#he can and will bite the next person who insults ed

[justaradioguy]

@alchemic-elric is receiving kain's opinions -> 🌟 🌟

The sergeant mutes his microphone, smiling warmly at the question. He can take a break from what he's doing, no problem - he loves talking about people he cares about.

"Oh, the Elrics? I'd love to talk about them. A lot of people feel the same way, but... well, they don't usually share my same opinions. Anyway, Ed and Al are both great kids and extremely intelligent, but beyond that, there's a lot more to say."

"Alphonse is a lot like me. He's very kind and very open about being kind, which isn't a trait shared by his brother, since Ed tries to keep his kindness on the down-low most of the time. Al has my same love for animals and it's obvious to me that he cares fiercely about other people. I love talking to him. On the flip side, he's... dealing with a lot, and he won't burden anyone with it. That scares me. There've been some nights where, after I hadn't seen him for a while, I wondered if he were out there feeling all alone. He has Ed, and the Colonel, and all of the rest of our team too, but... even then, I'm scared that he feels othered and isolated, I guess. He works so hard to make everyone around him feel better than when he found them that it makes me worry about whether or not he's looking after himself too. I wish I could sit with him sometime and have him be honest. I want to help him as much as he wants to help other people."

"Edward is commonly misunderstood. Some people tend to forget he's a kid, so they put a lot of pressure on him that I don't think they should. There's an equal number of people who think he's totally incompetent, which is just plain stupid of them if you ask me. Both of those groups treat him horribly, and then they wonder why he's so angry. He's a sixteen year old kid who deserves so much better. He deserves to be spoken to better. He deserves to think about himself better. He feels awful and he's, unfortunately, going to carry his mistakes around for the rest of his life because that's just the kind of person Ed is. I wish people would stop making him feel worse by antagonizing him. Maybe if people started talking about his good traits instead of messing with him about things out of his control, they'd have a better experience interacting with him. He's smart, he's great at alchemy and fighting, he's got a lot to say, he's kind, and he's loyal. He's great at cooking. He has a neat sense of style. Really, try talking to him instead of bullying him. He's cool if you give him a chance."

"And... finally, I hope they both realize I'm on their side. I'd lay down my life without a second thought if it'd make things better for them, and I'll defend them whenever I can. They're so incredibly loved."

#picking up the phone ;; asks #alchemic elric #he loves these two so much #he can and will bite the next person who insults ed

[half-bakedboy]

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz Rated: General Summary: “I’ve recently found myself with a lot of time on my hands and since you don’t seem to have enough to romance someone,” Buck began, settling his drink on the table, “I think it only makes sense for someone to romance you.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh and shot back, “Yeah, and how are you going to find someone willing to put in that effort?”

“Oh, you’re lookin’ at him.”

Or… Eddie gets the romance he deserves in the form of fluff-filled dates with Buck.

For @911fluffweek - day six: “But you love me anyway” // In your lap

(read chapter six on ao3 or start from the beginning)

Eddie found himself to be just as nervous standing on the step to Maddie’s home as he had been those few months ago. Back then, he was terrified of meeting his team’s families and having to somehow keep himself at arm’s length. He glanced over at where Buck gripped his hand tightly and realized just how badly he had failed at that task. 

“You know, you have to knock on the door, Eds,” Buck said, furrowing his eyebrows in equal parts confusion and concern. 

“Deja vu,” Eddie muttered, raising his hand to do just that. Before he could, the door flung open and Maddie stood before them, a wide grin on her face. 

“Little brother!” She shouted and Buck rolled his eyes at the name before wrapping his arms around his sister’s waist and hugging her tightly. Eddie loved the way Buck hugged. He always put his entire body into it, rocking from side to side with his arms enveloping every inch he could. He loved watching Buck hug others and the way their smiles lit up their faces almost as much as he enjoyed being on the receiving end of one of his embraces. 

“Hey, Mads,” he muttered, kissing her hair as he pulled back. “Where’s my favorite goddaughter?” He asked excitedly. Before Eddie could even so much as say hello, he was already making his way into the living room and picking Jee-Yun out of her pack-and-play to blow raspberries into her neck. 

“Has he always been like that?” Eddie asked, giving Maddie a one-armed hug and holding up the bottle of wine he had to insist Buck pick up. He never went to a home empty-handed and Buck never felt like a guest anywhere, so it was a miracle Eddie had convinced him to grab it in the first place. 

“He loves kids. Babies, toddlers, eight-year-olds with cute dads,” Maddie teased, winking at Eddie when he tried to stifle a laugh. “Even when we were teenagers, he was always looking after younger kids. Saving them from bullies, playing with them when they had no friends, sitting with them at family gatherings. It’s probably cause he’s such a kid at heart,” Maddie said, watching her brother fondly as he set Jee-Yun back down and walked over. 

He wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist before he said, “She’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen, Maddie. Are you sure she’s yours and Chimney’s?” Maddie smacked him with the towel she had over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. 

“Here I was telling your boyfriend all about how great you are with kids, alluding to what a great dad you’ll be someday,” she said pointedly causing both of them to go wide-eyed, “and you insult me. Little brothers are always so ungrateful.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell Christopher that,” Eddie chuckled. He froze when he realized what he had said and had never been more grateful for a doorbell in his life. 

The rest of the team and their families arrived over the next few minutes and all of Eddie’s nerves washed away just like they had the first time. He was comfortable around his team, around the people he trusted every day with his life, and with much more than that if he was honest with himself. More importantly, Buck was a calming weight beside him that reminded him he wasn’t alone. 

“Howie and I thought it would be fun to do our little version of The Newlywed Game,” Maddie said once everyone had their drink of choice in hand. “So, everyone have a seat…” She gestured around, frowning at what Eddie assumed was the shortage of chairs. 

“I counted out before—” 

“You forgot to include yourself, didn’t you?” Maddie guessed and Chim didn’t say she was wrong. Eddie shrugged and stood behind the comfortable recliner Buck had planted himself in, reaching around to rest his hands on Buck’s shoulders and massaging gently. 

“Hey, that’s okay,” Eddie said quickly, not wanting to be the person that inconvenienced the rest of the party. “I’m totally good with standing and I’ll kick his lazy ass out of the chair if he gets too annoying,” Eddie added when Maddie stared worriedly in his direction. Eddie winked at her as Buck gasped dramatically, tugging on one of Eddie’s hands.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Buck challenged and Eddie wouldn’t admit he was right. “Besides, this chair is absolutely big enough to support the two of us, even if you’ve been eating extra bites of the desserts Christopher and I make when we’re not looking,” Buck accused. 

“No, seriously, Buck, it’s—” He was already tumbling onto Buck’s lap before he could finish his sentence. 

It was awkward at first as his hands flew out to try and grab onto the back of the chair and the armrest when he felt himself start falling. Eddie wasn’t a small guy, by any account. He was just under 200 pounds of muscle from years in the military and kept up with his physique with most mornings spent in the gym or hauling around 60 pounds of gear each day. Suddenly, though, he felt so small. 

Buck wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and rested his chin comfortably in the crook between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. He let his legs fall open so that Eddie could slot between them and Eddie let himself form to Buck’s warm body. He leaned into Buck’s touch, resting his own arms on the ones secured around him, and ignored the incredibly pointed gazes of his team.

Chim tossed his hands up in the air and defeatedly said, “Oh, they’re totally going to win.”

He wasn’t wrong, but Eddie attributed that to the fact that out of all of the couples around them, they were the newest. Hen and Karen had been together the longest out of all of the couples, working on ten years of marriage by the time Eddie joined the team. Bobby and Athena had six years under their belt and were just as ‘disgustingly in love’ as the day they met—Chim’s words, not his. He didn’t have much room to talk, though, because he and Maddie were almost at three years and it would take a crowbar to pry them apart when they were together. 

About an hour into the game, Hen made it clear that one of the happy couples would meet their bitter end while Maddie became increasingly more annoyed that Eddie seemed to know more about her brother than she did. 

“Why would you possibly know when Eddie and I had our first kiss?” Buck seethed as Maddie rolled her eyes in frustration. “You didn’t even know when you and your husband had your first kiss!” It was the wrong thing to say and they both knew it as Buck hid his face behind Eddie’s neck. 

Maddie didn’t care as she yelled, “He’s the one who didn’t know! I was right and I know it!” She grabbed a handful of popcorn from the neatly plated platter in between them and tossed it at Buck, effectively only coating Eddie in the snack. He held his hands up in defense just as Chim did. 

“Hey, I was in a hospital bed and I thought we had kissed then. I was on a lot of pain medication, Maddie, you can’t blame me for that!” 

“And you can’t throw food at me because your brother is a coward!” Eddie shot back, wriggling in Buck’s lap when he poked his fingers into Eddie’s sides in retaliation. 

“Can someone read the next question, please?” Bobby said in that commanding tone that had all of them muffling their laughter and ongoing arguments. 

“Alright, Bobby and Athena are up,” Chim said, clapping his hands together. “If you won the lottery, what’s the first thing you’d buy together?” Athena started to write down her answer and Buck attempted to it, leaning over a bit too far considering the space Eddie took up on his lap. Eddie elbowed Buck in the ribs and pulled a face he hoped clearly told him to stop cheating before the team got even angrier at them. Buck pressed a messy kiss to his cheek and pretended he wasn’t even trying to peek. 

“What d’ya say, Cap?” 

“Athena is too smart to let us spend money on anything. It’s going straight into a college fund for Harry and May,” Bobby answered, crossing his arms over his chest smugly. It was called for because Athena turned over her board to reveal the word COLLEGE spelled out in all caps. She cheered and pressed a big kiss to Bobby’s lips. 

“Lucky round, we all knew the answer to that one,” Hen teased, patting Karen’s thigh as she turned toward Chim for their question. “Hit us up, Han. We’re kicking all of your asses,” she commented. 

Buck chimed in, “Except for us!” It was a reminder that literally no one needed and they all glared daggers in Buck’s direction. Eddie didn’t mind the way Buck hid behind him that time. He laced their fingers together, bringing one up to his mouth for a soft kiss as Chim read out the next question. 

“What was the last date that you went on?” Buck stifled his laughter in Eddie’s shoulder the second both Hen and Karen’s eyes widened in panic. Athena was brazen as always and allowed hers to ring loudly over everyone. 

“Oh, c’mon ladies, really?” Athena shouted. Hen glared at her while Karen wrote down—and then crossed out and then wrote something else—on her board. She shook her head guiltily at her wife when the timer buzzed. 

“The reason we’re kicking all of your asses is cause you know the answers to those ridiculous questions about your partner’s childhood pet but can’t even remember when you last got them flowers,” Buck pointed out. The looks on everyone’s faces told Eddie that while he shouldn’t have said it, he was absolutely right. 

“Yeah, well, what was Eddie’s first job, then?” Maddie shot back to which Eddie sighed because Buck knew the answer to that. They had talked about it one night when Eddie was explaining why he enlisted in the army in the first place. 

Buck smirked and answered, “Easy. Technically, he worked construction with his uncle before he turned 18 but he was paid under the table,” he paused for only a moment before finishing, “and he enlisted in the United States Army almost the second he was old enough to.” He held up his hand for a high five but Eddie gauged the looks around him and decided his team already hated him enough for one night. 

“Hen, what’s your answer?” He asked, knowing that out of everyone in the room, Hen would be the one to get him out of the situation he found himself in. She took pity, if only so that they could get their round over with, and took a deep breath with her eyes closed. 

“Alright, I had the day off three weeks ago but Denny was sick and the day off before that was spent getting the foster twins settled…” Hen looked up at the ceiling and let out the breath she was holding slowly. “We went to that Japanese steak house and sushi bar a few months ago?” Karen cheered and flipped her board over revealing what Eddie assumed was the name of the restaurant Hen had been talking about. Karen leaned over and kissed her wife soundly, both of them glaring over at Buck who waved his hand dismissively. 

“Will you stop pissing off our friends, please?” Eddie whispered while Maddie and Chim prepared themselves for their round. Buck shook his head and hiked himself up a little in the chair causing Eddie to immediately panic. He had almost forgotten that the two of them were sharing a damn chair like teenagers who thought they were in love. Eddie made to get up as he said, “Do you need me to—”

Buck grabbed onto his arms and shook his head, smiling softly up at him. “I’m good, just had to reposition. Just let me…” As if Eddie weighed nothing, Buck moved him to a more comfortable position still on his lap and Eddie let out a very embarrassing yelp at the suddenness of the motion. He wasn’t used to being… manhandled, the way Buck had apparently been comfortable with doing. 

“We have a spare bedroom if you two need some privacy,” Maddie offered, gesturing over her shoulder and down the hallway. The entire team groaned in displeasure while Buck flipped her off, but she shrugged and mouthed, The offer still stands, in Eddie’s direction. 

“Babe, pay attention,” Chim began, earning an eyebrow raise from his wife. He grinned at her as he usually did, and asked, “Describe what you first thought of me in one word.” 

“Maddie, now’s your chance to really let him know how you feel,” Buck teased, egging her on with an excited nod of his head. Maddie rolled her eyes in response and as she wrote her answer on the board, she gestured between her and Chim’s heads as if trying to somehow start some telepathic connection. 

“I can’t believe Chim somehow found someone just as strange as he is,” Hen muttered much to the agreement of everyone around them. The couple in question didn’t care, though, because they were too busy staring at each other. Eddie thought it was cute, but apparently, everyone else was ready to get on with the game. 

“Hey, weirdo, what’s your answer?” Bobby shouted and Buck let out a huff of laughter. It was always nice when Bobby let loose a little and he was seemingly at that point if the name he chose said anything. 

“Cute. She thought I was cute,” he answered. Maddie turned her clipboard around slowly, beaming wider each second because she got the answer right. She cheered and pulled Chim into a very full kiss, both of them smiling into it. 

“Alright, boys, we’re three for four this round. You get this right or wrong, you still win, so we’re gonna pick the toughest question,” Hen commented and before Buck could argue, Athena held up a hand and raised her eyebrows at him. It was the easiest way to shut him up and everyone there knew it. 

“Oh, honey, this one. This is the one,” Athena said, laughter already brightening up her voice. Eddie winced even as Buck squeezed the arm still wrapped around his waist a little tighter in reassurance. Maddie let out a loud laugh before she read the next question out loud. 

“Which one of you would Buck say is the most attractive in the relationship?” 

“That is so not a fair question!” Buck whined immediately, grabbing the board from his sister to scribble his answer. 

Eddie eyed him and at Buck’s inquisitive look, he said, “You answered that incredibly quickly.” 

“Hey, no cheating. Eddie, what’s your answer? Who’s more attractive?” Chim asked and then let out a barely contained cackle. “Wait, oh my god, Eddie is either going to say himself which is going to sound extremely narcissistic or Buck is going to have his own name on that board which is the most egotistical answer and man, this question was genius. Athena, I would bow to you if I could.”

Eddie shook his head and glared at his captain’s wife, uncaring that he was there to witness it all. Bobby had a warm smile on his face that Eddie connected to the fact that he was there, with the family he said he wasn’t going to become a part of, laughing and teasing and cuddling up to his boyfriend of almost six months. It wasn’t where Eddie thought he’d be but where Bobby had assumed they’d end up. 

He made a mental reminder to thank Bobby later. 

“The answer is obviously Buck, but before you start with me,” he pointed at Chim accusingly before he continued, “it’s not because either of us are full of ourselves. It’s because he knows that I would never name myself in any situation. He knows we’re both equally attractive—”

“—And have tested it on many occasions!” Buck interjected but Eddie wasn’t about to explain to his team that they had competitions on who could get the most numbers when they went out together. 

“He knows we’re both conventionally attractive men who would possibly fight someone for thinking otherwise but would never actually admit it about ourselves. He also knows that I would just argue with him if he said anything else. So,” he took a deep breath before he finished, “that board says Buck’s name.” 

“I don’t think all of that could fit on a whiteboard, Eds,” Buck teased, but he flipped over the board to reveal his own name. Scribbled underneath was one short sentence, squished in the small space. It said, Because Eddie won’t let me say it’s him.  

He wasn’t sure what came over him, but all of a sudden, Eddie had his arms tossed around Buck’s neck and their lips pressed together passionately, uncaring that his entire team was watching him. He had never had a connection like the one he had with Buck and this stupid game had solidified to Eddie that the fact they knew each other so well wasn’t all in his head. It made every part of Eddie so incredibly happy. 

“Next game night, Buddie stays at home,” Chim said begrudgingly and Eddie didn’t mind that everyone around him agreed. He felt like a teenager again; sitting in the lap of the man he really, really loved, with warm arms wrapped around him, and what felt like a permanent smile on his face. 

“Eh, we’ll just take the guest bedroom next time,” Buck shot back. Eddie blushed darker than he had been already, but he didn’t say anything in return. He just let Maddie and Chim tease, Hen and Karen roll their eyes, and Bobby and Athena watch the people they considered their ‘kids’ enjoy the night together. 

It was as perfect as perfect could get, Eddie thought. Even when he felt his eyes drooping shut at the end of it all, he knew he would wake up to Buck in his bed and the feeling of family and home etched into his heart. He was starting to believe it would never disappear and he held onto it tighter just to be sure. 

#buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911fluffweek #911 #911 on fox #buck x eddie #eddie x buck #im not as happy with this one #but you know what #its fluffy #and it has firefam feels #i love them you know #my writing

[va-3]

Part I

Second Half of my OC’s Information (the photo limit screwed me over)

The 1930s through the 1970s in Taika’s past is still a work in progress as well as the art soooo...probably a part three in the future?

Taika and Raspberry move to California the fall of 1986, although Raspberry finds a more permenant residence in Los Angeles while Taika finds herself on a more wandering path.

In the February of 1987 Taika wandered upon the town of Santa Carla, a town given credit for being home to those who wanted to disappear.

[side note: the jacket and jeans would be colored if only my damn markers hadn’t died]

Taika, a delinquent at heart as always, fit in like a puzzle piece. The punk-graffiti day life appealed to her like any adventure, and the smell of vampires lured her further into the town. She “cleared” a house (the act of killing the owners of a house and taking it for herself) as well as the garage. Taika acquired a 1987 Yamaha Virago via a rich douchebag she easily stole from and offed.

When the nightlife glowed at the boardwalk, it was apparent to the Santa Carla vampires that something was off, although they could not place it.

Taika did not make contact with the vampires for a while, seeming to distance herself just enough to make them curious about the uneasiness on the boardwalk since her arrival. Every now and then a body would turn up, a person snatched into an alleyway and partially eaten. It wasn’t until David met eyes with Taika across the boardwalk that it was clear to the Santa Carla vampires that there was another predator on their territory.

Taika’s aggressiveness and competitiveness are what pull the boys in first, that along with her scent, so much more intoxicating than any other human. A sort of playful rivalry grows between the calta and the vampires—who could last longer making trouble on the boardwalk without getting kicked off by Big Ed, who could score the biggest bonfire of surf nazis, and so on.

In the end it was Marko and Paul who put an end to the rivalry. Dwayne hadn’t thought he’d be able to really approach Taika and David was too prideful to do so. So the chaotic blonde duo took it upon themselves to invite her back to their cave as an act of trust as well as cease fire. David, no matter his pride, was quick to share about the fallen hotel made theirs. She was quick to catch on to the fact that they had been vampires much longer than they appeared. Dwayne brought it to her attention that she clearly knew what they were while they handn’t a single idea what she was.

With that question being asked, she explains what she is, and from there, their trusting relationship grows. The first time they hunt together is remotely terrifying to the vampires, considering she is a monster made for hunting them as well as other supernatural creatures.

The relationship between the boys and Taika blooms into something deeper, though it isn’t apparent to any of them at all at first. It was just small things they realized they loved about her, and her them. They fall in love with her odd little quirks, like how she always has change on her because it’s “shiny and distracting”, or how she’ll braid tiny braids into her hair and sometimes to boys’ hair, or how she makes beautifully delicate carvings out of the bones of their victims, or buys(steals) stuff for the cave while they all sleep, or organizes whatever she can anytime she comes the to cave, and really really likes coconut shrimp.

She steals the boy’s clothing whenever she leaves the cave during the day after a night of events, not that any of them complain. Marko’s crop tops are always her go to, while she wears Paul’s jewelry out and sometimes jeans that Dwayne doesn’t wear anymore. Sometimes Taika and David switch earrings, only because David is hesitant to give her any of his current clothing,. When he finds that he is more possesive of her than he’d openly admit, he gives her extra shirts of his to keep. Taika loves how the vampires smells mask her own; not only is it comforting, but it protects her from any lurking sevren(a post for another time).

Taika only needing three hours of sleep allows her to have a day life of her own, one that tends to breed chaos. Sometimes she’ll go surfing, something she’s become quite adept at, and show up the surf nazis on their own territory. Taika is the only member of the “biker gang” that the surfers ever see during the day, so they let out a lot of their aggression on her because they’re truly too cowardly to face the boys and her head on. The biggest mistake the surfers ever made was the day they decided it’d be humorous to steal her bike in broad daylight. She’d parked her bike(albeit illegally) on the boardwalk when she got to the beach, and when she returned later that day her bike was gone. Needless to say the surfers had invoked the wrath of someothing stronger than them on supernatural levels.

The boys knew something was up the instant they walked into the caves main area to find Taika waiting patiently at the exit. The only tthing she said was she needed a ride, one David gave happily. When the vampires had parked their bikes and Taika had muttered some words of reassurance to fill in her silence, she made a beeline for the carousel, following the ocean-spray smell of the asshole who’d taken her bike. He was standing in line with an arm draped over a girl who couldn’t have looked more trashy, his friends jostling one another as the line moved along. The four vampires followed behind the taller predator, their curiosity evident as they formed a half-crescent around her when she stopped. Taika was quick to clamp her arm onto the girl under the surfer and yank her out of the way, sending her flying onto her butt. Taika was mad, like, really mad. She hooked her hand into the collar of the surfers shirt, ignoring his protest when she yanked him to her.

“Where is it,” she hissed, putting forth minimal effort to keep herself from biting his face off in public. Marko watched in excitement, his thumb between his teeth as his eyes found the surfer’s. This guy was screwed. He raised his hands in surrender and feigned innocence, “Hey, I don’t know what your deal is lady, but I don’t know nothin about anything.”

His friends snickered behind Taika, clearly enjoying how angry they had made her. She narrowed her wild purple eyes, running her tongue over her teeth.

“Where’s my goddamn bike,” she demanded, her voice like ice down his spine. The vampires watched on, looking about occasionally to make sure Big Ed wouldn’t poke his nose where it didn’t belong. His friends burst into laughter again, shoving one another giddily. Taika had half the mind to throw the surfer in her hands at them like a bowling ball at pin, but she repressed her urges.

“You can make this easy or you can make it hard. Give my my bike and I won’t have to kill you.” He pressed his hands to the sides of his face and made a noise imitating a ghost. She stilled, silently in thought for a moment before she scoffed and let go of his shirt.

“Fine. I’ll find it myself. Boys,” she turned sharply on her heel and marched towards her vampires, hooking her hand into Dwayne’s in a way that was supposed to be gentle, but she was too mad. Paul slipped his hand into her back pocket and matched her pace.

“Yeah, run to your queers.”

The boys would swear on their lives that they’d never seen her spin around and tackle someone as fast as she tackled that surfer. He was in the ground in seconds, and Taika was planting hit after hit, taking the few blows he managed to land on her ribs like they were nothing. The surfers friends sprang into action, attacking the boys as well as trying to pry Taika from the much bigger surfer. The surfer’s face was bleeding all over, and he was fighting to stay awake. Taika wanted blood. Her bike’s absence was a small inconvenience that ensured a meal later that night, but the insult to her boys was a direct blow at her. They could trash talk her straight to her face, insult her, whatever made them feel powerful, but no one, no one, says anything about her boys. At last, she was whacked across the face by the baton belonging to Big Ed. The blow stunned her if anything, although she fell to the side and off of the offending surfer. Paul and Marko were quick to her side, helping her to her feet while also readying to catch her if she tried lunge out at the bleeding prick on the ground. “Off the boardwalk. All of you! Now!”

David was beaming with pride as Taika walked to him and Dwayne, wiping the surfers’ blood from her lip. The surfers backed from the bikers as they walked forwards, parting away from them to avoid Taika who walked in front, acting as an active threat to anyone who dared to even think about opposing them. When the five were clear of the crowd, Paul looped his arms around Taika and pulled her in for a smacking kiss. “That was awesome babe. Like, so fucking awesome.”

She burst into laughter, dropping her head onto his chest.

“Hell yeah it was,” added Marko, yanking her to him and spinning her like they were dancing. “I’m like two-hundred percent sure that guy pissed himself!”

Marko and Paul exchanged a highly energetic high-five, feeling the energy of the fight reigniting itself. Dwayne silently pulled her into him and kissed her forehead.

“Good to know you care, kitten,”at David’s words she beamed. Dwayne released her, and she bounced towards David, latching onto the lapels of his jacket. “I hope you know that I would do anything for you,” her sultry accent sent a delighted chill down his back. “All of you,” she sang, letting go of David’s jacket and spinning into Paul and Marko’s arms giggling like a school girl. From within the blond vampire sandwich, she raised her hand in the air to make a point. “Now, let’s go find my bike!”

The car belonging to the surfer who’d stolen Taika’s bike was found strung up in a junkyard the next day. The sight had been stupendous apparently, and ended up on the news. The owner of the car and his friends had a been absolutely delicious. After he’d returned Taika’s bike of course.

[officialbillhader]

Eddie still dies before Richie.

There's no stopping it. Richie tries, again and again, to make Eddie stay. He prays to a god he has never believed in, he prays to the long dead turtle, he beggs to Eddie, to the doctor, to the prescriptions and the pills, but nothing works.

The issue is Eddie is too old. His body is shutting down. He has to die eventually, and his body decided it would be now. So the doctor sent him home and told him to stay in bed until it happened because there was no point in staying in the hospital if he didn't need it.

Eddie is terrified of death, especially after he got a glimpse of the other side and became much more religious, but he knows it's inevitable. He lets his husband cry on his chest even though he's not quite dead yet and they should be holding proper goodbye conversations, but he takes what he can in stride.

He pets Richie's head, remembering the hair of his youth, black and curly, which has long been replaced with thin, white strands. He was balding by the time the Losers met again, but so was Eddie. It was the cruel hands of time and its love to pluck out strands of hair until they're no more hitting them all. It kind of hurts to move his hand, his arthritis acting up along with his slowed heart rate, but he wouldn't stop in order to save the entire world.

"You're a crybaby," Eddie says eventually, his voice barely there. Richie looks up, his glasses lopsided and his nose absolutely running. Eddie finds it disgusting, but doesn't have the energy to show it.

"Okay," Richie says instead of fighting back.

Eddie wishes he would fight back.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone cry as much as you. Your face looks like a swollen tomato," Eddie tries again. He has to stop multiple times to take in breaths of air, but Richie doesn't stop him.

"Shut up," Richie mumbles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as if they're children and don't keep tissue on their nightstand.

The retort warms Eddie's chest and makes him feel a little younger, a little more alive.

"How are you going to live without me? Who else can insult you like I do?"

"Write me a list of how I'm awful. That way I never forget," Richie jokes, but his voice is still disgustingly choked up and he can't make himself inflect the sarcasm he wants to.

"Yeah, okay," Eddie says. It's enough to make Richie back away from Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"I'll write a list. But you can't read it until after I'm gone. Deal?"

Richie stares at him for a few seconds. He hadn't expected that response. He takes off his glasses and cleans them of his dried tears, then puts them back on. Eddie stares back, eyes sunken in and skin loose from his bones, but he's still Eddie, and he's still gorgeous.

"Deal?" Eddie repeats.

"Deal," Richie finally says and Eddie smiles weakly, yet just as bright as he ever could.

It takes Eddie hours to write the letter. He has to take frequent breaks because of his fingers cramping up and his hand going numb and refusing to cooperate, but he gets it done, folds it up, and sticks it in their bedside drawer.

Two nights later Eddie passes away in his sleep. Richie watches it happen, watches Eddie's breath slow down and his eyelids twitch until suddenly he's not alive anymore and there's nothing Richie can do but cry and scream and do his absolute best to accept the horrible truth.

He forgets about the letter until the funeral has gone and past and the house he and Eddie bought thirty years ago feels so utterly empty that it hurts Richie's ears, even when he trys to play music or watch TV or any other number of countless noisy things.

He's crying before he unfolds the letter, before he takes it out of the drawer, even. He uses a tissue, this time, to wipe his eyes as dry as possible before he risks smearing the pen ink. Eventually, he calms himself down enough to read it.

Dear Richie AKA Trashmouth AKA my husband,

I'm dead. But that's okay. I won't be away from you forever.

Maybe, wherever I am, I've forgotten about you again. I know that's not comforting, but when did I ever pick to comfort you over telling the truth? Sometimes the truth is cruel and seriously bites us in the ass.

But I'll tell you what I think. I don't think I will ever completely forget you. I think that if I have forgotten you in death, it definitely won't be for 27 years. I think it will only be for the time it takes you to join me. If that happens to be 27 years, then I'll be impressed, but mostly annoyed. I don't want to go another 27 years without you.

I was never truly complete without you, Trashmouth. I was cold and always mad and scared and mostly miserable. Especially with Myra. When I envisioned who I would marry, it was never my mother. It was always you, I suppose. It was a version of you that took on different forms while I couldn't remember you, but it was definitely you.

I always needed you so I could be brave. I always needed you so I could be whole. I always needed you so I could be happy. And I really was happy with you. Every fucking day of our marriage I was surprised to wake up next to you and remember who you are and know that I love you more than I have ever loved anybody and know that I somehow got to marry the most important person in my life. Not many people get to know that feeling.

Of course, not many people survive from being stabbed by a clown spider, but that seems a little off topic.

What I want you to know is I love you. I love you whether I'm alive or dead, whether I remember you or not. I'm always going to love you. There are things in each person's life that don't change, and that was one of mine.

Another was you're an asshole.

Love,

Eddie AKA Eds AKA your husband

P.S. I feel like I'm not living up to our deal unless I insult you, so here's the insult list:

1) Your breath stinks.

2) Seriously, brush your fucking teeth more.

3) Your underwear's ugly and, honestly, always been huge a ficking turnoff.

4) How do you always manage to tie a tie lopsided? Is that supposed to be your hidden talent?

5) Your standup was mediocre at best.

6) Everytime I got into a car with you I felt like I was going to die. Even when I was driving.

7) I don't know how you did it, but you only looked good in a wet T-Shirt once. That's impressive, if you ask me.

8) Your burps were funnier when we were children.

9) You are impossibly hairy. You're like a werewolf, which makes me think you should shave, considering you were terrified of werewolves at one point.

10) You told me you loved me too much and, somehow, never once was I sick of it.

11) I love you too. Always have, always will.

#ap's fics #reddie #death tw #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #awesomepie3221 #i am finishing this at 2am and i wrote this instead of reading what i should have for anthro #and its not that good tbh #oh well imma still post it

[juju-on-that-yeet]

How to Make a Family

Summary: Two months after Derek died, Eric is still struggling with the loss of the last of his family. The other egos are less than sympathetic, and while Eric understands it, that doesn't make things easier. When he finally breaks down, someone unexpected comes to help him start piecing himself together. Warnings: Past/referenced child abuse Characters: Eric Derekson, Derek Derekson (mentioned), Ed Edgar, Bim Trimmer, Dr. Iplier, others get some lines

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

It’s been a few months since Eric Derekson came to Ego Inc.

It’s been two months since his father died.

The place was strange enough to get used to even with his father there. The other egos were intimidating, and a bit standoffish at first. Eric gathered from the whispered conversations he sometimes overheard that there hadn’t been any new egos for over a year and a half. Well, there’d been new egos, but they hadn’t been popular enough to stick around. The thought had terrified Eric, to die a slow death by being forgotten. And he felt sorry for the other egos, that they had to witness it so many times, to the point where they didn’t want to get attached to the newbie.

But that wasn’t the only reason.

The other reason was Derek.

Most of the egos hated Derek on sight, for one reason or another. Eric has to admit that his father wasn’t very personable; he could be arrogant, loud, firm in the belief that he knew what was best in any situation. Especially any situation pertaining to Eric. Therefore, he kept Eric close, made Dark and Wilford give them adjacent rooms, insisted he and Eric went everywhere as a pair. Eric knew, objectively, that the other egos disliked Derek and not himself. But that was hard to internalize when Derek only ever attracted biting insults, sneers, glares, glances away and hurried winces. Derek bore them all with entitled rage, but Eric couldn’t let them go. He only ever went anywhere with Derek. He only ever saw the other egos angry or hateful. Derek didn’t help, either.

“Do you see how much they hate us?” Derek would ask Eric when they were alone together, “Aren’t they cruel to us both? Do you think they might try to attack us one day? Aren’t you afraid that they’ll try to pull us apart? But don’t be scared, we won’t let them put a wedge between us. We still have each other.”

We still have each other.

Eric is physically unscarred, aside from the puckered ends of his legs where they fit into his prosthetics. But there are sixteen holes cut into his being, sixteen wounds that eat away at him every day: One for every brother, and one for his mother. Derek has them too, and it’s the thing that keeps them together. In a building full of hostile strangers, all they had were each other, and Derek never failed to remind Eric of it.

But was that ever true? Eric was never attacked by the other egos, but Derek didn’t stop slapping him around. The other egos never said anything cruel to Eric directly, but Derek never let a criticism or insult towards him go unsaid.

On the other hand, Derek was family. Eric’s family. After the loss of fifteen brothers and a mother and both his legs below the knee, Derek was the only thing left. Derek was his father. His family. And he had his moments, he had days where he was kind, days where he was easy on Eric. Days that reminded Eric of when their family was whole, and they were both happy.

So Eric clung to Derek like a lifeline. He shied away from the other egos’ attempts to get to know him. He feared many of them, and distrusted the ones he didn’t fear. Sometimes they’d try to get him away from Derek, tell him that Derek was wrong for treating him the way he did, but it was too much for Eric to stand. He ran away every time, back to Derek, back to the last of his family.

Until he couldn’t anymore.

As much as the fans loved and still love Eric, they never gave that same love to Derek. And Derek saw the consequences when he started to fade away and disappear only a few weeks after he and Eric came to Ego Inc. It had terrified Eric to see Derek decline, to see him start fluctuating in and out of reality. It tore him up inside to watch Derek die. Derek was the only piece of his family he had left, and for all his faults, he was still Eric’s father. Eric still needed him. But the universe is cruel, and Derek vanished right before Eric’s eyes, gone forever, never to be seen again, dead. Just like the rest of Eric’s family. Eric spent hours sobbing in the clinic next to the bed where Derek used to lay, crying not just for his father, but for all the other family he lost, and even for himself, now alone in the world.

That feeling of loneliness stuck for a while. Even after Dr. Iplier did his best to comfort Eric as he cried. Even after Bim knocked on his bedroom door when he spent the next three days in his room. Eric still felt out of place, useless, burdensome. He’d been told enough times that he was worthless by Derek that it was easy for him to believe it. He’d been told enough times that Derek was the only one who would ever tolerate him to accept it. He continued to shy away from the other egos, continued to fear them.

Slowly, though, the other egos proved themselves to be, if not harmless, then at least kind. Dr. Iplier seemed to have endless patience for Eric’s tears. Bim never knew how to help Eric out of his moods, but he always tried. Oliver pulled Eric into his friend group, the Jims pulled him into the studio to join their shenanigans. Silver told him stories of his heroics, King let him pet the squirrels, Ed Edgar let him hold a baby in the nursery. Even the oldest, scariest egos, Dark and Wilford, Google and Host, none of them ever seemed to have a problem with Eric.

Even now, several months after Eric came here and two months after he lost his father, the other egos still care about him. They still want him around, still like hanging out with him. The wounds inside him are healing, little by little. He’s happy. He’s loved.

Yet.

The egos still hate Derek. Eric supposes it makes sense; Derek didn’t exactly make any friends among them, didn’t give them any reason to mourn him. But it’s not just that they hate him, it’s that they expect Eric to share their hate. They deride Derek, insult him, spit his name like it’s poisonous, talk about how glad they are that he’s gone, and they expect Eric to agree, to laugh, to sigh in relief.

But Eric can’t.

Eric can’t hate the man who raised him, fed him, cried with him when the rest of their family died, bought him his prosthetics, clung to him as he faded away. The fact that those prosthetics rusted and never got replaced, the way Derek took to complaining about the care Eric required, the slaps and putdowns…they all feel so small to Eric. So small compared to the way Derek was always there, for better or worse, even if it was always worse. He needed Derek, he still does, and he can’t stop needing him just because he’s gone.

It’s easy for the other egos to celebrate Derek’s death, easy for them to wish for him the hottest part of hell, easy for them to speak of him like he was a rock in their shoes, a harmful annoyance to be tossed out. They didn’t grow up with him. They didn’t rely on him for years. The egos are full of family: The Jims causing havoc hand-in-hand with Bim chasing after, the Googles building wild machines together, Dr. Iplier and Wilford each ruffling Yandere’s hair in the hallway. But none of them know the keen pain of losing all that family, of having only one member left, of losing them, too.

Eric feels as though, in befriending the egos, he’s losing even more of his father. They give him sad looks whenever Eric recalls a positive memory of Derek, and quickly change the subject after. They huff out sympathetic sighs whenever Eric tries to defend Derek from their insults. Even Dr. Iplier, one of the kindest among them, seemed unable to understand why Eric wanted to keep his old and broken-down prosthetics instead of tossing them for new ones. He’d only let Dr. Iplier replace them if he got to hold onto them after, and though Dr. Iplier agreed, it was clear in his expression that it seemed so strange to him. Eric fought through an embarrassed blush as he took his old prosthetics to his room, but he needed them, needs them: They’re the only thing his father had given him that Eric still has. Eric was glad he had the strength to demand them, because he’s running out of that strength now. It feels harder and harder to bring Derek up in any context, harder and harder to defend him, knowing the reactions he’ll get from the others.

In some ways, everything Derek said to set him and Eric apart from the others still ring true. They are cruel about Derek, and they are trying to pull Eric away from him. It feels like they’re trying to make Eric stop talking about him, forget him like the fans did, kill even the memory of his father. Eric could never do something so terrible. He can admit that Derek wasn’t the best parent, that he did a lot of terrible things to Eric, but he was still the only one he had for so long. Is it so wrong of Eric to mourn him for that? Would it be right for Eric to shake off the memory of his father and curse him like the others do? Is this what he has to do to be one of them?

If he has to give up Derek, does he even want to be one of them?

It runs like an undercurrent through even Eric’s fun experiences with the others. Just when Eric stops bracing himself for a cruel word against Derek, it comes out of the mouth of the ego he’s talking to. And Eric has to glance away or laugh awkwardly or find an excuse to leave. It’s all he thinks about at night before he goes to sleep. Sometimes he has nightmares about Derek’s treatment of him, but even worse are the nightmares where he watches Derek die again, where Derek scolds him for forgetting about him, for leaving him undefended. Eric wakes with a start and the cycle begins anew. It wears on him, pushes him down, makes him shy and quiet and listless. And no one notices because he’s always acted like that, he’s always been unhappy. But the source has changed, and Eric starts to crumble under the weight.

Eric is not very brave, not very loud, not very assertive. But every person has a point at which they break, and one day, in front of half the building, Eric reaches his.

It’s an innocuous enough conversation at first, shared between Bim and Oliver, Bing and Bop, Silver, Ed, King, Dr. Iplier, and of course Eric, as they sit on the couches in one of the communal rooms together. They get to talking about Disney princesses, and at first just stick to their favorites and why they’re favorites. Most of them are, anyway. Ed, Dr. Iplier, and Eric are mostly just listening.

“…and on top of all that,” Bing continues in his impassioned speech about Moana, “She gets to have BOTH her parents! That automatically makes her better than most of the other princesses!”

“Mulan’s got both her parents, too,” Oliver points out, “And Moana isn’t even technically a real princess.”

“Neither is Mulan!” Bing protests.

“Merida has both her parents,” Dr. Iplier puts in, not looking up from the book he’s reading. “And she’s a real princess.”

“Why do so many princesses have dead parents?” asks Bop, brows knitted in some concern. “And so many other Disney characters, for that matter.”

“Because Walt had mommy issues and a death obsession,” Bim says, as though this is common knowledge, “Next question.”

“D-Did he really?” asks Eric, his first insertion into the conversation in many minutes. Bim’s tidbit of info is news to him, and though he’s a little disturbed, he can’t help but be curious. “But Disney movies are so…so…”

“Sweet and innocent?” Bim suggests, grinning. “Kinda like you, huh?”

Eric squeaks at the compliment and covers his face, making Bim and a few others laugh.

“They aren’t all sweet, though,” King points out. “Lots of bad stuff happens in them, too. I mean, we were talking about Mulan, she was in a war!”

“I thought you’d be madder about the bear-killing in “Brave,” King,” Silver muses.

“Bears are enemies of squirrels,” King replies with a somewhat-haughty sniff.

“But hey, to answer your question, Eric,” Bim says, “Walt Disney was apparently really interested in death. There were some creepy Disney attractions themed around it that never got made, but there’s still the haunted mansion ride and other things like that. But he was also really scared of death, and he was convinced he was gonna die young. He was so freaked out that one of his close friends or cousins or something died and he refused to be the pallbearer!”

“Where’d ya hear that?” asks Ed, entering the conversation with a laugh, “One of them “Top Ten Dark Secrets of Disney” videos?”

“For your information,” Bim snaps, dramatically offended as the others laugh, “I learned it from a very reputable source who happens to be a mortician. So she would know about that stuff.”

“A mortician on YouTube, though,” Oliver says, then laughs when Bim smacks him in the arm.

“That s-sounds bad, but…” Eric begins quietly, “You s-said something about, um, Walt Disney and his mom…?”

Eric can’t help but want to know more about that, after his own history with his mother.

“Well,” Bim starts, less bombastically than normal as it dawns on him why Eric is so curious, “She died because of the furnace in her house. It leaked poisonous fumes or something, and she suffocated. It affected Walt for the rest of his life.”

“That’s terrible!” Eric gasps. “N-No wonder it showed up in his work…”

Dr. Iplier lifts a hand from his book to squeeze Eric’s shoulder comfortingly.

“He still made some amazing things, though, didn’t he?” Dr. Iplier asks with a soft smile, “It hurt him, but he pushed forward.”

“Y-Yeah,” Eric admits, allowing himself a tiny grin.

“Luckily Walt still had his dad,” Bim puts in, “He survived that accident and lived for a few more years.”

“Hmm,” Eric hums thoughtfully, a little melancholy, “That must have been hard, losing them both in such a short time. I-I guess I don’t know exactly how he felt, but…but I know a little bit, and it’s…n-not good.”

Understatement, of course, but it’s still difficult for Eric to talk about. But talking about grief is good. Eric wants to feel better someday, and tiptoeing around his losses won’t help.

However…

“Well, you only had one good parent to lose,” Bim points out, “Not much of a silver lining, but it’s something.”

Some of the others in the room hum in agreement. The rest don’t react, don’t tell Bim to lay off, don’t display any negative feelings towards his words. Because even the ones who don’t react still agree. They agree that Eric only had one parent he should miss. That he only had one parent worth mourning. A sob curls around Eric’s throat, thick and painful. He struggles to keep it in as he speaks.

“W-What does that mean?” he asks, quiet and strained. He knows what Bim means, but he’s too nervous to be more direct.

The others look at him strangely.

“He means…” Bing starts, before Bim can speak, “He means exactly that, dude. You lost your mom, and that really sucks. But you lost Derek too, and that, well, sucks a lot less.”

“Don’t say stuff about someone’s mom so casually, Bing!” Bop cries.

“What?? It does suck!” Bing insists.

“…So does losing a father,” Eric mumbles, half-under his breath.

“When they’re a good one, sure,” King says, frowning a little as he remembers Derek. “Derek loved kicking my squirrels out of his way, but they’re all better parents to their young than he ever was.”

“The death of someone you know can be very stressful,” Oliver says pragmatically, “But the death of someone who was a detriment to your wellbeing can be a positive event in the long run.”

“You’re such a brainiac,” Bim laughs, “You don’t need that many words to say “it’s a good thing when bad people die.” He leans over and kisses Oliver’s cheek. Oliver giggles as Bing pretends to gag beside him.

“Well, he still made me, didn’t he?” Eric says, voice still quiet but suddenly sharp. “He made me, and he made my brothers. Does that make us bad too, then?”

“Of course not!” Silver is the one to exclaim, “Just because Derek was a bad person doesn’t mean you are, too.”

“Eric, come on,” Bim says, placating, “You don’t need to get so upset about it. Derek’s not here, you won’t get in trouble for shit-talking him.”

“Is that what you think this is??” Eric cries, standing from his seat on the couch, startling half the group into staring as well.

“Hey–”

“Stop!” Eric yells, cutting Bim off. Tears are hot in his eyes, burning as keen as his throat does. “Just stop!! I’m so tired of this happening every time I mention Dad, or feel bad about him dying! Why is it so weird that it hurts? Why can’t I just be sad about losing my dad??”

“Because he doesn’t deserve your grief!!” Bim shouts. His eyes are blazing. “He abused you, Eric! He never once gave you any kindness!”

“He did give me kindness!” Eric retorts, “Before my mom died, before my brothers died, before we came here, and the times we were alone…” He almost sobs, and though he manages to suppress it, he can’t stop the tears that start to flow. “You don’t know anything about him. You don’t know about how he raised me and my brothers, you don’t know how happy he made my mom, you don’t know how much he grieved when we lost them–” His breath chokes. “But he comforted me when I cried, he kept me clothed and fed and safe, and when he started dying, he, he…” The sob finally breaks free, loud in the room. “He didn’t want anyone with him but me. He told me he was sorry to leave me. He needed me, and I needed him, and then he died. I can’t just stop needing him just because he’s gone!!”

“You don’t need him!” Bim yells. “The ten percent of the time he was good to you doesn’t make up for the ninety percent of the time when he beat you and insulted you!!” He looks well and truly angry now. “He’s gotten to you so bad that you think he deserves you after spending his whole life hurting you! Can’t you just get that through your head and be happy he’s gone like you should be!?”

“I know he hurt me!” Eric screeches, sobbing, “Do you really th-think I don’t know that?? But he was all I h-had! He was the o-only family I had left! He was the only part of my old life and my family that I still had and then he died and none of you are letting me mourn!!” Eric didn’t know he could scream so loud, but the volume doesn’t abate his tears. “My whole family is dead and none of you care, none of you are letting me feel it! Dad told me you guys were trying to pull us apart and turn us against each other and make me forget about him and he was right!! He was right about you being hateful and cruel and inconsiderate and – and – and–”

“Eric, hey,” murmurs Dr. Iplier, reaching out to comfort him again.

“You don’t get it either!!” Eric snaps at him. “You w-were gonna throw away my old prosthetics after I got them replaced! He bought those for me! They’re the only p-piece of him I have left! Why was it so weird that I wanted to keep them?? Why don’t any of you get that it hurts! Why don’t any of you get that I can’t just stop hurting!?”

Eric finally breathes long enough to look at the others. Bim is still angry, Oliver is holding his shoulders, nervous. Dr. Iplier looks stricken. The rest of the room is in varying states of shock, and pity. Still. Pity, all the time, like Eric doesn’t have enough agency for his own suffering. He can’t take it anymore.

He runs out of the room, still in tears.

He makes it to his bedroom but doesn’t have the strength to open his door and go inside. He curls up, back to the door, sits on the ground and cries into his arms. Part of him wants to force himself to lock himself in his room, because Bim’s room is just down the hall and he might come up later. The Jims are on the opposite end, and though they don’t seem to be in their room right now, Eric doesn’t want to explain this to them when they eventually do come. But he has no more strength, no more will. He aches with tears and grief, his skin is hot with shame over the way he shouted and raged. He wants to shrivel away into nothing. Maybe that would hurt less, feel less bad than this.

Eric isn’t sure how long he stays like that. It’s probably not long, maybe five or ten minutes, but it feels like forever that Eric sits there crying. Eventually, though, he hears footsteps walking towards him, and cringes into a tighter ball as the pair of feet stop in front of him.

“Please go away,” he whimpers, not looking up.

He’s answered by a warm, quiet chuckle.

“Please?” asks the person, not unkindly. “That ain’t very compelling, kid.”

Eric looks up to see Ed standing there, looking down at him. Ed’s been one of the more considerate people in Ego Inc. so far, Eric has to admit. He hardly ever says anything mean about Derek. But then, he also doesn’t defend him, and tends to give Eric pitied looks like the others do.

Eric whimpers and puts his head back in his arms.

“Hey now, I ain’t making fun of ya,” Ed says. Eric hears him sit down on the floor across from him. “I wanted to check on ya. You ran outta there quicker than a hot knife through butter.”

“No one understands,” Eric can’t help gasping through his tears, “No one knows how it feels to lose their whole family.”

“Well…”

The way Ed draws out the word gives Eric pause. He looks up to see Ed sheepishly scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh no, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–” Eric stammers, quick to apologize even in tears.

“It’s alright,” Ed assures him, “It was my own fault anyway.” He sighs softly, looks away. “Drove away my wife, only wanted my kid to sell ‘im. Eventually she got custody and never looked back. I don’t blame ‘em.” He looks back at Eric. “I used to wonder if either of them missed me. If they ever thought about me.”

“…D-Do you think they do?” Eric asks.

“I know they do.” Ed’s gaze is careful, but kind. “All the kids in my nursery spend their first few days or weeks crying for their moms and dads, no matter how cruel they were. I get kids who end up with me after their parents hurt him, demean them, even sell them to me themselves. Yet these kids cry and cry for their old parents, they don’t want new ones.”

“Really?” Eric sniffles, taken in despite himself.

“Really.” Ed says. “They recover in time, though. Eventually they realize they’re happier in the nursery than they were at home.” Ed leans in, conspiratorial. “See, the problem ain’t that they love their parents. Every kid does. And it ain’t that they don’t realize they were being abused, at least not all the time. The problem’s that they don’t know how good a parent can be. Sometimes they don’t think they deserve anything better, or they just think that their parents are normal. They know what they know, and everything else scares them. It’s a tough transition, for sure. It ain’t easy for them to accept that the things their parents did were wrong, even if they already know deep down.” Ed puts a hand Eric’s shoulder, firm but gentle. “What helps them get through it is support. They just need to be held when they cry. They just need someone to listen. If they can get that, most of them can move on.”

“M-Most?”

“Some of them end up needing an actual therapist,” Ed admits, “But…for a lot of them, support is the main thing they need.” He squeezes Eric’s shoulder. “You haven’t been getting enough of that, huh?”

Eric’s eyes well up with fresh tears. His throat is too tight to respond.

“Let’s start now, kid, how about it?” Ed offers a crooked smile.

Eric unfolds himself and crawls into Ed’s chest, sobbing anew. Ed hugs him, tight and secure. He doesn’t panic over Eric’s tears like Bim does, and he doesn’t rush to coddle and hush Eric like Dr. Iplier does, either. He simply holds Eric, sits there as an anchor, strong and solid, grounding Eric and giving him the space for tears.

“I m-miss them,” Eric sobs, “I miss D-Dad, and Mom, and my b-brothers!”

“I know, kid,” Ed murmurs, “I know it hurts.”

“It f-feels like it’ll never s-stop,” Eric moans, “It f-feels like I’ll always miss them all, e-even Dad.”

“You probably will miss them forever,” Ed admits, “You might even miss Derek forever. But someday it won’t hurt this much, and someday you’ll be able to leave Derek in the past.” He gives Eric a squeeze. “Don’t worry about that yet, though. Right now, you grieve as much as you need to.”

Eric keeps crying. The words hurt to hear, but not in the way Bim’s did. They hurt the way a flu shot hurts, the way the first dab of disinfectant on a cut hurts, the way the sharp itch of a healing wound hurts. They hurt in the fashion of a storm before calm, of pain before catharsis, of sadness before happiness. It’s a hurt that tells Eric he’s healing. It’s a hurt that Eric knows, deep in his soul, that he needs. It’s the hurt he’s needed since his father died.

Eventually, finally, Eric’s tears run out. Ed stays holding him, sitting on the floor, uncomplaining. Eric waits for Ed to say something, to let go, but he doesn’t. And Eric is glad for it, because he needs to sit in his lap for a little longer. He sighs lightly, head in Ed’s shoulder, taking in the quiet. It’s a peace untainted by worry, by anxiety over the other egos and what they think of his grief. Eric is desperately happy to have it.

“Thanks, Mr. Edgar,” he whispers, voice hoarse from tears but strong.

“Oh shucks, call me Ed,” Ed laughs quietly. He ruffles Eric’s hair with a gentle hand. “You feeling better, I take it?”

“Yeah.” Eric pulls his head out of Ed’s shoulder to meet his eyes. He manages a smile. “I really needed that.”

“Glad to be of service,” Ed says, cheeks slightly pink, removing an arm from around Eric to tip his hat. “If you ever need anything else, you know where to find me.”

Eric is still the first one to pull away completely from the embrace. When they both get up, Ed snaps his fingers.

“Oh, by the way,” he says, “Trimmer’ll be coming by at some point to give you an apology.”

“O-Oh,” Eric mumbles, nervous again. He remembers how terrible their argument was, and he doesn’t exactly want to revisit it.

“He’ll be on his best behavior,” Ed assures him, “And you ain’t gotta accept it unless you really want to.”

Eric nods. He already knew that, he’s pretty sure, but it’s nice to hear.

Ed ends up being right on the first count, too. When Bim apologizes, he’s subdued, genuinely remorseful. He promises to do better, to stop making Eric feel defensive. Eric accepts his apology, accepts his hug, and hopes that things will change.

~~~

A few days later, Eric is making cookies when Bim comes in to chat and, as Eric soon discovers, steal cookie dough.

“Hey!” Eric says, without any real distress in it. “That piece is enough to make a whole cookie!” Bim laughs as he eats the pilfered chunk, then his grin gets bigger.

“This is great, Eric!” Bim exclaims. “These are sugar cookies, right? I usually don’t like them much.”

“Then why’d you eat the dough?” Eric asks cheekily, laughing at Bim’s dramatic squeak.

“For your information,” Bim sniffs, “I didn’t know they were sugar cookies until I ate them. Every sugar cookie I’ve ever had is too boring, but these actually have flavor!”

“Th-Thanks,” Eric stammers, bashful but smiling. “Mom taught me how to make them.” His expression goes soft. “Sometimes Dad would help, but he never had the knack for it. We always made a mess. He’d clean and I’d actually make the cookies, and we would just laugh. It was always really nice.”

The pause in conversation is what makes Eric realize that he brought up his father in a positive light again.

“Oh,” Bim finally says, careful. “That…sounds nice.”

“Y-Yeah,” Eric answers, unsure of what else to say.

There’s silence for a few long moments as Eric continues to work on the cookies. Just when he’s about to say something just to fill the quiet –

“Maybe you could show me,” Bim says, “Next time you make your cookies, I mean. I’m not much of a baker, but I’ll give it a shot.” He smiles briefly, but then seems mildly panicked. “I mean, only if you want to.”

“No, that…” Eric is a little astonished, but makes himself speak. “That sounds really fun. I’ll tell you next time I’m thinking about making them.”

“Great!” Bim exclaims, snapping back to his normal exuberant self. “For now, though, I’ll be taking this.” He swipes another chunk of cookie dough.

“Hey!” Eric laughs, making no attempt to stop him.

The pair talk for so long that the cookies almost burn, which they then tease each other for.

Similar incidents happen as days pass: When Eric mentions Derek in a positive context, the others let him. They find something kind to say about it, they don’t let the moment hang there awkwardly – at least, not for very long. It doesn’t come naturally to most of them, most of them struggle for things to say. But they always make the effort, they always try. The always keep the conversation going, but by changing the subject or redirecting, but by adding, contributing. Eric starts to feel closer to them. The feeling of walking on eggshells goes away. He starts to finally feel like he has true friends here.

Sometimes, he catches Ed’s eye when someone else lets him talk about Derek. Ed will grin and wink, and Eric will smile back. Sometimes Eric still needs to talk, sometimes he’ll go to Ed and cry a little, start trying to process the not-so-good memories of Derek. He’ll have little epiphanies in the way the others treat him, realizing that the way Derek did something or addressed something is far removed from what the others do and expect as normal. Eric goes to Dr. Iplier sometimes too; he’s the doctor in the building, after all, and he’s better at addressing the nuts and bolts of Eric’s grief, especially now that he understands it better. When Eric’s nightmares of Derek’s treatment of him eclipse those about Derek’s death, Bim will be the one to hear Eric’s crying and come to his room to comfort him. But usually it’s Ed who Eric trusts with the deepest part of himself, the hardest part of his recovery.

One day Marie, Ed’s favorite child in the whole nursery, calls Ed “Papa,” and Eric is surprised by the jolt it gives his system. Not in a bad way, he realizes as he watches Ed blush and stammer, but in a new way, a way that’s unfamiliar but welcome.

It’s not over yet, Eric knows. His feelings for Derek are still complicated. But he’s well on his way to healing, to moving on, to finding new family in Ego Inc.

#eric derekson #markiplier #markiplier fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #how to make a family #eric bby u r my angelllllll

[fanatic-scribe]

Cherry Flavor

Fandoms: IT

Word Count: 2,222

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Reddie

Ao3: Here

Characters: Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak

Additional Tags: Sick Character, Sickfic, Some Cuddling

Summary:

Richie gets sick while on tour and it's up to Eddie to help him feel better.

Richie felt like his head was about to explode. This was definitely not his finest set, it didn’t help that the pressure in his head had grown past the level of comfortable halfway through. He was sick, really sick. The sinus headache has been brewing in his forehead all day and is finally acting its plan to kill the comedian. And it was doing a really good job at it.

Richie was doing his best to power through the set as best he could, the show must go on or some bullshit like that, but he just wanted it to be over as soon as possible. He was cold and achy, but the bright lights and clothes he wore made him feel sweaty and gross. Already having abandoned the idea of standing Richie had decided to sit in the uncomfortable wooden stool normally used for drinks. His normal classic glass of bourbon replaced with a bottle of water. If anyone in the audience could actually see him they would notice how pale and dead he looked. Well, more than usual anyway.

Thankfully, his throat was fine, leaving the impression that he was just a gross, sweaty, lazy man who couldn’t stop shaking. 

Fucking great.

Regardless, he finished his set hearing laughs and thunderous applause. Glad he switched to writing his own material. Even happier to finally be leaving the god damn stage and get to a fucking bed. He moved quickly past his agent trying to congratulate him on a good show, he knew the man was going to try and get him to spend time with fans after the show. Something about publicity or some shit like that. At this point it didn’t matter to him, he needed to lay down and pass out. 

Now.

-----------

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Eds. love you too.” Richie pressed his pointer and thumb against his temple trying to relieve the pressure. Eddie had meet Richie outside the hotel as he pulled up in his cab. With this show being close to where they lived Eddie had decided to spend his last few sets on the road with him. Eddie had not gone to this show because he had already seen his boyfriend’s set and he also wasn’t that big on being lost in a crowd again or the tag along backstage. That had been really awkward.

Eddie had known the moment Richie woke up that morning he was very sick, he had been sick all week but this morning was worse. Eddie suggested he should cancel the show for tonight. Richie refused, saying that his manager would never stop bitching if he let a stunt like that happen. Also, Richie was “no weak bitch” and could “handle anything Kaspbrak” so he didn’t need to cancel. 

He wished he canceled.

Eddie smiled slightly, happy to see that Richie still had a bit of bite to him. Slowly he grabbed the other man's waist before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, “Let’s get you feeling better.”

It was a long grueling walk back to their hotel room, somehow knowing that rest was so much closer made Richie feel even more weighed down by sickness. Once they got to the hotel room though Richie immediately fell face first onto the bed, still fully clothed and wearing shoes. Even though the harsh cold of an unused bed stung at his joints the bed was almost sinfully soft. It could have been the exhaustion but Richie could have sworn it was like laying down on a cloud. 

Richie was almost ready to fall asleep right there and then before he felt a light tug at his boot.

“Being sick doesn’t mean you can get dirt crumbs on the bed,” Eddie grumbled as he sat at the foot of the bed unlacing Richie’s boots. One by one he tugged them off and got up to set them neatly by the door before opening Richie’s bag to look for more comfortable clothes. “You need to learn how to fold your luggage,” Eddie muttered more to himself than anything as he pulled out wads of unfolded clothes, each one more covered in wrinkles than the last. Richie smiled to himself as he watched Eddie wonder in slight horror how many of his clothes were actually washed. 

Finally finding a pair of pajama pants, Eddie made his way back to the bed and ran a soothing hand other Richie’s back. “Babe, you should put on different pants,” Richie whined in response, knowing that meant he would have to move. “Don’t whine at me, you big baby.” Eddie couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. “You’ll feel better if you're comfortable.”

Logically, Richie knew that was true, but the sick brain was very insistent that changing clothes was the worst thing he could possibly do right now. As much as Richie would have loved to listen to the sick brain Eddie was on the side of logic, gently flipping Richie onto his back and holding up the pants with a raised eyebrow. 

“Help me?” Richie said with a pout. Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Fine,” he set down the change of pants, “but only because you're sick. Don’t expect me to undress you when you’re too goddamn lazy to do it yourself.” Eddie reached forward and unfastened Richie's belt and buttons on his pants. Slowly, Eddie pulled off his jeans, his warm hands a stark difference to the chilly room that stung Richie’s sore muscles and joints. Richie managed to lift his hips to help but was just too tired to help as Eddie pulled the soft pajamas over his legs.

Eddie placed a gentle kiss on Richie’s forehead, “Gee Dr. K,” Richie said in his British accent, it got better with age but it was still terrible, “do all patients get this treatment or am I just incredibly lucky?”

“Alright if you can joke like that then your not too sick to finish changing.”

“Uhhhh, fine,” Richie whined as he sat up in the bed to unbutton his shirt and then pulled the undershirt over his head, he silently cursed himself for wearing two shirts. Immediately after his shirt was off his head Richie fell back onto the bed shifting so his head rested on the plush pillow. Richie felt the blanket and sheets being pulled over his body and tucked around him, as Richie lifted his head to see what was happening he realized he recognized the sheets around him.

“Eddie,” Eddie hummed a response as he riffled through his blue toiletries bag, “are these our sheets?” Eddie looked up from his bag with a deadpan expression.

“Yeah, I changed the sheets before you got here.” He pulled a few bottles out of his bag, “You never know how long ago these were washed, or if there are bed bugs or-”

“Alright alright, I get it. Germs and shit.” Richie lifted a hand to rub at his forehead and temples, “God I feel fucking horrible.”

“Don’t worry,” Eddie moved his hair and kissed Richie’s forehead, “I’ll make you feel better.”

Nobody would have expected Eddie to be this comfortable around a sick person. With his terrible health anxiety, other’s had know Eddie to almost quarantine himself at the first sign of flu season. Yet here he was taking care of a very sick Richie Tozier.

This was partly because recently Eddie had been getting help dealing with his anxieties. Really all the losers had. In a way they were each other's rock, they all had issues they needed to figure out and they would always be there for each other.

Also, Eddie was always the type of person to do anything for the people he loved. Even being exposed to terrible sickness.

The next few minutes consisted of a struggle to get Richie to take liquid medicine. Eddie insisted it was better and acted faster than the pill form, and Richie called bullshit because liquid medicine tasted like rotten ass. Even with Eddie insisting that the cherry flavored one wasn't as bad Richie still called bullshit on the grounds that cherry-flavored anything tasted like rotten ass. He also brought up the argument that he wasn't a child anymore and that flavored trick won't work on him.

Many insults were thrust back and forth, someone was called a “pussy bitch,” “slimy bitch goblin,” and “crotch hound” among other things before Richie finally relented. Sitting up in bed with his back against the bedpost to down three different viscous liquids, with a sour face after each gulp and gag. “Don’t be such a baby,” Eddie scoffed with an eye roll as he handed Richie a glass of water.

“Fuck you, Spaghetti man.” Richie downed the glass before setting the glass down on the nightstand. Eddie quickly grabbed it to take it to the bathroom sink to wash.

“You’re still gonna be a dick after I saved your life?” Eddie smirked before walking off with the glass to refill it. Richie chuckled to himself as he settled back into the bed, still with the sickly sour-sweet cherry taste in his throat. 

When Eddie set the newly filled glass of water on the nightstand before telling Richie he was going to get ready for bed. He handed Richie the remote and channel list before grabbing his other toiletry bag and headed to the bathroom. As Richie turned on the TV and flipped through the channels, pay no mind to the channel list, he could hear the sound of the shower being turned on. He knew Eddie would be there for some time, even with his health anxiety getting better he still had those fears and being around a sick person probably didn’t help. Richie settling on a channel playing reruns of Forensic Files and from the looks of the guide it was a marathon, something he could definitely stay on until Eddie was finished. As he watched the actors move across the screen with commentary from the narrator and those involved in the crime he felt his eyelids grow heavy.

---------

Richie wasn’t aware that he had fallen asleep until a shifting in the bed stirred him. Richie moved to rub the sleep from his eyes to see he had fallen asleep with his glasses on. The TV was still playing the same show but an entirely different episode, as he stretched his arms out he could make out the sound of the narrator talking about DNA. He still felt sore, but he was definitely better than before. The room seemed darker except for the glow of the TV illuminating the small space.

“Did you seriously fall asleep watching your murder shows?” Richie turned his head to see Eddie settling into the bed next to him, Richie could feel the soft silk of his pajamas against his skin. There was something very comforting in that, Eddie choosing to wear his silk pajamas even while sleeping in a hotel room. Richie wondered which pair he had brought.

It wasn’t until Eddie was pulling the covers over himself that Richie thought about how this could make Eddie uncomfortable. Even though he had gone leaps and bounds with his health anxiety recovery it was still there, and there were still things he was iffy about. Being next to a sick person was one of them. 

“Do you want me to move?” Richie asked.

“What?” Eddie looked at him like Richie had grown a second head, his face half in shadow from the dull glow from the tv.

“I'm, like, really sick and I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Richie that’s-”

“I can move to the couch if you want.”

“Richie-”

“Yeah, I’ll call the front desk and ask them for another set of blankets.” Richie was about to reach for the phone on the nightstand when he felt Eddie grab his wrist.

“Tozier, don’t be fucking stupid.” His voice more than a little stern the show had gone to commercial as an ad for some fast food chicken played in the background  “Just come here.” Eddie leaned back against the pillows and pulled Richie closer to him.

Followed Eddie’s lead, Richie slowly laid his head on Eddie’s silk-clad chest, one of Eddie’s arms was under Richie as he rubbed up and down Richie’s back. Richie was very aware of how sweaty his skin was from his nap earlier but Eddie didn’t say anything about it. Eventually, Richie relaxed into his lover’s chest, soothed by the steady heartbeat and the feel of his hands running through his hair. Eddie placed a kiss at the top of Richie’s head, “Richie, I love you so much. I don’t care if you are sick, I want to be there for you no matter what.”

“I love you too Eds.” Richie smiled to himself, “I promise to take care of you when I make you violently sick.”

“Shut up, Trashmouth.” Richie could feel the slight bump in his chest from a silent chuckle.

After a few minutes of holding each other Richie could feel his eyes closing again, soothed by the rhythmic sounds of Eddie’s heart against his ear. “Hey, uh, Richie?”

“Hmmm?” Richie hummed in response.

“Can we please change the channel?” Eddie held Richie close as he reached for the remote, “Your murder show is really starting to creep me out.”

#reddie #reddie fanfic #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie/richie #it chapter 2

[thisisthepartwhereyou]

BEASTARS MINI-STORY #4: “A Different kind of Charity pt. 1” by JCL

We are in the lobby of Hotel D'Arc (which is very similar in appearence to the real-life Plaza Hotel in New York). We see a large door with a fence around it and a big sign above, showcasing that this is the entrance to the UniFeed Charity (a parody of Unicef). On the left side of the door we see a pompous-looking Great Horned Owl in a suit sitting behind a doorman's desk.   HORNED OWL: "Names?" We see that he's adressing Louis, who is dressed in a black tuxedo over a red shirt and black tie. Next to him is Juno, who is wearing her white dress from ‘Alea Iacta Est’. She is holding his arm with a happy expression, while Louis looks a bit uncomfortable.

LOUIS: "Louis, heir to the Horns Conglomerate." JUNO: "And Juno, a friend." The owl begins to flip through a book that is behind the desk, containing the guest-list for the charity. He soon locates their names and makes a little mark next to them with a pen. HORNED OWL: "M-hm... Yes, there you are. You may go right in." He gets up and lets them through the fence. HORNED OWL: "Have a pleasant evening." Juno smiles and nods at the owl. JUNO: "Thank you." The owl betrays no emotion as he lets them through and closes behind them. As enter the big room where the charity is held, Juno turns to Louis. JUNO: "Is it just me, or was it impossible to get a read on that guy?" Louis looks at her hand on his arm. LOUIS: "What are you doing?" Juno notices what he's looking at and gives him a coy expression. JUNO: "Holding your arm. What else?" Louis sighs. LOUIS: "You're here as my platonic friend. Don't you think it's a little... Touchy-feely?" Juno rolls her eyes. JUNO: "Canines are touchy-feely. We express our affection, platonic or otherwise, through physical contact." She then lets go of his arm and puts her own behind her back. She goes ahead with an unmoved expression. JUNO: "But if it bothers you, I'll try and restrain myself." Behind her, Louis looks a little self-conscious. LOUIS: (The issue is that it doesn't bother me) They go further into the large room. As they do, Juno looks increasingly WOW-ed by the grand surroundings. JUNO: "Look at all this...! I never thought I'd set my foot in this kind of place! *Gasp!*" She bolts forward in excitement as she notices a large indoor fountain with two minimalistic plesiosaurus-statues in the center, embracing one another. It has built in light-projections that gives the illusion of the water changing colors.   JUNO: "What a beautiful fountain!" She then notices a stage in the corner where a whole orchestral band is positioned, playing ‘Double Violin Concerto in D minor’ by Bach with jazzinstruments. She bolts over there as well. JUNO: "A whole orchestral band! It's like in an old Hollywood-movie!" DOG WAITER: "Hors d’oervre, madame?" Juno looks to her side, and sees that an Irish wolfhound waiter is holding out a plate to her, offering an assortment of hors d’oervre, including vegetarian nori, crostinis and mini-quiches. Juno's eyes glimmer as she takes a closer look at all the delicious-looking little mini-meals in front of her.   JUNO: "It all looks so delicious!" Louis keeps a look on Juno as she moves through the room, enthusiastically observing and trying everything. He looks quite happy over the fact that she is having a good time already. LOUIS: (The seventeen in her is showing) It is then that Louis hears a familiar voice. SEYMOUR: "Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He turns around to see SEYMOUR (Martina Franca Donkey, male, 19 years old, dark blue suit), TOM (Eurasian Elk, male, 18 years old, grey suit) and GEORGETTE (Indian Peafowl, female, 19 years old, purple dress). LOUIS: "Oh, you guys. We meet again." TOM: "So we do, back together again, ready to give something back to society!" As he talks, a textbox appears beneath Tom. TEXTBOX: Tom, Heir to HOOFEA; the multinational ready-to-assemble furniture company. SEYMOUR: "Well, society has been pretty lucrative to us, so why not?" A textbox appears beneath Seymour. TEXTBOX: Seymour, Heir to Jack's Craft Motors. GEORGETTE: "I am just here because I have to be. Personally I can think of a dozen things I'd rather be doing on a saturday night." Finally, a textbox appears beneath Georgette. She takes a sip from her champagne glass as she gives Seymour an indifferent look. TEXTBOX: Georgette, Rightsholder to the award-winning Edelweiss-books. TOM: "Still as sharp as ever G." She turns to Tom. GEORGETTE: "And your misplaced familiarity grosses me out as usual, Tom." Taking another sip from her glass, she then turns back to Seymour. GEORGETTE: "Your mere existence grosses me out Seymour." Seymour and Tom take Georgette's rudeness in stride, like they're used to it. The peafowl turns to Louis. Her cold expression softens slightly. GEORGETTE: "You I find tolerable Louis." Louis does not appear to be especially touched by this. LOUIS: "..." SEYMOUR: "Come on G, admit that you kind of look forward to seeing us each year." She turns to face Seymour and Tom again. GEORGETTE: "Only to confirm that I am aging like wine, while the rest of you dullards aging like fruit." As the three continously bicker, Louis begins to internally muse about them with his inner thoughts. LOUIS: (Every time I've come here, as far back as I can remember, I always run into these three. Like me they are inheritors to large fortunes; receivers of old money readied to should their families responsibilites. Other than that, we have little in common. As far as I know, they haven't lived a harsch day in their entire lives) He thinks back to his childhood in the breedinghouse; the young him sitting in cell together with other animals ready for slaughter. LOUIS: (Not like me anyway) GEORGETTE: "Is it true though, Louis?" Louis is brought out of his inner thoughts. He sees that Georgette is staring at his leg. GEORGETTE: "Did you really lose your leg in a brawl with a bear?" Louis gives off a humorless little smile. LOUIS: (The word travels fast in these circles) "That is quite untrue." He gives the leg of his pants a little pull and showcases his prosthetic leg. LOUIS: "I actually fed it to a wolf." The three stare at Louis in shock and awe. Suddenly, Seymour and Tom begin to laugh. Georgette on the other hand maintains a disturbed look. TOM: "That is some dark humor, right there!" Louis drops the leg of his pants, smiling to himself. LOUIS: (Of course they would think I'm kidding) Then, Tom turns to Georgette. TOM: "Anyway, you here alone G? No date to accompany you?" She snorts at this. GEORGETTE: "I wish. My mother set me up with this annoying ass." Seymour grins at this. SEYMOUR: "Anybody I know?" Georgette rolls her eyes at him. GEORGETTE: "Not a literal ass you... ASS. He's a peacock, happens to be the son of one of my dad's friends, and rich to boot, so of course my mother is trying to play matchmaker. He went to get me something to drink. Personally I hope he falls head down into a punchbowl and drowns." SEYMOUR: "But you already have something to drink." GEORGETTE: "For the next 10 seconds, yes. But then what?" She takes another sip from her glass. GEORGETTE: "What about you? What poor members of the opposite sex did you bribe to come with you?" SEYMOUR: "No bribe neccesary. Got myself a Miss Universe-winner all on account of my charms." He points at a female horse in a blue dress standing near the fountain, who is talking to a gathering of ladies. SEYMOUR: "Likes to play the piano, wants to feed the hungry and has a body with more curves than a racetrack." He then turns to Tom. SEYMOUR: "What about you big guy?" Tom scratches behind his head and gives off a big grin. TOM: "Oh it's just me and Arla again this year." Seymour's face twists into a grimace. SEYMOUR: "Still together with that bossy cow? Man, you really are henpecked aren't you?" Tom laughs at this. TOM: "Sure am!" GEORGETTE: "A repeat. How very committed of you." Seymour then turns to Louis. SEYMOUR: "And you Louis? Are you here with your fiance or what?" LOUIS: "She had to prioritize her studies. I took a friend with me instead." TOM: "Anybody we know?" JUNO: "Louis-senpai!" Juno suddenly bolts up to Louis with a look of excitement. She is holding a little autograph book in her hand. JUNO: "You know that tv cook who always curses at everybody? I met him and he even gave me his autograph! He's a lot nicer in person than on tv." Seymour, Tom and Georgette stares at Juno with surprised looks. Louis turns to Juno. LOUIS: "That is great... Though try and contain the fangirl in you a bit. There is going to be quite a few celebrities here tonight, and they may not want to be bothered." Juno proceeds to put the book into her purse. She then notices the stare of trio next to them. Louis turns around and proceeds to introduce her. LOUIS: "This is my friend, Juno. We used to be in the drama club together back at Cherryton. Juno, this is-" He is interrupted by Georgette, who walks up to Juno and introduces herself, fixing the female wolf with an intense look. GEORGETTE: "Georgette, of the esteemed Qvist-family." Juno blinks and looks caught off guard. JUNO: "Really?" (What is up with that look?) Her expression quickly turns into a civil one though. JUNO: "And what do you do?" GEORGETTE: "I don't have to do anything. I am the great-grandaughter of Ellen Qvist, writer of Edelweiss-novels. My family holds the rights to her books." Juno looks like she has no idea what the Edelweiss-novels are. JUNO: "Uh... Okay." GEORGETTE: "So what does your family do?" JUNO: "... Nothing fancy like that." Georgette takes another sip from her glass. GEORGETTE: "Hm... I figured." This subtle insult does not go above Juno's head, who has to bite down in order to not bare her fangs. Louis has a look of dislike behind her. LOUIS: (I knew these were the kind of things Juno might come across) "Look, G-" Though before Louis can say something, Juno gets there first, with a look of recognition. JUNO: "Oh wait, I think I remember now. The Edelweiss-novels by Ellen Qvist..." However, her look quickly transitions into one of mock-pity. JUNO: "It wouldn't happen to be those boring books that the teachers make everyone read in third grade? I had totally blocked them out." A anime-shockwave of Juno's blunt honesty passes through Louis, Tom and Seymour. Juno crosses her arms, a terrifying shadow growing in her face, all the while maintaining her pitied expression, as she stares down Georgette. JUNO: "I guess that means you can live off the success of your great-grandma's efforts, without ever having to do anything? That must be so mind-numbingly boring... So boring in fact, that if I were you, the only way I'd get to have some fun is to insult the people around me and invent things to complain about." Another shockwave is generated, this time with ligthning striking down in the ground between the two, with an imaginary, apocalyptic wasteland appearing in the background. This fades into the room they're currently, making it clear that it was an exaggerated illustration of the intimidation-factor. Georgette looks unmoved on her face, though on closer inspection, we see that her hand holding the glass is trembling. She suddenly looks past Juno. GEORGETTE: "There comes my idiot-date. I have to go." She walks around Juno and past Louis. Though before she passes, she puts her hand on his shoulder, leans in and whispers into his ear. Juno doesn't seem to like this, and Lois looks shocked by whatever she is telling him. LOUIS: "What? No, that's not-" Georgette walks off. Approaching her though is the same waiter that offered a plate for Juno earlier, this time offering Georgette a plate. DOG WAITER: "Hors d’oervre, mad-?" Georgette intentionally knocks the plate out of the shocked waiter's hand in passive-aggressive fury, and then keeps walking. GEORGETTE: "Clumsy mutt, pick up your mess." The waiter begins to pick up the food on the plate with a bewildered expression. Juno looks at this with clear dislike. Then, Tom walks over to Juno with an amazed expression. TOM: "Nobody has ever said that to her before! You're really cool! I am Tom by the way." He extends his hand, and Juno is about to shake it. Just then, Seymour barges in and grabs her hand. He bows like southern gentleman and gives a flirtatious look. SEYMOUR: "Enchante, mademoiselle. The name is Seymour, my compliments to your stunning ensemble." Juno looks a little flattered by this, though she carefully pulls her hand back. JUNO: "Oh! Thank you very much." TOM: "The drama club huh? Does that mean you're an actress?" JUNO: "Well, when the occasion calls for it. I dance too." SEYMOUR: "Well, you're already a vision, I bet on stage you must be quite a phenomenon!" JUNO: "Oh, well... I wouldn't know about that..!" As the two talk to Juno, other males seem to join them with keen interest. Louis stares at the scene with an icy stare. LOUIS: "..." TEXTBOX: Juno appears to make a good first impression, but why the long face Louis? TO BE CONTINUED...

#beastars #juno x louis #fanfiction #manuscript #script styled #part 1 #a different kind of charity #grey wolf #Red Deer

[rip-van-tinkle]

How Envy’s Shapeshifting is Significant

Welcome, everyone, to my soapbox analysis of Envy’s transformations. After watching Brotherhood through (yet again), I was amused and impressed by the characterization of our favorite little monster through his shapeshifting alone. So, naturally, I had to analyze it.

First exhibit: Envy’s correspondence with Lust.

Here, the transformation is quick and efficient, which reflects the tones of the scene. Envy and Lust are brainstorming, sharing information about their plans. Besides this, Envy has no ulterior motive or point to prove - he is at his most neutral and emotionally regulated. I quite like this scene, simply because it shows the relationship between Envy and Lust, as well as the social ties between fellow Homunculi: they are relaxed and casual with one another. We don’t get to see that often.

Aside from these rare moments, Envy’s transformations are far more sinister, and are brilliantly expressive of his character.

Take, to begin, the infamous scene of Hughes’ death. Hughes spots a detail that Envy missed, and what does Envy do? He pulls this stunt:

It’s an astounding character-building moment. Envy’s victim calls him out, challenging his ability, pride, and esteem. But, unlike any other moment in Brotherhood, Envy takes it in stride. He smiles, accepts the mistake, and rolls with it by throwing that mistake in Hughes’ face. It’s a total power move - you’re right, but what’re you gonna do about it? It’s a subtle brag, too, protecting Envy’s ego. Because he knows he has the power between the two, he makes his mistake into a playful game.

Next, we have the Gluttony errand. When Envy finds Gluttony, fully aware that Ed, Al, and Ling are there, he chooses to speak (earning him Ed’s bewildered, “A talking dog?”).

Envy seems entertained by their alarm, grinning as he addresses Edward. Then, he changes:

The speed, tone, and purpose of this shift are very different from any previous interactions (though, it reflects his introduction to us - his transformation from Cornello’s form). Here, it’s slow and dramatic, building up to the reveal - Envy even throws his head back with a coy, arrogant smile on his face. It’s clear he’s making a show of it, trying to prove that he’s capable, cunning, and better than them. The flashiness of this reveal speaks to Envy’s lack of self-esteem: he needs validation and reassurance from others (which looks like, in this case, fear and shock).

And the same can be said for Envy’s pursuit of Dr. Marcoh. Just look at this freakin’ guy:

Envy’s shapeshift here is intriguing, as the reveal is more quickly divulged. What makes up for Envy’s fast transformation is the menace behind his actions: that confident, direct, predatory walk, fists clenched, and with that wicked, glaring smile on his face. It almost seems Envy, while at first anticipating a big reveal, got ahead of himself and became more focused on baiting and insulting Marcoh. 

Which makes sense. While Envy’s doggo scene with Ed was entertainment, Envy in this scene has a grudge. His pride seemed to have taken a hit with Marcoh’s escape, making this a more personal endeavor. Thus, Envy defaulted to insults and jabs; the transformation was secondary.

And, finally, the scene where Envy royally screwed himself:

Ah, this one hurts. It is, in just ten seconds, a culmination of everything Envy embodies throughout the series: emotional baiting, vindictive rage, boastfulness, and theatricality.

Mustang insults Envy after the sin’s exaggerated confession. This insult, cleverly used by Mustang, hits in all the right places: it’s simultaneously degrading and challenging. Envy bites, and easily falls into an impulsive, taunting, violent brag: the transformation, for Envy, is slow and erotic. All the while, he insists that he’s not the moron - it’s the fools who give into their human emotions. Upon seeing the outrage on Mustang’s face, he’s gleeful. The desperate mirth in his voice, the wide eyes, those gestures, and the final declaration of pride - “It ... was ... great!” - are all insults about humanity’s emotionality, meant to hurt and disturb his audience. Envy is also, as he usually does, stoking some pretty self-indulgent ego boosts.

Of course, we know how that ends.

All in all, Envy’s character is so. Dang. Complicated. There’s a lot of implied depth with each action, expression, and voice inflection (thank you, Wendy Powell). Even with small moments like his transformations, Envy’s motivations and insecurities are present.

All hail Envy. All hail Wendy Powell. All hail the animators of Fullmetal Alchemist. And all hail the queen and creator, Hiromu Arakawa.

FIN

bonus:

1) Envy’s trying to show off for his siblings, who he has not seen in a while:

2) Envy’s quick to reveal himself to his lover:

#envy #envy the jealous #transformations #I hoped this would get all my thoughts on this out #but now I think about it more #fma #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #analysis #shapeshifting #this was extremely cathartic

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 33

Last time: Some other stuff happened but who cares because WE’VE GOT ANOTHER ARMSTRONG WOOT WOOT. Onwards!

No, wait. I need to calm down, this is a character I haven’t met yet, I can’t just assume that they’ll be good. Even though they’re related to The Mighty Armstrong. Even though they feature prominently in the intro. Even though Uncle apparently spent the outro last episode fanboying over her. Even though Tephi has been subtly eager for me to get to this point, and my coworker Michael has not so subtly demanded that I talk with him about this episode once I’ve finished it. I must not hype. Hype is the mind-killer. Hype is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my hype. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the hype has gone there will be nothing. Only canon will remain. Ok. I’m good now. Onwards. Huh, we’ve got Narrator!Uncle at the start of this episode, talking about how the Elrics are searching for May, while the “Crimson Alchemist” Kimblee is tracking Scar west, until his trail vanishes. Was there a gap between these two episodes? Kimblee’s checking out the twisting railroad in the mountains, trying to figure out if his quarry went north or south. Mooks keep running up with possible Scar sightings to the south and west, but Kimblee notes an “old abandoned logging path” to the north, when he goes to investigate the MPs just chalk up the rubble blocking the road to the rockslides that shut it down in the first place. But Kimblee’s got a hunch, and finds a stone with some clear Transmutation marks on it. Whoops. Looks like Scar didn’t cover his tracks well enough. The chase is back on! Episode 33 - “The Northern Wall of Briggs” Ed’s running through a station in his new cold-weather coat, Al following as the locals clearly wonder what kind of maniac wears full plate armor in this climate. There’s a cute moment when the brothers admire the snow- that quickly sours when Ed slips on the train station’s stairs. See, this is why I want to live as close to the equator as possible - snow and ice may look nice, but in practice they suck.

A bit of younger brother teasing about taking a tumble, some reminiscing about “that one good snow when we were kids” that everyone seems to have, and looking around town for a bite to eat before their Fort Briggs train transitions to Kimblee’s command post where mooks are running about, answering phones and yelling at each other. The hunter’s sulking in a chair until a report comes in of Scar boarding a train towards Fort Briggs (I wonder who’ll get there first, the Elrics, May, or Scar?). Kimblee immediately brushes off the rest of the task force, he’s out to take down Scar and Marcoh personally. Scar and probably!Yoki are hiding out in a train car, Scar tells his companion to try and get some sleep now as he won’t be able to when it gets really cold. Then he hears something? The Ishvalan goes to check outside the car, doesn’t see anything so closes the door and turns- wait no he heard something again and yup it’s a military train on the other track, Kimblee leaning out the side and preparing to jump over. Once there he waves his ride off and marches towards Scar’s car, opens the door… and it’s empty, with the side cargo door wide open. Did Scar jump out the train at full speed? I get he could use Alchemy to soften the landing, but still. Uh oh, if he did jump then he left his cloaked companion behind, Kimblee orders “Marcoh” to stand down. The hood comes off and yup, that’s Yoki. Who apparently was a distraction! Scar was hiding out on the roof of the train car, in the moment that Kimblee is wondering who this guy is and probably about to kill him, Scar swings back in and throws a few kicks while Yoki scrambles away. Scar and Kimblee are facing each other down now, Kimblee snarks about “the murderous Ishvalan he’s heard so much about” when the moon lights up the car and they both have a little “hold up I remember that face!” moment. Well, not so little actually. Scar is furious to see the man who murdered his family, and Kimblee’s got a really happy grin at seeing the one who got away. Glowy eyes of anger! Hand of Doom! Yoki whining about getting away from the monsters fighting and then realising that he can’t get off the train! The smoke clears to show Kimblee just smirking at Scar even after the HoD, the ass talking about seeing another person looking like Scar, only with glasses and a distinct lack of blood. Yikes, come on Scar, keep it together. You’ve got to know that Kimblee’s riling you up, controlling the fight. Oh! But for all Kimblee’s insults, internally he’s worried. He’s only just got out of prison while Scar’s been fighting for years against State Alchemists. He’s physically weaker than- oh. Oh my, that was quick. See, this is why you don’t just stand around and internally monologue during a fight, you leave yourself wide open to a pipe through the gut. Wow. Gotta admit, Kimblee. I expected better from you. Here you were being talked up as the Butcher of Ishval, wielder of a Philosopher’s Stone and the newest weapon of the Goths. And what do you do? You get completely shut down minutes into your first fight with Scar, bleeding from the gut while he just looks down on you. If it wasn’t for Scar wanting to deal his brother’s injuries to Kimblee instead of going straight for the kill, you’d be gone. As it was, Scar has a lapse of judgement, and Kimblee takes the moment to decouple the train car, swearing that they’ll settle things next time they meet.

Yeah, no. I thought Kimblee was a good threat when he first showed up and was looking forwards to his fight with Scar, but this? This was just sad. Dude had better shape up before the next fight, especially if everyone’s going to Briggs and he’ll be facing the Protagonist and the Princess as well. The train driver finally realizes that they dropped a few train cars and stops to see what the heck is going on, and is understandably shocked to see Kimblee bleeding out on the new caboose. Kimblee just snaps at him for stopping the train, ranting about death and destruction. Dude is positively gleeful at the idea of Scar the Worthy Opponent, how being at risk means that he’s alive. Whatever buddy, the sooner you go after the guy who just did this to you the sooner I can stop listening to you. Next day, we’ve got May and Marcoh walking through the snow, talking about how Scar and “Marcoh” were drawing off the military so they could head north. Ouch! I was worried that Marcoh’s face would just be a mess of scars, but it’s still sad to see him look so much older with an apparent blinded eye. Maybe when this is over May can finish patching him up, even if he thinks he deserves this new face. The two stop to look over the Briggs mountain range, Amestris’ border with Drachma. Almost to the place Scar stashed his brother’s research notes? What possessed him to hide them here of all places? Mid-ep pictures of Solf J. Kimblee (get it together, dude) and Olivier Mira Armstrong aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh No! Keep it together!

Damnit stop dropping all the way down south to Rush Valley again we are so close to the new character argh Winry’s calling after the Elric Brothers only to learn they’ve checked out of the hotel and headed north. Ed, you’d better give her a call when you get to the fort, don’t just let her stay worried. Especially when Winry’s boss doesn’t think they’ll be safe. Damnit Ed! Wear a hat for petes sake, I don’t care how thick a coat you have if you don’t keep your head covered of course you’ll catch a cold! The Elrics are dropped off at a road to Fort Briggs, the driver heads off… after asking if Al’s wearing automail, saying he should be ok since it isn’t, and they should stay on the road if they want to live. Um. Yeah, Ed’s appreciation for show is officially gone. The boys are stumbling through a blizzard now, Ed tries to psych them up by talking about Teacher surviving out here for a month, fighting bears (hee, now I’m remembering that video about her meeting Sig)- Gah! Big Man! Big Man from the intro, with the chainsaw/scissor arm! Ed freaks out at seeing him and goes into blade mode. Then the guy nets Al?! Dude what the heck, do you just wander around attacking anyone not clearly military in the area? He insults Ed’s automail arm (somewhere Winry gets the urge to swing a wrench), says he has Combat Automail Model 1913A, “The Crocodile”. [Chainsaw-Man]: “Now surrender peacefully, you miserable Drachman spy, or I’ll show you exactly what this baby can do.” Ah ok that makes more sense. This is military land so seeing someone wandering around not in your own uniform would be suspicious. But how do you get non-military personnel or new people to the fort then? Did the brothers miss a phone in North City they were supposed to call ahead with? Yikes ok Chainsaw-Man is not listening, Ed has to keep dodging until he grasps his shoulder. It hurts? Aw crap, he does have a metal arm attached to his body in the middle of a blizzard. It’s painful enough to grab doorknobs when it’s freezing outside, to have metal constantly touching your bare skin? Ouch.

Uh. Actually, that whole “attached to his body” thing might not be relevant much longer; Chainsaw-Man’s revved up his arm and is trying to cut off Ed’s hand. Quick Ed, return the favor!... I said, return the favor! … Why isn’t his Alchemy working? Did Uncle do another anti-Alchemy pulse? Alright, Al’s untangled himself! A quick helmet toss tangles up the chainsaw, and both brothers are ready to fight again. Hopefully with fewer scratches on the automail this time, it’ll be bad enough explaining the current damage to Winry. Come on dude, stop dissing Ed’s arm. It’s got more uses than yours, at least. I’d like to see you tie your shoelaces! Actually, as a unique character I’m assuming he’s an officer at the fort, he might just order one of the Snowtroopers who are surrounding the Elrics to tie them for him. Oh hey, the snow’s died down and there’s a big wall close to them. They made it to the fort! Alright, fight’s over now, let’s just calm down and explain why you’re here. Hand over the letter and- [HER]: “Buccaneer! Who are they?” she’s here Buccaneer spins around to apologize for the noise, the Elrics look up to see Major-General Olivier Mira Armstrong glaring down at them. Major Armstrong’s older sister. Yesssss What, you don’t see the familial resemblance? I mean, I didn’t at first, either (in retrospect her wearing the blue uniform in the intro should have been a dead giveaway) but just because she isn’t as tall as her little (snrk) brother shouldn’t make you so doubtful. Ed introduces himself as the Fullmetal Alchemist, the General simply orders them to be searched. What, do you have a lot of pipsqueak spies and hollow suits of armor showing up to spy for Drachma? Aha, the letter of introduction! There, read The Mighty Armstrong’s letter, I’m sure that- or you just tear it up unread. I can get making your own opinions of people, but you’re just throwing away a source of information? Oh. Oh wow. The tossed aside letter fragments are being blown up the wall. And up. And up. And up… That’s a big wall. Like, wow. Ok, you’ve gotten permission to enter, head on inside and uh oh. Something to note about General Armstrong - she does not care for fools who A) don’t immediately follow her orders, and B) are so easily impressed by their surroundings. Bunny!Ed cowers from the glare of Bear!Armstrong. [General Armstrong]: “Be warned, I won’t coddle you just because you’re children. This is the Mountain Fortress, Briggs! Here only the strong survive!”

Alright, so it seems that our Protagonist didn’t make the best first impression, and Armstrong the Great has been established as a hardline commander. I am really looking forward to seeing more of this fort, and the person who leads it. Post-credits scene! May and Marcoh have reached a small cabin and dug up a box, holding Scar’s brother’s (does the guy actually have a name?) research notes. Could the combination of Xing Alkahestry and Amestris Alchemy be an alternative to the Philosopher’s Stone? [Marcoh]: “Well… there’s only one way to find out.”

#wmtw #where my twin watches #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 33

[sandersidess]

McDonalds

tw: food, food mention, cursing

This goes with my bnha crossover AU (Roman isn’t Dabi here, he’s a good guy) and it’s midnight and i am stressed and an insomniac and craving fries while on a diet

-

The heroes in training needed rest. They are not only training to be pro-heroes, but growing teenagers. It’s hard enough to contain twenty students in a classroom, harder when placed in dorms. They had rules, needed permission to be off campus, had a certain curfew.

So why does their dear teacher, Mr. Sanders, not see them in their rooms?

He should be panicking, seeing as his protege was not there when he had things to discuss. However, while reckless, he knew this boy would not be silly enough to stop some villain right? Yeah. So he sent a text and stayed up, deciding to wait.

He wishes he wasn’t making a horrible decision.

“Why are we here again?”

“I got hungry.”

“It’s fucking two in the morning.”

“Yet you came.”

“Shut the fuck, half-and-half bastard!”

“Not your best insult.”

“Dee Stop!”

Patton huffs and glares at his childhood friend as small sparks were coming out of his hand. His other friend, Logan, was staring at Dolos with disinterested heterochormic eyes. Roman rolls his eyes and smacks Dolos, who growls but Virgil then glares at him with calms him down. Patton looks at the menu, sticking out the tip of his tongue as if in concentration.

“I’ll pay.”

Logan held up a black debit card, eyes twinkling in mischief. They all gawked at him, about to protest but he held up a hand as if to stop them.

“Listen, even if I am under the care of Todoroki and Iida, my father has some custody left. So, while morally wrong, I stole his card because he has a shit ton of money. Also, I am sleep deprived and want to fuck him up,” Logan smirks, Dolos gaining a smidge of respect for him while Roman and Virgil were doubled over laughing. Patton huffs, but then again, he also hated Logan’s biological father.

“Fine the-“

“And then we’re going shopping at some store and buying shit for everyone else.”

“Marry me?”

“Sorry, you’re not my type Roman.”

“I am wounded.”

They all laugh at Roman’s hurt expression, glad that the McDonald’s was empty. They all get in line and order their food, making sure to get large fries. They even ordered for later in the day, even when the food would not be the same. Logan swiped the card, grinning as he did. They all sat and waited for their food, Logan and Patton on one side while Dolos, Virgil, and Roman on another.

“Hey sluts!”

They all turn around and see Remy, from the Gen Ed department walk over.

“What are you doing here, shades?” Dolos asks, cheeks seeming to flush.

“Can’t sleep and craved coffee. McDonald’s has some strong ass shit, and I see you idiots sneak out too,” Remy grins, fixing his shades.

“You idiot! You shouldn’t be drinking that so late! You need your fucking sleep you fucking insomniac!” Dolos yells at him, earning a glare from an employee.

The others watched them banter, staring at each other and held in their laughs at how oblivious Dolos was on his feelings. Patton knew him better than anyone else, and he was just a concerned person.

“Would I get a kiss if I go to sleep?” Remy croons at Dolos, making him stutter and blush.

“Fuck you, dirty shades!”

“I can be dirty for you.”

Dolos choked on air, grumbling out a few words and Logan was laughing now, pounding his fist on the table. Patton had to hold him before he fell, a few giggles escaping at Dolos cursing at them. Virgil and Roman went to get their food once called, handing it out once Logan regained his composure.

“Remy, you are amazing,” Roman chuckles and bites down on his burger.

“I know, sweet cheeks, I know,” Remy grins and steals fries from Dolos, who just glared but didn’t say a word.

They ate in silence, enjoying their food and drinks. A few conversations here and there, mostly poking fun at each other and talking about the upcoming vacations. Logan would be home with his caregivers, Patton would be too but training, Virgil would be staying at the dorms, Roman was going to stay with his sister and visit Virgil, Dolos would be at the dorms also along with Remy.

“Todoroki says I can bring over anyone I want, as long as I just give a heads up. He said he’ll have a friend over that he wants me to meet. I think his name is Mindfreak-“

“The underground hero who brainwash people?!” Virgil asks excitedly, feeling his cheeks heat up at his outburst, “Can I come Logan? Can I?”

Logan blinks, nodding, “Of course. I’ll let him know. I didn’t know you were a fan?”

“We have the same quirk that is seen as villainous. He broke through that stigma and works as an underground hero. He hates media attention, and he’s known by his hero name only. Also, he’s helped pro heroes take down big villain groups thanks to his brainwashing quirk and has even saved kids who were about to be sold off by working undercover and had them reveal information! Also-“

“He’s a fan,” Patton giggles, seeing how Virgil kept rambling about the underground hero.

“I’ll let Todoroki know,” Logan chuckles and shakes his head, fond of how open he was right now.

Once Virgil was done, he was slightly panting and tried to get back to his cool demeanor but it was too late. Roman kisses his cheek, causing him to get even more fliustered. They all finished their meals, now walking outside and sitting on the sidewalk while eating any leftover fries. They sat in silence, listening to any passing cars and crickets chirping.

Patton had his head on Logan’s left shoulder, sighing happily at the warmth in the chilly night. It helped that Logan was a blushing mess, making him even more warm. Roman had his head now laid on Virgil’s lap, staring up at the sky while Virgil ran his fingers through his hair, being able to see Roman’s electric freckles. Dolos and Remy were sitting next to each other, but leg intertwined and poking fun at each other. After a few minutes, the group of teen heroes stood up and walked to the convenience store nearset to school.

They started bickering between each other, laughter filling the store as they picked up odds and treats. Logan once more paid, letting them go all crazy. Soon they walked back to school grounds, saying their farewells to Remy to Virgil as they went to their dorms. They rest snuck back through Patton’s window, saying their good nights (well Logan did, Dolos was back to being sour and left). Patton waves at Logan, sighing happily and giggles to himself as he was just reliving everything.

Their homeroom teacher knew they had snuck out, giving them three detention for a week. They shrugged it off, the three knowing it was worth it. They all had fun, and they would do it again.

#tw food mention #tw food #tw cursing #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #remy sanders #logicality #prinxiety #receit #my writing #bnha au #boku no hero academia crossover #sanders sides #thomas sanders #fanders

[franceslittlenightmare]

 S T A I R W A Y T O H E A V E N.

: — ;Solo # 4 — ; Mid October Two Thousand Ninteen — ;Trigger warning: Mentions of an Eating Disorder — ; Song: Stairway To Heaven By Led Zepplin

— ; Admin Notes: This is Elsa’s current state. After our Royal Pains hiatus I figured we all needed starting points and explanations for our character’s absence. So, Elsa went to treatment for her ED from September to early November. She’s finally returned and basically is trying to get her life back on track. Her personality is still very much the same.

❝There's a lady who's sure All that glitters is gold And she's buying a stairway to heaven When she gets there she knows If the stores are all closed With a word she can get what she came for Oh oh oh oh and she's buying a stairway to heaven There's a sign on the wall But she wants to be sure 'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings In a tree by the brook There's a songbird who sings Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiving Ooh, it makes me wonder.❞ Elsa Grimaldi drew in a deep breath of air, pausing for a moment before exhaling. It had only been an hour since she was checked in but time was dragging by. Each excruciating minute after the next burned her up inside. It felt like a fire was raging itself through her body, destroying whatever stood in its path. Since arriving at the Eating Disorders clinic Elsa couldn't help but to notice how everyone kept acting like she was at some world star resort. All of the employees hid the depressing atmosphere with painted on smiles and matching lilac colored outfits, as if they weren't here to watch people literally kill themselves. At the Estate her absence was announced as a "retreat" which pissed the girl off even more. While her self confidence was low and she hated what she saw in the mirror, Elsa was never embarrassed of her Anorexia. It was very much part of herself, ingrained in every essence of her being. So, sugar coating the fact that she was dying infuriated the girl. The disease was a long time best friend, a trait in her personality, she was protective over the thing that had been destroying her body for the last five years. The first weigh in however, was absolutely modifying. As the petite princess entered the sterile white doctors office the smell of alcohol and bleach invaded her senses. The faint smell of the lavender plant in the window made her laugh internally, as if they could cover up the smell of sickness. As the girl was instructed to drop her white robe by a man with a friendly smile she couldn't help but to internally panic. It was something Elsa Grimaldi would never admit but, she was filled with an overwhelming anxiety about stripping off in front of anyone. Outwardly she gave off a confident, almost cocky, persona. But, that was a front, on the inside she was about as small and as fragile as one could be. The only man who had ever seen her fully naked was her ex, Ashton Deutch, and that took a lot of courage. So, the girl could feel the tears that began to prick at her white chocolate orbs. She slowly untied the wrap that held the robe to her small frame. Then, she dropped the piece of clothing. Why did it have to be a man? "Alright Ms.Grimaldi, go ahead and step up onto that scale right there. Once it beeps just hop off, put the robe on and head over to room 203." The man spoke kindly but rather monotone as he went through the motions, staring down at his clipboard. Elsa couldn't look back at him though, she was frozen in fear. This was exactly what she was afraid of, standing on the scale stark naked as she confronted exactly what she was terrified of, herself. Tears begun to fall over her hollowed cheeks as she stood there, staring down at the sleek glass scale, listening to it taunt her. "Is everything alright? I can get a female nurse over here if that's what would make you comfortable-" the man continued, interrupted by the soft voice of Elsa, a contrast to her usual direct tone. “No, I- I’m fine. Just, um.. just one moment please.” She trailed off, her arms wrapped around the thin frame of skin and bones that held her up and barley kept her heart beating. The French girl drew in another deep breath, trying to find the courage to step on the scale. Getting on it meant starting recovery. It meant acknowledging that she was sick. It meant coming to terms with the fact that she was dying. Getting on that scale meant so many things Elsa was afraid to come face. “I promise everything is going to be alright.” The voice spoke out again, softer than before. Elsa nodded once, long locks of chocolate colored hair falling in front of her face as she glanced down to watch her step. Slowly, she stood on the scale, her eyes shutting as she willed her mind to take her away from this current moment. After a few unbearable seconds the man thanked her and handed Elsa back her robe. The initial evaluation wasn’t good, she knew that. Prior to the weigh-in her vitals were also checked and various other minor things. She knew the results were bad just from looking at his expression. Quickly, she dressed again and dipped out of the room to find where she would be staying for the next to weeks before the male nurse could say anything further. After settling into her room, or more like pacing around, Elsa was summoned to a house meeting to hear the rules. Then, it was dinner time. She dreaded it, absolutely despised meal times with every single fiber of her being. Elsa Grimaldi had an addictive personality. When it came to liquor, shopping, men see it once and she was hooked. As a small child Elsa remembered the first Audrey Hepburn movie she watched, then rewatched twenty six times that month- Roman Holiday. It was a movie about a young princess who yearns to experience a normal life and ends up escaping and finding love in an ordinary man. Something about that movie called out to her. Her addictive personality only grew more intense with age. She continued to latch onto and devour the same obsessions. That is until she came face to face with her eating disorder. Food became her newest addiction, the rush and control she felt. But, as the years went on her eating disorder began to control her and run Elsa’s life. So, as she sat in the chair, petite frame rigid and small as she stared down at the plate of food. It started with something small for her first day, tomato soup. Every patient had a specialized meal plan along with their overall treatment plan. Tomato soup was a staple in her diet back in France. So, while the familiarity was comforting it only annoyed the girl more. Slowly, she lifted her spoon, dipping it into the vivid red liquid as she began to stir absentmindedly. The Parisian woman noted how the liquid reminded her of blood, undeniably so. “Elsa-“ The voice broke her out of the trance she was in. “A bite, just one.” The voice repeated, an older female counselor. “I promise you, the road to recovery starts with one bite. I know it’s incredibly difficult, but remember why you’re here, your baby boy.” The girl hated that, she despised it. They used her son as leverage. But, she couldn’t quite be mad. Using the baby as a way to save her life wasn’t exactly criminal. Elsa promised the infant, or promised herself, that she was going to be around to watch Grayson grow up. She would be the mother she never had and unconditionally and fiercely protect the child she had carried and loved for nine months. It wasn’t like the Parisian girl to grow attached to another person. Her deepest longest bonds had been with her brother, her own father and the father of her child. They were all complex, one of those relationships being deemed as toxic by her therapist. Another body she had developed recently was with a man of authority, an Italian man she had no businesses even talking to. Yet, all of her dynamics with men were complicated and took a toll on the girl. So, she wanted to get it right with Grayson, her child. With a deep heaving sigh Elsa lifted up her spoon. Her hand shook slightly as she held the utensil up to her plumped lips. With big Bambi like eyes she glanced up at the personal therapist on her case, the friendly woman giving her a reassuring smile as she nodded once. Carefully, she inched the spoon closer to her mouth, quickly slipping on the red liquid and then pulling the spoon back once more. “Good, that’s good Elsa. Progress is important. Yesterday you were almost in Kidney failure. Today, you’re out of bed and participating. I’m proud of you-“ the woman chided with a friendly smile, gently patting Elsa’s frail shoulder as she stood up to fetch the woman a glass of water and her medicine for the meal; antidepressants and vitamins. As Elsa processed everything she caught her reflection in the spoon. Her wide eyed staring back at her, empty and scared. She didn’t realize what she looked like. She was no longer the fiery woman who hid behind insults, attitude and an ice wall. Her defenses had been stripped down and she was Elsa, that little vulnerable French girl. For the second time that day her eyes began to well up with tears. Silently, she let them fall, holding the spoon as she watched tears adorn her cheeks. She truly saw herself, the person she used to recognize. This was the start of something, Elsa thought to herself. a faint smile dancing across her tired features as she dipped the spoon back into the soup, taking another cautious bite as she began to eat.

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

A Game of Riddles (Edward NygmaxOC)

Set during season 4, I blame @mk-vi for this one shot. 

Now that The Riddler is back and in control, he's going to try and right things with Emerald (OC), however his methods in doing so are a little different to what others would do.

Warnings: Bondage, Rope bondage, Smut, Sex, Vaginal sex, Oral sex, Vibrating panties, Sexual torture, A lil knife play, Slapping, Choking, Biting, A lil rough play, Sexual riddles, Language, Forced orgasms, Orgasm denial, Dub Con 

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Emerald’s P.O.V

I awoke, in a dark room, my head throbbing and my vision blurry. I could make out something green in front of me. The green light was blinking over and over. I was sat on a simple wooden chair, my wrists tied behind my back. My ankles were also tied to the chair legs. My vision cleared, and the green light took the shape of a question mark. I felt my stomach drop. What the fuck did Nygma want with me now? Couldn’t he take a hint? We were done, no hope of repairing what once was. And besides last time I heard or saw him he was busy chasing after Lee Thompkins. I tested the rope to see if it would give at all. Nope, he’d brought some good stuff. I was going to fucking kill him when I got out of this chair.

A door opened somewhere behind me, I could hear his footsteps getting closer. He flicked a light switch filling the room with light. I winced, my eyes adjusting. The room was simple but cluttered with all sorts of junk. I guess you were lucky for a roof over your head when it came to living in The Narrows. Edward Nygma stood before me in his trademark green suit, bowler hat and all. He looked better since the last time I’d seen him. I guess Lee had fixed him after all. The more he smirked the more I wanted to punch him. “I apologize for any discomfort you might be feeling at the moment. That was never my intention, but I knew you wouldn’t come here willingly,” he explained. I chose to save my breath. Arguing with him would take us around in circles. Ed cocked his head a little, studying me.

“You’re not going to threaten me? Or hurl insults at me?” He questioned. “What would be the point? You know what I’ll do to you when I get out of this.” He smiled, “there she is.” “So, Lee fixed you. Meaning I have a feeling I’m about to be bombarded with annoying riddles.” “Exactly. But I can assure you, I harbour no feelings towards her, not now I’m me again.” I raised an eyebrow. So, Ed was gone? And Riddler was back. I couldn’t decide which one was more annoying. However, Riddler had an issue with women staying in his life. And I was currently tied to a chair. Things were not looking good. Remain calm, you’d talked your way out of situations like these before I told myself.

“If your going to kill me please don’t waste my time by monologuing. Just get on with it,” I spoke. “That’s not why you’re here Emerald. We’ve never wanted to hurt you and we never would. I mean Ed doesn’t get a say in it whilst I’m in charge but that’s beside the point.” I frowned, then what the fuck did he want with me? “I find that hard to believe. Considering your reputation” I replied. “I understand. Ed was the one who ruined it all by running off with someone who looked like his dead ex. If it were up to me, that wouldn’t have happened.” “I’m flattered,” I said with obvious sarcasm. “I can be blind, I can be powerful, I can be difficult, deep, complicated, and tender at the same time. What am I?” He asked.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t smart enough for this shit. Nor did I have the patience. He didn’t look impressed with my silence. “The answer is love,” he spoke. If he was trying to tell me he loved me, he could have done it in a much better way. He sighed at how unimpressed I looked. “If you wanted to tell me you loved me a text would have been less time wasting,” I said. “Your stubbornness was always one of your less likable traits.” “Oh, sure because insulting me is really going to help.” I was almost amused at how frustrated he was getting. He removed his hat, tossing it somewhere behind me where it landed with a soft sound. Likely on a bed. He then removed his suit jacket, draping it over the back of another chair.

“We’re going to play a game. Every riddle you answer correctly you’ll be rewarded, but every time you answer incorrectly you’ll be punished, easy enough to follow right?” He explained. I rolled my eyes again. I just wouldn’t answer. I wasn’t playing any games with him. “I start with a “v” and every woman has one. She can even use me to get what she wants. What am I?” He asked. My dirty and childish mind instantly thought of vagina. But that would be too obvious. I relaxed against my chair, this was going to be a long night, so I might as well get comfy. I had much more patience than he gave me credit for. He soon caught on that I wasn’t playing, which made him more frustrated. “Her voice,” he answered for me.

He produced something small and black from his pocket, his thumb hovering over the button. I guess this was my punishment. He pressed the button. I jerked against my restraints as my panties began to vibrate. Why hadn’t I felt something there before? I let out a shaky breath as the small viberator pressed against my clit. “Now will you play?” He asked. “Fuck you.” “I wish you would,” he smirked.

He moved in close, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Every riddle you get right will be another earnt orgasm. And we both know how greedy you are when it comes to cumming. You can pretend your not enjoying this, but I know all the signs that you are,” he taunted. I glared at him, wanting to punch that smirk off his face. Only he would use such a thing against me. He stood there, watching and waiting for me to give in. I took a deep breath, keeping myself calm. He pressed the button again, turning the intensity up. I bit my lip, my breathing now noticeably heavier. I attempted to press my thighs together but with my ankles bound it restricted my movement.

The pleasure was getting intense and it was getting harder to hold back any sounds. A soft moan tore free, causing Ed to grin wickedly. I turned away from him, closing my eyes and trying to keep my breathing even. He started kissing neck, making it difficult to concentrate. “I hate you,” I growled. “You wont in about an hour. But now that you understand the rules, we'll continue.” My hips bucked into the toy a little. The need to cum was already starting to grow. I could do this, I could prove him wrong.

Ed got out of my personal space finally, stepping back to the centre of the room. Ed turned the viberator off so that I could focus on his next riddle. I relaxed a little now that it was off. “I’m great for protection. You use your fingers to get me off. What am I?” He asked. Again, my mind went straight to the dirty answer. Condom. But I knew that wasn't the real answer. I wracked my brain for the answer. Why was I even playing now that he'd turned the viberator off? As if reading my mind, he turned it back on as if too distract me.

“Gloves,” I answered, my voice shaky. “Clever girl, your smarter than you give yourself credit for.” He pressed the button again, turning the intensity up once more. I moaned louder this time, gripping the arm rests of the chair. Fuck. Ed watched me with pure fascination as I was brought closer and closer with every passing second. My legs started to shake before finally I reached my climax with a string of curse words. The pleasure soon turned to overstimulation, but he still didn’t turn it off, seemingly pleased with my discomfort. I writhed as much as I could in the chair until finally he turned it off.

My head fell forward, my breathing heavy. I sensed him invade my personal space again, his gloved fingers tilting my chin upwards, so I could look at him. He cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of my lips. “Such a filthy mouth,” he said, amusement clear in his voice. His thumb pushed its way into my mouth and I bit down on it. He retracted it quickly, tutting at me. “Let’s continue. My business is briefs, I’m a cunning linguist. I plead and plead for it regularly. What am I?” He asked. I sighed, not really wanting to go through this again but I had no choice. I had to play his way until he let me go. Then we could play my way.

I pretended to be thinking about it whilst I attempted to reach into the waistband of my skirt. I had a knife hidden there, if I could get that and cut my arms free the rest would be history. The tips of my fingers slipped past my waistband, now searching for the switchblade. Panic started to set in as I couldn��t find it. “Looking for this?” He asked, holding up my blade. I glared at him again. Could he get any more annoying? Probably. The blade sprang out and upwards before he ghosted the tip of the blade up my leg. He used the blade to push my skirt further up my thighs a little. I couldn’t help but shiver at the contact. “By the time we’re done your panties are going to be ruined,” he smirked. “Not by you though. Its not like you did all this yourself. You had to use a toy because your inadequate.”

He struck me across the face with his free hand, my cheek stinging from the slap. “You won’t be saying that later. If you earn anything for later that is. Now stop stalling and answer the riddle,” he growled. I sighed, thinking about it. I really didn’t know the answer. This was a hard one. I had to give him an answer and I had to pray it was the right one. I didn’t want to find out what my punishment was. “Con artist?” I answered. Ed smiled. I couldn’t tell if I’d gotten it right or not. “Wrong, the answer is lawyer,” he corrected.

Shit. My stomach dropped a little in fear. Ed pressed the button on the remote twice, the viberator coming to life. I moaned, a little confused as to why he was using my reward system as a punishment system. The pleasure continued to build, quicker this time as I was already stimulated. I closed my eyes, arching into the toy. My moans were starting to get louder as I got closer again. I was soon teetering on the edge of my next orgasm when Ed turned it off. The sound I made was one of confusion before turning to a desperate whimper. I would not beg him. I might be angry about my ruined orgasm, but begging was not an option. “All day long it’s in and out. I discharge loads from my shaft. Both men and women go down on me. What am I?” He asked, quickly moving on.

Part of me didn’t want to get this one wrong and have to deal with orgasm denial again. Part of me was still super annoyed by this situation and didn’t want to play along. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the riddle instead of the ache between my legs. At this point my walls were starting to ache, desperate to be filled. “Penis,” I blurted out, my mind completely in the gutter. He laughed at this, “incorrect. Seems to me like your thinking with something else.” We went through the same routine as before, Ed using the viberator to bring me to the edge only to ruin another orgasm. My breathing was ragged, and I had tears in my eyes. I couldn’t do this anymore. My stubbornness was gone, replaced with desperateness. “Please,” I said, barely above a whisper.

He put his hand behind his ear as if he hadn’t heard me, “what was that?” “Please,” I said through gritted teeth. “I was expecting more of a fight from you. One more riddle. If you get this right, I’ll let you go. How does that sound?” “Okay.” “When I go in, I can cause some pain. I’ll fill your holes when you ask me to. I also ask that you spit, and not swallow. What am I?” I’d heard this one before. I just needed to remember the answer. I replayed the riddle in my head, going through each part slowly. “Dentist,” I answered confidently.

“Correct,” he replied. Ed kneeled and cut the rope around my ankles before moving round and freeing my wrists. He stood back up in front of me. I forced myself to my feet, my legs shaky which caused me to stumble. He caught me, holding me upright. I glanced up at him, getting lost in those eyes. Fuck, here we go again. “You still have a reward to collect,” he spoke softly. The air between us was suddenly thick with tension. He was holding me tighter now as if scared to let me go. He leaned down, kissing me softly as if to test my reaction. I accepted the kiss, now clinging to him.

Our kisses became more heated until I had to pull away for air. Eddie picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist before carrying me over to his bed. As he went to lay me down, I pulled him down with me. I winced as something uncomfortable dug into my spine. I pulled his hat out from under me which was now crushed before tossing it on the floor. We began tearing at each other’s clothes as if we needed to make up for lost time. I guess in a way we did. The floor was soon littered with our clothes. Eddie kissed his way down my body starting from my neck and ending between my legs. Instead of starting where I wanted him the most, he started by nipping at my inner thighs, leaving the occasional purple mark.

Finally, he gave me what I needed, cleaning up the mess he’d made with his tongue. I moaned, my back arching from how sensitive I now was. This wasn’t going to last as long as I would have liked. He continued torturing me with his tongue, groaning at my taste. I was already a mess, desperate to finally cum. He alternated between fucking me with his tongue and sucking on my clit. I sure hoped these walls weren’t too thin. Or the whole Narrows was going to hear me. My grip on his perfectly combed hair got tighter, the coil in my stomach also getting tighter. A few more flicks with his tongue and I came, all but screaming his name. He worked me though it until over stimulation kicked in. He kissed his way back up to my lips.

Eddie slowly pushed into me, both of us moaning at the missed feeling. I pulled him down for another kiss as he started a fast pace. I wrapped my legs around his waist, forcing him deeper whilst my nails dug into his shoulders. He’d likely still have marks by the morning, not that he seemed bothered. His pace got harder, practically fucking me into the squeaky mattress. Eddie wrapped a hand around my neck, squeezing a little. I wrapped my hand around his wrist, telling him it was okay to press harder. I trusted him. I moaned as he squeezed a little more. My free hand now fisted the sheets beneath us, my knuckles turning white. Eddie reached between us, finding my clit with his thumb. My back arched, pressing my chest against his as my third orgasm started to build.

A few more strokes and my orgasm hit me like a tonne of bricks. I moaned his name over and over like some sort of prayer. I clung to him like my life depended on it. Eddie reached his own moments later, burying his face in my neck with a series of curses. We kissed each other before he lay down next to me, my head on his chest and his arms wrapped around me. “What's beautiful, smart, humorous and belongs to me?” He asked with a soft smile. I couldn’t help but blush, “me.”

#gotham #gotham fic #gotham fanfic #gotham fanfiction #gotham feels #gotham smut #gotham fluff #gotham angst #edward nygma #the riddler #edward nygma fic #edward nygma fanfic #edward nygma fanfiction #edward nygma smut #riddler fic #riddler fanfic #riddler fanfiction #riddler smut

[reddielibrary]

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prompt: Halloween prompt: something based on the story told in the song Leaves in the River by Sea Wolf. I think it should count because the first line of the song specifies that it takes place on Halloween for @tsavoritegem

written by: Bri | @reddieforlove

word count: 2689

*click title to read on AO3

The streets were quiet.

It seemed like something that shouldn’t be true. Like Halloween and silence were two concepts that should never exist in tandem. As Richie made his way down the sidewalk with all the grace of a newborn deer, his head spinning and his limbs feeling lighter than usual, he found himself strangely contemplating the tranquility of the town. It was the kind of sober thought he never wanted to have with this much alcohol churning through his system. He shouldn’t have left by himself. Beverly would have kept him flying high as a kite if he stayed with her, with no heavy thoughts to bring him down.

His steps crunched over fallen leaves stirred from piles by the wind that drifted through the houses. Despite the chill that he could feel all the way through his layers, Richie was grateful for the breeze. It set the branches of naked trees moving and whistled through the air, cutting through the silence. He heard a distant shout and the sound of faint music from the street one over from the one where he walked. Richie didn’t even really know why he was on this street. It was unfamiliar to him, even though the row of houses looked the same as the ones on every other damn street in the town.

Shaking his head, Richie pulled out a nearly crushed pack of cigarettes and fished one out, pressing it between his lips as he dug in his pocket for a lighter. Each step he took in the brisk, cold air seemed to sober him more and more, so he needed something to do with himself before his thoughts began moving at a mile a minute again. Before he could even hold the flame to his lips, his eyes caught on a figure sitting on the curb a few feet ahead of him. Richie stopped in place, staggering a little without meaning to before blinking his eyes several times, trying to suss out whether the person was real or not.

“Hey,” he said, somehow startling the person judging by the cry of surprise they let out when he spoke.

They scrambled to their feet, stepping into the low light of a street lamp long enough for Richie to make out brown hair, round eyes, and pink lips. He was beautiful. Taking a few more steps forward, Richie pulled the cigarette from his mouth and tilted his head to the side, now trying to figure out whether he knew the boy that stood in front of him. They stared at each other for a long few moments before Richie spoke again.

“You come ‘round here often, sweetheart?” he asked, gesturing at the otherwise empty street with the hand that still held the cigarette.

Those round eyes narrowed at that, the boy’s arms crossing over his chest as he let out a huff.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, though the command was somewhat softened by the tremble in his voice and the wet tracks that Richie could see on his cheeks.

He looked away, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as Richie watched him, his words, for once, not coming easily to him. There was a part of him, deep in his mind, that felt the slightest fear that if he said the wrong thing, the boy would disappear in a wisp of smoke. It was a ridiculous thought but just the kind that was par for the course where Richie was concerned.

“I’m lost.”

Richie frowned at that, wondering how in the hell anyone could ever find themselves lost in Derry of all places. He may not have recognized the street where he walked but he still knew exactly where he was. He didn’t know if he even could get lost in this town.

“Well it’s your lucky day, mate,” he said, putting on a voice even as his tongue curled uncomfortably around the words, another side effect of the hard liquor he drank not even an hour ago. “I’m a local tour guide in these here parts. I’ll getcha where you need to go, you can count on that.”

The boy looked at him again, his nose wrinkling slightly.

“Why do you talk like that?” he asked.

Richie shrugged one shoulder without hesitation.

“Why does anyone do anything?” he countered.

The boy stared at him for a long moment, looking as though he was torn between accepting Richie’s offer and running the other way. Then, as if he accepted that he had no other choice, he nodded his head stiffly, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“I don’t really know where I’m going,” he admitted.

“Then you’re stuck wandering with me,” Richie said, marching forward to his side without giving him much of a choice. “Name’s Richie.”

The boy blinked at him several times before turning to fall into step with him.

“Eddie,” he mumbled quietly.

“Did you get lotsa candy tonight, Eds?” Richie asked, unbothered by his quietness.

The rest of the world seemed to be too quiet and Richie was doing just fine living in it. He didn’t care in the slightest if the boy next to him decided to be quiet too.

“Don’t call me that either. And I’m eighteen,” Eddie said as if it meant anything.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Richie asked, looking over at him. “Candy’s just for kids now?”

“Trick or treating is,” Eddie said, staring directly back at him.

“Says who?”

They kept walking, Richie’s longer steps matching two of Eddie’s shorter ones. He made sure to slow a little, not wanting to tire the poor lad out too soon. He felt strangely giddy at having company now, even if he just met him.

“I don’t dress up anymore,” he said.

“Sounds boring,” Richie commented, turning to look ahead of them.

He didn’t have to look to feel Eddie’s scowl fixed on him.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” Eddie demanded, as if the question validated his point of view.

Richie glanced down at his clothes, a smile pulling at his lips when he remembered what he wore. The ripped jeans, dark grey t-shirt, worn leather jacket, and scuffed up converse were all his but the faded flannel had been snatched from the closet of a very unamused friend.

“Big Bill,” Richie said, as if it explained it all.

Sure enough, Eddie’s confused look greeted him when he turned his head to look.

“Just a friend of mine, Eds. Nothing to worry your pretty head over,” Richie said, resisting the urge to reach out and muss his slightly curly hair. “Thought he’d get a kick out of it but the joke fell flat when he finally realized that I’m undoubtedly the better looking one between us.”

Richie could practically see the wheels turning in Eddie’s head as the other boy’s eyes darted over Richie’s face before taking the rest of him in. A faint blush touched on Eddie’s cheeks where they’d been drained of color before and it was nearly impossible to keep a smirk at bay as Richie looked away again.

“What do you think?” he asked, making a point of modeling his profile only for his glasses to slip down his nose.

Richie pushed them up as he heard another huff from the boy next to him.

“I think you’re full of shit,” Eddie said.

It took a moment for that to sink in before Richie let out a bark of laughter and clapped his hands several times, caring little for how the sound carried through the empty street.

“Look at you, Eddie Spaghetti,” he said, the nickname falling from his lips with ease, like he’d used it a thousand times before. “Getting off a good one.”

It was easy to see the smugness on Eddie’s face as they turned the corner onto another street. It felt less like Richie was leading by now and more like they were just walking together for the next few streets. Silence fell between them, interrupted only by the crunch of leaves beneath their feet and Eddie’s occasional cough, muffled by his elbow where he bent it mere centimeters from his mouth every time. It was a comfortable sort of quiet, which was never something Richie thought about any kind of silence. He usually hated it but with Eddie at his side, it wasn’t too bad.

Then he felt the first drop on his head and Eddie cursed softly next to him, stopping in place to glare up at the dark sky above them as if it was insulting him personally by daring to rain. It was barely doing that. Simply drizzling enough to wet their skin and bring an extra bite to the already cold air. Richie let out a dramatic shudder and chattered his teeth exaggeratedly, bringing his jacket tighter around him.

“It’s just my fucking luck tonight,” Eddie muttered to himself, kicking at a rock as they kept on walking.

“I’ll try my best not to be offended,” Richie said, winking at him when Eddie’s head snapped up as if he forgot that he was walking beside someone.

“I get the feeling that not much can offend you,” Eddie said after a moment, his steps a little quicker now that it was raining even though neither of them really had a destination.

“You got me,” he said, grinning at Eddie. “Now what are you gonna do with me, huh?”

Eddie gave him a long, considering look before something flared in his eyes, an almost smile ghosting over his lips.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, tilting his head up as a tone of contemplation entered his voice. “I have a few things in mind but I think there is one that I really, really want to do.”

“Do tell,” Richie invited him, more amused than anything.

Eddie looked back at him, the look in his eyes settling into a wicked gleam. In that moment, Richie had to blink because the strangest feeling rose in his chest and overwhelmed him, nearly stopping him in place. He knew this person. Deep in his bones. Right in his heart. He knew him.

You know I-

Eddie ducked down as Richie sucked in a breath only to feel a handful of damp leaves hit his face. Blinking himself out of his stupor, he met Eddie’s eyes with surprise only to see a fully-fledged smile on his face now.

“That,” Eddie said triumphantly.

“Oh, you little…” Richie trailed off, shaking his head as the feeling passed all while he brushed the leaves off of himself. “I’ll get you for that.”

Eddie’s face changed into a brief challenge before he was taking off. Richie watched with wide eyes as he surged ahead, darting quickly up the street. Then he began to run too, giving chase to the boy who always felt just out of reach.

Always?

Richie didn’t have much time to contemplate the strange slip in his mind, to wonder where the hell it came from, before Eddie was turning a corner and disappearing down yet another street. It was only when he turned the same corner that he saw Eddie crouched over halfway down the block, his hands on his knees and his head ducked. Richie could hear his wheezing before he even reached him. Sticking his hand into his pocket, Richie had no idea what he was looking for yet he half expected to feel the hard plastic of something in his hand. Something that could help Eddie.

“I’m okay,” Eddie waved off with a cough as Richie’s hand brushed his shoulder.

He straightened up after another moment, wiping the end of his sleeve over his mouth and looking not at Richie, but at the house that they were in front of. Richie thought he stopped out of necessity but judging by the wary look on his face, it was the house itself that drew him up short.

“I’m not lost anymore,” Eddie said quietly.

Richie’s eyes darted from him to the house and back.

“Is this where you live?” he asked.

Eddie shook his head, turning his back on the house to face Richie.

“I used to,” he admitted.

Then he was stepping over to the curb, dropping down to sit on it much like he had been when Richie first saw him. But this time, his head tilted up and he gave Richie a look, making it clear that he didn’t want to be alone this time. Richie didn’t disappoint. He didn’t even think he could. He sat next to him without a second thought, spreading his legs out in the road and leaning back with his hands pressed on the cold concrete. The cold drizzle kept falling on them but he barely felt it, tilting his head back and closing his eyes as he took in the stillness of everything around them.

“It’s been empty for a long time,” Eddie said.

Even though he didn’t look over his shoulder, Richie knew that he was talking about the house.

“That’s the housing market for you,” Richie said in a stiff voice, shaking his head as if he was bemoaning the state of the economy.

Eddie ignored him, crossing his arms over his bent knees.

“Everyone who lived there died,” he said.

Richie’s eyes darted to him, a cold dread filling him that had nothing to do with the rain.

“Not everyone,” he said, his heart suddenly picking up pace in his chest.

Eddie looked at him, those wonderfully bright eyes now dulled by an aching sadness. Then the corner of his mouth ticked upwards and he didn’t look away from Richie, keeping their eyes locked together.

“I’m glad I don’t live there anymore,” he said, the fingers of his left hand tapping on his right forearm.

Richie watched, a brief thought crossing his mind that if he blinked quickly, he just might see a white cast marked by bold black and red letters on that arm. He dismissed the thought as quickly as it came, focusing on Eddie.

“Why?” Richie asked.

“Because I can be myself now,” Eddie said.

Before Richie could say anything, his hand slid off of his knee and dropped to the ground, cold fingers lacing through Richie’s and holding on firmly.

“I’ve been here before,” Richie said, finally letting that feeling of deja vu come flooding back.

Eddie nodded his head, not bothering to deny it.

“But it’s different.”

Richie looked over his shoulder as he spoke, suddenly seeing that the house where Eddie Kaspbrak grew up was nothing but a pile of rubble instead of the standing structure that it had been mere seconds ago. It felt right. Like that’s how it should be, when he’d been tortured so much within its walls before.

“This isn’t really Derry,” Richie realized, looking at Eddie again.

The other boy shook his head, squeezing Richie’s hand lightly.

“It’s about time you came around,” Eddie said, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “I’ve been lost.”

Richie knew exactly what he meant. All feelings of intoxication, which he knew now weren’t really there in the first place, were gone in an instant, leaving him to grasp at reality.

“Isn’t there somewhere better we could be?” Richie asked.

Eddie didn’t answer, gazing at Richie for a long moment before leaning forward slowly. Richie didn’t know what to expect until he felt those soft, pink lips brushing his, making every single part of him come alive at the feeling. It was everything and yet it ended all too quickly. A protest rose to Richie’s lips but Eddie spoke before he could voice it.

“Let’s find out,” he said, pulling away just enough to look into Richie’s eyes.

It took only the smallest tug on his hand for Richie to stand. They walked side-by-side again, the streets around them fading into the background as they headed somewhere better. He didn’t know where and didn’t really care.

It just wasn’t important.

*

Richie Tozier died on Halloween night with a bottle clutched in his hand and a faint smile on his lips.

He knew he was going home.

#reddie #writing team #prompt fill #reddielibrary #halloween event

[idontneedmyheart]

ALLOWANCE [PROLOGUE]

Pairing : Niall Horan x Fem!Reader

Word Count : 988

Warnings : none

Summary : the start of it all

A/N : Hey everyone! This is the prologue for my first series on this tumblr. Just as a warning this is set in 2013 as all my fics are (kinda my thing ha). Updating schedule is every Saturday until the end. You can add yourself to the tag list here just specify you want this fic, have fun my guys.

Series Masterlist || Masterlist

"Niall," Harry whispered from his place next to him. The boy in question was sitting on one of the uncomfortable waiting chairs, his right leg bouncing up and down in a nervous fashion. The bright light pouring in through the large office window cast onto the younger boys face, making him squint. He was leaning his head back onto the wall, eyes staring ahead at something that wasn't there.

"Do you think they're done?"

The Irish boy's own voice lacked its usual brightness as it cut through the silence of the hall. All of them had been asked to wait as Syco Records and Modest discussed a supposed deal to fix the blond boy. It had been over an hour without so much as a peep from the meeting room across the way. Thus, forcing the five boys to await the news anxiously. The oldest boy chose to bite his nails while sitting awkwardly on the floor. Next to him being the dark haired boy who fingered a piece of string that was pulled loose from his sweater. Liam decided pacing the stuffy hall to be the best option.

Harry turned to look at him. He was so used to seeing the braces of the boy, shining through a grin, that this new grim expression made him feel guilty.

Harry wasn't an idiot.

The five boys all had one thought, it staring them directly in the face. Niall. For the past three years they all noticed a lack of attention on the Irish boy. Fans ignored him, songs were written to avoid his vocals, even their music videos focused on the more popular members like Harry and Zayn.

The realisation that their band mate was constantly being ignored started to settle in. Harry looked at the locked door of the meeting room and let out a deep sigh. Everyone was worried drastic measures would be taken in expensive of the anxious Irishman.

The bland grey colored door clicked open and the five boys watched with breaths held as the head of their management team, Cleo, walked out in her over pressed and over expensive business suit.

”Niall,” she paused as Niall’s eyes widened “Follow me please.”

As the door shut behind the two of them the four remaining Brits exchanged glances. Liam swallowed thickly as he slid down the wall to sit next to Louis.

“Afternoon, Niall.” Was the first thing that was said to him as he sat stiffly on one of the office chairs. The management team sat on one side of the table and he on the other making this feel more like an interrogation then a meeting.

Niall nodded in what he hoped was a polite manner, trying to avoid making these people angry being the only thing on his mind.

“As you might have speculated. We’re here today to talk about you. More importantly your image.” Cleo said her voice commanding and sharp. She looked at her laptop screen and then back at the blond.

Niall nodded again this time slower as he looked at the other four people in the room carefully. He only recognized two of them making him slightly uneasy as these people supposedly knew best for him, without even knowing him personally.

Cleo was sat at the center with a tall man on her left. His lips quite protruding and eyes slightly too large for his face. If the other lads were here, Niall thought, clenching his jaw to keep a complete straight face, they’d make a comment on how much he looked like Ed Bighead from Rocko's Modern Life.

“Statistics have shown that you are the least popular member of the band. You’re irrelevant,” Cleo began. Niall swallowed thickly as he tried so hard to keep a passive expression on his face. The nineteen year old nodded slowly as though giving her the okay to continue to insult him.

“This meeting is the solution to these problems.” A new voice cut in making Niall look at the far right of the table. A much older woman then Cleo sat with her grey hair pulled into bun. She made the effort to smile at him. He furrowed his brows not recognizing her either.

“Yes thank you Tori, as I was saying we’ve come to a solution that will cause you more interest. Something that’ll make people pay attention to you.” Cleo said dominating the conversation once again with her upright voice. Niall stared blankly ahead.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

Niall’s attention was snapped to the far right of the room where a projector was displaying a female around his age. She was beautiful, her smile lighting up her face with a carefree expression, making Niall instantly trust her more then anyone else in the room.

“A struggling actress whom we’ve decided to task with the important job of gaining you relevancy.” The big mouthed man said, his voice slightly rumbly.

“What this means for you,” a new voice cut in. Erica, Louis’s specific wrangler, said. Niall always liked her the most. She constantly kept Louis in check on social media and during interviews that she was like a weird mother to him. Louis was the only lad with a wrangler and flaunted that daily. “Is you’ll have to date Miss. Y/L/N in the public eye. This includes dates, attending events together, being seen on outings, and overall flirting on social media’s. With this new added interest on you the media and One Direction fans will be glued to you like a hawk gaining you a larger audience of interest.”

Niall modded slowly and eyed the picture of the girl again. Her bright eyes twinkled with happiness at whoever was taking the picture and he sighed deeply.

I guess this is it the way to get popular, he thought as Cleo passed him the contract which he penned his name on quickly. I guess this is it.

[jailbirdsonic]

Happier

A/N: Yes, this is based off Ed Sheeran’s song, not the Bastille and Marshmello one. Thank you, thank you, thank you @septic-italian for being an amazing beta, i love you a lot. <3 This fic has been in my drafts for months and I think it’s finally time to post it. I hope you enjoy it! 

summary: Patton reflects on his nearest break up with Logan after randomly seeing him 

ships: Logicality, implied!Analogical

warnings: break up, angst, alcohol, kinda violence near the end but it’s nothing really serious

Walking down 29th and Park

I saw you in another's arms

Only a month we've been apart

You look happier

It’s on the road where they walked as children to go to school that Patton sees Logan again.

After at least a month or so from their breakup, Patton notices with a lump in his throat that his ex-boyfriend is already in good company,  a particularly attractive figure has his arm wrapped around his hips: a boy of their age with a deep purple jacket, hair of the same colour, and particularly intense dark circles under his eyes. He’s smoking, while Logan's face is relaxed and there is no sign of concern in his eyes. 

Saw you walk inside a bar

He said something to make you laugh

I saw That Both your smiles were twice as wide as ours

Yeah, you look happier, you do

 Trying not to get noticed too much by the two of them, Morality, the nickname used by Patton’s friends for his great sense of justice, clearly hears the genuine laughter of his ex-boyfriend even from the other side of the street where he is.

Clenching his mouth in a line and taking a quick look at the two guys who are entering a bar, their bar, in which Logan has declared his feelings for the first time, Patton realizes that their smiles, Logan’s one for the the joke and the boy’s one in reflection, are definitely more beautiful and bright than those that the two former lovers shared.

 Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you

but ain’t nobody loves you like I do

Promise that I will not take it personal, baby

If you're moving on with someone new

 Being able to retrace in his mind their last fatal quarrel, with shouts, insults and desperate crying noises in his ears, Patton calls himself an idiot, sighing and turning away from the two guys, realizing that nobody can love so intensely his own ex as Morality did.

Shaking his head, fighting with all his might because the tears risk to fall without stopping, Patton shamelessly lies to himself, vainly promising that he won’t take it personally if Logan is dating someone else.

 'Cause baby you look happier, you do

My friends told me one day I'll feel it too

And until then I'll smile to hide the truth

But I know I was happier with you

 Increasing the pace to get away from the happy and relaxed aura that Logan gives him and that pierces his chest like a sharp blade, Patton bites his lower lip and dries his slightly teary eye with a finger, silently sniffing.

He can already feel and imagine the words of Roman and Thomas, his two best friends, who will reassure him that everything will be fine and that eventually another person like Logan will come sooner or later into Patton's life.

Morality can also imagine his own fake smile, putting it on to not to make them worry, and his words, created by the little voice in his head that pushes him to lie, that’ll reassure them that now he’ll no longer think about Logan and their relationship, while in reality his heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

 Sat on the corner of the room

Everything's reminding me of you

Nursing an empty bottle and  telling myself you’re happier

Aren’t you?

 And after a few days, here he is, Patton, in the house he and Logan shared before they broke up, sitting next to the radiator in the dimly lit room, his head light as a balloon with a pain that makes his heart heavy like a boulder in his chest.

The more he looks around, the more every object, every fragrance, every colour, every noise floods him with positive and non-positive feelings and memories of a time when he was definitely happier.

Taking the bottle of champagne that he decided to drink to forget, at least for one evening, in his hand and realizing that he has finished it, he throws it to the ground, breaking it into many little pieces, resting his head on the cold wood of the table, staring into space.

"Will Logan really be happier without me?" The boy asks himself, his mind blurred by alcohol.

 Ain’t nobody hurt you like I hurt you

but ain’t nobody need you like I do

I know that there's others that deserve you

but my darling, I am still in love with you

 Looking back over their entire story from beginning to end for the umpteenth time in that evening, Patton finds himself sobbing violently, not even trying to stop the tears coming down copiously on the gray sweatshirt with cat ears and cat paws, the first gift that Logan has ever given to him, actually squeezing it against himself and sniffing the scent of his ex, feeling the need to have him close, to reassure him and love him as only he could do.

Patton knows very well that a guy like Logan doesn’t deserve someone like him, a whiner who still gets excited about Disney movies and love comedies and still dreams an "And they all lived happily ever after.", he deserves much more, someone who knows how to satisfy him with more real and tangible dreams and objectives, someone more rational and in his league; and yet Patton cannot help but continue to love him in spite of all that they went through, despite the fact that his heart is fragmented and destroyed like the bottle he threw to the ground.

 Baby, you look happier, you do

I knew one day you'd fall for someone new

but if he breaks your heart like lovers do

Just know that I'll be waiting here for you

 Remembering a few days prior, Logan's genuine smile and his loving gaze towards the purple-haired stranger, Patton promises himself, this time genuinely and from the depths of his broken heart that, in case Logan decides to return to him, he’ll wait for him with a smile: a smile even bigger than the two of them put together.

#thomas sanders #thomas sanders fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sdies fanfic #logicality #implied analogical #break up #angst #angst and feels #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #happier #song fic #ed sheeran #logic #morality #anxiety #creativity

[historyrepeatsitself-phff]

Chapter Ninety-Four

“Thank you for coming here today, Lydia,” Edward said, getting to his feet to show the latest applicant for the role of Grace’s nanny to the door. “It has been lovely chatting to you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Emmy blurted after them. Harry shot her an amused look as Edward showed the young girl, Lydia, out of the office. As soon as the door was closed, Emmy burst into excitement. “I like her! I want her! She’s the one!”

“Geez, Em, are you hiring her or marrying her?” Harry teased, but he was grinning; he could tell throughout the entirety of the interview that Emmy liked Lydia, and he had to agree that she was the nicest one that they had interviewed. Although only young, she had an impressive resume and had worked for a few important families – all of which had spoken highly of her in her references.

“She was so nice!” Emmy said. “So nice! I really, really like her! And I know Grace will too, she’s lovely!”

Edward returned then, and he looked unamused. “Well, I told her we’d be in touch but somehow I think she already knows she got the job after the way you acted, Emmy. Way to be subtle.”

“Emmy doesn’t know the meaning of subtle,” Harry stated, as Emmy pouted at the secretary.

“Can you cancel the rest of the interviews, I think we found the one?” Emmy said to him, looking hopeful.

Edward looked shocked, as though she had just suggested murder. “Are you out of your mind? Someone better might be coming along.”

“Oh but Edward!” she complained. “Lydia was perfect!”

Edward turned his head. “Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, Emmy. They might work on Harry but they don’t work on me.”

“They don’t work on me,” Harry said, outraged. “I’m the one who taught her them!”

“It’s not rocket science, Harry, everyone can widen their eyes to get what they want,” she retorted, rolling her eyes at him. Then she turned back to Edward. “Pleaaaaaaaase.”

Edward scowled at her, and he crossed his arms across his chest. “No. Now you better get ready, the next interviewee will be here in a moment.”

Emmy huffed, falling back into her chair and pouting to herself. Harry and Edward shared a look, Harry amused, Edward exasperated.

“We could all be going home now, you know,” she said airily. “Just hire Lydia and let’s be done with all this interview crap.”

“Hey, at least you don’t need to be here for the PO interviews tomorrow,” Harry pointed out. “You have it easy.”

“Hardly!” she cried, shocked. “I’d be happy to swap with you and you go and launch the summer holidays reading challenge with Camilla while I stay here and do fuck all.”

He looked mock-outraged. “Fuck all? I’ll have you know I’ll be listening very intently to all the questions Rick asks the applicants.”

She scoffed but looked away before his teasing expression made her melt, just as Edward went to receive the next interviewee.

A few hours later, Harry and Emmy traipsed across the grass back to Nottingham Cottage. The sun was setting, the evening was warm and the house was quiet as they snuck back in. Claire was sat in the living room, and she looked up as they entered.

“Grace is asleep,” she said. “How were the interviews?”

“Good,” Harry said. “I’m sure Emmy will tell you how amazing the new nanny is.”

“Oh yeah?” Claire turned to Emmy and was happy to see her practically bouncing with excitement at discussing Lydia with her. “He or she?”

“She! Her name’s Lydia, she’s twenty-five years old and she’s just finished working part-time for the Camerons. She’s lovely-”

Harry chuckled to himself, leaving them to discuss the new addition to the team to go and check on Grace. He found his daughter dozing in her cot, her blond hair looking so soft, her expression so peaceful. He smiled down at her.

“You’re going to like your new nanny, baby, yes you are,” he whispered. “She’s lovely. Not as lovely as Mummy, but she’s lovely and she’ll take care of you when we’re both busy, yes she will.”

He sighed then, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the wooden side of the cot. It had been a long day and he was tired, especially at the thought of another day of interviews ahead of him. He had thought that hiring the nanny and Grace’s PO at the same time would be a good thing, but now he hated Edward for deciding to do it this way.

He couldn’t wait for the following day to be over.

The following day came and went – Emmy launched the Summer Holidays Reading Challenge within London libraries with Camilla; Harry, Edward and Rick interviewed prospective POs for Grace (and decided on a 38-year-old man named Kieran) and Grace was babysat by Taylor, who took her out shopping and spoilt her with new babygros.

And then the day after was a nice day for Harry and Emmy – they were both attending Ascot with some of Harry’s family, and it was a great opportunity to get dressed up, to act sophisticated and then to come home and have messy sex.

“You look beautiful,” Harry observed, as he offered Emmy a hand to help her out of the car. She spared him a breathless smile, unable to put into words how handsome he looked in his three-piece suit and top-hat.

“Yes yes, everyone is very attractive,” Edward muttered impatiently. “Ah, Miguel! Did you discuss it with them?”

The three of them turned – four, as Claire also got out of the car – to see William’s private secretary Miguel approaching.

“I did, they think it is a great idea,” Miguel observed. “There’s been far too much tension lately, they’re happy to dispel these rumours.”

Emmy raised an eyebrow at that. Happy?

On the journey there, Edward had told Harry and Emmy that they were to spend most of the day in the company of William and Kate. They were to have a good time, to laugh with each other and have fun and make it look like they were thoroughly enjoying spending time together so that the papers would not continue to portray the two duchesses as being at each other’s throats.

“So we’re pretending to like each other?” Emmy had said sceptically. “You realise that means that we don’t actually like each other, don’t you?”

“Well, stop fighting with Kate and we won’t have a problem,” Edward had replied.

“Get her to stop having a problem with me, and then we’ll stop fighting,” Emmy had retorted, and Edward hadn’t answered that.

Now, they followed Miguel through into the royal enclosure. “They’re just through here,” Miguel said, then called, “William?”

“Over here,” William said, smiling as he met them half-way. “Harry, Emmy.”

Harry smiled at his brother, before stepping past him to kiss Kate in greeting. Emmy perched on her tiptoes to receive William’s peck to her cheek too, before she faced Kate.

“Hi,” she said, remembering to smile as naturally as possible and keep the dislike out of her face.

“Hello, you look lovely,” Kate said, and it was disconcerting how genuine her voice sounded, how easily she kept the hatred from her eyes.

“Thank you, so do you,” Emmy said. “Very lacy, it’s a nice dress.”

Kate smiled. “And I like yours. Who is it?”

“Ted Baker,” she replied, keeping it civil. “Yours?”

“McQueen,” Kate said, smiling again. Emmy nodded, while in her head she was slightly smug that she would no doubt be praised for choosing a cheaper designer while Kate had gone for the very-expensive Alexander McQueen once more.

Stop, Emmy, she thought. You are pitting yourself against her. How will you ever be friends if even you are trying to be better than her?

Emmy shrugged off the nagging. She couldn’t help it if she were better at her job than Kate.

“I hear you’ve finally caved in to hiring a nanny,” Kate said, and Emmy could sense the smugness in her voice.

“Hmm, we’ve realised that Harry and I aren’t spending much time together cause one of us is always babysitting while the other is out,” she replied coolly, refusing to acknowledge that Kate had been right. “So we decided to hire one.”

“Is she nice?” William asked Emmy; he didn’t seem to be treating her with the same dislike that he was shooting Harry’s way.

“Could be a he,” Harry grumbled.

William raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“No, her name’s Lydia and she’s lovely,” Emmy explained.

“Did she go to Norland College?” Kate asked. “Maria might know her.”

“No, she has minimal qualifications actually,” Harry said. “But her experience is incredible. And she is lovely.”

Kate was looking at them with contempt. “You have hired a non-qualified person to take care of your daughter? Why on Earth? She is your daughter!”

Emmy flared up. “Honestly? We interviewed people from that college that Maria went to and they all seemed very robotic. Or rude and bossy. They were expecting to spend all of their time with Grace, and we’d just see her every now and again. Although, I suppose that’s why you liked Maria-”

Kate opened her mouth to retort as her face contorted with rage, but Edward grabbed Emmy’s arm and quickly pulled her and Harry away, saying, “You need to say hello to your grandmother.”

“Emmy,” Edward hissed, once they were out of earshot. “What was that?!”

“I just can’t, Edward,” she snapped. “I can’t deal with them judging us for every single thing we do differently.”

“That insult was unnecessary,” Edward shot.

Emmy looked at Harry, desperate for defence, and Harry sighed. “Ed, you don’t realise how difficult this is. They insult us without directly insulting us, and then we’re the bad guys-”

“Yes, because you should both just bite your tongues. And do you realise how bad that looked just then? I had to drag you away, if any photographer saw that it is going to cause hell for us.”

“Let it,” Harry said.

“Harry, this is just going to exacerbate this feud!”

“I don’t care, Ed, as long as we come out on top.”

“And you think you will?” Edward asked. “You think that’s a given, is it? What happens when William and Kate start playing dirty?”

“It’s too late for that,” Harry dismissed. “Kate would have to start doing work and Emmy’s already got a running head start in that sense.”

“Harry! Emmy!”

They both turned to see Beatrice coming towards them, and Emmy broke into a smile, desperate to break away from Edward’s chastising. “Hi, Bea. You look lovely!”

“Thanks, so do you, although no surprises there,” Beatrice said, with a giggle. She turned to look at Dave as he joined them. “So, how’s my adorable little goddaughter?”

“She’s good, she’s doing great. She’s with Taylor today.”

“Emmy,” Edward called. “You need to come and meet The Queen now.”

Emmy waved a hand to show she’d heard then turned back to Beatrice and rolled her eyes. “I wish I were you. You can do what you want.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow as she scoffed. “You’d think, wouldn’t you?” And she cast a look at Dave who was now over talking to some other gentlemen. Emmy wanted to push and find out more, make sure her friend was doing okay, but Edward called her again and she had no choice but to join her husband and his incredibly annoying secretary.

“Edward, you are pissing me off today,” she said through gritted teeth, as he began to lead the way through the royal enclosure towards where Elizabeth would be. Harry entwined his fingers with hers as he chuckled.

Edward threw a scowl over his shoulder at her. “You’ll thank me when the press stop comparing you and Kate.”

“Will I? Cause recently all they’ve been doing is complementing me for it.”

Harry squeezed her hand, and she looked up at him, expecting him to say something but instead all he did was smile. She knew that was his way of telling her to stop arguing with Edward.

“Now,” Edward said sternly, ignoring her reply. “Once you’ve greeted your grandmother, you’re going to go back over and spend the first couple of races with William and Kate. I don’t care whether you want to or not, we really need to dispel these rumours.”

And with that, now that Elizabeth had come into view a few feet away, Edward gave them both a stern look and then moved away, leaving them to it for a bit until he was needed again.

Emmy scowled in his wake. “He’s so annoying.”

Harry chuckled, his hand going to the small of her back and gently directing her back towards his grandmother, waiting as she finished the conversation she was having with a group of old, besuited gentlemen. “He’s just looking out for us.”

“I know, but he’s being so bossy,” she said, with a pout.

“Hopefully everything he’s saying will work,” Harry said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

The rest of the day was as pleasant as it could be with them spending most of it in the company of William and Kate. They were civil, but none of them could forget the insults that had been thrown around between them. The cameras got several pictures of them talking, even one of Kate and Emmy forcing themselves to laugh together, and by the end of the day Edward and Miguel were very happy with how it had gone, and Emmy was simply looking forward to coming to Ascot again the following day and finally having the chance to enjoy it for once.

The next day was very sunny, and Emmy felt a thrill go through her as she was led towards the royal enclosure at Ascot. It was Ladies’ day, and all around were bright and beautifully dressed women.  Kate was not there today, so there was no need to stress about her, and Emmy could already see Zoe and Lizzie in the royal enclosure.

Beside her, Claire walked silently, wearing her own sophisticated outfit.

“Don’t forget that if you see Beatrice today you need to curtsey to her because Harry isn’t here,” she reminded her gently.

“Oh yeah, that stupid rule,” Emmy said, with a roll of her eyes. “I wish when I wasn’t being a royal I didn’t have to do all that other royal stuff. I mean, this is my day off!”

Claire looked at her for a moment. “Royal isn’t your job, Emmy. It’s your title.”

“I know, I know.”

“A lot of people would kill to be in your position,” she added.

“Only so they could sleep with Harry every night,” Emmy replied, grinning.

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

The two of them shared a laugh; they came into view of the photographers then and were suddenly doused in flashes. Emmy blinked, managing a smile for them.

“Emmy,” one of them called. “You look lovely!”

She laughed lightly. “Well, thank you.” She’d been slightly nervous about her outfit – she’d decided to go for a two-piece, a crop top and a long skirt so that her midriff was on show. She supposed, since she wasn’t here in an official capacity, and since she’d been wearing the boringest-frumpiest clothes she could manage after the palace told her off, she should be allowed to wear something a bit different, just this once.

How wrong she was.

She got home that evening, feeling tipsy from the champagne and elated from the good day she’d had. Harry was sat on the sofa, typing away on his laptop; he looked up when she came in, but she was too happy to notice how troubled he looked.

“Hello!” she sang, hurrying over to him and pushing the computer aside so she could fall into his lap.

“Hi,” he managed, before she’d wrapped her arms round his neck and forced her mouth onto his. She kissed him deeply, then giggled lightly into him. “Good day?”

“Oh the very best,” she said, kissing him some more before moving in his hold so that she was straddling him. “But you know what would’ve made it better?”

“If I was there?” he guessed, with a grin.

“Full of yourself!” she gasped, then giggled. “I’d rather I was full of you, you know.”

He chuckled at her pathetic pick-up line. “Em, I’m busy right now.”

“Yes you are,” she said, wiggling her backside so she sank harder into his lap. She kissed him again, a messy kiss that started to move down his neck. “You know what I’ve decided?”

“What’s that?” He was remaining very calm and focused, not fazed in the slightest by the fact that she was basically grinding on him.

“Next year, I want you to fuck me at Ascot.”

It was taking all of his might not to give in to her, but he knew that her happiness would be short lived. “Well, I’ll start preparing for next year then.”

“We should get practice!” she said, her voice rising an octave. “Hey!” She pulled his face back round as he tried to look over at his laptop. “What is it? Are you watching porn?!”

She was teasing. He rolled his eyes. “Why would I watch porn when you’re on the verge for stripping for me right now?”

“You want me to strip for you?” Her eyes lit up, and she jumped up. “Okay!” She moved to stand in front of him, but he grabbed her wrists.

“No, Emmy. I’m busy right now. Why don’t you go and get changed into something more comfy?”

She pouted at him. “You mean…nothing at all?”

“No, I mean some pyjamas or something. I’m in the midst of several e-mail conversations and I need to reply to one now.”

“Why? What’s happened now?”

He hesitated, then said, “You went to Ascot looking like that.”

Her bubbliness from the bubbles disappeared instantly. “What do you mean?” she said, somewhat coldly.

“They don’t like it.”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“No I fucking don’t, Harry!” she snapped. “I keep hearing these mysterious ‘they’ referred to and I don’t know who the fuck they are! Why don’t they like my outfit?! I’ve spent the last three months wearing boring clothes for them! And then, just this once…” She trailed off, upset.

“I’m trying to sort it, but they’re not happy,” he said. “They’re dealing with a lot of backlash.”

“From who?”

“The press,” he said, the ‘duh’ in his voice. “Today…hasn’t been a good day for you.”

She slowly sank onto the sofa beside him. “What do you mean?” she asked in a small voice.

“Well, we went yesterday. That’s normal, most of my family went yesterday. But then you went today too, and not in an official capacity. They’re saying you’re turning into a bit of a socialite.”

“What?” she whispered.

“It’s made worse by the fact that Kate made a surprise visit to one of her charities today,” he explained. “So, in the battle of the duchesses – so they’re calling it – she came out on top.”

“Is this it, now? Every time I do anything, I’m just going to be compared to her?”

“I think it’s just because it’s all fresh, you know? They didn’t believe us yesterday when we spoke to them. The headlines weren’t complementary, they saw right through us. ‘Fake smiles’ one of them called it.”

Emmy glanced at the laptop. “And that’s what you’ve been doing today?”

“Trying to sort it all. Edward and I have just been getting e-mail after e-mail from Granny’s office, wanting explanations, demanding copies of timetables, sending copies of clothing etiquette and the likes. It’s been tedious.”

“Is Edward angry at me?”

“Of course not,” he replied, reaching over to give her knee a squeeze. “You’re doing you. We’ll sort it.”

She sat back, fighting tears. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get this life right, could she?

“Hey, just ignore them? We’ll sort it.”

She nodded, turning her head away. “I’m just going to go get changed.” And she jumped to her feet and hurried from the room.

“Emmy!” he called after her. But she didn’t stop. She dashed upstairs and locked the bathroom door so she could cry to herself in peace.

There were so many different emotions. She couldn’t do anything right, she just kept letting everyone down, she was rubbish at this job – and she was so furious at Kate for doing what she’d done. She’d obviously decided to make an ‘unannounced’ visit because she knew Emmy would be slated for it.

Well, if that was the case. Emmy would show her. She was so tired of trying to keep in Kate’s good books, of worrying what Kate would do or say to her.

She would them all who was the better Duchess. She was going to get to the point where they would need her more than she needed them. And then she was going to show them that they couldn’t control her anymore.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and forced herself to think positive.

#historyrepeatsitself phff #Prince Harry #prince harry fanfiction #prince harry fanfic #royalfanficcentral