. Normally I manage to get out before my queue runs out and then ...”treat myself” with a queue filling binge of positive stuff and foxes and glittery things and nerdy things and all things christmas and cold weather. Just general stuff I like...packing it full, coz it’ll usually be on the very last few posts by the time I get out, but no one will have noticed my absence coz it won’t have run out.

But the personal space I will need from how intense this could potentially be...is terrifying for me. I usually go to social media to cope. Somehow, this is so terrifying, that stepping away from social media, stepping away from my friends, and venturing out on my own and putting myself in rather dangerous situations would be my best way to cope. Other than pouring my hours into research and schoolwork... I do have plenty of medical texts to read that I haven’t had the time to do more than skim over [stares longingly at them all].

The amount of overwhelming this is ....is just... it would break a neurotypical person and shred them to pieces. For me? I’m not sure what it will do. The good thing about my particular neurodivergency is that I don’t have much of a conscience to work with (I thought the auditory hallucinations were what everyone was referring to as a conscience until professionals finally told me that’s not what a conscience is and upon further research found I didn’t have one which is great for this situation but damn). I

This could potentially be the hardest moment of my entire life, but I won’t know that until I’m lying on my death bed. This could potentially be the biggest mistake I ever make, but I won’t know that until I’m lying on my death bed. This could potentially be the best thing that ever happens to me, but again... I won’t know that until I’m lying on my death bed. As of right now...at the age of 26...on the date of February 24th, 2018. . .this WILL be the hardest day of my entire life to date. This will be the hardest thing I will ever have to do in my life, no matter the outcome. I’m not scared; I’m sick. I feel like it’d be a better idea to kill myself than go through with this. I’d get to avoid the whole thing.

I hate how logical that is.

And I hate how there’s literally not a single counter argument to it and not even one downside. There WAS one downside and that was that my friends would grieve and/or care but the two people who I was worried about caring/grieving and it affecting their lives have thoroughly proven it won’t and that they do not. That’s not pessimism or anything. That’s just cold, hard fact. Yeah, it’s a sad fact. But. . .it’s fact nonetheless. And I gotta look at the truth one way or another. Facts don’t change just because they’re not in my favour.

I really do hate how logical suicide is right now.

And I really do hate how there isn’t a single counter-argument to it. And how I have absolutely no one in my corner right now and how I have to support every single one of my friends despite the fact I have told them over and over again that I can’t be there for them and to stop and to back the fuck off with their damn problems, because I’m going through too much of my own stuff to help them with theirs. There’s only two people I will put aside my ridiculous mountain of issues that could possibly lead to my death and hopefully will to help...One has proven she is and always has been in my corner no matter what she’s going through. And the other has proven that she is definitely unreliable and won’t be there for me no matter how hard I try for her. The first one... She is the strongest person ever and she will get through my death. She will. She’s been through worse. The second one won’t care even in the slightest or even notice. I’m pretty sure she’d be relieved and happy, tbh. Lol. She’d be out there thinkin��� “FINALLY, DAMN” lolololol. I know I would be. Like, I know I WILL be when I finally do it and get to move on to the next plane of existence and get those brief moments as an infant where you’re not able to speak or communicate in any way because you have all your memories from your past life? Yeah. I’m gonna be fucking throwing a party in whatever form of a crib or bed type thing my new planet and new species has. I hope to fuck my new species is a lot more peaceful than this one. And I hope they’re more advanced and more intelligent. I guess that depends on my karma and I have no clue where my karma is at right now tbh coz I’ve done so many EXTREMELY horrible things in my life, but I’ve also done almost the exact same amount of EXTREMELY amazingly genuinely GOOD things in my life at this point that it practically balances it out to 0 so I’m just all [shruggy emoji] on whether the omnipotent fate aliens would demote or promote me during reincarnation. Sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Man. Tomorrow may just kill me. Hell, if I don’t kill myself before I start the drive tomorrow, I have 2 1/2 hours of driving to think about killing myself every single goddamn second during the drive there...and if, for some weird reason, I don’t have my dog on the way home...... I will have another 2 1/2 hours to think every single second about killing myself. And how the fuck easy would it be to do on Blood Mountain? I’m p sure my car takes via the route that goes over Blood Mountain. People die on Blood Mountain just driving normally.... All I gotta do is push the limits a little. Not hard to die on Blood Mountain...lmao. Not hard AT ALL. I hope my GPS takes me that way coz that’s when I start recognizing where I am and know I’m getting SORT OF close-ish I guess??? and then that idea of suicide just sounds WAY better so...not a bad idea to take a BUNCH of pills in the town right BEFORE blood mountain and then speed through it when I can’t feel my fucking feet on the pedals and am nodding off at the wheel so that I drive my car right through a guard rail or over the side of the cliff OR right into the rock wall. Yep. That sounds p fucking fantastic. Ugh. I have the worst ideas regarding car deaths and I can never do it coz I don’t wanna total my car.... Lmao. The only thing that stops me from doing it is coz I don’t wanna total my car and being a med student, my mind goes through the entire list of “what COULD happen” and how slow of a death if no one finds me and this and that and calculations and blah blah blah and palatalization and amputations and blah blah BLAH and ruining dreams for if I am FORCED into living and BLAH BLAH BLAH and car suicide is the absolute WORST idea for someone who NEEDS a bright, fast, chaotic, able-bodied future if they are forced to live omg lmao BUT....I mean, I have so many other methods in my head that I know practically all the things and I’ve tried so many ways now that I just know what I can and can’t handle and I think tomorrow is gonna be the make or break. But having Echo in the car with me after being broken..........will force me to stay alive. Which will suck so badly. But I will have to also compartmentalize all my pain and my negativity so that he’s not even MORE stressed out than by all the commotion of the situation and then by this crazy car ride and by most likely throwing up in the car.

ERGH.

I need to stop thinking about this and distract myself but I also need to rest my joints so I guess I’m gonna watch a documentary.... something nice and calming but also stimulating... I just wish people didn’t talk so monotone when narrating documentaries. Especially when it’s about the supernatural and extraterrestrials and government experiments and stuff. Like COME ON, NARRATORS. GET EXCITED. GET INTO IT! FOR FUCKS SAKE, THERE’S A REASON PEOPLE GET PUT TO SLEEP BY DOCUMENTARIES AND IT’S NOT THE DOCUMENTARY....IT’S YOU! THE NARRATOR! YOU’RE THE ISSUE. GET INVOLVED. GET HYPED ABOUT THE INFORMATION! GET PASSIONATE. FOR FUCKS SAKE, IT’S COOL STUFF. FUCKING ACT LIKE IT, YA DAMN MONOTONE, ROBOTIC NIMROD. Ergh. Someone needs to sign me up to narrate a documentary. I used to speak at public rallies about puppy mills all over my county to educate the masses during high school because I was enraged about it and TRUST ME when YOU’RE having FUN WITH IT or ENRAGED BY IT or THINK THE INFORMATION IS COOL and REALLY GET INTO IT...........SO WILL YOUR AUDIENCE. It’s not the information that’s boring. It’s not the documentary that’s boring. It’s not the subject material. IT’S THE NARRATOR. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO PAY ME JUST LET ME DO THEIR DAMN JOB CORRECTLY SO I CAN SHOW THEM HOW TO DO THEIR DAMN JOBS SO THEY CAN LEARN. FUCK.

dfkhdglskagjdshlkg Omg.

No okay now I’m gonna get angry at a documentary narrator for not doing their job correctly. Lmao. Gotta watch something uh.... Passionate. I guess. But that doesn’t require too much focus. But doesn’t numb my mind. Star Trek. I always default to Star Trek. Jfc. I guess I’mma pop on some Weyoun heavy episodes while I wait for the “all clear” on my joint timer thing so I can get up and exercise and do some fucking research and maybe pleasure-read for a bit before more joint resting because long drives and lots of heavy lifting is a big no-no and I’m not supposed to but things aren’t gonna pack themselves. Things aren’t gonna sort themselves?? LIKE??? Fuck it’s gonna be SO hard leaving majority of my material possessions that have so much personal value to me. :/ Argh. I don’t even have the ability to take them in order to sell them. I don’t even have that kind of strength or time. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

EDS is a fucking bitch, man. Fucking BITCH. T-Therapy better fucking cure EDS. Like. They’re all on board with it. 4 of my specialists are. And I’m meeting with my HRT doc next week. This coming week. So.... we’ll see. She cordoned off 2 appointments for me for all the things. Sigh. 

Oh right. Yes. Joint rest.

I’m bad at this. I hate resting. I really do. I hate being stationary. I hate not being able to do stuff. I HATE THIS AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH EDS is a fucking killer for people with former suicidal depression who had had it all their life and it had apparently been fixed by meds and now suddenly it’s back like WOW fuck EDS. Ugh. And I’m getting all these phone calls from my docs as my tests come back telling me I need to change my diet to avoid this and that and change this and that like whole HUGE lifestyle changes but adding “We’ll go over the full thing at our next appointment, but I STRONGLY ADVISE...” I’m like, “Well bitch as long as you tell me it’s just advise and not a MUST, I want a damn biscuit okay. Fuck your no gluten.” But then again, I have a stomach ulcer so I can’t really eat ANYTHING right now so wah. [whines]

FUCK. KILLIAN. LIE DOWN. STOP TYPING. I NEED SOMEONE TO FUCKING WHACK ME WITH A FUCKING RULER OR SOMETHING LIKE THE NUNS USED TO DO IN MY PRIVATE, CATHOLIC SCHOOL. LMAO.

[stops now...for real this time...but reluctantly and rather bitterly]