#gothic schmuck
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Schwarze Kristallkette: Eleganz trifft Gothic
Die Eleganz des Mondes, gefangen in einer Halskette – unsere silberne Mondkette mit Obsidian ist ein Symbol für Intuition und verborgene Kräfte. #lunartribejewelry #handmadejewelry #witchy #whimsigoth #Schmuck #Kristallkette Zum Shop
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For the opal lover...
Neo-Gothic pendant-brooch, c. 1900.
Two bat-eared gargoyles open their mouths to devour a large boulder opal. Above them rise acanthus leaves and a rose window. Further Gothic elements unfold beneath them, terminating in three shimmering opal drops.
Source - Hofer Antik Schmuck
#jewelry#gold#jewellery#antique#antique jewelry#neo classical#opal jewelry#opal#gemstone#gold necklace#pendant necklace#necklace
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Okay, weil ich Out Of The Loop bin (habe den Großteil meines Schmucks seit 5+ Jahren und/oder auf dem Flohmarkt/einem Festival gekauft), wo bestellt man am besten Alternative™ oder Gothic™ Schmuck, jetzt wo EMP (zumindest der Onlineshop, und ich bezweifle, dass es im Laden besser ist) wirklich nicht mehr das Wahre ist?
#ich *könnte* da bestimmt nen ring finden der mir gefällt#aber ich suche vor allem einen neuen stecker für den einen piercing im ohr und den den ich hatte gibts natürlich nicht mehr :/#emp hatte früher doch so viel an piercings und jetzt gar nichts mehr???#german stuff#deutsch#kaj rambles#ich will halt vermeiden bei amazon oä bestellen zu müssen#könnte vermutlich in den nächstbesten tattoo/piercing shop gehen aber die haben anscheinend ja alle nur noch instagram und keine webseite#und sorry aber ich meide auch instagram#also idk gibts da irgendwie einen sinnvollen nachfolger zu emp oder muss ich doch in die stadt gehen und hoffen?#most of my newer jewelry is halloween stuff from rossmann 🤷♂️#to delete later
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Alright, I thought this wouldn’t bug me as much this time around, but I was wrong.
I love this book. For all its faults, for all the author’s faults, I love this book. So much. But the one thing that has always nettled me most in terms of the plot itself?
This novel is two entirely different books. Seriously.
The first half is pure horror. Even if we took out the supernatural medical mystery of Lucy’s nightmare, Jonathan’s time in the castle is its own prime gothic novella. It’s mad and macabre and magnificent in the dread it instills.
Then the second half turns into a ‘slay the dragon’ chase adventure with a ‘save the maiden!’ undertone. Obviously there’s a horror element still at play—Mina is very much in danger of far worse than death, Jonathan is ready to damn himself for her, the Suitors Three and Van Helsing are sticking their necks out for the good of all, Dracula is Dracula…
Except not.
The menacing, nigh omnipotent self-made demon and manipulative mastermind Count Dracula we knew in the first half of the book no longer exists by this point.
What we have now is a cowardly cartoon villain running home rather than actually sticking around to, you know, Do Some Violence and Vengeance as Advertised. Much as I believe Stoker fully intended this as an example of conquering a monstrous threat via teamwork, foreknowledge, preparation, love, and Incredible Lawyerly Violence, it just does not gel for me. It never has.
Because really, much as it’s fun to point and laugh at this bastard getting his ass handed to him by our heroes as he goes crying back to Transylvania in his straw hat and sad little dirt box, it does not do the villain or his impending defeat any justice. If anything, it looks like Dracula left half his brain back in Romania (and that Stoker was maybe fudging the build to the climax).
Think about it. If this guy really was a Satanic Scholomance-taught sorcerer, monster, boyar, and centuries-old genius and planner, etc, etc, along with being Vlad the Impaler, is it seriously in-character to have him just ditch at the first sign of a Cross and some holy crackers? England is covered in churches. So is Europe. So is, you know, Romania. You can’t throw a stone without hitting a holy house. And those same locals who tried to arm Jonathan against bloodsuckers with the Exact Same wards Van Helsing had to do research to gather up, were still terrified. Dracula still snatched two kids out of their homes—homes we can assume were well-armed with crucifixes and fearful folklore shields.
If all it took was a few strapping youths and a Dutch grandpa armed with Christly accoutrement and some sharp wood to take this guy out, wouldn’t he have been slain ages ago?
And yet now! Now he’s afraid! Now he runs away rather than, say, drumming up some undead soldiers outside of their heroic circle. Or calling a storm down to lightning them the second they leave their home. Or using his legion’s worth of strength to chuck a carriage at their heads. Or going full-blown medieval on his enemies and sharpening his own tall pikes to make an impaled example of them…or some poor innocent schmucks to plant outside the asylum some night as a warning. Or setting fire to the asylum. Or abusing his enemies’ good hearts and take a hostage until they shed their holy tools. Or at least doing more than taking a petty parting shot by turning Mina and using her as a (foolish) two-way spying vehicle.
Something, Vlad. Something with a little more bite to it.
As it stands, I am glad for the heroes’ sake that they have the bogeyman on the run. But for the story’s sake, and for the threat’s sake, I wish there had been more menace in play. More of a hazard to conquer than a Dracula who turns so suddenly lackluster and lazy as to retreat after one sour confrontation. Give the heroes some real stakes (ha ha) beyond ‘Oh no! Girl 2 is in peril! Oh no! Other future damsels will be in peril! But at least we have the dastardly fiend on the run!’
If it makes any sense, I wish the heroes were a little more afraid than just incensed and righteous. Jonathan is afraid, of course, but he also has the excuse of being enraged and in love enough to overpower his background of trauma and terror at Dracula’s hands. Mina is mentally locking herself down against the unthinkable, period. The others get to ride the high of knowing Van Helsing’s intel and their sacred armory have given them the advantage. They’re worried, but confident, full of adrenaline, it’s all so harrowing..!
And that’s just not horror anymore.
#gripe gripe whine whine#honestly a lot of this could just be my callused horror-glutton heart complaining#Mr. Stoker get back here and make your novel more fucked up please#honestly this is half the reason I'm writing the Barking Harker thing#I want more horror in my horror#also more el gee bee tee happenings#and more monsters#and more Fucked Uppery in general#anyway#horror#dracula#dracula daily#vlad the impaler#bram stoker
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Movie Reviews
Vanilla Sky (4/5)
Event Horizon (1.8/5)
Run With the Hunted (2.6/5)
Rosemary's Baby (1968) (2.5/5)
Identity (3.8/5)
Paranormal Activity: The Ghost Dimension (3.5/5)
The Uninvited (2.7/5)
The Talented Mr. Ripley (4.1/5)
A Babysitters Guide to Monster Hunting (3.3/5)
Afflicted (3.7/5)
Agent Revelation (2.8/5)
Alone (1.8/5)
American Hangman (3.9/5)
An American Haunting (2.5/5)
Annabelle (2.1/5)
Ashby (4/5)
Ashoka (3.7/5)
Bad Santa (3.2/5)
Barbie (2.9/5)
Baywatch ('17) (3/5)
The Big Short (1.3/5)
The Bigfoot Trap (4.3/5)
Bitch Ass (2.8/5)
The Blair Witch Project (3.7/5)
Blair Witch 2 (3.5/5)
Blurt (4.2/5)
Boston Strangler (3/5)
The Boy Who Cried Werewolf (4.2/5)
Boyhood (3.5/5)
Cadaver (2.4/5)
Cadillac Man (2.9/5)
Captive State (3.7/5)
Case 39 (3.3/5)
Cargo (4/5)
Case 39 (3.3/5)
Casper (3.2/5)
Cloverfield (3.5/5)
Clue the movie (4/5)
Coming to America (3.7/5)
Crawlspace (3.5/5)
Critical Condition (2.6/5)
Cursed Friends (2.9/5)
Deck the Halls (3.7/5)
Dinner for Schmucks (4/5)
Disappearance at Clifton Hill (3/5)
Disaster Artist (3/5)
Don’t Tell Mom The baby Sitters Dead (3.8/5)
Downsizing (2.9/5)
Dungeons and Dragons Honour Among Thieves (4.2/5)
Edge of Darkness (3.9/5)
End of Watch (1.2/5)
Ernest Saves Christmas (4/5)
The Estate (2.9/5)
Every Breath You Take (3.9/5)
Fear of Rain (3.8/5)
Fear Street 1994 Part 1 (4.2/5)
Fear Street 1976 Part 2 (3.2/5)
Fear Street 1776 Part 3 (3.7/5)
Fear the Night (4.4/5)
Follow Her (3.4/5)
Galaxy Quest (1.8/5)
The Giver (4.3/5)
Givers of Death (3.2/5)
The Good Son (3.8/5)
Grease Live! (4.4/5)
The Grudge (3.5/5)
Happiness for Beginners (3.7/5)
Haunt (3.7/5)
Hell or Highwater (3.2/5)
Hellraiser (-2/5)
Home Front (4.2/5)
The Host (4.2/5)
Hot Rod (2.9/5)
How High (2.4/5)
In and Out (3.7/5)
The Inhabitant (3/5)
I See You (3.7/5)
Inheritance (3.1/5)
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1.3/5)
Jack Reacher (3.5/5)
Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (2.8/5)
Jules (3.8/5)
Keeping Company (2.7/5)
The Last Voyage of the Dementor (3.9/5)
The Lesson (2.9/5)
MA (4/5)
No Exit (3.3/5)
Paranormal Activity: Next of Kin (4/5)
Past Lives (4/5)
Pixie (3.3/5)
Project Ithaca (2.6/5)
Marcel the Shell with Shoes On (1/5)
Mindhunters (3/5)
Moon Manor (3/5)
Morning Glory (3.8/5)
Mother! (3.4/5)
Mousehunt (4.4/5)
No Country for Old Men (3.8/5)
Out of Office (4/5)
Out of The Furnace (2.3/5)
Rags (4/5)
The Ring (2.4/5)
Robotapocalypse (4/5)
Room 203 (2.2/5)
Sahara (1.9/5)
Saving Christmas (1.8/5)
Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse (4.3/5)
Scrooged (3/5)
Showing Up (2.6/5)
Significant Other (2.8/5)
Sleepwalker (4.6/5)
Smile (4.1/5)
Sonic the Hedgehog (4.5/5)
Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (4.3/5)
SOS (Survive or Sacrifice) (3.3/5)
Snipes (4.3/5)
Spiderhead (1.7/5)
Staying Alive (2/5)
Steel Magnolias (2/5)
The Strays (3/5)
Suburban Gothic (3.8/5)
Swindle (4.1/5)
Paranormal Activity Next of Kin (4/5)
Project Ithaca (2.6/5)
Talk to Me (4.2/5)
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles ('90) (3.8/5)
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2007) (4.5/5)
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014)(4/5)
Texas Chainsaw Massacre (3.2/5)
Texas Rangers (2.8/5)
Thieves (4.2/5)
This Is Where I Leave You (2.7/5)
Tramps (2.4/5)
Three Months (3.2/5)
Thunder Force (2/5)
Tucker and Dale Vs Evil (3.3/5)
Underwater (2.9/5)
Urban Cowboy (1.7/5)
Us (4/5)
Vacancy (3.4/5)
Vindicta (3.9/5)
War of the Worlds (2005)(4/5)
Watcher (3/5)
The Weather Man (2.2/5)
White Guys Cant Jump (4/5)
The Wrath of Becky (4.3/5)
Wonderful Time of Year (2.8/5)
World War Z (3.7/5)
X ('22) (1.2/5)
You Are Not My Mother (3.1/5)
Zoolander (3.8/5)
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I remember asking you about the Saga of Toast the last time this particular WIP game came around, and so much has happened between then and now ! I've read the fics (and LOVED them) and even watched JAtP (which was such a sweet, fun ride), so I'm wondering if this getting to be a pattern of being introduced to a new fandom XD (no complaints there, lol).
That said, both The Lost City and Nature 2.0 sound super intriguing ! I'd love to hear more about both/either, totally up to you :)
(I think we've discussed Nature 2.0 in passing before, and while I know its based on Metal Gear -- which itself has such an interesting premise from what little I've gleaned -- it sounds like a genuinely epic fic in the making, whenever that happens 🤞🏼🤞🏼)
AAAAAAAAAAAAH, hunny!!! (my thought process on receiving this particular ask). You're so right. So much HAS happened and I'm still so happy you enjoyed the chaotic Toast cat and the silly little ghost show <3 <3
Okay, the fic whales that require a better author (and one with more brain space and leisure time) than I am at the moment but that are still so dear to me that I might come back to them at some point.
I came up with The Lost City first, while I was still at university and attending a lot of lectures on 19th century British literature and culture. I was also, at that time, in a Stargate Atlantis fan forum at the time and those two things just seemed made for each other so I envisioned a fic that would be written in the style of a 19th century novel and resemble Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World in that you have this bunch of adventurers and scientists that claim to have found the lost city of Atlantis but lost all their photographic evidence etc on their way back and now one of the members of the expedition, the Scottish doctor (Edinburgh having been one of the best places for a medical education at the time just fit so nicely with the Scottish doctor on the show), tells the story as reconstructed from his diary.
The fic would attempt to be very accurately 19th century-ish so you would have the white (British) male Christians explorers bringing civilisation to the savages of the new world. There would be the noble savage princess. The charming and intrepid soldier. The eccentric scientific genius. There would also be an eccentric rich heiress funding the operation whose unconventional independence would be punished by the narrative while still admiring her bravery. There's also sort of vampires which fits nicely with the vampire/gothic craze at the time, the obsession with (creepy) hands (the Stargate aliens suck other being's life essence through touching them). The Egyptian craze tying in with finding the Stargate. There's just SO MUCH that would fit SO WELL!
It would also have footnotes as a sort of mock Oxford University Presse edition, contextualising the racism and colonialism and misogyny etc ;D
So it's a very ambitious project.
Not learning my lesson with this one, I came up with another ambitious project, Nature 2.0, that is indeed a Metal Gear Solid au.
The original game series already deals with clones (Solid Snake, aka David, being one and experiencing accelerated ageing as a result). There's world conspiracies and viruses and triple agents and shadowy figures and the sins of the fathers being borne by the sons. And there's a soldier (Snake) and a genius nerd (Hal Emmerich aka Otacon) falling in love.
On some ill fated day I thought: why not take it even further?
So it's a dystopian future where genetic engineering and cloning etc are commonplace and the poor, normal born people are second class citizens. There's pockets of resistance and pockets of self-sustained enclaves and terrorism but most of the "Naturals" are just poor schmucks in the ghettos of the big cities trying to get by.
One of them is Hal Emmerich, genius son of a Two-Oh genius (Two-Ohs being the genetically enhanced Humans 2.0) but natural born and as such a lowlife who gets fired by too many companies and has an unhealthy feelie addiction (think movies - talkies - feelies) who suddenly gets recruited for a secret mission by a handsome clone.
They embark on a mission that's ostensibly about some nuclear threat but they soon uncover there's something more sinister afoot. There's trying to figure out the plan and the players, infiltrating places, stealing information, escaping shadowy pursuers, finding allies in unlikely places, exposing a global conspiracy and saving the world at a cost. There's near-death and there's falling in love and there's philosophising about what it means to be human.
But again, it's A LOT and lots of research and even MORE plotting and writing action plots and stealth missions which I'm rubbish at at the moment so like The Lost City, it's on ice until that mystery time when I'm healthier and can focus better and have more time. Maybe never. But never say never, right?
#yeo writes#thanks so much again for asking hunny#I LOVE these ideas and though talking about them is bittersweet I also love it
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Babe what is eldritch farm I need to know
Eldritch Farm/Field Songs/Black Briar is meant to be an original piece based loosely off of Case History, but with a proper OC/MC and with more of a horror bent. This largely came off the back of some discussions with friends of mine a couple years back about the way Stardew kind of approaches but does not fully broach some big small town gothic/horror tropes and my own love of Stephen King and cosmic horror and such, which led specifically to this little ramble:
Ok no but seriously, it’s like, think if IT had been a less hungry and malevolent thing. Imagine this eldritch fucking demi god gets knocked out of inner/outer/other space/time and ends up buried over what becomes this small ass town. And when people finally start wandering into the place centuries later this thing doesn’t look at them and go “FOOD” it goes “COMPANY!” Like, lonely-ass trapped eldritch monster just wants friends and is like “IF SOME BOMB-ASS CROPS WILL MAKE YOU STICK AROUND I WILL GIVE YOU BOMB-ASS CROPS. PLEASE STAY, THE MOLES ARE TERRIBLE CONVERSATIONALISTS.”
Only this is still some horror shit so like, this poor fuck tried granting boons and wishes and shit early on when it didn’t understand humans so well and that led to some actual fucking monstrosities roaming the hills, and it’s just made sure they can’t get out of the area because it still feels bad for making them. So you’ve basically just got some poor schmuck that moves to the country like in every bad horror movie ever and it like aw yiss, I will be a farmer now, fuck city life, my farm totally isn’t haunted, everything’s great, hey the town doc’s pretty cute, aw fuck there’s monsters, there’s a cult, fuck me running there’s fishmen why does this always happen. But then instead of Cthulhu you get this giant sad boy that’s like "HE WANTED TO BE A GOOD SWIMMER SO I MADE HIM A FISH MAN, I DID NOT EXPECT IT TO GO POORLY AT THE TIME, I WAS STILL LEARNING ENGLISH. CONSEQUENTLY I DO NOT ADVISE SWIMMING IN THE LAKE. ….DID YOU BRING ANY CAULIFLOWER? I LIKE CAULIFLOWER.“
It's evolved a bit since then, rolling in some themes of grief, death, rebirth, nature, environmentalism, and a whole lot of godbothering, but the basic root of it is still the same.
#i'm very attached to this idea#it just hasn't quite been ripe enough to proceed with yet#eldritch farm inspo#field songs inspo
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I wsnt to know about "Lady Justice Drinks Wolfhook Juice"!
The ask stares at me from my inbox. I stare back at first, but soon enough I'm the first to blink. It's just words on a screen, after all, too cold even for an operator like me. And I'm icy.
I sit up from where I've been poking at Tumblr in bed, take a good swig of water, and think to myself, how do I describe the Lady Justice story?
Lady Justice Drinks Wolfhook Juice, you see, is a symphony of depravity: a dark, hard-boiled story of human ignominy and the ugly lengths people will go to when their heart's desire is on the line. It's a filthy crescendo of—
For Archon's sake just post some excerpts or something. Nobody's reading that wall of purple prose.
—have it your way.
Extract 1:
I knew the kid was trouble the moment he walked in.
He looked like a classic heartbreaker: blond, lanky, gams long enough to reach Springvale and a vest that left nothing to the imagination. The toothy grin that broke out on his face when he caught sight of me was earnest, like a little puppy you couldn't help but throw a bone.
(Not like me. Any innocence I might've had's been stained black—midnight black—by all the things I've seen. This Archons-damned town. Mondstadt sure croons a pretty song, but get to know his streets and he's a dirty drunkard like the rest of us.)
(I don't actually drink yet but you get my drift.)
Excerpt 2:
I was interrupted in my thoughts by the clack of stilettos across the Cathedral plaza.
I looked up and had to suppress a smile when I recognised the beetroot juice hair and the thorny crown.
"Sister Rosie," I drawled, cool as a chilled cucumber.
"Fish Eel," the woman replied. She was playing with a knife in her hand, spinning it around by a hole at the base of its handle. "Nice tie. And Ozzy. Looking sharp."
[...]
You know how in hard-boiled detective fiction they always have a nobody-special protagonist, some schmuck just trying to get by in a city that's ugly and anonymous once you scratch the surface, but they're used to the muck and they can damned well get by in it? Rosie was that.
The first time I'd met her, Amy and I were fourteen, and we were coming home from the library: Amy was at the height of her hard-boiled detective fiction phase, having run out of gothic fantasy books worth their weight in guano. Rosie was in a laneway, beating up some purse snatcher by moonlight. A spin of the spear, maiming not killing, then a reliable one-two punch to the gut sent the purse snatcher sprawling, and Rosie pinned her down til the Knights showed.
The victim called her a hero, and she said, quote, "Me? I'm just an ordinary member of the Church, doing what I've got to do", and I fell in love* instantly.
#yeah that's right kids it's:#noir!fischl#she's broody#she's moody#she's one dammed cutie patootie#fic bits#my writing#genshin impact#fischl von luftschloss narfidort#rosaria#genshin rosaria#asks#why write when i can talk about writing
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consistently baffled by these fascist schmucks that think they’re the inheritors of the roman empire/ culture when the empire thrived on integrating other cultures and one of the major reasons for its downfall was the attempted genocide of the gothic people, so
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Mode-Shop Essen: TRASH-STORE Piercing-Studio & Fashion - Gothic-, Punk- und Rockabilly-Mode
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Geschwärzte Silberpaarringe. mittelalter gothic schmuck
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Gothic Schmuck der verzaubert - jetzt auf Etsy
Lass dich von der magischen Aura dieser Obsidian Mondkette verzaubern. Unsere Halsketten sind mit Liebe handgefertigt – jede ist ein Unikat. #lunartribejewelry #EtsyDE #Obsidiankette #Gothic #Schmuck #Kristallkette Zum Shop
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Fledermaus Ohrringe 925 Sterling Silber Mondstein Ohrstecker Gothic Fledermaus Ohrringe Tier Ohrringe Schwarz Hypoallergene Schmuck Geschenke für Damen
Fledermaus Ohrringe 925 Sterling Silber Mondstein Ohrstecker Gothic Fledermaus Ohrringe Tier Ohrringe Schwarz Hypoallergene Schmuck Geschenke für Damen
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Pendant “Lunnitsa”
Diameter 33mm, 6mm stone.
11.5 grams
Sterling Silver, Amethyst
Ring “Rhombus with grain”
Sterling silver, amethyst (stones to choose from)
Ruyan workshop
Viking jewelry number one
No Chinese fakes! Only exclusive handmade!
www.etsy.com/shop/RuyaN
www.etsy.com/listing/222817300/lunula-moon-crescent-necklace-pendant
Anhänger “Lunnitsa”
Durchmesser 33 mm, 6 mm Stein.
11,5 g
Sterling Silber, Amethyst
Ring “Rhombus mit Korn”
Sterling Silber, Amethyst (Steine zur Auswahl)
Ruyan Werkstatt
Wikinger Schmuck Nummer eins
Keine chinesischen Fälschungen! Nur exklusiv handgefertigt!
www.etsy.com/shop/RuyaN
www.etsy.com/listing/222817300/lunula-moon-crescent-necklace-pendant
#руян#мастерскаяруян#лунница#славяне#русь#культура#luna#gothic#goth#gothicmetal#gothicstyle#vikings#ruyan#ruyanworkshop#rock#schmuck#gothicmodel#rockmusic#pagan#asatru#kunst#handwerk#handmadejewelry#handmadecrafts
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prick your fingers on my love
Eddie doesn’t like Valentine’s Day. It’s stupid, it’s gross, he hates it. Hates all the gooey teens who sneak out of class to make out by the bleachers, their mouths messy with spit, breathing in each other’s germs. Hates how every storefront in Derry suddenly overflows with chocolates and flowers and teddy bears, like life’s one big commercial. It’s fake and phoney and he doesn’t like it at all.
Valentine’s Day was for schmucks he thinks, as he walks to school that morning. But he doesn’t give it much more thought because he struggled with his calculus homework all evening and he hopes he got at least some of it right.
And then he sees it. The rose someone’s left on his desk in homeroom. A group of girls giggle loudly, whispering to each other as they watch Eddie frozen at his desk, and Cindy Beckett says, “Someone’s got a crush on you!” in a song-song voice, making him flush. No one could have a crush on him. It was impossible. He was small and asthmatic, and his freckles almost obliterated the top half of his face. He still wore clothes his mom bought him. He played flute in the high school band. He was just Eddie Kaspbrak. There must be some mistake.
He picks up the flower with trembling fingers, so tentative like it might jump to life and bite him. It’s a deep, luscious red, like the cherry candies Eddie hides in his room so his mom couldn’t find them. The ones he’d dig out after bedtime, when he’d place one on his tongue until it melted into a red ooze, savouring its artificial sweetness. The rose had a long green stem free of thorns, and drops of dew still clung to its petals. Could someone really have left it here for him?
Eddie stares at it, the pulse in his neck beating harshly, when he sees the small tag attached to the stem. He starts to read the message on it, feeling suddenly faint, someone had a crush on him! But his blood turns to ice when he sees the messy scrawl, what’s written on it: “For the sweetest mama’s boy in Derry.”
He finds Richie at lunchtime. Peer pressure had given him teeth. Fangs that had expelled him from the Losers Club the year before. And he’s sitting with his new friends at a long table in the cafeteria, dark hair spilling over his forehead, his cheekbones sharp and high. He looks like a hero from a gothic novel, not that Eddie would ever say that, or think of it at all outside his own bedroom.
“Richie?”
Richie looks over his shoulder, stupid grin fading when he sees him, the bright blare in his eyes growing warmer. Like the Richie he once knew.
“Hey Spaghetti, what are you doing over here with the felons?”
Eddie holds out the rose. “Did you get this for me?”
Richie freezes. And all his hyena-faced friends go quiet.
“What?”
“The rose? Did you, I mean... it was on my desk. Was it you?”
Eddie feels his hand quiver around the rose as his throat starts to close up from an asthma condition he didn’t even have, and for a moment he thinks Richie is going to say yes. But then a smirk is lighting up his face. The fangs descend again, and Richie says, “Eds, I’m not a fucking fag.”
All his friends erupt into laughter, the whole squealing lot of them, all staring at Eddie and laughing their guts out. At the stupid, sickly little queer.
“You fucking asshole,” Eddie bites, his cheeks burning, tears blurting down his cheeks. And it doesn’t matter if he catches Richie’s expression change at the last second, the smile shattering on his face, because Eddie is running. He’s running from the cafeteria, he’s running from school, and as he runs through the woods, the tears flying from his face like tiny daggers, he flings the rose away, feeling a grief as deep as a well of black water spring up inside him.
23 years later a man turns up on Eddie’s doorstep.
It’s Richie, looking frightened and exhausted, and he has a bouquet of red roses in his hands. Eddie feels something surge up inside him when he opens the door and sees him, his heart in his throat, a desire as red as roses. As red as blood. It’s something he hasn’t felt in years, not since a boy with glasses tackled him to the ground and dug his fingers into his sides until Eddie grew breathless.
There’s a scar on Richie’s face, dissecting him from chin to brow, one born from the slash of a railing, thrown in the sewers, shielding Eddie from a fatal blow.
“What are you doing here?”
“I couldn’t stay away.”
Eddie looks at the roses in Richie’s hands, tied together with a dark ribbon, and feels the years fold back, to the boy he once was. Standing in that cafeteria, throat thick from rejection, as Richie laughed at him and called him a fag.
“I knew it. I knew you got me that rose, you jerk.”
“I’m sorry,” Richie says, as he comes closer, stepping over the threshold into Eddie’s apartment before he can even invite him in.
“You hurt me.”
“I know. I fucked up. I was scared.”
Richie looks at him. His eyes so blue. His hair a dark, tangled mess. And Eddie knows this feeling. Feels it bubbling up like a lost memory, unlocking inside him like a secret locket. It’s the one from the Jade of the Orient, seeing Richie walk in after all these years. The one from when he was 12, when Richie held his face that day in Neibolt and told him everything would be okay. The one that burned inside him that day with the rose, with the hope Richie felt the same way.
“I’m here because I need you,” Richie says, voice raw, like he’s dredging up a long-hidden truth, “Because I need you to know that I can’t live without you.”
Eddie’s breath catches. “Richie-”
“I know you told me to stay away. But I keep having dreams where I finally get you in my arms and when I open my eyes you’re gone. And I- I need to know what it feels like. I need to hold you and know you’re not going to disappear.”
And something inside Eddie, a wall, a dam, breaks.
“Come and find out then,” Eddie says softly, reaching for him. And Richie does, dropping the roses at his feet so he can pull Eddie into his arms. To his room, to his bed, where Richie strips off his clothes and between the cool, white sheets, kisses every inch of Eddie’s body before achingly, finally, pushing inside him, making Eddie’s entire body arch from it, something locking into place.
And later, much later, when Eddie has slipped out of Richie’s arms, as the other man slumbers deep beside him, Eddie gathers the roses up in the hallway and reads the tag attached to the ribbon: “For the bravest mama’s boy in Derry. Thank you for giving me a reason to leave the sewers.”
#reddie#mini fic#this was originally meant for valentine's day#oops!#i'm not that happy with this but wanted to post it anyway#tw homophobic language
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