#Teeth in a day Bangor

[northdowndental-123]

Same day teeth Bangor

Same-day teeth in Bangor refer to dental treatment options where patients can receive new teeth or dental restorations in a single day, reducing the wait time for permanent solutions and minimizing the need for multiple visits.

[ikkaku-of-heart]

Joras Dogs Headcanons

Dogs are highly beloved on the island of Joras and have been ever since the old days when the island was known as Innsmouth and Merfolk still lived in Amity Bay. While the locals have started to forsake their old traditions and beliefs, love and respect for dogs remain. There are three breeds of dogs that can be found on Joras.

Newfies are guardian dogs who have lived in the coastal towns and aided sailors and dockworkers for as long as anyone can remember, being great swimmers who will quickly rescue anyone in danger of drowning. There has also always been a Newfie or two living with the Light Keeper, helping protect and guide them as their master keeps the light burning. They are loving and friendly, but when their humans are threatened their barks can shake a house's foundation and their teeth can break bones and tear off limbs. They are occasionally mistaken for small bears by outsiders. Ikkaku grew up with one named Neptune who was basically her protector as a child.

Borzoi are more commonly found more inland, typically around the mansions of Bangor Crater and the city of Arkham. They're hunting dogs with a keen sense of sight and smell, and it's not uncommon to see one sprinting through the apple orchards in pursuit of something. They are also treated as status symbols as they're mainly owned by the upper class, both old money and new, but if a borzoi decides to call the home of a poor family theirs, no one would dare take the dog away, as they're considered very good judges of character and most would assume their former rich owner was unworthy of its loyalty.

There are only a few corgis on Joras, but they are beloved in the town of Dunwich as they are owned by the mayor's family. The most prominent of them is a female corgi named Molly, who can be seen strutting through town like she's the one in charge and has even been known to sit in on important meetings with her owner and asked for her approval on laws and addendums.

[rabbitcruiser]

Paul Bunyan Day

North American folklore is replete with stories of larger-than-life figures, but none of them stands taller than the giant lumberjack Paul Bunyan, who is said to have traveled around the continent with Babe, his big blue ox. Many cities and states across the United States pay tribute to Bunyan, some have put up statues of him, and some also claim him to be their native son. Some areas where Bunyan is prominently featured include Bemidji, Brainerd, and Akeley, in Minnesota; Bangor, Maine; and locations in Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, and California. On Paul Bunyan Day, his legend is not only celebrated in these locations but all around the world.

Today’s observance is particularly tied to Bangor, Maine. Residents claim Bunyan was born in the woods outside of the city on February 12, 1834. Coincidentally, this is also the date that Bangor was incorporated. A 31-foot statue of Bunyan stands in front of the Cross Insurance Center on Main Street. It was gifted to the city by the New York-based model-making company Messmore & Damon on the occasion of the 125th birthday of Bunyan and the city. A time capsule is enshrined within it which will be opened 125 years after it was placed there, on February 12, 2084.

Throughout history, the story of Paul Bunyan has changed and grown until becoming what it is today. One account says that Bunyan was based on Fabian “Joe” Fournier, a French-Canadian logger who moved to Michigan after the American Civil War. Known as Saginaw Joe, he was strongly built, had giant hands, and was six feet in height. Rumor has it that he also had two sets of teeth. It is believed that he died in 1875 after being hit in the back of the head with a mallet during a fight in Bay City, Michigan. After his death and the trial of his alleged killer, stories about him started turning into tales.

At some point, the story of Fournier combined with that of Bon Jean, a French-Canadian war hero, and the story of Bunyan was further solidified. Bon Jean had played a role in the Papineau Rebellion in Canada in 1837. Bunyan’s name also comes from Bon Jean. Stories of Paul Bunyan, which were full of hyperbole and exaggerations, proliferated by word of mouth, being passed from generation to generation in logging communities and amongst lumberjacks in the United States and Canada.

Written stories about Bunyan started appearing in the early twentieth century. One of the first stories to appear in print, titled “Round River,” was written by James MacGillivray and was printed in a local newspaper in Oscoda, Michigan, in 1906. Four years later, MacGillivray shared a collection of stories about Bunyan when working at the Detroit News Tribune. Bunyan got his first national print exposure in 1912 when MacGillivray and a poet collaborated to create a poem for Lumberman magazine that was inspired by the lumberjack.

In 1914, William Laughead—a logger and advertising manager of the Red River Lumber Company—depicted Bunyan in his company’s advertising pamphlets. This was the first time Bunyan was depicted in illustrations, and they helped to spread his story across the United States. Laughead’s illustrations also showcased Babe the blue ox and gave her her name.

There are many legends surrounding Bunyan. It is said that he started the logging profession in the United States and that he hired large men who cleared large forests across the continent with him and Babe. It is said that his and Babe’s footprints created Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes, that he created the Great Lakes so Babe had a place to drink, that he formed the Grand Canyon by dragging his axe, that he made Mount Hood by piling up stones to extinguish a campfire, that he cleared all of South and North Dakota for farming, and that he was able to eat 50 pancakes a minute. These are all quite impressive feats. Today we celebrate the giant lumberjack behind them.

How to Observe Paul Bunyan Day

Celebrate all things Paul Bunyan today. Here are some ideas to get you started:

Visit one of the many Paul Bunyan statues. Some locations where you can find statues include Portland, Bangor, Bemidji, Brainerd, Akeley, Klamath, and Cheshire. It would be especially appropriate to visit the statue in Bangor today, on the anniversary of the city’s founding and the date on which they claim Paul Bunyan was born. See if there are any Paul Bunyan Day celebrations taking place in Bangor or in any other city.

Ride Paul Bunyan’s Log Chute in the Mall of America.

Visit the Paul Bunyan Logging Camp Museum in Eau Claire.

Make and eat some flapjacks.

Make a pilgrimage to Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty in Wisconsin Dells or Minocqua.

Watch the 1958 short film Paul Bunyan, the 1995 film Tale Tale, or the 2017 animated film Bunyan & Babe.

Tell stories around a campfire.

Read books and stories about Paul Bunyan. Some examples include The Marvelous Exploits of Paul Bunyan by William Laughead, Paul Bunyan Swings His Axe by Dell J. McCormick, and Paul Bunyan by Esther Shephard.

Source

[adareynolds]

OPEN STARTER.​

location: outside of the diner

time: afternoon

when ada jolted awake from her day-dream, she was unsure of the time and almost certain she could not place the day of the week either. it was as if she had been sleepwalking for who knew how long, and only the piercing sound of a fire alarm could have awaken her in this way. chills ran down her spine as she instinctively stood up straight, heading towards the kitchen whilst supporting herself on the always-slightly-greasy countertop where the register had stood for years. she swallowed hard, cold sweat forming on her top lip. when she got to the kitchen, the chef was already balancing on a chair and trying to turn off the awful beeping sound which was drilling into ada’s ears with such force that her nails were digging into her skin. it wasn’t until ada locked eyes with the chef that she realised how alerted her expression must have been, and his embarrassed apology, filled with sympathy and that terrible twinge of pity, made her feel sick to her stomach. she took a sharp breath and broke eye contact, her feet quickly guiding her towards the back door. she could feel the chef’s eyes on her as she passed him. “ learn not to fucking burn food, will you ? “ she muttered, teeth firmly pressed together.

ada flung the door open forcefully, letting the air in her lungs form a visible cloud in front of her eyes and take to the blue sky. as the door shut behind her with a thud, she leaned against the cold metal and tilted her head back. her eyes were squeezed tight as she swore under her breath, repeating the very same mantra she had for the past five years - the only thing that had kept her sane for all that time. “ auburn, augusta, bangor, bath ... “ suddenly, she felt eyes on her yet again. and this time, as she opened hers to look at the person in front of her, she made sure they couldn’t see the same vulnerability the chef had. “ can I help you ? “ she asked, though it was less of a question and more of a firm encouragement to leave her alone. if it hadn’t been for the apron she still had on, her words would have surely been chosen less carefully.

[athenaquinn]

Enough for You || Orion & Athena (flashback)

TIMING: January 2012 LOCATION: A forest in White Crest PARTIES: @3starsquinn​ and @athenaquinn​ SUMMARY: The twins give each other a lot of annoyed glances. CONTENT: Physical abuse, emotional abuse, domestic abuse, sibling abuse (if you want a summary, please let one of us know!)

It was quiet tonight. Or maybe Orion’s hearing wasn’t working. He never really knew, especially considering it had just started. His mom had been so excited by the news, but Rio couldn’t only remember the pain. He had been in class trying to listen to his teacher talking about biology when an ear splitting scream suddenly disrupted any coherent mental notes that Rio had been taking on the subject. It had been so loud, so guttural, that Rio was half convinced it had come from the kid sitting right next to him. His head shot from side to side, a terrible realization coming over him as he realized that nobody else was reacting to the sound. Why wasn’t anybody reacting to the sound? As quickly as it was there, it was gone. And it was another moment or two before it suddenly came back. But this time he could hear the sounds of car horns as well. And then sirens. Rio barely had time to ask for permission before rushing out of the classroom and to the nearest bathroom to lock himself in a stall. He huddled on the seat, covering his ears with the palms of his hands in a desperate and futile attempt to block out the noise. It didn’t take long for him to connect the dots. His parents had been telling him and his sister about this for years now. These abilities. ‘Gifts’ as they called them. Rio wasn’t convinced they were gifts, even as young as he was, he didn’t like them. He knew what this meant. He hated it.

His family however, wanted to celebrate. It had only been a couple of days since he told his parents and they were ecstatic by the news. His senses had been on a seesaw since then. Sometimes he could hear his neighbors from three doors down and other times he couldn’t hear his own sister calling for him from her bedroom. One morning he could read a bulletin board from the opposite end of the hallway or he could smell food that someone had eaten for breakfast. It was overwhelming. All he wanted was for it to stop. Instead, his parents decided to take them on a field trip.

“These woods are incredibly dangerous at night. I know neither of you are stupid enough to think otherwise.” His mother’s lukewarm warning spoke to her children, following behind the Quinn parents as they walked through the forest in the middle of the night. In response, Rio felt his chest tighten. He clawed at the sleeves of his hoodie, pulling his fingers inside of them and further hiding them by stuffing his arms in the middle pocket. He wanted to shrink away from his parents, from his sister who seemed far too eager to be out in the middle of the night in winter. He wished that he could have played sick. He didn’t want to be here and he definitely didn’t want to find anything.

“I’m cold,” Rio mumbled, but he knew his parents would hear him. That was the last thing he actually wanted to whine about tonight, but this seemed like the safest option. Complaining about anything else risked annoying his parents. They were already deadly serious when out on a hunt. He didn’t want to give them any other reason to be upset.

___

Her brother was maybe actually possibly agreeing to his powers. Athena couldn’t believe it. In fact, she was practically over the moon about it, vibrating in a good way for once (so much so that all the stupid fae that were in the school didn’t even bother her) when he’d mentioned it to her. He used to complain about the noise of the bright neon signs at the mall in Bangor but for the most part he usually tended to totally ignore his super-awesome-brilliant abilities. Maybe she wouldn’t be totally left on her own, if he was really ready to actually admit that their powers were good. He liked superhero movies and comics and even though Athena didn’t understand any of those very well at all, if he liked those sort of things, shouldn’t he like his own powers?

Their parents wanted to take them out, and so Athena had been certain to finish all of her homework early. There was only a paper for geography and some write-up for science class, both of which were way too easy, but it got her straight A’s in school, so she knew that she really shouldn’t complain. Besides, even though she’d helped out her dad in the basement sometimes, it took a lot to get both of their parents to invite them out and even though it was in the middle of winter and really super cold, she didn’t mind. She’d even decided to wear her brand new Abercrombie jeans and her new favorite sweater and one of the best coats she had.

This was all special and she didn’t understand why her brother had to be such a grump about it. “You can play whatever video game you like later, you know.” She knocked against him with her hips as they began to walk into the woods. They didn’t get to stay up this late, basically ever, except when they did so on their own on their birthday, but this was different. Even if she was shivering, she did her best to not show it. That was weak, and she knew how much her parents loathed weakness. At least she’d won the pacer test every year in gym class and was her soccer coach’s favorite player and got all A’s. She just wished that her brother would try a little harder.

“Of course!” She chirped in response to their mother’s words. Of course she knew. She’d read about so much, though at least there were no fae right here and right now. That would have ruined this wonderful-amazing-perfect family outing. She looked over to her brother, pursuing her lips for a moment. “Come on Ri, it’ll be just fine. Also wear more of a coat next time! Do you wanna borrow my scarf?” She took it off and threw it at him. “It’s extra cozy. Maybe it’ll bring you some luck, too!” She didn’t know how much of that she believed, but she did know that when it came to hunting, her brother could use all the help he could get. Especially because he so often liked to miss their trainings, leaving her to do double the work. Not that she minded.

___

“Don’t argue with your mother. Or your sister.” His father’s words were tired and sounded distant. Clearly his mind was on other things, as usual. Orion gritted his teeth and averted his eyes to the ground. There was no point in arguing that he wasn’t arguing. That would only make his parents angry. He jerked when a scarf smacked him in his face. His hands shot up to catch it so that it wouldn’t fall on the ground. He could only imagine how his sister would react to dirt on her scarf. Though he didn’t want to accept his sister’s pathetic attempt at appeasing him, Rio begrudgingly wrapped it around his neck.

The pair couldn’t be more different. His sister was practically glowing, dressed head to toe in an all new outfit and walking with a level of confidence that most adults didn’t have. She was absolutely beaming at the idea of coming along with their parents. She worshipped the ground that they walked on and was already dead set on becoming exactly like them when she was older. She had already made a top ten list for medical schools. Rio on the other hand had kept on the same worn sweatpants and hoodie that he had been wearing when he woke up that morning. He was shrinking in on himself, trying to force his body into its smallest and least noticeable form possible. If he was lucky, he might disappear entirely. Unlike his sister, nothing seemed so absolute. He had no interest in being here. He wasn’t convinced that anything his parents said or did was as noble as they claimed it was and he could barely think about what he wanted to do for the rest of the week let alone the future.

He didn’t want to admit that the scarf had actually helped fight the cold a bit, but he tightened it around his neck a bit and crossed his arms to hold the ends in place. “What are we even out here looking for?” Rio asked, immediately met with shushes from both of his parents. He cringed at the sudden sound and made a mental note to only speak in whispers for the remainder of the night. Maybe time. “I don’t think there’s anything here. Maybe we should just leave.”

___

She couldn’t help the smug smile that covered her lips. Daddy’s always right, she wanted to whisper to her brother, but that might displease their parents, and so she kept her mouth shut - at least on that topic, at least for now. Maybe the scarf would shut her brother up. Not that he was being very talkative, but Athena didn’t like when he got into one of his moods, which seemed to be happening more and more in the past couple of years. At least he’d taken her scarf. At least she could count that on her win. My brother listened to me about something for once. She watched her breath form small cloud-puffs in the cold night air. She liked it, liked that her nose was cold - though it wasn’t as satisfying as how she felt when she went for a long run in the cold, the way that it made her throat ache just enough. That felt powerful.

Her brother always seemed small. Even though he’d started to grow taller than she was, he always seemed to shrink away. She’d noticed it at school - which was part of why she’d taken it upon herself to make - no, ask him persuasively - to sit with her and her friends at lunch. Which he agreed to, when he wasn’t off at the library. She had to admit that she also really liked the library, but hanging out with her friends a lot didn’t always leave time to wander around the stacks. It didn’t matter much anyways, she still got perfect (or near-perfect, when her brother beat her on a history test) grades. She’d still get into all of her med schools. She just hoped her brother would figure out what he was doing with his life sometime. Prayed that he’d come to accept his gift.

“I don’t know, but that’s part of the thrill of it, isn’t it?” She giggled, just quiet enough that only her brother would hear. “We don’t know what we’re walking into, and so we’re going to have to think on our feet.” She grinned at her brother. That got some affirmative murmurs from their parents. “There’s gotta be something, come on! Just give it a little more time. I’ll make you extra-good breakfast in the morning.” The last sentence whispered just between the two of them. Anything to make him see that all this could lead to good things. That was part of her duty, as sister and hunter. He’d see someday, that much she knew.

___

“Yeah. Thrilling.” Orion whispered, so quiet he wasn’t convinced he had said any words at all. Of course Athena would be excited at the idea of this. She had no regard for self preservation. Did she not care at all how dangerous it could be out here? That didn’t even take into consideration what they were out here to do. Rio knew there was more to what they were being taught. His parents had been very forthcoming with their descriptions of fae and werewolves. But Rio knew something was wrong. Something that he wasn’t being told. He couldn’t question them on it though, that much he knew for sure. He would have rolled his eyes at his parents praising Athena if he wasn’t afraid that they’d somehow hear it. As per usual, Athena was completely oblivious to just how terrified Rio was. Either that, or she just didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that her legitimately thinking that breakfast was going to motivate him, she was even more dense than he had previously thought. He narrowed his eyes towards her and tightened his arms against his chest before picking up his speed so that he was no longer walking beside her.

That didn’t last as long as he would have liked it to. There was a sound. Farther out in the woods and in a direction that Rio’s erratic senses couldn’t pinpoint. But it had definitely been there, and confirmed that the four were not alone. Rio froze completely, too afraid to say anything. If he was lucky, he had been the only one that heard it. But he knew his mom better than that. Plus, he was never that lucky. When he finally built up the courage to look over at his family, he could tell immediately that his mom was on high alert. And it looked like she even knew which direction the sound had come from. Heart plummeting out of his chest, Rio didn’t know what to do.  He didn’t want whatever was out there to find them. Or rather, he wasn’t sure he wanted the Quinn family to find them. It wasn’t safe, for anyone involved. Rio hated that terrified feeling. He hated being in danger.

We’re going to have to think on our feet. Athena’s words stuck in Rio’s brain. Maybe she had a better point than Rio was giving her credit for. He did need to think on his feet. He finally forced himself to move, sliding his foot over and finding a twig to step down on. He started off slow, pressing down on it ever so gently and listening to the send of the twig bend and twist against its will before finally snapping. He winced at the sudden sound, instantly regretting the choice. But his parents did nothing besides shoot a look over towards him and Athena. Bingo. If he could get the attention of whatever was out in the woods, maybe it would go away. Then there wouldn’t be any danger at all. If only he could make sure that it heard the noise. He glanced at the ground, finding another piece of wood and readjusting his step to repeat the same process again. The branch snapped with a crunch, and before Rio could even react his mother had spun around just as quickly. She smacked him across the face quickly and efficiently, the force of it pushing Rio over and causing him to fall into the leaves. He brought his hand to his cheek immediately to survey the damage. It stung to the touch and felt like it had already begun swelling. “Shut up!” She hissed at him, pointing at him and forcing him to cower further. His cheek hurt so badly that all Rio wanted to do was cry, but he knew that would only make it worse. Instead, a silent stream of tears ran down his face as he clamped his mouth shut to avoid any further noise. His mother recovered quickly, turning away from him and speaking to their father, “That might have gotten it’s attention. We will need to move quickly to catch it. Do you sense anything?”

___

“Well, get a thesaurus and pick another term if you don’t like the one I chose.” Athena hissed back. She didn’t like how her brother just wanted to ruin everything. It was one thing when he beat her in chess but this was something entirely different and something she hated even more, especially because it was supposed to be a connection between the two of them. This was a learning opportunity for the both of them, and as much as Athena loved reading everything she could in their parents’ books and journals, but there was certainly something to be said for actually learning in person. It was why she didn’t mind so much when her father asked her to come to observe his operations. It was oddly fascinating, she had to admit. Her brother started walking faster and her face contorted into a grimace, because he wasn’t supposed to do that. It was unfair and stupid and maybe he should have just stayed at home if he was going to ruin this for her. She bit her lip, then. It wasn’t fair of her to think that way. It was her job to help him accept his abilities. To gently push him along.

She didn’t hear the sound until a little after her brother must have noticed. After their mother noticed. Because their mother was one of the best and most expert hunters there ever was.  She was standing still, perfect posture, though Athena imagined that her eyes were darting around, zeroing in on wherever the thing was. She only hoped that they’d get to the creature or whatever it was before it got to them, because she very much didn’t want to die tonight, thank you very much. Years ago, if they were in this situation, she knew that she’d grab her brother’s hand and hold it tight. She had, when they were little, and she also knew that even just after they’d been born, back in the hospital, she’d sometimes cried until they put the two of them together in a bassinet.

Now wasn’t the time to focus on the past. That was useless, and made her far too soft and sentimental. Soft and sentimental didn’t get you anywhere. That was what her parents said, and so it had to be true.

Then a twig snapped and their parents looked over at the two of them. You’re gonna get the both of us in trouble, she wanted to tell him. Except she didn’t. Because that would only bring more noise, which was absolutely and entirely not needed right now. Then another branch was snapping and their mother was over near them, hitting her brother across the face. It was over before she could even say much of anything, and Athena watched their parents intently. I don’t feel anything, she wanted to say, just as she saw their father shake his head. Thank goodness. I’m not a screw up. Except that she should have been keeping a better eye on her brother. That was her job, and she was a screw up when it came to that, apparently. It wasn’t a fae or a werewolf and she tapped her fingers against her thigh - hoping that maybe it would be something even more exciting. That would make all of this more of a celebration, after all. There was another sound, closer this time - that much she could tell. If she squinted enough, it looked like there was a figure not too far away from them.

Athena took a couple steps forward, away from her brother. “I think - I saw some leaves rustling over there.” She pointed, noticing the way that her father’s lips almost curved into a smile. “What do you think, Linda?” He inquired. “That’s the right direction, isn’t it?”

___

While the rest of his family ignored him completely and stared off into the woods, Rio silently pulled himself back onto his feet. He kept his hand pressed against his cheek, careful to avoid crying. Instead, he tried to find the source of the noise that his family seemed to intent on discovering for themselves. His head drifted back and forth, staring across the treeline before finally settling on Athena as she pointed and gave away the direction. Rio scowled at her from behind as his parents made that annoyingly stoic proud face. “Good job, Athena. I heard it too. Follow me.” His mom’s voice had calmed from her previous threat hurled his way. No surprise there.

The rest of his family set off immediately, a quiet power walk across the grass as they headed towards their target. His parents didn’t even spare a glance back at him. It was the opportunity he had wanted to get away from this, but he knew he would only be in more trouble if they found out he wasn’t with them.

He kept his distance from the rest of his family, just how it was meant to be. With them miles ahead while he lagged behind. As if he needed any other reminder that he would never measure up. “I found it!” his mother shouted he broke off into a sprint, his father and sister just behind her. Begrudgingly, Rio forced himself to follow along.

The Quinns caught up with it quickly. Someone that looked like a human was running through the forest to try to get away, but his mom had cut them off, swiping out at the person’s leg. They flipped backwards and smacked against the ground. Rio gasped at the violence, but covered his mouth to muffle the sound. In one fell swoop, she reached down to grab the person and left them up by the collar of their shirt and slammed them against a tree. “You can’t run from us” his mother was smiling now, the first he had seen from her since they had left the house. Rio had no idea how she could enjoy something like this. But his eyes wouldn’t leave the horrified face of the person being held against a tree. There was a shift. Something so minimal it would have been easy to miss. Something shifted in the perception of the person. Like a green screen effect failing. Rio stared more intently as he realized what it was. An illusion. They had an illusion. And for a split second it had dropped. And Rio was almost positive of what he saw. He had never seen one in person, but he remembered reading about them. He hated how quickly this knowledge came to him. “It’s a kitsune.”

___

She couldn’t help but stand even a little straighter at her mother’s praise. It always worked that way - and Athena was acutely aware that at least part of her nearly-always-present confidence came from what her parents said. What they had said ever since she was a little girl. She probably should have paid more attention to the fact that her brother seemed hurt, but that didn’t really matter (no matter how much she loved him, there were reasons to be punished, and he’d acted out), and if she did stop to check in on him in clear sight of their parents, it wouldn’t end well for either of them. Besides, he never seemed to want her help anyhow.

She didn’t want to appear too over-eager, because she was twelve now, and that was childish. Even when she was a child, she knew that there was a fine line regarding what was acceptable and what was deemed to be too much. Even if it was about hunting, even if it was about remembering something she’d read or researched.

All of a sudden her mother began running and she took off too, though she was careful not to outpace her mother. No matter how well she was performing, she knew that that would not serve her well, nor win her any favors. She was obedient, she did as she was told and she didn’t speak out of turn - at least not to her parents. School may have been a different story, but even there she kept her mouth shut around adults. It was part of why she could get away with other things, if need be. Not that she always wanted to, but it didn’t hurt to have as an option, just in case.

They arrived at the person - no, the thing - and Athena narrowed her eyebrows, because she knew that no matter how human something looked, when it wasn’t human, it was always a trap. She would have winced at her mother slamming them up against a tree, but she didn’t do that. She didn’t cry and she didn’t throw a fit when something like this happened. It’s a kitsune. She heard her brother say, and she grinned. “Figures. You know there’s all sorts of different ones. Given the location, this one could be a forest one? Though I know it makes sense to not assume, because you never know for sure.” She looked over at her brother. “Look at you, being so helpful!” She pulled out one of her knives and held it out to him. “Do you want to borrow this?”

___

“Please don’t do this!” The kitsune screamed in protest, shut up quickly by Linda Quinn pressing her palm against the woman’s mouth and pressing against it far too tightly. Orion could see the pressure even from here. How the skin on the woman’s face started to redden around his mom’s fingers. Rio broke out in a cold sweat, his mouth going completely dry. This was wrong. This was wrong. This was wrong. His fingers curled into fists before unfurling again. He didn’t want his parents to see that. They would only take it as an act of defiance.

Yet in the middle of this, his sister had the audacity to offer a knife to him. We’re twelve years old! Don’t you see something wrong with this?! He wanted to scream those words so badly. He was almost shaking now, but still he did nothing. He didn’t move towards his parents. He didn’t take the knife. He just stood there, eyes flicking between all four people around him and begging something, anything to change.

“Excellent guess, Athena.” Linda’s voice was too casual for the situation they were in. “Orion.” His mother’s voice again, directed at him purely to egg him on. A shiver ran down Rio’s spine as his back straightened on instinct. His mother didn’t wait to see if he was listening. She knew. “What do we know about forest kitsune?” Rio didn’t say anything. His dad’s eyes locked with Rio’s and finally he shook his head. He hoped that would work as a response. It didn’t. “Answer your mom, Orion,” his dad’s voice this time. Distant as it always was.

“I don’t know.” Rio finally said out loud, his voice shaking from fear and so very quiet. It was a lie, they all must now. The only time Rio ever impressed his parents were during their little pop quizzes. He knew more about shapeshifters than even some adult hunters, they would boast. Usually at the Silver Bullet just loud enough for others to hear. Forest kitsune were in tune with nature. Able to heal plantlife and cast illusions, though this woman seemed too distressed to try to use that to get free. She had almost completely lost the illusion casting her as human.

“You’re lying.” his mother sighed, clearly disappointed in her son but seemingly unsurprised. He shook his head more ferociously this time, but the narrowed glance from his father kept him from saying anything. His mother had already moved on anyways it seemed. “Your illusion is faltering. What would it take to make you drop it completely.” her tone seemed so… playful. As if she was on the playground with friends. Cries and mumbling came from the woman’s clamped mouth, but Rio wasn’t sure anybody but him and his mom could hear them. “Let’s test it, shall we?” Linda motioned towards James who took the queue immediately to pull a knife from the bag and hand it off to his wife. Rio’s eyes grew wide, watching her spin the blade into her hand before pressing it against the woman’s gut. No. No. No! Rio took a step forward, but it was just in time for his mom to plunge the knife into the woman’s stomach.

___

She didn’t let her expression change, even as the woman - no, the kitsune - the creature - screamed. Athena just watched carefully, taking careful mental notes about the way that her mother took control of the situation, almost seamlessly. Her brother was refusing her offer of a knife and were they both alone, she might have stomped her foot, but now wasn’t the time for that. She was twelve, after all, which was practically a grown up. Though she liked to think that she’d always been advanced for her age. You couldn’t read Anna Karenina when you were only just ten and not be advanced for your age. Besides, she was always meant for something more. She and her brother both were, even if he had a harder time on the whole realizing it part of the deal.

She let the smallest of smiles cross her face as her mother affirmed her guess. It wasn’t quite praise (that was hard to come by, no matter how brilliant Athena knew she was, her parents still reserved that for select and special occasions), but it was something, and she’d take anything even close to praise - she knew it wasn’t good to be as hungry for it as she was, but she couldn’t help herself. She atoned for her excessive need for praise before, and nothing bad had ever happened as a result of it, so all was well.

Except that her brother was refusing to answer. She could hear their father’s voice pipe in, and even when it was over-even and distant, she found herself listening intently. She didn’t know quite as much about kitsune as her brother did, but she knew some things and so she pressed her hand over her mouth, because the last thing she wanted was to call out something and have her parents get mad at her. I don’t know. “As if.” Athena replied, her voice still muffled by her own hand. She didn’t know if her brother could hear her. Didn’t really care, at this point, because this was supposed to be a celebration and if he wasn’t going to take her knife then he could at least use his smarts and answer their parents.

She retrained her eyes on the creature, the illusion flickering. It would be gone, soon enough, probably. Probably because her parents always got what they wanted. Probably because this was a thing and it looked so unnatural, so inhuman and Athena finally dropped her hand from her mouth, wrinkling up her nose in disgust, though a certain element of morbid fascination always took over. It did, when she got to sometimes go and watch her father at work in the basement. It did, when she listened to her parents and to other hunters at the Silver Bullet talk about how they’d gotten rid of a creature.

Her mother’s voice was so playful and Athena made a careful note of the tone, of the fact that somehow that way of talking seemed far more effective and intimidating than yelling at the kitsune would be. She watched the exchange of the knife from her father to her mother, the way she deftly spun it around before digging it into the woman’s - no, the creature’s - stomach. There were a few other muffled gasps, garbled words that didn’t mean anything, anymore. Her mother cleaned the blade of the knife before handing it back over to her father. Both of them made their way over to where the twins were standing. “Quick and efficient can be the best way in certain circumstances.” The playfulness from earlier was all gone, and now she was all business. “We couldn’t just let her get away, as I am sure you both understand.” Athena nodded quickly, not daring to look over at her brother.

___

Those few moments after were quiet. A sharp intake of breath followed by held breath completely from both of the twins as the knife cut through the woman’s stomach. Orion kept his mouth covered and refused to let move. The woman’s muffled cries of pain and protest against his mother’s clamped hand slowly faded as her consciousness did. The only sounds left were the woman’s heartbeat, the beats becoming slowed and off beat. Soon, there wasn’t a rhythm at all. And then there was nothing. Just the dripping of blood against the root of the tree.

Another death. He knew this wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be normal to have seen this so young. He didn’t talk to many people in school, but he listened. None of them talked about death. That meant that it couldn’t be normal, right? Then why was so much of his own life surrounded by it?

His legs shook violently against his weight. Suddenly, the four were grouped together again, looking at each other. But he couldn’t hear what his mother was saying. He was looking directly at her, but couldn’t seem to make out the expression on her face. It all looked blurry, sounded blurry. The only thing that seemed in focus was the woman. She was on the ground now, slumped against the tree with a pool of blood circling the spot his mother had stabbed. Everything else sounded fuzzy, but her silence was apparent. No breaths. No heartbeat. No more muffled cries. Just silence.

He had no hope of self control at the moment. Not when his senses were going haywire. They blocked out everything except the woman, and soon Rio was completely losing it. The hyperventilating came first, something only exaggerated by the time he started panicking that he couldn’t catch his breath. Tears were shortly after that, his eyes stinging in protest as the sobbing began. He felt like he was choking. His legs finally gave out and he fell to his knees. Around him, he could hear his parents saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He wasn’t sure he could ever breathe again. It all felt hopeless. So hopeless.

___

She wanted to touch the tree. She always wanted to feel what it was like, after. After the creatures died. What was left of them, what their mark on the world was. She’d watched creatures in her dad’s operating room long after they’d died, the scent of the sterilizing materials burning her nose but in the best way possible. Athena didn’t move right now though, instead just watching, eyes wide. Eyes wide, lightly curled hair spilling around her shoulders. She liked how her family matched - all golden and bright against the dark, dark world. Nothing was ever going to change that, that much she was certain.

Except that then her brother had to go ahead and practically have a stupid panic attack. She had those, sometimes. She wasn’t supposed to, she didn’t like it, but sometimes when she thought too hard about one particular thing her heart started racing and suddenly she was tiny and in their shared childhood bedroom again, gasping for air in the middle of the night, not able to fall asleep until her brother came over. She was back, the day they’d been made to have their own rooms, whimpering because they were twins and she was supposed to be with him forever and she was a big girl but being with her brother was how it worked.

“Deal with him.” Her mother’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. She blinked. She knew what it meant. Deal with him. “Quickly, before he causes more trouble.” Without thinking, Athena whipped around and bent down, kneeling next to her brother. Slapped him across the face, twice. One on each side. Glared at him, as if to say listen to mom and dad. Don’t make this harder for us both.

___

At that moment, Orion didn’t care what attention he attracted. Whether it be his parents, the police, more supernatural creatures. Let them all come at this point. A woman was dead, a person. It didn’t matter what his parents told him. That was a human being, an innocent woman that had just been captured and gutted, ruthlessly. This wasn’t right. No matter what his parents or his grandparents or the family friends that came over for dinner parties told him. Nothing about this was right. So he would scream. He would scream and cry until somebody came to stop them. Or until they stopped hurting innocent people. Or until-

The smack took him by surprise and silenced him instantly. His panic attack had completely blocked out his senses. He had been fully unaware that his sister had knelt beside him until she had already hit him. The crying and gasping for air ceased immediately. Somehow, her attack had managed to both knock the wind out of him and help him find his breath simultaneously. Suddenly, he wasn’t concerned about the world spinning or his vision blurring because he could only focus on his cheek, stinging in agony against the already fresh bruise his mother had dealt earlier. “Ow.” was all Rio said, a mumbled phrase under his breath. He wasn’t speaking to anybody in particular, he was just too numb to think or say anything else. After, he pushed back up onto his feet. He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. His parents didn’t seem to care much, they were just thankful that he had finally shut up.

“Thank you, Athena.” His father mumbled, the notion passively doubled by their mother. Though neither seemed particularly interested in praise. They both studied the no longer breathing body on the ground. “I assume she is of no use to you?” his mother peered over at her husband, answered only by the brief shaking of his head. He was only interested in live test subjects. Twelve years old, and Rio was certain in this moment that they were monsters. “Athena, keep your brother under control. We are going to get rid of the body.”

___

She didn’t like the sound her hand made against her brother’s cheek, but it did what her parents had wanted it to do. He’d shut up and even though the response was neutral, and (as always) she found herself craving more praise from her parents, pressing her tongue firmly against the roof of her mouth, to remind herself to not not not talk, to not speak out of turn. She didn’t pay attention to the quiet ow that escaped his lips. This was a natural consequence, he knew that. She knew that. Athena gave a small tug at his scarf, as if to say ‘come on, straighten up, we’ll be done soon’. She’d been more encouraging when they were younger, but now they were twelve - and double-digits in general meant they were practically adults, and it really was time to start acting like one.

So she didn’t offer caring words to her brother because if she did that then how would he ever learn? She would have, years ago. A certain part of her still wanted to. Wanted to check in on him and make sure everything was okay. But saying sorry made you weak, and if there was one thing that Athena was not, it was weak.

She listened intently at her parents’ words. Not of use. This made sense, given how she looked, Athena didn’t figure that her father could make much use of the woman. Except that part of her wanted them to take her back, because books told her a great deal, but she’d never seen the inside of a kitsune before. Instead, at their comments, she just nodded. Firm, neutral, probably more serious than most twelve-year-olds would. As their parents retreated, she turned to face her brother again. He was getting taller than her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do her best to look him in the eye. “Come on. Just - like, I dunno, behave.” Her voice was almost whiny, a hint of actual pre-teenage-hood laced in her words. “Things work out better for you - us - if you do.”

___

How could they all think this was normal? Was Orion the crazy one? The way that his mother had so casually stabbed that woman. The way that his father and sister went along with it, walked around the body as if she wasn’t even there. How was he the only one losing his mind? It was almost enough to convince Rio that he was in the wrong somehow. His family had nothing to offer in the way of kind words or affirmation. His parents didn’t even speak directly to him, choosing to bark the order to his sister to shut him up instead. He wasn’t even worth their time.

Athena was no better, Rio decided. He had been on the fence for a long time. She had always been the golden child. Strong, smart and fearless. She never questioned them. She followed them to a fault. The two of them had been treated differently for as long as Rio could remember, but he had never settled on why. The two used to be close. They used to look out for each other. Rio always wanted to believe that she had seen that this was wrong too. Had just gone along with it because she wanted to make their parents proud. But tonight was a rude awakening. If his parents were monsters, she was no better. Give it a few years and she may actually be worse. Rio wanted nothing to do with that. Athena tugged at the scarf she had given him, and he pushed back onto his feet and tore the thing off and pushed it back into her. He’d rather freeze to death than wear anything of hers. “Whatever. I just won’t talk.” Rio stated as cold as he could manage, but his voice was still cracking.

“Pick up the pace.” His father spoke. The woman’s body was slung over his mother’s shoulders and the two were already making their way through the trees again. There was no other choice but to follow them, so he did. Though it was pitch black out, Rio could see just fine. Through a narrow path in between tree trunks, his mother and father walked side by side. Inches behind them was Athena, no doubt forcing herself to keep up right behind them. And then, trailing in the back with the distance between them only growing as the seconds passed by, was Rio. He never could quite keep up.

[chamyl]

Good Omens fic recs, part two

Find part one here!

All are completed. Sorted by rating and then by length, NSFW ones under the cut.

Entwined in Every Step I Take by Ghostinthehouse Gen, 1842 words "You do know," he said after a long moment, "that angels can sense love, don't you?" "Going to smite me down for it, angel?" "I think you're quite smitten enough, without adding to it."

Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm Gen, 99421 words As soon as Aubrey Thyme, psychotherapist, had opened her office door and seen her new client, Anthony J. Crowley, sitting in her waiting area, she was observing and assessing him. At first glance, she paid attention to the following: --His clothing was expensive and stylish; --He wore very strange but noticeable cologne; --His relationship to the seat he occupied could only, very loosely, be described as “sitting;” --He looked angry; --He was wearing sunglasses. What Aubrey Thyme, a professional, thought, upon first seeing her new client was: you’re going to be a fun one, aren’t you?

Too Generous by rfsmiley Teen and up, 1501 words “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.” Or: what happened after the [ we all got hit by a ] bus scene (aka "you could stay at my place, if you like")....

Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile Teen and up, 3608 words “Isn’t this nice?” says Aziraphale with badly feigned casualness the next time Crowley stops by for a late night drink. Crowley is all set to reply, words lined up in his mouth waiting to go, when Aziraphale adds, “I mean, all of the books and furniture and bottles of wine and things?” Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.

forgotten (but not gone) by writeonclara Teen and up, 9541 words “Angel,” this demon accuses, somehow managing to hiss the word despite the lack of sibilant letters. Aziraphale tips his chin up, wondering why his heart had stumbled strangely at the title. It’s what he is, and has been so for millennia. Coming from this demon, though, it has the feeling of—of an endearment, somehow, which is just foolish beyond all words. “Serpent,” is what his mouth says, but then his teeth click shut around the word. The demon’s eyes widen. “You know me then?” Aziraphale shakes his head.

Dearly Departed by attheborder Teen and up, 29774 words Finally, Aziraphale spoke. “You mean to say— you got us married?” “Just as a precaution, I never really thought I’d end up discorporated again, it’d been ages, you just don’t get stampedes or assassinations like you used to —” “You got us married, and you didn’t tell me?” *** Crowley gets inconveniently discorporated. And it’s not like it’s ever been easy to get a new body, but this time around, things really aren’t looking good. His new innuendo-obsessed lust-demon of a coworker honestly isn’t helping things. Meanwhile, Aziraphale has a dead body to contend with, and an occult mortician & his very normal daughter to fend off. What lengths will he go to in order to get Crowley back to Earth?

Pray For Us, Icarus by Atalan Teen and up, 65836 words For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...

Four-Letter Words by idiopathicsmile Mature, 3081 words Prompt: "humiliation kink by way of compliment, Aziraphale gets Crowley hot and bothered by accusing him of goodness." It’s a chilly day in November of 1987, and Aziraphale badly wants a drink.

These Captive Stars by darlingred1 Explicit, 6433 words Over the centuries Aziraphale learned many things about the human form, as well as his own, and among his lessons was this: most humans do not have thighs so exquisitely sensitive as his. (Aziraphale has very sensitive inner thighs. Crowley finds out, and things get smutty but also incredibly sappy.)

Consecrated ground by equestrianstatue Explicit, 8263 words Aziraphale’s mouth burned. But not like hellfire burned, cruel and destructive, sizzling a hole through whatever it touched. This was that same terrible charge of ethereal electricity, conducted in the very fluid of Aziraphale’s being. Something that had seemed so outside of him, something of heaven, something that wasn’t part of the Aziraphale who had lived six thousand years here with Crowley on Earth, careful and petty and kind. And yet here heaven had been, all this time, just past his lips.

Yield Under Pressure by writeonclara Explicit, 9934 words Aziraphale’s eyes crack back to him, like a pistol whip. The fixed look enters his gaze again. Crowley stares flatly back. He’s been an apex predator for far longer than Aziraphale ever has. But then Aziraphale wrenches his eyes away and roughly shakes his head. “I really don’t. I—that is to say—she—” “Who?” Crowley demands furiously. “Michael? Beezlebub?” “Second.” Anger bubbles up in Crowley’s chest, but he tamps it down. It can wait. “What did she do?” “I don’t know, Crowley!” It’s almost like their normal bickering, except Aziraphale is shaking so hard that Crowley can hear his wings rustle. “She said—she—” He squeezes his eyes shut. “‘Fall, or die. The choice is yours’.” OR: Aziraphale is hit with sex pollen. Crowley helps him through it.

a soft place to land by PaintedVanilla Explicit, 10005 words Crowley isn't sure how to ask for something when he doesn’t even know what it is that he wants. [My notes: this one has a special place in my ❤️]

To Give and To Receive by TheGypsyQueen Explicit, 10397 Or: Is That Really All It Took? Crowley likes to give Aziraphale things. Food, drinks, rides, whatever, it doesn't matter. It's all worth the praise and the gratitude and those glowing angelic smiles. He cannot imagine that Aziraphale would want to return the favor, and doesn't think he should. Aziraphale disagrees with that sentiment.

A Kiss Is Just A Kiss by juliet & laurashapiro Explicit, 10522 words “The rules are: apart from kissing, you don’t touch me, I don’t touch you. For the next two days.”

End with Hope by PepperPrints Explicit, 15888 words In 537 A.D., the Black Knight enters King Arthur's Tournament of Champions, with quite disastrous consequences, and Sir Aziraphale of the Round Table takes it upon himself to intervene -- which, naturally, also turns out to be quite disastrous in itself. [My notes: one of my favourites EVER. How I want to write? Like this like this like this]

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) by Atalan Explicit, 17381 words "All right, I know I'm going to regret asking this," Aziraphale says. "What exactly does this wager entail?" Crowley grins like the cat that not only got the cream but has absconded with the entire cow. He grabs the bottle and swigs straight from it despite Aziraphale's tut of disapproval. "The pot goes to whichever demon can get an angel into bed by the end of the evening." AKA The Fic That Tumblr Made Me Write. Heaven and Hell share a corporate party once per millennium. This time someone's had the bright idea of issuing a challenge to the demons of Hell. Crowley has no intention of missing the opportunity; Aziraphale's just enough of a bastard to make him work for it. [My notes: this has been rec'd all over tumblr already, but hey. with good reason]

For the Longest Time by darlingred1 Explicit, 20370 words “You…” Aziraphale sounded baffled, and suddenly quite sober. “You liked that? But, my dear, you said it was torturous. ‘Six thousand years of torture,’ as I recall.” “Yeah. Yeah, but the anticipation, and the yearning, and…and how every moment with you was so maddeningly intense, and…” And what else could Crowley say? How could he expect Aziraphale to understand that after six thousand years of torture he’d actually got a bit used to it? That he’d felt like a band strained further and further, and now he found himself permanently stretched, flopping about with too much slack and no way to hold on to what he’d been reaching towards for so long? (Crowley kind of misses the pining when it's gone. Aziraphale comes up with a solution.) [My notes: AKA 'that 20k edging fic']

[deepslateemeraldore]

Peach (one shot)

Reddie

Inspired by “Peach” by The Front Bottoms and that one textpost that said “when someone writes Reddie shotgunning they’re not the only ones getting high” or something like that

3.4k words

E / fluff / drug and alcohol use (weed)

It’s the end of everyone’s first semester of college, and the Loser’s congregate at Mike’s to celebrate.

 It was common for Eddie Kaspbrak to fall asleep on his friends shoulders during long car rides. And with his head on someone’s lap, legs sprawled out on a loser’s couch. And, on rare occasions, cuddled up to Richie in his bed after a long night. He’d wake up to tangled limbs and Richie’s warm breath tickling the back of his neck, an arm draped lazily around Eddie’s mid section. And if he were to be completely honest, Eddie was the happiest to feel the warmth radiating off of his best friend upon waking up.

 On this particular night, the two boys had been at the Hanlon residence, partying with their friends to celebrate the end of their collective first semester of college (they had all decided to get general ed out of the way at Bangor CC, not ready to move away from their hometown just yet). Beverly and Bill supplied alcohol, Stan and Mike prepared dinner and snacks, and Ben, Richie, and Eddie himself were in charge of baking and dressing a cake for the celebration (Ben and Richie were great at eating baked goods, but needed Eddie’s guidance and direction for creating something edible). The night pulled on like any other of their parties, full of shrill shrieks and laughter, the sounds only amplifying with the added effects of rum and beer.

 By ten PM, Ben had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, moments after the cake had been cut and served with seconds and thirds. Bill, Stan and Mike helped Ben to Mike’s room to sleep off the IPA’s Bill supplied (he’d only had four, but he was always a lightweight). Eddie poked at the crumbs of remaining cake on his and Richie’s shared plate.

 “I tried to tell him to take it easy tonight,” Bev began to speak, eyes following Stan keeping Ben balanced out of the kitchen.

 “But the boy just wants to party hard.” She smiled, turning her attention to Eddie. 

 “The cake was amazing, by the way. I’ve never had a peach pound cake,” Eddie blushed, dropping his fork on the plate. “I could eat that for the rest of my life.”

 “Hey, I made the cake, too!” Richie chimed in, feigning hurt that Bev ignored his help in the production. Eddie gave him a poke in the ribs with his elbow, Bev chuckling at the interaction.

 “Thank you, Bev. I can give you the recipe if you’d like. I made a few tweaks, but I can write those down, too.” Eddie smiled at Bev, pushing his chair back to stand up in search of a pen and paper. Richie followed suit behind him, the chairs legs scraping on the linoleum.

 “Speaking of peaches,” Richie pointed to Eddie’s ass, smirking, earning a cheap snort from Bev. “This plum’s gonna have a smoke.” He announced, walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

 “If anyone cares to join their dear friend, I’ll be in the back.” Mike reappeared with Bill hot on his heels. Bev stood up to follow the boys, nudging Eddie as she passed behind him as a way of saying “join us”. He finished scribbling ingredients down and grabbed a bottle of water before rejoining with his friends outside.

 The aroma of shitty weed made Eddie scrunch up his nose upon first contact, his lungs feeling a little heavy, too. He watch Bev hand Bill a lighter as he made his way over to stand next to Richie. He smiled up at his best friend, earning a smile and a wink back in return. Eddie was grateful that the backyard was dark and wouldn’t expose his flushed face and ears. He heard the click of the lighter and watched Bill take a long hit from the joint in between his lips. Bill smiled as he exhaled, passing it to Mike. Then Mike to Bev, then Stan came outside to join them and took two hits before passing it to Richie. Feeling like time was going by oddly fast, Eddie took a step back, watching as Richie held the blunt between his long, nimble fingers, taking the longest drag yet. However, as soon as Richie pulled it away from his lips, Eddie felt everything go in slow motion.

 The cloud of smoke coming out from Richie’s nose, only to be sucked back in through pursed lips shouldn’t have made him appear more attractive to Eddie, but somehow it did. Butterflies wrestled through Eddie’s stomach and up to his chest, swarming around his heart before settling in his throat.

 “Is today the day, Ed’s?” Richie asked, holding the damn thing out to Eddie. He shook his head and pushed it back towards Richie.

 “Sorry, I don’t want your cooties.” Richie snorted at Eddie’s retort, passing it back to Bev. She took one last hit, motioning to Bill to come over to her. He obliged, and Eddie tried to look away as he parted his lips, close enougb to kiss Bev, as she blew the smoke into his mouth. The interaction made Eddie feel anxious but curious, having seen them do this a million times but still coming as a shock every time.

 The night had winded down from there. Bill fell asleep on Mike’s couch as soon as his high kicked in, which was Mike’s cue to call it a night. Stan stayed up a while longer, chatting with Bev and Eddie (and ignoring Richie, who kept trying to get Stan to moon Ben and Mike, who were both asleep in Mike’s room, for a keepsake photo opportunity), before falling asleep himself on the couch next to Bill.

 “Ready to make like a banana and split, my dear friend?” Richie asked Eddie as soon as Bev had joined Stan and Bill to make a trio of couch sleepers. Eddie had started to yawn, and nodded to Richie who was shaking Bill awake to let him know they were heading out. Bill planted a kiss on Richie’s cheek before erupting infinity quite giggles. He waved as they left the front door of the Hanlon residence.

 Eddie wasn’t even close to being tipsy, a stark contrast to Richie who was crossfaded and giggly, and took on the role of navigator for their walk home. Eddie walked behind Richie, watching from the sidewalk as his friend tried and failed to walk a straight line in the gutter. The back of Richie’s head was bobbing up and down with his steps, curls bouncing with his body. It amazed Eddie that he hadn’t fallen down yet. He smiled as Richie tried to walk the line again, feeling grounded and warm that they got to share these moments together.

 The walk wasn’t particularly long or far, but Eddie had lead them on the scenic route, trying to milk the amount of time he could have with Richie before they’d pass out from exhaustion. He was back to feeling like time was passing too quickly, although this time was due to being deep in thought about how much he cared about Richie, how much he loved him in every sense of the word.

 The butterflies in his chest were gone, now replaced with angry wasps making a nest in his heart. He thought about college, how he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to try and attend a university because community college was pretty decent. But the loudest thought (pun intended) bubbling in his brain was that maybe he did want to get high tonight, and maybe he did want Richie’s cooties. But he also didn’t want to say this to Richie and make him think that Eddie only felt this way because of their friendship, that his feelings were a buffer to hold him over until he met someone who deserved him. Before he could expand the idea mentally, Richie spoke up, breaking Eddie’s train of thought.

 “Hey, Ed’s,” Richie pulled Eddie’s sleeve, turning to face the smaller boy.

 “Are you scared of vampires?” Richie asked, his tone so serious that Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. He kept walking, but Richie, anchored in the asphalt, held him back.

 “I’m serious, are you?” He asked again, Eddie’s expression dropping from content to cross.

 “No, Rich. I’m not scared of vampires. Why are you even thinking of th- OUCH!” Eddie cried out, confused because Richie had just lunged at him, sinking his teeth into Eddie’s neck. “What the fuck, Richie?!” Eddie shoved Richie’s hold on his arm off, staring at him in a jaded disbelief.

 “You said you weren’t scared of vampires, and I may be a lil drunk, but I wanned to see if you were scared of me ’cause I’m a vampire now.” Richie’s words were slightly slurred, and his logic was flawed, but Eddie could see something in Richie’s eyes, an emotion that he couldn’t make out. They seemed to say “don’t be mad at me”, with a hint of “I need you to give me attention”, which in turn kick started the anxious feeling inside Eddie once again.

 “Oh shit, you’re bleeding, oh shit,” Richie launched back at his friend, gently pressing two fingers to the small pool of blood above Eddie’s collarbone.

 “WHAT?!?” Eddie panicked, pushing Richie away again, feeling his neck for himself to discover the tiniest wet spot. There couldn’t have been more than a pinhead of blood actually coming from the world's smallest cut. Relieved that he wasn’t bleeding bleeding, he picked up his pace, walking with a little more urgency, Richie following.

 “I’m sorry, Ed’s. I’m really sorry, I was just trying to be funny,” Richie apologized from behind Eddie. Normally, when apologizing for “being funny”, Richie was not truly sorry. But his tone this time around sounded sincere. If Eddie could compare it to anything, it would be the tone a guilty dog would use if he could apologize to his owners for knocking over the fish tank if said dog could talk. It made his stomach tighten up.

 “Rich, it’s okay. It’s a tiny cut, and I’m not really bleeding at all.” Eddie tried to sound soft, to show that he wasn’t angry, but his words came out more sad than anything. “I’m not mad at you, I think I’m just kind of… in shock, I guess, that you did that.” He sounded even more uncertain. He reached out to touch Richie’s shoulder as an act of forgiveness.

 “Once I get it cleaned up I’ll be fine. I promise.” His smile matched his eyes, and Richie lit up a bit. Eddie beamed, earning a giggle from his friend, and in that moment Richie looked absolutely angelic to him. The street light illuminated the taller boys face, highlighting every imperfection that Eddie secretly loved looking at, and bringing a sparkle to Richie’s eyes. Eddie looked away when he felt blood rush to his cheeks, guiding them up the block silently.

 Originally, Richie had planned on staying at Mike’s with the rest of the guys, but changed his mind after hearing Eddie mention that his mother didn’t want him to sleep over if there were going to be girls at the party. Somehow, he had convinced Eddie to come and stay at his house because there wouldn’t be girls and Sonia somehow agreed. It wasn’t until the two had made it to Richie’s house that it came up.

 “I just realized, you could’ve lied all along and said that you were gonna stay at my place from the beginning. She’d be none the wiser.” Richie whispered as the two of them made their way up to his room. His parents were in bed and the lights were off. Eddie followed him up the stairs, not speaking until they were in his room.

 “I guess.” Came Eddie’s response, quiet and soft.

 “Here, let me get an alcohol wipe or something to clean your neck with.” Richie rushed to get the words out. Not waiting for a response from Eddie, he turned on his heel, back out the door and into the bathroom. Eddie had left an emergency first aid kit under the sink years ago, insisting that it was for Richie’s own good, that he’d be prepared if he fell off his bike.

 Richie flipped the light switch on, glancing at himself in the mirror above the sink, taking in his appearance. Bags under his eyes, shaggy unkempt hair with a touch of fizz. He looked haggard from partying. He shook his head and opened the cabinet to get the first aid kit concluding that it didn’t matter if he looked like shit because Eddie was there to sleep, like he had time and time again in the past. This was no different. He flipped the light off before rounding the door and practically sprinting back to his room.

 Eddie was standing in the same spot, still as a statue. Richie cleared his throat before closing the bedroom door behind him. Eddie jumped, startled, turning to face Richie.

 “Rich, it’s fine. It doesn’t hurt, it stopped bleeding forever ago.” Eddie reached for the first aid kid despite his words. Richie opened it himself, grabbing an alcohol wipe and packet of hydrocortisone, holding them between his teeth as he set the small box down on his bedside table, out of the way.

 “C’mon. I got it, it’s fine.” Eddie nodded at his friend, stepping closer to him, hoping that Richie wouldn’t notice his rapid heartbeat and breathing pattern.

 Richie took the packages out from his teeth. Opening the wipe first, he lightly tugged Eddie closer to him, giving it a quick rub (a wince from Eddie at how cold the cloth felt on his skin) before doing the same with the cortisone. He swallowed hard, as did Eddie as he pulled his hand away from his neck, dropping the packets into a trashcan opposite his nightstand.

 “All better.” Richie’s voice cracked. “Doctor Tozier completes another successful surgery!” His voice doesn’t recover, shame tugging at his tongue. Eddie cracked a toothless smile, more present in his eyes than lips.

 “Thank you.” Eddie took a step back, cold air rushing around Richie as he moved. His voice was soft and silky and continued to ring in Richie’s ears as he walked to the far end of the room.

 It made Richie’s stomach do weird things, his voice. The voice Eddie used when it was just the two of them wasn’t something new, he’d been using it forever. And it had tied Richie’s stomach in knots just as long.

 Richie changed into pajamas after taking everything out of his pants pockets, back to Eddie as he did the same. They’d sit in Richie’s bed and talk about random shit, classes and stupid people they’ve met. It was routine. It all was, down to them laying down next to each other, back to back, waiting for alcohol tainted sleep to take over. He’d fall asleep after Eddie, feeling safe only when soft snores and deep breaths were the only sounds he could hear. He prides himself on this routine, keeping him safe from doing anything regrettable. They’d been in this situation time and time before, and every morning they’d wake up the same. Richie was on the brink of sleep when he felt Eddie roll over to face him. This isn’t routine.

 “Rich, are you still awake?” Eddie’s voice was like silk, a little deeper than usual. Richie’s eyes shot open, while the rest of his body was frozen.

 “I… I think I did want tonight to be the night.” Eddie whispered, lack of context making Richie shoot up.

 “W-what?!” Was all he could muster out, blood rushing from his hands and legs, going tingly.

 “The night I got high for the first time.” Eddie was even quieter, and Richie slid back down onto his pillows in relief (it was secretly disappointment). Ah.

 “Oh. Okay.” Richie responded, a pregnant pause causing his nerves to act up again. He tried to level out his breathing as sly as possible.

 “Richie,” Eddie spoke, breaking the silence. He shifted his position, leaning on his left arm and looking into Richie’s eyes. “Will you get me high?” The question sent shivers down Richie’s spine, and he couldn’t sit up fast enough (whether it be fear or excitement he couldn’t tell).

 “How do you want to do this?” Richie croaked out, voice rough with sleep he hadn’t gotten. He pulled the shared blanket over his lap, bunching it up just in case his hormones betrayed him. There was another pause as Eddie thought it over.

 “Do you want a bowl? A rip from the bong? A baby joint?” Richie offered what he had to Eddie, waiting for him to make a decision.

 “Can you do what Bev did to Bill that one time?” Eddie asked meekly, his eyes traveling to a loose thread on the blanket. Richie blinked. And blinked again.

 “You… you wanna shotgun?” He asked, not quite meek but not quite hopeful. Eddie kept his gaze down, nodding.

 “Yeah, I guess. Bev said it’s not as bad.” Shyly, Eddie looked up at Richie, cheeks flushed and eyes dewy. Richie modded a few times to himself.

 “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.” Richie leaned over to his nightstand, one foot on the floor for balance, opening the drawer and pulling out his rolling tray, papers, flower, and grinder neatly sitting on top of it. He could feel Eddie watch his every move, nose scrunching up at the smell as soon as Richie opened the dimebag of pot. Mindlessly, he put a little in the grinder, getting a paper when he was ready, and rolled (in Eddie’s mind) a perfect joint. He put everything back in its place on the tray before putting it back in the drawer, pulling out a lighter and old dirty ashtray. He looked at Eddie again, catching his eyes to ask “are you sure?”. Eddie nodded, and watched as Richie lit up with shaky hands taking the first hit for himself.

 Eddie watched patiently as Richie inhaled deeply, shifting himself to lean against the backboard before exhaling, smoke drifting out his nose up into the room. He held the joint over the ashtray on his nightstand, ashing it. Eddie watched Richie’s Adam's Apple bob and he pulled the joint back to his lips, before inhaling whispering:

 “Come here.”

 Eddie scooted closer to Richie, heart racing not only because Eddie Kaspbrak was about do a drug (besides that placebo shit his mother had forced on him since his youth), but because he was going to have his lips mere millimeters away from Richie Tozier’s.

 Richie took a long drag, holding the joint in between the fingers of his left hand, his right reaching to cup Eddie’s cheek. He rubbed Eddie’s bottom lip with his thumb and leaned in, blowing the smoke between Eddie’s partially opened lips. If I lean any closer, I’d be kissing him, Richie thought.

 And as if Eddie was some sort of fucking mind reader, he leaned into Richie’s lips, kissing him. It felt natural, like he was meant to. He wrapped one arm around Richie’s neck, the other feeling around and grabbing hold in his hair. He could feel Richie smile into the kiss as he leaned over to put the joint out in the ashtray, pulling Eddie down with him, and back up. Richie pulled away for a moment smirking at Eddie.

 “You’re not supposed to blow it back into my mouth, dumbass.” Richie joked, hooking his left arm around Eddie’s waist. He smiled, Eddie smiled back, and before they could get back to their previous position, Eddie laughed.

 “Well maybe if you gave me instructions in the first place,” he started to poke, no malice behind his words. Richie laughed, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek, eyes heavy.

 “Honey, I’m a little stoned, I’m not trying to start an argument with you. Shut up and kiss me.”

 The next morning, Eddie woke up tangled in Richie's limbs, as he had numerous times before, but this was intentional. He felt lips on the back of his neck.

 “I’m sorry that you’re a little…uh… y'know.” Richie struggled to say bruised, but Eddie already knew, and he didn’t care. He turned over to face him, planting a lazy kiss on his best friends lips to shut him up.

 Richie rested his forehead against Eddie’s, reaching for a hand to intertwine his fingers with. Eddie opened his mouth to speak.

 “As long as it’s you, I couldn’t be happier.”

[rebelbyrdie]

SwanQueen Christmas AU Idea

Corporate lawyer Regina Mills lives life in the fast lane.  She is a workaholic, coffeeholic, borderline alcoholic perfectionist.  Social worker and school counselor Emma Swan is a dedicated single mother and enjoys her slow small town life.  This Christmas, their paths cross and nothing will ever be the same.

“No, Zelena.”  Regina grit her teeth and spoke to her sister through the bluetooth in her car.  “I can’t guarantee I will be there on Christmas Day.  You know that.”  

“Mother and That Bastard-”  By Bastard she meant their step-father Robert Gold.  “-are going to run you to death.  They’ll never make you a partner.  Mother likes having you under her thumb too much.”

She was probably right.  Regina just needed a few more years to establish herself and to build up a portfolio of clients that were loyal to her and not Mills & Gold.

“Robby and Rolly want to see their Auntie for Christmas.  They miss you.  I miss you.”

Regina felt her heart lurch.  The children had already lost their father and grandfather, and Regina felt like she neglected them.  Zelena did not need to pile on the guilt.

“Daddy would want you there too”

There, of course, was their father’s home in San Juan, Puerto Rico.  

Regina wanted to be there too.

“I mean honestly.  Gold sent you to Canada.  You’re not even able to practice there!”

Regina sighed.  “That was last week, Z.  I’m on the way to Bangor, then Baltimore with a quick stop in Manhattan for a meeting.”

“Jesus, Regina.  Tell me you’re wearing a mask.  I can’t believe Mother is having you fly all over the country.  Countries.”

Regina scoffed. “I’m driving, Zelena.  

The conversation went downhill from there.  Regina could feel a migraine take hold.  It was a week before Christmas, the snow flurries were turning into a blizzard around her, and she would never make it to Bangor tonight.

After some more ranting, Zelena changed the subject.  She regaled Regina with every minute detail of the children’s lives.  Robyn, two and a half, was now obsessed with Frozen.  Rolland, five, was having problems concentrating during his distance-learning kindergarten classes.  So on and so forth.

Regina was only half-listening.  She was more focused on squinting through the near white out conditions she was trying to drive through.

She didn’t see the moose in the road until it was far too late.

***

Emma and Henry were half-way through their Christmas claymation marathon.  Rudolph was just about to save Christmas when there was a loud crash outside.  Emma groaned.  She knew a car crash when she heard one.  Route 108 was notoriously difficult to navigate, especially for tourists.  Add in the snow and there was bound to be trouble.

Henry sighed and paused the movie.  “I’ll get the big flash light.”  Emma  got up and went to get her coat.  They were miles away from Storybrooke proper and it would be impossible to get a tow truck or the cops out this late.  

Just past their driveway there was a black car in the ditch smashed against an old oak tree.  A moose, Henry had affectional nicknamed him Bullwinkle, was ambling across the road, completely unharmed.

Emma held the flashlight steady.  “Hello!”

She didn’t see any lights or movements in the unfamiliar car.  It was a nice car too.  A sleek black Mercedes with New York plates.  

She pushed through the show, which was already up to her knees, and to the drivers side door.  She wrenched it open.  The driver was alone and slumped over the airbag.  Emma could tell they were breathing, but not much else.

“Shit.”

She carefully pulled the driver back so she could see their face.  Her face.

“Wow.”

The unconscious woman’s  face was battered and bleeding, but the damage couldn’t hide her beauty.

Emma bent down and pushed the dark hair out of the woman’s face.  Blood pouring from her scalp and cuts to her nose, cheek and lip.

“Ma’am.  Can you hear me?”

The woman’s eyes fluttered open.  They were unfocused and one pupil was much slower to adjust to the light of Emma’s flashlight then the other.  She had a concussion for sure.  She also had the most gorgeous eyes Emma had ever seen.  Dark Guinness with swirls of whiskey, intoxicating.  Emma had always been a sucker for brown eyes.

“Hey.”

The woman blinked.  “Wha-”  Then she grimaced in pain.  “What happened?”

She was only wearing a white (quickly turning red) shirt and a skirt that was hitched up to her thighs.  She was missing a high heeled shoe.  Emma didn’t see a coat anywhere, but the crash had tumbled everything around.  The woman was already starting the shiver.  Shock plus the cold.  Emma needed to get her inside, fast.

“My name is Emma.  You wrecked your car by my property.  My house is just over there.  We need to get you inside before the storm really sets in.”

The woman’s eyes were sharpening.  She was testing her limbs one by one, awareness coming back to her.  She set one foot, the heeled one, down outside of the car.  It sank right into the snow and she jerked her leg back in.  The heel stayed behind.

“Ma’am, you should let me help you.”

The woman slowly, with shaking hands, unlatched her seatbelt.

“Regina.  My name is Regina Mills.”

Emma reached in to help the woman out of the car.  “Well, Regina Mills.  Welcome to Storybrooke.”

[eternalrosx]

Human Guardians AU

Here is a little idea i came up with not too long ago. Since i don’t really feel to rp at the moment and still feel a little under the weather, i decided to put this up here. It’s a human AU where Gan, Bessa, Pennywise, Maturin and the Guardians life as humans in the mortal world, dealing with day to day struggle in their normal lifes.

Gan and Bessa are living in a fancy looking apartement in Bangor, Maine. Gan is a successful writer(just like his self insert Stephen King) while Bessa is a very successful owner of a flowershop with multiple branches all over the US. Pennywise and Maturin life with them, they are children with Maturin being eight years of age while Pennywise is around the age of four. The former Turtle Guardian goes to a private school in close proximity of their home, same goes for Penny who is enlisted in the kindergarden which is located in the same building on the first floor.

They all agreed to forget their former lifes and as deities and gods respectively, starting anew as humans which also goes for the Guardians which now i will talk about. It`s going to be a bit longer so please bare with me:

Shardik:

The former Bear Guardian decided to take a route in politics and is part of several activists groups, he also found a liking to the democratic party and is an avid fighter for LGBT rights and same sex marriage. This was partly because Shardik was gay himself so he wanted to get a lobby for all those who share the same sentiment as him. He doesn’t remember much of his former life aside of the knowledge that he once had a good friend called Maturin which whom he had a crush on. The specifics of this however are merely a fog for Shardik.

He has a pet turtle called A´tuin. Shardik has short brown hair, a shaggy beard and prefers spaceous clothes.

Owsla:

Owsla decided, after losing his memories as Guardian, to move into the mortal world, following Gan and Bessa’s example. He became a freelance reporter and teamed up with his former Guardian mate Chuchundra. Both life in a shared flat in Toronto, Canada. Owsla is an avid fan of polo and plays it in his free time. He and Chuchundra also share a vlog in which they document their daily lifes and struggles as reporters.

Owsla is big, slim and has blond, slicked back hair and a little goatee and rather prominent front teeth. He also is lactose intolerant

Chuchundra:

Chuchundra or short Chuchu(this is only used by Owsla)is like his former Beam Buddy Owsla a freelance reporter and always on the search for a good story to write about. He loves being out in nature and enjoys camping quite a lot. Chuchundra has a slight lisp and his voice tends to get up higher in pitch when excited. He is witty, fast thinking and always on the edge, exercising daily. Another hobby of Chuchundra is cooking, mostly with cheese, but in favor of Owsla, he also adds greens to his diet.

Chuchundra is quite small and has round slightly protruding ears which earned him a lot of mean nicknames from colleagues. He always wears a bowtie.

Navius:

Navius works as lawyer in his own law firm and is quite secluded in his lifestyle. He operates a vlog on Youtube and gives advice on juristic problems for free(for people who can’t afford a lawyer normally). He is kind, hard working and always on the edge when it comes to laws being broken. His love for order and cleanness is a huge part of his personality which also goes for his home. Immaculate and specless is the best way to describe his apartement in Brooklyn, New York. Hobbies includes hunting and bungee jumping.

He appears as middle aged, rather tall individual with slightly gray hair and a small potbelly. Navius always wear glasses. He also spots a goatee. His clothes are always tight fitting and spotless. Navius is a huge fan of Gan’s novels and has all of them.

Garm:

Garm works as police officer in a small rurual town. He has a deep rooted hate against criminals and politicians, especially for those who are constantly rising their own benefits while others have to suffer. Garm is part of a humanistic organisation that helps local unfortunates with food and water. He is tall, muscular built and is really fast. His hobbies include swimming, hunting and writing(latter is just a hobby though)

He lifes alone in a small house, only accompanied by a stray dog that decided to stay with him. Occasionally he visits bars and clubs in the next bigger city or enjoys a round of gambling in the local casino, he is rather unlucky however and not really has a hand for these kind of things.

Garm has dark brown shaggy hair and an olive colored skin tone. His clothings of choice are baggy.

Garuda:

Garuda works as airforce pilot and has quite the reputation of being firm, without mercy for his enemies. The reality however is different, he cares about others a lot and protects everyone that is in need. In his rare free time, Garuda enjoys a good cup of tea and books, he likes to read a lot when able to. His intellect is sharp and witty. He has his very own gym area in his house which he also uses a lot to keep fit.

Garuda is very proud and easy to rile up when his authority is challenged. He has a deep, rich voice that has a slightly southern drawl. He has a trained build, wide shoulders and is quite tall, around 6ft3. His hair is short, black and has silver streaks in it. He has a scar on his left eye.

Jasconius:

Formerly known as the Fish Guardian, Jasconius now lifes in Atlanta, Georgia,as therapist for troubled adolecents and has her very own practice which runs very successfully. She has a really pleasant personality and is very emotional when it comes to children and animals. Jasconius has high empathy which she uses in her practice. Her reputation of being able to help even the most severe cases made her a small celebrity in her profession. She is often in talkshows and gives advice to parents.

Jasconius always has an open ear for everyone and is an avid fighter for human rights, she engages herself on a voluntary basis in youth facilities and local schools. She has adopted two children and lifes with them in a little house with a beautiful garden. Her hobbies include painting and singing, she also is a member of a gospel choir.

Jasconius is medium built and has gentle green colored eyes. She has long, dark blonde hair which she wears in a bun most of the time.

Rocinante:

Rocinante is a successful athlete and works in a fitness studio as personal trainer. He is free spirited, optimistic and loves silly jokes and riddles. The former Horse Guardian also loves to travel and has been to many places around the world. His hobby is photography. He has a large collection of old antique vases and loves to collect rare items such as stamps or coins. Being a huge casanova, Rocinante loves to flirt with every woman that comes around and had quite a few flings already.

He runs a highly successful social media account and uses fundraisers to support local causes. Rocinante owns a small estate on the outer limits of Atlanta. He once published a book which had a short lifed success however and qiuckly vanished from bestseller lists worldwide.

Rocinante is thoroughly toned and has long legs. He is quite tall as well, sporting a whooping 6ft5. He has mahagony colored hair and sports a man bun.

Camazotz:

Camazotz is a freelance artist. He has a large collection of old paintings and is a fan of Leonardo Da Vinci. Making his hobby to his profession, Camazotz has his own atelier in Houston. He also loves photography, using his pictures as inspiration. Like most artists, Camazotz has a free spirited personality and needs freedom over everything. In the first couple months of his life in the mortal world, Camazotz suffered from mild depression and had to get used to this new world first. After a while however it vanished and he found an inspiring way to remodeling his new life on Keystone Earth.

He lifes in a small apartement in close proximity of his atelier. Camazotz is lean, medium build and wears thick glasses. He has dark black, spiky hair.

Babar:

Babar is the only Guardian that has still contact to Gan and Bessa, all the others kind of developed their own lifes and decided to start fresh. He remembers his old life sometimes in his dreams but as soon he wakes up, all is forgotten. Babar is working as architect in Portland. He likes to eat and to drink, his hobbies include playing chess and gardening. Babar is member of a book club and has a library in his house. Babar sometimes visits Gan in his home, always glad to see both the former God and his wife as well his former Guardian Buddy Maturin. His character is best described as loyal and kind with a tendency towards occult theories. He visits church regulary.

He has a sturdy body, a thick neck and a belly, he appears in his late 50s with balding grayish hair.

Aslan:

Pride and boastful like his animal counterpart, Aslan is often seen in talkshows and newspapers. He has a real estate company under his thumb which has one of the highest rankings in the business. Aslan has a mansion with a pool and has often prominent visitors like stars or politicians on his estate. He likes to keep beneficial relationships for him and his company which could be used down the line if needed. While a business man through and through, Aslan is not greedy as he spends a lot of his money for funds that help the less privileged. He is currently in a relationship with a fellow real estate colleague, they share bed and table. Aslan is proud of his fortune and fame and is not above in showing everyone who is interested, how to achieve what he did.

Aslan is 5ft10,broad built, he has long, unkempt hair and a full beard. He appears in his late 40s.

Maturin:

Out of all the Guardians, Maturin did a completely turn over and stayed with Bessa and Gan as their child, effectively losing his adult self, appearing as kid around the age of eight.

It was a decision that wasn’t easy for the former Guardian, but for the sake of rekindling his relationship with his estranged brother, Maturin agreed that his personality and memories got wiped clean just as former had endured after the crumbling defeat against the Losers to start fresh. He now lifes with Gan and Bessa and Pennywise in a large apartement in Bangor, Maine. Maturin visits a private school and has good grades, he likes science and collects bugs and critters. Ever since their mutual memory wiping, Pennywise and Maturin seem to have developed a healthy relationship. They like each other and spend time playing with each other. While being a good student, Maturin has quite the mischievous streak and likes to play pranks on others.

He appears as child of approximately eight years of age, has dark brown, touseled hair and green eyes.

[we-love-the-murder-bois]

Clingy! Pennywise x S/o

Derry was a strange place. It had terrible winters and hot summers, the locals never talked when they passed, and all the stores seemed to be on borrowed time. Some days, you could go without seeing someone, and other days you constantly brushed shoulders. People left Derry and didn't come back, leaving the populous made up of older folks who had been born there, children of fishermen and shopkeeps.

But there were some variations. Some young people who never left or drove too far and found themselves in a strange little town on the coast. There was a girl who was neither of those. She didn't know how she came to the town, she just knew it was where she was meant to be. Maybe she had always been there, maybe she had only been around for a few months. Time passed strange in Derry.

She wasn't sadistic or cruel like many others in the town, but she wasn't soft and kind either. She had her sides. She was crude like a mainer, yet had a manner like an out of towner. She just existed, not minding her strange town and it's strange way of life. The locals called her naive, but she was well aware of her town.

She was currently going about her day, shopping at her favorite ma and pa shop. It was mostly homemade, from wood carvings to glass trinkets. She was currently looking at baskets, running her fingers along the intricate weaves. They reminded her of a simpler time, of youth and sugar, and a small closet with old toys.

She smiled, gently picking a basket up off of the shelf and holding it out in front of her. She'd hold onto it, see how it felt before she made a decision. She didn't really need it, but she was a collector. She liked things that made her smile.

A flash of red caught her eye, bringing her attention away from the basket. The colour came from a dusty glass bottle, which she slowly approached. She hesitantly reached out her hand, wiping dust away the the pad of her thumb. The small patch of clean glass showed her own warped reflection staring back at her. She rolled her eyes, wiping the dust off on her jeans before she noticed something.

Her eyes widened as she saw a blurry figure behind her and felt damp breath tickle her neck. She yelped, turning around with her basket brandished.

Nothing but the empty isle and the face of a curious child peeking around the corner, before his mother pulled him away, greeted her. The young woman scoffed, turning back around and scrubbing more dust from the glass. She picked it up, holding it up in front of her to look behind the reflection of her blurry face.

Nothing.

She hesitantly put down the glass and continued her shopping, back going rigid when she felt breath against her neck again.

She caught a flash of light in the corner of her eye, waiting for the breath to get closer before she snapped her head towards the handheld mirror on one of the shelves, revealing a thing standing behind her.

"Pennywise, what are you doing here?" She crossed her arms, glaring half heartedly at the grinning clown behind her. She couldn't see him to well through the dusty glass, but she knew he was smiling.

She felt pressure on her waist and back as he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck as his glowing orange eyes stayed trained on hers.

"I couldn't help it." He whined in his over dramatic manor, giving a toothy smile that took up most of his face. The girl gave him a flat look, but leaned back into him, knowing she looked strange standing in the middle of the isle.

"I was just going shopping, I wouldn't be gone forever." She chuckled at the clown's antics, reaching a hand behind her to run through his hair. Pennywise was clingy, and even when she couldn't see him, she knew he was often around.

"It was long enough." God, he sounded like a pouty child. She was thankful he wasn't always childish, but he definitely had his moments. She blamed his form or his fucked up sense of humour.

She continued on with her shopping, placing shiny things and curios in her basket. Penny's nose was pressed against the back if her neck, reminding her of a golden retriever, just more murdery. And groping her.

Speaking of dogs...

She made a noise of surprise as something warm and wet slid across her shoulder and the back of her neck, leaving moisture dripping down her back.

"Did you just lick me?" She grabbed a spoon and held it up, watching as the warped face of her partner showed no remorse, simply grinning. Her back was sticky, and it was not comfortable.

"I couldn't help it, you smelled irresistible, darling. Mouth watering." His voice was low and in her ear, literally drooling onto her shoulder. There was a time and a place, Angel's Attic wasn't that place.

"Penny!" She squeaked, rubbing his saliva off, or attempting to, with her free hand. "Just let me check out and I'll go home and you can be as weird as you want." Despite the annoyance, she was smiling, amused by the strange being that made her life so interesting.

"You promise we can play later?" He rasped, too many teeth brushing against her ear as clawed hands stroked the bottom of her ribcage under her shirt. She shivered, forcing herself to calm down and act normal and not like a demon clown was whispering in her ear.

She wiggled free and turned around to wrap her arms around the nonexistent figure, burying her face into translucent ruffles against a chest with a heart that didn't beat on time. He smelled like death, like he always did, but she had learned to get used to many things over the last few years, or however long it had been. It came with the territory.

"I promise, now scram! Half this town already think I'm a skitzo." She felt teeth briefly brush against against her neck before the air was no longer solid and Pennywise was gone, leaving her to stumble with a curse.

She stood and brushed off her clothes, checking out and thankfully not still covered in clown spit.

She still felt his eyes on her, occasionally feeling the soft brush of his breath behind her or seeing his breathtaking eyes glowing in the shadows. She didn't bother to say anything, she knew he liked to keep an eye on her. Even if it meant dealing with Pennywise's antics in every aspect of her life.

She wouldn't have it any other way.

-----------

First fresh request is done! I'm not the biggest fav of Pennywise as a interest, but each is own. I can't say I don't see it at all.

Sorry if I didn't go enough into depth, it kind of wrote itself? If people want more world building, just request it! I can definitely do more, it just didn't fit with the direction I had.

And I apologize for the use of 'skitzo' as a reference to a person with skitzophrenia. It just fit better into the town.

(Fun fact, I used to live in Derry! Well, not technically, but the town it was based on. Bangor Maine, sadly with a lower population of murder clowns, was the inspiration and Stephen King's own town. I still live in Maine and am in Bangor daily, so descriptions are from how I know my town.)

[katecarteir]

i don’t want to spend another christmas without you 

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie] word count: 5,623 summary: richie tozier turned his back on derry and most of his life after graduating high school and never looked back. what happens when after three years, richie must finally return home for the holidays? ⤹ written for @richiebeepbeep as their gift for the @itfandomprompts 2019 secret santa event! i hope you like it! 

read on ao3.

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers, @eddiekasbpark​ @stanleuyris​, @appojoos​, @s-s-georgie​, @chaotickaspbrak​, @eddiefuckinkaspbrak​, @edstozler​, @emgays​, @anellope​, @thorn-harvester-ven​, @wheezyeds​, @vipertooth​, @tozierking​, @billdenbrough (also let me know if you want added!)

Richie was not coming home for the holidays season. He never wanted to face Derry again, he lived in California now. He was happy there, that was where his life was, his apartment, his future. He simply could not face the life he had left behind three years earlier. Left vowing he would never return unless under the most desperate of situations. It had worked thus far, Richie always managing to come up with some sort of excuse when breaks from school had come around. Too much school work, doing summer trips abroad, having a his full time job and being unable to time off. He knew every time he told his mother he wasn’t going to make it that it broke her heart a little bit more. He almost dreaded the day she stopped asking him almost as much as he longed for it. 

There wasn’t much getting out of it this time, though, he knew. His sister had made it clear enough, with a short but firm text message, explaining all about how its her first Christmas since getting engaged and how Richie hadn’t even met Bryan yet and how he was breaking their mother’s heart and Richie felt guilt deep in his bones as he promised Elle that he’d be there this year. 

So now he was getting off at the Bangor Airport and his palms were sweating, his heart had been racing in his chest faster and faster the closer he got to Maine. His knees were shaking as he walked through the airport, looking for his family. His stomach jumped as his gaze caught sight of somebody who was clearly here for him, though the last person he would have expected to see.

“Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie cried, breaking into a sprint on his still shaky knees. He had missed his friends as much as his family, with a deep ache that he spent the majority of his last few years buiring deep inside of him by keeping busy and not giving him a chance to think about them. He’d kept in light contact with them, but he knew that he’d been shutting them out. And he knew that they knew it, too. 

Richie launched himself at Eddie, jumping up into his arms and wrapping himself around him koala-style. Eddie let out a loud and annoyed noise, but Richie could hear the laughter underneath it. “Goddamn it, Richard.” Eddie grunted and wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist to help hold him up. “You’re fucking six teet tall, what the fuck. Get off me.”

Eddie’s arms squeezed tighter around Richie’s waist in contradiction of his own words and Richie smiled against his best friend’s head. He finally dropped down with his feet on the ground, and found that his knees were no longer weak. He beamed at Eddie, reaching out to pinch his cheeks. Eddie swatted his away, cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “What brings you to this lovely airport, Eddie my love? Thought my old man wanted to pick me up and lecture me whole way back to Derry about what a terrible son I’ve been.” 

Eddie shrugged one shoulder, smiling down at his feet for a moment. “You know how your parents get right before a party, all stressed and manic. I volunteered to come get you, and don’t worry. I can still give you a great lecture about what a piece of shit son you’ve been the last couple years. And friend.”

Richie grumbled under his breath and stuck his hands into his jean back pockets. “Yeah, I feel like I’m going to be heading on the Richie Tozier apology tour.”

“It’s the least you can do.” Eddie said a little sharply, but his cheeks were still pink and his eyes were twinkling as he looked Richie up and down. “But don’t worry, you’ll have lots of time. Everybody is gonna be at the party tomorrow night, you can stand up and make a giant speech in front of the whole damn crowd if that’s still your style. Let’s go get your bags.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring any bags.” Richie said with a shrug.

Eddie’s mouth dropped open, and he blinked at Richie a few times before he furrowed his brow. “You’re here for two weeks? And you didn’t bring a single bag? Nothing? What are you supposed to wear?”

“I have clothes and shit back home!” Richie waved off Eddie’s concerns. “Nothing to worry about, Eds! Now show me to that Kaspbrak love wagon.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but allowed Eddie to wrap an arm around him and guided them outside into the chilly Maine air. Richie shivered brutally the moment he reached out into snow flurries, and let out a mildly horrified noise from the back of his throat. “Oh, fucking Maine. I’d forgotten. Please tell me you parked close, Eddie.”

Eddie chuckled, and tugged a woolly hat with a pom pom out of the pocket of his featherdown coat and reached over to stuff it onto Richie’s messy curls. “Awe, poor California boy can’t handle the cold? Forgetting your roots?”

“Listen, man.” Richie said through chattering teeth as Eddie linked arms with him and guided him quickly through the overly crowded parking lot. “I’ve barely even wore a sweater in the last three years. I was a l-l-l-egend in Cali, dude! I went sw-swimming in mid-winter while people st-st-arted at me like I was a lunatic!” 

“And now you’re shivering like a little bitch and stuttering like Bill Denbrough aged 12 in Maine.” Eddie chuckled, dropping Richie’s arm to move over and unlock the car doors. Richie tugged frantically at the passenger seat and dove into car. He buckled up quickly, knowing Eddie would demand it, and pulled his legs up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them and pressed his face into his knees. 

Eddie dropped into the driver’s seat and seemed to take his damn time turning the car on. “Turn the heat on, turn the heat on.” Richie cried. “Please I’m going to die!” 

“You’re not going to die.” Eddie turned the car on, shaking his head. “You’re so fucking dramatic, Richard.” 

Richie shivered, holding his legs as close to his chest as he could manage without completely folding into himself. “Heat… please I beg you.”

“What if I told you the heater is broken?” Eddie asked, starting to pull out of the parking lot and getting caught up in a long line. Richie let out a distressed noise that almost sounded like a sob and Eddie’s heart tugged in his chest. “God, Rich, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t let something in my car stay broken! Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Richie sighed as Eddie reached out and kicked the heater up. Richie sighed, and by the time they were finally pulling out of the cramming parking lot he’d let his legs down onto the floor of the car and was filling up with nerves once again. “So are we allowed to put on music or would that be too distracting from the lecture you’re going to give me?”

Eddie sighed, tapping at the steering wheel. “I’m not going to lecture you, Richie. I get it… mostly. I don’t really like coming home to Derry, either. It wasn’t a great place for any of us.” Eddie glanced at Richie from the corner of his eye and shook his head. “But we didn’t all have a family that as good as yours, Rich. And we didn’t cut each other out, either. I don’t know what happened, Richie. It’s like you cross over the Derry town line and you straight up forgot that everybody here existed.”

Richie sighed and leaned his head against the car window, though the chill stung at his skin. “I didn’t. I thought about you guys everyday.” 

Eddie was quiet for a moment, fingers still tapping the steering wheel as they drove down the dark highway. Despite how busy the airport parking lot had been, the highway was nearly empty aside from them. “I spent a while wondering if maybe I’d done something wrong… after everything that happened senior year. If I’d made you hate me.” 

Richie closed his eyes, brain dragging up all the things he didn’t want to remember. The things he’d pointedly kept from his mind over the last three years. Eddie Kaspbrak under the lights at prom, Eddie Kaspbrak’s lips on his in front of everybody at their graduation, Eddie Kaspbrak’s tears when he told Richie they couldn’t be together because distance would ruin their relationship and their friendship. “I don’t hate you, Eds.” Richie said softly. “I could never.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.” Eddie chuckled. “Because I wanted to hate you. Somedays I did. Most of the time I just missed you.”

Richie’s heart clenched in his chest and he clenched his fingers sharply against the meat of his thigh. “I’m sorry, Eds.” Richie squeezed his eyes shut, leg shaking underneath him. This isn’t his strong suit, talking to people like this. Being open in any sense of the word had always been Richie’s deepest struggle. It had likely been the reason he hadn’t bothered to fight for him and Eddie in the first place. 

“I wanna say it’s okay, but it’s not really.” Eddie shrugged one shoulder and kept his eyes on the road. It was starting to snow harder, getting harder to see through, and Richie wondered for a moment about how he’d forgotten that snow was beautiful when you weren’t freezing. His gaze slid from the front windshield and he looked at Eddie, knowing that he found him more beautiful than he would ever find snow. 

“I get that.” Richie said. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re even bothering to see me. I definitely didn’t expect you to be coming to my parents party tomorrow.” 

“I’ve gone to your parents’ party every year, Richie.” Eddie said simply with a shrug of his shoulder and half a smile. “I helped you set up every year in high school and I wasn’t about to stop just because you were being a dick to everybody. It’s always been the best excuse to get away from my mother during the holidays, as much as it pissed her off.”

“I always thought you liked it so much because it pissed her off.” Richie said with a small smile, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth to hide his smile. Eddie’s lips twitched up in hint of his own grin, though he made no move to confirm or deny it. “I always sort of thought that’s why you spend so much time with me, to be honest. Nobody ever got under her skin like I did.” Eddie’s gazed jerked to look at him, something deep and worrisome in his eyes. Richie’s heart started racing in his chest, and palms began to sweat. “You know, the only time she ever got along with me was when I was giving her the good dick. A very serious love-hate relationship.”

“God, you’re fucking disgusting!” Eddie cried, letting go of the wheel to smack Richie in the arm. “You actually haven’t grown out of Your Mom jokes? You’re twenty-one man!” 

Richie shook his head and let out a soft huff of a laugh. Silence settled in the vehicle and Richie wondered for a moment if he’d be able to open up the door and roll out. He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head. “So… your mom is still the worst then?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated groan. “As if she’d ever be anything less than terrible.” He said. “You know what he’s like. Every time I come home she spends the entire time crying and whining and begging me to stay. That I shouldn’t go back to school, that I’m sick and she needs to take care of me. The usual bullshit.” 

Richie frowned at his hands, shaking his head. Not for the first time, Richie Tozier wondered at the strength of Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie had known many brave and amazing people in his life, but he didn’t think anybody would ever be on the level of Eddie. Eddie, who could walk directly into the face of abuse and hold his ground and still be the kindest person he’d ever had the honour of knowing. 

“Thank you for coming to pick me up.” Richie said quietly, pointedly staring out the front windshield even as he could feel Eddie watching him from the corner of his eye. “And thank you for not hating me.” 

“I could never hate you, Richie.” Eddie said. “Trust me. I tried. Unfortunately, I think caring about somebody for 16 year is hard to turn off.”

“Yeah.” Richie agreed. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jeans and began fiddling with the car radio. Eddie chuckled at him, and Richie finally managed to hook his phone up to the bluetooth. Smiling, he clicked onto his private Spaghetti Songs playlist and hit shuffle. He hadn’t listened to this playlist in a  ages, but he’d never had the heart to delete it. The smile that broke out on Eddie’s face as Cut to the Feeling by Carly Rae Jepson started playing made Richie overly happy that he never got rid of it. 

They spent the rest of the ride in a comfortable relaxation, singing along to the gushy and lovely pop songs that weren’t usually Richie’s type of music but he couldn’t deny the little bubble of happy they gave him whenever he reminded hearing them for the first time and being reminded of Eddie. Nor the bubble of fondness he got in his chest when looked at Eddie and watched him sing along to every single one.

They pulled into Derry and Richie felt the panic begin to settle into his chest once again. His leg started bouncing and he felt that the air in the car got heavier. When they pulled into the Tozier’s driveway, Richie felt that maybe he’d been cemented to his seat. Eddie turned off the car and unbuckled, opening the car door before pausing. He slowed the door slowly and turned to Richie with a small frown. “Rich?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Richie said, staring blankly ahead and now biting at his thumb nail. Eddie’s hand reached out and wrapped around Richie’s wrist, pulling it away from his mouth and holding it in his lap. Richie turned to look at him slowly, and thought maybe this was the first time Richie was really looking Eddie since he’d picked him up. He’d grown his hair out since the summer after high school, curling around his ears and the base of his neck. His face was freckled even with the darkness that came with winter and his shoulders had definitely broadened. He wondered randomly for a moment if Eddie still ran.  “I’m fine. I just… need a moment.”

Eddie pulled Richie’s arm into his lap and rested against the seat of the car. “Okay. But I’ve already turned the car off so it’s about to get really cold in here and you’re a little California baby now.” Richie reached over and flicked Eddie in the ear. Eddie swatted at him with the hand that didn’t have a tight grip about Richie’s wrist. “And I can see Alex’s face in the window, so she knows you’re here.”

Richie looked over and sure enough, he could see his little sister peering out from between the curtains. His stomach tensed with anxiety as his heart leapt with love. “Alright.” He said with a soft sigh. “Let’s fucking get this over with then.”

“That’s the spirit.” Eddie said with a laugh. He patted Richie on the shoulder twice then ducked out of the car. Richie took another moment to try and gather himself together before quickly figuring out that he wasn’t going to get any more prepared than he was right now. 

Richie kicked off his boots as he came in the house, and didn’t have a chance to take them off before somebody was latching themselves tightly around his midsection.”RICHIE!” Alex cried, pressing her face directly into his stomach. Alexandria Tozier had been a shock to Went and Maggie, barely four years old when Richie had moved out, and he adored her. 

“Hey kiddo.” Richie said, trying to cover up how his voice cracked and broke as he squeezed his baby sister. She stepped back and Richie got his first good look at her. Her hair was longer and waved down her back, and her huge grin was missing several teeth. “Look at you! You’re all grown up, you in high school yet?”

Alex broke into giggles, wrapping her arms back around Richie’s stomach. “Noooo Richie. I’m only in grade two.”

“Grade two!” Richie gasped overdramatically, bending slightly and grunting as he heaved Alex up into his arms. Alex looked at him seriously for a moment then cracked into a grin and Richie couldn’t help but smile back. He kicked off his boots and walked into the crowded living room, holding Alex to his chest like a shield. 

“Richie!” Maggie cried as he entered, coming forward to wrap her arms around her son. Richie leaned down and kissed his mother on the cheek, and Alex rested her head on Richie’s shoulder. Her eyes were already drooping and Richie couldn’t help but wonder if she was staying up past her bedtime to see him.

Eddie was chatting with Wentworth across the living room and Richie’s heart began to race in his chest. He tossed Alex down onto the couch touchdown style, leaving her laughing into the cushions as he walked over to them. 

“Hey Pops.” Richie said, scratching at the back of his neck. 

Went turned to him, expression stoney. “Edward has told me there’s no need for me to lecture you since he has that covered. I trust that is true.” 

“Yes sir.” Richie replied with a somber nod. 

Went broke into a smile and pulled Richie in for a hug. “It’s good to have you home, son. Hope to see you around here more often.”

Richie thought of how much Alex had grown, of sitting with Eddie in the car listening to music and felt his father’s warmth around. “Yeah, Dad. Absolutely.”

“Only issue,” Eddie broke into the father-son moment with a sing song voice. Richie turned and Eddie beamed at him. “I basically live in your room when I’m back in Derry, so you’re going to have to share your bed with me.”

Richie’s brain stalled at the thought of Eddie living in his childhood bedroom for the last three years and he wasn’t quite sure if he felt uncomfortable with it or not, but his brain got caught up in the even scarier thought of sharing a bed with Eddie. 

As the evening went on, Richie tried with all his might not to think about the last time he and Eddie had laid together in that bed. It had been Eddie’s last night in Derry, the two of them curled under the blankets and watching shitty movies and drinking so much soda that Eddie had gotten a stomach ache. A good old fashioned middle school style sleepover. That is until Eddie had rolled over with tears in eyes, and apologized that they couldn’t be together the way they wanted, and kissed him. Everything else that happened between them that night hurt too much to think about, and Eddie had left the next morning without a single word about it. Richie had barely spoken to him since- until today.

Everything died down quickly, and Richie found that he was exhausted. After helping his mom put Alex to bed, though he suspected that the nighttime routine was a little elaborated for his presence, Richie said goodnight to his family and Eddie and dragged his ass up to his childhood bedroom. 

Everything seemed smaller than Richie remembered, and the walls were littered with posters of bands that Richie hadn’t listened to in years. He smiled, though he wasn’t quite sure what was getting to him in the moment, and opened up the top drawer of his dresser. Most of the clothes he’d left behind had actually once belonged to one of the other Losers, and Richie ended up in a too-large T-shirt that was most likely Ben’s, and a pair of sweatpants that were just short enough in the leg to be Bill’s. He crawled into bed and sleep took faster than it had in ages.

He was woken a bit later by the door opening and closing. He rolled over onto his back and squinted, but he couldn’t see shit in the dark without his glasses.

“It’s just me.” Eddie said in soft whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

Richie rolled over, more than happy to do that. He’d started to doze when the bed dipped under the weight of Eddie climbing in beside him. Richie grunted and burrowed himself deeper into the blankets.

“Rich?” Eddie whispered. Richie groaned in response. “Are you sure you’re okay with sharing with me? This is your bed, and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I don’t live here, I can go back and stay with my Ma-”

“Eddie if you think I’m even gonna let you to stay at your mom’s, you’re insane.” Richie said, his voice croaking with half-sleep. “If I was uncomfortable with you in my bed, I would’ve fucking told you. We’ve shared this bed a hundred million times or more. We’re only going to start having an issue if you don’t shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

Eddie chuckled, and when he spoke his voice sounded a little awestruck. “Richie Tozier telling somebody to shut the fuck up? That must be a first.”

“There’s about to be a second.” Richie grumbled, grabbing a pillow out from where Eddie was leaning and whacking him in the face with it. Eddie laughed and Richie felt him finally lay down completely beside him. 

It was definitely the best sleep Richie had had in months, but he wasn’t about to go around announcing it. 

The next morning, Richie woke up alone in his bed and felt a momentary panic when he took in his whereabouts. It took a moment for everything to come sinking back in, and Richie groaned as he put the pieces back together. He flung the blankets up over his head and wondered if he’d be able to get away with wasting the day away in bed. He never came home for the holidays, maybe if he just stayed in his room, his family would just forget he was there.

The bedroom door came swinging open immediately after Richie’s thoughts trailed off, and he forced himself not to make any noise or sudden movements. 

“Asshole, get up.” His older sister, Alyssa, called into the room. “Mom and Dad need you and Eddie to go pick up some stuff for the party tonight.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Richie grumbled. “I was in a different state yesterday! That kind of shit takes a lot out of a guy!”

Alyssa grabbed the blankets that were still hung over Richie’s head and tossed them away. She glared down at him, hands on her hips, and Richie couldn’t help but think she looked exactly like their mother. “Last ones in do the bitch work. And you have like, three years worth of bitch work to make up for. So let’s go, move your ass, Tozier.”

“Fuck you, Tozier.”

Richie rolled out bed quite literally, letting himself drop to the floor. He didn’t need to look up to know that Alyssa was rolling her eyes as she walked away out of his room. Richie rummaged back through the drawer o’ missing clothes, and came out with a large grey sweater- much too large to belong to Richie himself- and pulled back on the jeans from the day before. Tossing his outgrown hair up into a bun on top of his head, Richie half stumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

Maggie barely looked up at him as she handed him a cup of steaming hot chocolate and Richie leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. He turned towards the table and found Eddie sitting there, eating a blueberry muffin and glaring at him. “Got an issue, Kaspbrak?” Richie challenged, sitting down across from him and grabbing his own muffin from the plate. 

“Are you wearing the same jeans from yesterday?” Eddie asked with a crinkle of his nose.

“Judging by the look on your face, you already know the answer to that, Eduardo.” 

Eddie fake gagged. “Richie, that’s so fucking disgusting, are you kidding? What? You’re just going to wear the same pants the entire time you’re here? You’re going to get an… an infection or something. God, Richie. When we go out today, you’re getting some clothes.” Richie opened his mouth but Eddie put his hand out. “And don’t even try to complain to me, it’s your own damn fault for not bringing any stuff when you knew you were going to be here for a week.”

Richie rolled his eyes and didn’t bother trying to cover up his pout. He’d had to borrow a coat from his dad, and was forced to venture out into two feet of snow in his Converse sneakers and Eddie was talking a mile a minute at his side. 

“I’m not fucking buying a pair of boots, Eddie.” Richie rolled his eyes as he dropped into the passenger seat of Eddie’s car. “They’re like 60 bucks a pair, and I live in fucking California. I’m not spending $60 on something I’m only going to use for a week. I’m a broke college student, just like you.”

“Please.” Eddie scoffed, pulling out of the driveway and starting slowly down the snowy road. “If you say so.” 

They drove in an almost eerily comfortable silence. No music, not taking, just them while Richie tried to ignore how immensely he was enjoying Eddie’s company. Richie curled up in the passenger seat, head pressed against the window and he sighed. He watched his breath fog up the glass and slowly traced a R + E into the fog with his finger. He immediately wiped it away with the palm of his hand and glanced over his shoulder, relaxing when it seemed that Eddie hadn’t noticed.

Eddie pulled into the parking lot of Shaw’s Supermarket and Richie stayed curled up in his seat until Eddie came around and yanked the door open. “Come on.” He said with a huff. “I’m not going to do the shopping by myself. Move it.”

Richie groaned, and made exaggerated stomps out of the car. He kept his arms crossed as they hurried through the parking lot and Eddie grabbed them a cart. As soon as Eddie had his bearings on the cart, Richie leap over it and curled up inside, crossed legged and grinning up at Eddie. 

“The cart is for groceries, not your lazy ass.” Eddie grumbled, but he started pushing the cart into the store nonetheless. Richie spun around in the cart, grabbing things off the shelves when Eddie pointed them out and holding them on his lap. 

Eddie maintained that Richie was being lazy and merely looking for an excuse to get out of the shopping as much as possible, but Richie firmly believed that the trip went by faster without Eddie having to stop for every single item they needed to grab. 

“That would have been true either way, you’d just also be walking, dickhead.” Eddie argued after Richie had leap out of the cart and was helping him unload everything onto the belt. “Maybe we could have taken turns pushing the cart even.”

“Awe, Eds, that’s the funniest joke you’ve ever made.” Richie said over his shoulder as he paid the cashier. Richie grabbed as many bags as he could carry and they dragged everything back to car. 

Richie turned on Christmas Carols on the drive back to his house, and after mild complaining- Eddie even sang along with him. 

As they arrived back at the Toziers, they realized how many extra cars were now parked outside. There was space for Eddie to pull into the driveway- no doubt at Maggie’s demand for the safety of her much needed groceries- and Richie found that anxiety from the night before quickly settling back into his gut. 

“Relax, Rich.” Eddie said in a calming voice. His hand dropped down on Richie’s thigh and squeezed. Richie’s breath picked up, Eddie successfully doing the opposite of calming him down. “Richie. I can feel you freaking out. What is your problem?”

“I can’t go in there, Eddie.” Richie said, voice pitched and words rushed together. Richie suddenly felt fifteen again, deeply in love with his best friend and afraid to do anything. A boy who likes boy is a dead boy, Richie thought to himself and remembered growing up in this horrific town around people he could only hope would accept him but he was never sure. He was never sure, he isn’t sure. 

But Eddie with looking at him with wide eyes, concerned and open. Willing to listen to whatever Richie was struggling with and it made Richie so nervous he could throw up. 

Richie ran both hands over his face and sighed loudly. “I cut off everybody I loved, Eds. They’re all in that fucking house, I can’t go in there. I wouldn’t be able to stand it. I can’t go in there and lie to them, or dodge their fucking questions of why I never come home. I just can’t.” 

“Why do you have to lie?” Eddie asked, frowning deeply.  

“Because I can't just go in there and be all ‘hey everybody! Sorry you haven’t seen me in three years but I went off to college and stopped repressing my homosexuality and now I’m a big giant gay! Surprise! I didn’t bring any present!’” 

Richie blurted out the sentence in a span of seconds, words all pressed together until they were barely coherent and Eddie blinked at him as his brain attempted to detangle the mess. His eyes widened as he finally did, and he turned off the car. He buckled himself and almost fell out of the door in his haste to get out. 

Tears stung at his eyes as Richie’s brain spiraled down the dark panic of Eddie turning his back on him. Luckily for Richie, Eddie had only been out of the car long enough to rush around to the passenger side and yank it open. 

“Come on, out. Let’s go.” Eddie forcibly unbuckled Richie and tugged him out of the car. Hand in hand, Eddie dragged him around the house and towards the backyard. 

“Uh, Eds?” Richie’s knees shook brutally as they walked. “What about the groceries?”

“It’s cold enough.” Eddie said sharply. “It’ll basically be like it being a fridge. Relax. This is more important.” 

Eddie sat down on the swing set and Richie sat down slowly on the other side. He suddenly remembered all the summer and fall days Richie and his friends would run around on this small swing set. He wondered if Alex and her friends even played on it, and he hoped desperately that they did. 

It had started snowing lightly, like flakes falling into their hair. Richie, despite the lingering anxiety, couldn’t help but smile at the way Eddie’s cheeks were starting to redden with the chill. Richie pushed his swing enough to sway, enough to just have something to do. 

“Richie-“ Eddie started then paused. He bit down on his bottom lip and furrowed his brow. “I don’t know how to say this politely, so I’m just going to spit it down. Richie. Your family knows you’re gay.”

Richie’s mouth dropped open. He closed his sharply, just to open it again. He shook his head, and closed his eyes. Swallowing deeply, when he opened them again, Eddie was still staring at him softly. “How do you know that?”

Eddie laughed. “Dude, do you know how much I’ve had to hear your mom talk about how she thought we were dating in high school? I’m not sure she believes me when I say that we weren’t.” 

“I’m not sure I believe you either.” Richie said quietly, so quietly that he was almost surprised that Eddie even heard him. But Eddie let a small noise, almost as though he was pained. 

Suddenly, Eddie’s hands were on Richie’s cheeks and pulling him in. Eddie’s lips were cold and Richie knew his were chapped and probably not very nice, but there was something so heartachingly familiar about kissing Eddie that Richie couldn’t help but sink into it completely. 

Eddie pulled back slowly, letting their foreheads stay pressed together. Richie fluttered his eyes open, looking at Eddie with hooded lids. “Why’d you do that?” Richie whispered. 

“I’m sorry.” Eddie said sounding mournful. “For… saying we shouldn’t be together and everything that happened before I left for New York. It wasn’t fucking fair to you, you deserved so much better.” Eddie shook his head, pushing Richie’s head as they moved together. “God. I loved you so much and I knew I was hurting you. I was always so sure that the reason you wouldn't come back to Derry because of me.”

Richie shrugged and brought his hands down to rest on Eddie’s hips. “There was a lot of versions. But…” Richie smiled bashfully. “I think I’m glad I came back this time.” 

Eddie smiled back and pressed a kiss to Richie’s forehead. 

[l8rhader]

25/35 reddie.

Let's go take two. Sorry anon, I'm writing this on my phone so it's short and tumblr are the first one. This actually... let's call this director's super cut for the everything has changed verse.

The constant drone of the breathing machine, the click of the I.V. and the steady beeping of the heart monitor had all but blurred away in Richie's head. The hospital in Bangor only allowed two at a time and, since he refused to leave his side, the rest of the Losers took turns. At this point, they were more keeping an eye on Richie than Eddie.

Richie added the 21st Sharpie tally mark to Eddie's wrist, contemplating giving him a full sleeve of tattoos. Instead, he held Eddie's right hand between his gently. Bev sat to his right, tracing small circles over his shoulders. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," Richie coaxed, pressing a kiss to the other man's thumb. "Come on, Eddie. Give me something." He lifted his hand, careful not to disturb any of the wires and tubes. "Eddie, I've never gone this long without hearing your grating, snippy voice." Bev watched him sadly. Three weeks had elapsed since their boss battle with It. In that time, Richie had gone to extremes trying to get Eddie to wake up, even though he understood that it was medically necessary for him to heal. "I'm going to lick your face and I haven't brushed my teeth in..." he paused, realizing he couldn't give an actual number, settling on "a long time. Please." He closed his eyes and rested his head on their entwined hands. "Please, Eddie," he whispered, a prayer to the only entity he'd ever worshiped.

Leaning into him, Bev's voice quivered. She hadn't been surprised in the least when he finally broke down and told each of the Losers the truth about his relationship with Eddie. The minute they met up in the parking lot of Jade Of The Orient, she could tell. If they were hiding it, they obviously had their reasons. "Richie, honey, come on," she cooed, trying to walk back the breakdown she could hear coming. "The doctors said..."

"Look, Bev, I love you," he said, a little shorter than he'd intended, turning to face her sharply, but with no malice, just exhaustion. He slid his glasses up onto his head and closed his eyes. "but please don't go there. I know what they said." They said if he wakes up. They said if the swelling goes down. They said if it had been an inch higher... They said if so many fucking times that Richie thought he would rather fight the next person who said the fucking word to him than listen to another hypothetical situation.

"You can't do this to yourself," Beverly said, combing her fingers through the mess of curls his hair had become. "We got him out. He's safe."

Richie choked out an incredulous laugh. "Safe." That took some nerve. Safe would be their bed, 3200 miles from Derry. Safe requires the person in question to be awake. He couldn't believe her. "You of all people should understand." Watching his friend blink at him, he sighed. "In the deadlights... I saw him die." A sob escaped with his admission, forcing him into another fit of tears. "I saw him die and we left him there. You guys dragged me away and I couldn't fucking do anything." He vaguely registered Bev's arms encircling him, but that was little comfort to Richie. "I came to and he was on top of me and I did everything I could. He still wound up kebabbed. He still..."

"I know," she said, resting her cheek against his head.

"Do you?" he snapped. Bev moved back instinctively and he regretted it immediately. "What if it was..." Watching her shift uncomfortably at the suggestion, he merely grumbled, "forget it." He was so fucking tired. He nodded his glasses back down onto his nose and returned his gaze to Eddie.

She swallowed thickly, thinking the whole situation through. "If it was Ben?" If it was Ben... she thought what would have happened if Pennywise had slit his throat while she and Mike held him. If he'd drowned in the dirt, grasping for her hand. She couldn't have handled it. She couldn't even imagine if they'd been together since they were kids. "It's different. It's new," she admitted, finally agreeing that his reaction wasn't so far fetched, "but I'd be inconsolable.

"Exactly. So stop wasting your breath," he said, unable to bring himself to look at her. She got to go back to the Townhouse, crawl into bed with good ol' Haystack, feel his arms around her, wake him up when she has a nightmare, kiss him, talk to him...

Likewise, Bev couldn't look at Richie. She had no reason to feel guilty, but still... Staring at the too-even rise and fall of Eddie's chest, she shook her head. He wasn't dead. He was there. "Look. Watch the monitor," she instructed, pointing to the jagged lines of his heart rate. "He's alive," she reminded him gently, sliding one of his hands up to Eddie's wrist. "Feel right here. His heartbeat is right here and you're not imagining it. He's not going anywhere." She regained the courage to look at Richie. "They're gonna start weaning him off the meds in the morning, so he should be awake by dinner tomorrow." Richie sniffled unevenly, nodding. "Why don't you come back to the townhouse and get some sleep." She suggested, returning her hand to his shoulders. "Shower. Eat real food. He's gonna need you in good shape when he wakes up."

Blinking out the last of his tears, Richie shook his head, knowing that she was prepared for him to decline, like he had every night. "I haven't slept anywhere but beside him since we were seventeen. I doubt I could even if I wanted to."

"Richie..."

"I'm not leaving," he repeated.

Bev sighed, standing up and straightening her back. "Okay, honey. Okay. Call me before you go to sleep." She leaned across him and kissed Eddie's cheek gently. "Love you, Eds." On her way by, she stopped and wrapped Richie in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head. "Love you, Trashmouth."

He gave a humorless laugh, and reached up to pat her hair. "Love you too."

That night was the slowest one since the first couple, when everything had been touch and go. He called Bev around 12:30 and swore he was going to sleep. He didn't. Instead, he watched cheesy, nostalgic movies on his phone, all Eddie's favorites; Dirty Dancing, then Pretty in Pink. He marked the 22nd tally as Duckie sent Andi off after Blaine, the only part of the movie RIchie couldn't get behind. Still, Eddie had told him he loved him for the first time to the strains of the song from the end of this movie so he could never shut it off. And it had been 22 days without talking to the love of his life. 22 soul sucking days. Eventually, he dozed off about two-thirds of the way through The Outsiders.

All-too-soon, he was awakened by the bustle of shift change and nurses doing their thing and the whole process started over. Around 8 a.m., the morning nurse came in. Richie had hardly noticed, in a sort of daze.

"Mr. Tozier?" she asked, quietly.

Snapping back to reality, he nearly dropped Eddie's hand. "Oh, sorry," he said, shaking the fog from his brain. Eddie really needed to wake up now.

"You're fine," she insisted, bringing a bag of liquid to the stand by the bed and a handful of small bottles. "Just scoot back for me a little, please." She hung the bag and screwed it into Eddie's I.V. line, then affixed the bottles.

Squinting to make out the labels, as though he'd have any idea of their purpose, Richie decided instead to just ask the nurse. "What's that for?"

She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "To start countering the sedative before we back it off."

Richie took a deep breath. "Okay," he nodded. His heart hammered in his chest. They were actually going to wake him up today.

"Can I get you anything?" the woman asked sweetly.

As though Richie was the one anyone needed to worry about. He shook his head and managed the weakest of smiles. "You're already working on the only thing I could possibly ask you for."

She leaned against the empty sliding table and eyed him carefully. "How about a coffee and a bagel?"

Richie paused. He hadn't eaten since lunch time the day prior, so it wasn't a bad idea. "I'd appreciate it. Thank you," he said, realizing that maybe Bev had been right.

If Richie had thought that night was long, he was in for the most torturously slow day. Nurses in and out. Medicines of all sorts. He didn't know what to do with himself, so he just... stared. Asked questions. Finally, the nurses administered the last of the rounds Eddie would need to wake up and Richie was left alone to his thoughts.

After two episodes of I Love Lucy, he leaned in as close to Eddie as he could. "Do you remember the first time we did this?" he asked, knowing there would be no response. "When you had your tonsils out and I snuck in like a fucking ninja as soon as I saw my beloved Sonia leave?" He gave a bitter laugh, imagining what good ol' Mrs. K would do seeing Eddie laid up like this with that dirty Tozier boy still by his side. "The woman couldn't manage to sleep in the chair for one night." He gave a mischievous smile for the benefit of no one. "But, experienced as I was in the art of finding ways to see my Eds, I sweet talked the nurse into letting me stay." He certainly hadn't done a great deal of sweet talking anyone this time. That had been Mike, plus a good deal of good faith from Bev and Bill. But he'd certainly known how to work adults when he was a kid. "I snuck you in a pint of real ice cream and we played gameboy in bed together and, even though I tried to get you to shut up, you couldn't let me do all the talking and even though it hurt, you still laughed and joked." He took a deep breath, realizing he was rambling. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears once more. "God, and I thought I was in love with you then," he groaned. It was almost hysterical how he still felt like that same clueless teenager. "I don't know what 14-year-old Richie would think of 39-year-old Richie but I hope he'd enjoy knowing that he's still in love with you." He sniffed, giving in to the tears because what else was he supposed to do. He rolled his eyes, adding "He'd probably call me a pussy for all the crying I've done in the last three weeks but that's fine. It's normal. It's whatever," he dismissed darkly, voice thick and nasally. "He's a teenager. What the fuck does he know? Bug eyed little creep," he laughed, pawing the tears from under his glasses. "How to keep the person he loves in one piece. Something that apparently fades with age," he waited for a response again, mainly out of muscle memory. He stood and propped himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He took a much more serious, exhausted tone. "I need you to laugh, babe. I need you to wake up and bitch at me for my rumpled shirt and greasy hair and getting snot on you and crying and getting you stabbed in that fucking sewer." He sighed, leaning back a little to just watch him. He could have sworn he saw... he shook his head. That wasn't possible. It was wishful thinking. "Eddie, please," he started, but cut himself when he saw a pair of startled, panicked brown eyes staring up at him, gagging on the respirator. "Holy shit. Hi," he sobbed, stroking his side, momentarily at a loss for what to do. Suddenly, he refocused and remembered the nurse's instructions. Keep him calm and hit the emergency call button immediately. "Okay, stay calm, babe," he said, springing from his seat and hitting the bright red button on the remote for the TV. "We'll get them to take this out." He took Eddie's hand and stroked it, trying to ward off the look of sheer terror in Eddie's face. "Stay calm, okay," he cooed. Hearing footsteps outside the door, Richie called out frantically "Miss Kim!"

"What do you need, baby?" she asked, seemingly startled by the call. When she pulled back the curtain, she flew into action mode. "Oh! Mr. Kaspbrak, welcome back." Eddie choked a little against the machine and Richie felt his chest constrict. "Don't fight the tube, sweetie," she said warmly. "We'll get this out of here. Relax." Eddie locked eyes with Richie, then nodded and finally squeezed his hand. The nurse gave them a little smile, "Cough a couple times for me." Eddie, ever the good patient, did as he was instructed. Miss Kim raised a small hooked tool and pointed it out to the men. "This is gonna suck the fluids out. Okay?" Eddie nodded and coughed again. "I know, I know," she soothed. "Alright, I'm gonna ask you to take a couple of deep breaths, tell you to hold one, then when you push all that air out, I'm going to extract the breathing tube. Okay?" She was talking to Eddie, but for some reason, Richie nodded too, then admonished himself for it. "Alright. In." He did. "Hold." He did. "Out." He did. Miss Kim pulled the tube out and Richie had to try not to wince as he watched the outline of it move up his windpipe. "Attaboy," she said, nodding proudly and patting him on the shoulder as he caught his breath. "It's nice to see you. I'll let your husband have a minute before we continue."

"Hi," Eddie said, voice raspy and quiet.

Richie fought against the urge to fling himself on top of him, instead nearly collapsing onto the bed rail and grasping his hand. "Eddie. Oh my god. You're awake. You're alive. I was so scared. God, I love you. I love you so much. You're here," he babbled, unable to pry his eyes from Eddie's- God, had they always been that beautiful?

"Did we..." Eddie asked, then his eyes darted to the nurse.

Richie smiled broadly, then broke into wrecked sobs. "We did. It's over. Everyone's okay and It's gone. It's not gonna bother us ever again." He leaned his forehead against Eddie's, tears smattering down on him and he couldn't be bothered to care. "We never have to fight It again."

Eddie nodded slowly, taking the minimal information in. It was over. They won. "Will you shut up so I can kiss you?" he asked, wincing.

"If I'd have known that that was all it took to get a kiss out of you, I'd have been quiet as a mouse for the last-" From behind him, he heard Miss Kim laugh and blushed, nodding. "Sorry. I'm shutting up."

Richie leaned forward and let Eddie reach up into his hair, pulling him into a warm kiss that, if Eddie had noticed the taste of stale instant coffee or the slick of unwashed hair or tears still streaming down Richie's face mingling with the ones starting to fall from his own, he'd never mention it. It was, for his money, possibly the best kiss they'd ever shared. When he opened his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. "What the fuck is this?" Eddie asked, laughing at the group of black slashes on his wrist.

Richie laughed, too. He couldn't even begin to explain the scattered mess in his head without Eddie to help balance it out. Instead, he kissed the inside of Eddie's palm, where the 27 year old scar no longer lived and felt himself relax back into the chair. They were free of It.

[rabbitcruiser]

Paul Bunyan Day

North American folklore is replete with stories of larger-than-life figures, but none of them stands taller than the giant lumberjack Paul Bunyan, who is said to have traveled around the continent with Babe, his big blue ox. Many cities and states across the United States pay tribute to Bunyan, some have put up statues of him, and some also claim him to be their native son. Some areas where Bunyan is prominently featured include Bemidji, Brainerd, and Akeley, in Minnesota; Bangor, Maine; and locations in Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, and California. On Paul Bunyan Day, his legend is not only celebrated in these locations but all around the world.

Today’s observance is particularly tied to Bangor, Maine. Residents claim Bunyan was born in the woods outside of the city on February 12, 1834. Coincidentally, this is also the date that Bangor was incorporated. A 31-foot statue of Bunyan stands in front of the Cross Insurance Center on Main Street. It was gifted to the city by the New York-based model-making company Messmore & Damon on the occasion of the 125th birthday of Bunyan and the city. A time capsule is enshrined within it which will be opened 125 years after it was placed there, on February 12, 2084.

Throughout history, the story of Paul Bunyan has changed and grown until becoming what it is today. One account says that Bunyan was based on Fabian “Joe” Fournier, a French-Canadian logger who moved to Michigan after the American Civil War. Known as Saginaw Joe, he was strongly built, had giant hands, and was six feet in height. Rumor has it that he also had two sets of teeth. It is believed that he died in 1875 after being hit in the back of the head with a mallet during a fight in Bay City, Michigan. After his death and the trial of his alleged killer, stories about him started turning into tales.

At some point, the story of Fournier combined with that of Bon Jean, a French-Canadian war hero, and the story of Bunyan was further solidified. Bon Jean had played a role in the Papineau Rebellion in Canada in 1837. Bunyan’s name also comes from Bon Jean. Stories of Paul Bunyan, which were full of hyperbole and exaggerations, proliferated by word of mouth, being passed from generation to generation in logging communities and amongst lumberjacks in the United States and Canada.

Written stories about Bunyan started appearing in the early twentieth century. One of the first stories to appear in print, titled “Round River,” was written by James MacGillivray and was printed in a local newspaper in Oscoda, Michigan, in 1906. Four years later, MacGillivray shared a collection of stories about Bunyan when working at the Detroit News Tribune. Bunyan got his first national print exposure in 1912 when MacGillivray and a poet collaborated to create a poem for Lumberman magazine that was inspired by the lumberjack.

In 1914, William Laughead—a logger and advertising manager of the Red River Lumber Company—depicted Bunyan in his company’s advertising pamphlets. This was the first time Bunyan was depicted in illustrations, and they helped to spread his story across the United States. Laughead’s illustrations also showcased Babe the blue ox and gave her her name.

There are many legends surrounding Bunyan. It is said that he started the logging profession in the United States and that he hired large men who cleared large forests across the continent with him and Babe. It is said that his and Babe’s footprints created Minnesota’s 10,000 lakes, that he created the Great Lakes so Babe had a place to drink, that he formed the Grand Canyon by dragging his axe, that he made Mount Hood by piling up stones to extinguish a campfire, that he cleared all of South and North Dakota for farming, and that he was able to eat 50 pancakes a minute. These are all quite impressive feats. Today we celebrate the giant lumberjack behind them.

How to Observe Paul Bunyan Day

Celebrate all things Paul Bunyan today. Here are some ideas to get you started:

Visit one of the many Paul Bunyan statues. Some locations where you can find statues include Portland, Bangor, Bemidji, Brainerd, Akeley, Klamath, and Cheshire. It would be especially appropriate to visit the statue in Bangor today, on the anniversary of the city’s founding and the date on which they claim Paul Bunyan was born. See if there are any Paul Bunyan Day celebrations taking place in Bangor or in any other city.

Ride Paul Bunyan’s Log Chute in the Mall of America.

Visit the Paul Bunyan Logging Camp Museum in Eau Claire.

Make and eat some flapjacks.

Make a pilgrimage to Paul Bunyan’s Cook Shanty in Wisconsin Dells or Minocqua.

Watch the 1958 short film Paul Bunyan, the 1995 film Tale Tale, or the 2017 animated film Bunyan & Babe.

Tell stories around a campfire.

Read books and stories about Paul Bunyan. Some examples include The Marvelous Exploits of Paul Bunyan by William Laughead, Paul Bunyan Swings His Axe by Dell J. McCormick, and Paul Bunyan by Esther Shephard.

Source

[rfield87]

Writing Advice from Best-Selling Authors: Stephen King

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This week’s re-blog is one that was written by Lauren Passell, and is titled: Stephen King’s Top 20 Rules for Writers. It was published on March 22, 2013. If you would like to read the blog on the Barnes & Noble website where I found it, I will leave the link below. 

(When I was re-writing this blog I found some typo errors and corrected them as I went along. It must be the editor in me.)

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/blog/stephen-kings-top-20-rules-for-writers/

                         Stephen King’s Top 20 Rules for Writers

Stephen King’s books have sold over 350 million copies. Like them or loathe them, you have to admit that’s impressive. King’s manual On Writing reveals that he’s relentlessly dedicated to his craft. He admits that not even The King himself always sticks to his rules - but trying to follow them is a good start. Here are our favorite pieces of advice for aspiring writers:

1. First write for yourself, and then worry about the audience. “When you write a story, you’re telling yourself the story. When you rewrite, your main job is taking out the things that are not the story. Your stuff starts out being just for you, but then it goes out.

2. Don’t use passive voice. “Timid writers like passive verbs for the same reason that timid lovers like passive partners. The passive voice is safe. The timid fellow writes “The meeting will be held at seven o’clock” because that somehow says to him, ‘Put it this way and people will believe you really know.’ Purge this quisling thought! Don’t be a muggle! Throw back your shoulders, stick out your chin, and put that meeting in charge! Write ‘The meeting’s at seven.’ There, by God! Don’t you feel better?”

3. Avoid adverbs. “The adverbs is not your friend. Consider the sentence “He closed the door firmly.” It’s by no means a terrible sentence, but ask yourself if ‘firmly’ really has to be there. What about context? What about the enlightening (not to say emotionally moving) prose which came before ‘He closed the door firmly’? Shouldn’t this tell us how he closed the door? And if the foregoing prose does tell us, then isn’t ‘firmly’ an extra word? Isn’t it redundant?”

4, Avoid adverbs, especially after “he said” and “she said.” “While to write adverbs is human, to write ‘he said’ or ‘she said’ is divine.”

5. But don’t obsess over perfect grammar. “Language does not always have to wear a tie and lace-up shoes. The object of fiction isn’t grammatical correctness but to make the reader welcome and then tell a story...to make him/her forget, whenever possible, that he/she is reading a story at all.”

6. The magic is in you. “I’m convinced that fear is at the root of most bad writing. Dumbo got airborne with the help of a magic feather; you may feel the urge to grasp a passive verb or one of those nasty adverbs for the same reason. Just remember before you do that Dumbo didn’t need the feather; the magic was in him.”

7. Read, read, read. “You have tor read widely, constantly refining (and redefining) your own work as you do so. If you don’t have the time to read, you don’t have the time (or the tools) to write.”

8. Don’t worry about making other people happy. “Reading at meals is considered rude in polite society, but if you expect to succeed as a writer, rudeness should be the second to least of your concerns. The least of all should be polite society and what it expects. If you intend to write as truthfully as you can, your days as a member of polite society are numbered, anyway.”

9. Turn off the TV. “Most exercise facilities are now equipped with TVs, but TV - while working out or anywhere else - really is about the last thing an aspiring writer needs. If you feel you must have the news analyst blowhard on CNN while you exercise, or the stock market blowhards of MSNBC, or the sports blowhards of ESPN, it’s time for you to question how serious you really are about becoming a writer. You must be prepared to do some serious turning inward toward the life of the imagination, and that means, I’m afraid, the Geraldo, Keigh Oberman, and Jay Leno must go. Reading takes time, and the glass teat takes too much of it.”

10. You have three months. “The first draft of a book - even a long one - should take no more than three months, the length of a season.”

11. There are two secrets to success. “When asked for the ‘secret of my success’ (an absurd idea, that, but impossible to get away from), I sometimes say there are two: I stayed physically healthy, and I stayed married. It’s a good answer because it makes the question go away, and because there is an element of truth in it. The combination of a healthy body and a stable relationship with a self-reliant woman who takes zero shit from me or anyone else has made the continuity of my working life possible. And I believe the converse is also true: that my writing and the pleasure I take in it has contributed to the stability of my health and my home life.”

12. Write one word at a time. “A radio talk-show host asked me how I wrote. My reply - ‘One word at a time’ - seemingly left him without a reply. I think he was trying to decide whether or not I was joking. I wasn’t. In the end, it’s always that simple. Whether it’s vignette of a single page or an epic trilogy like ‘The Lord of the Rings,” the work is always accomplished one word at a time.”

13. Eliminate distraction. “There should be no telephone in your writing room, certainly no TV or videogames for you to fool around with. If there’s a window, draw the curtains or pull down the shades unless it looks out at a blank wall.”

14. Stick to your own style. “One cannot imitate a writer’s approach to a particular genre, no matter how simple what the writer is doing may seem. You can’t aim a book like a cruise missile, in other words. People who decide to make a fortune writing like John Grisham or Tom Clancy produce nothing but pale imitations, by and large, because vocabulary is not the same thing as feeling and plot is light years from the truth as it is understood by the mind and the heart.”

15. Dig. “When, during the course of an interview for The New Yorker, I told the interviewer (Mark Singer) that I believed stories are found things, like fossils in the ground, he said that he didn’t believe me. I replied that was fine, as long as he believed that I believed it. And I do. Stories aren’t souvenir tee-shirts or Game Boys. Stories are relics, part of an undiscovered pre-existing world. The writer’s job is to use the tools in his or her toolbox to get as much of each one out of the ground intact as possible. Sometimes the fossil you uncover is small; a seashell. Sometimes it’s enormous, a Tyrannosaurus Rex with all the gigantic ribs and grinning teeth. Either way, short story or thousand page whopper of a novel, the techniques of excavation remain basically the same.”

16. Take a break. “If you’ve never done it before, you’ll find reading your book over after a six-week layoff to be a strange, often exhilarating experience. It’s yours, you’ll recognize it as yours, even be able to remember what tune was on the stereo when you wrote certain lines, and yet it will also be like reading the work of someone else, a soul-twin, perhaps. This is the way it should be, the reason you waited. It’s always easier to kill someone else’s darlings than it is to kill your own.”

17. Leave out the boring parts and kill your darlings. “Mostly when I think of pacing, I go back to Elmore Leonard, who explained it so perfectly by saying he just left out the boring parts. This suggests cutting to speed the pace, and that’s what most of us end up having to do (kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings).”

18. The research shouldn’t overshadow the story. “If you do need to do research because parts of your story deal with things about which you know little or nothing, remember the word back. That’s where research belongs; as far in the background and the back story as you can get it. You may be entranced with what you’re learning about the flesh-eating bacteria, the sewer system of New York, or the I.Q. potential of collie pups, but your readers are probably going to care a lot more about your characters and your story.”

19. You become a better writer simply by reading and writing. “You don’t need writing classes or seminars any more than you need this or any other book on writing. Faulkner learned his trade while working in the Oxford, Mississippi post office. Other writers have learned the basics while serving in the Navy, working in steel mills or doing time in America’s finer crossbar hotels. I learned the most valuable (and commercial) part of my life’s work while washing motel sheets and restaurant tablecloths at the New Franklin Laundry in Bangor. You learn best by reading a lot and writing a lot, and the most valuable lessons of all are the ones you teach yourself.”

20. Writing is about getting happy. “Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So, drink.”  

Which of these rules do you like best?

[shark-from-the-park]

FIC: The Fitzier of It, Episode Four

A Fitzier The Thick of It AU in several parts. You can find Episode One here , Episode Two here and Episode Three here. With sincere thanks to @casperthefriendlylittlefan and @coffeesugarcream for their cheerleading and encouragement and to everyone else who has read and enjoyed so far. I love you all, your comments/tags/asks/PM’s make my heart swell.

In this installment, James really does go for broke in his attempts to get hired as Francis’s spin doctor. This certainly won’t awaken anything in him... will it?

Warnings for very bad language, NSFW themes, endlessly snacking LeVesconte and a wild Blanky.

@litttlesilkworm @boisinberryjamarama @thegreenmeridian @cinemaocd @the-jewish-marxist @hereliesnils @nashilena @itisa-profoundbond-sarandom @idlesuperstar @what-a-terrorific-mess @kahootqueen69 @jaredharrisankles @shit-in-silk-stocking @bobbole @fellowshipofthegay @aconfusedwriter @uncannybrightside @glorioustidalwavedefendor @zaphodbeeblebro @sasheenka @intrepid-inkweaver @full-of-terrors @anadequatesir

Contact me via semiphore (or some more convenient method) to be tagged/untagged, or just to say hello/hurl abuse. xXx.

Episode Four

When James strode into Baffin House the next day, his confidence was based on more than just his usual bluster and self-assurance.  

He struck it lucky as soon as he reached the second floor.

Ed Little and Thomas Jopson were sat at a desk together near the elevators, heads bent, chatting and laughing. The sideburn brothers didn’t even notice James as he passed them.  

That just left Blanky.  

Who was, of course, perched on the desk outside Francis’s office door like a guard dog, exchanging friendly banter with two women a few desks over (the term ‘duck’ was being thrown about with bewildering regularity).

James steeled himself and approached the Yorkshireman with his palms up in a gesture of peace.  

He also kept his mouth firmly shut.  

Blanky regarded him with crinkly, laughing eyes, almost fondly.  

“Go on then, Fitzjames, lad. Yer’ve caught me in a good mood.”

James reached into his leather satchel, and with the bare minimum of theatricality (that he was physically capable of), brought out his gifts. One by one he placed them on the desk next to Blanky.  

First came a box of colourful Paperchase paper-clips in the shapes of whales and anchors.

Second, and this one was an educated guess really, a grab bag of steak flavoured McCoy’s.  

Thirdly, a folded slip of notepaper with the words ‘Shadow Cabinet’ written on it in James’s neat handwriting.  

Blanky regarded each gift thoughtfully, picking up and unfolding the slip of paper, reading the contents, then meeting James’s eye.  

Blanky refolded the notepaper and handed it back, the beginnings of a grin on his face.  

He rapped on Francis’s office door three times, then held it open.  

“Go on then, lad. Yer’ve earned it.”

With a tiny sigh of relief, James darted through the door before Blanky could change his mind.  

Francis, elbow deep in some report or other, looked up at James from behind his desk in surprise.  

“Thomas Blanky you useless, traitorous gimp, I should have you flogged!” He bellowed after a moment of silence.  

“He brought me crisps, Frank.  And fancy paper-clips.  I’m not made of stone.”  Blanky closed the office door behind James, effectively trapping him and Francis inside together.  

“Class traitor!” Francis yelled at Blanky before sneering at James across the expanse of his desk and saying; “To what do I owe this pleasure, James?” acidly.  

Realising that he had placed both hands up in a peace gesture again, James swiftly dropped them to his sides, feeling like a twat.  

“I just wanted to talk, Francis. I, uh, I brought you this.” He laid the folded piece of notepaper on Francis’s desk and then took a step back.  

Francis unfolded the paper, read it, peered up at James to give him a quick glare, then read it again.  

“Do you honestly think I don’t already know who I want working with me?  You arrogant, snot-nosed little public school wanker...”  He managed to grind out at last.  

James breathed out slowly through his nose.  

Humility. Humility.  

“The thing is, Francis, it’s not just the list. I, uh, talked to them. All of them. I mean, I vetted them all first, of course. Official and unofficial channels. Did some research into their stances on your key issues. And they’ve all, er, agreed. To back you. To serve on your shadow cabinet and toe the line on your fundamentals. All would be willing to meet with you about it. All committed. I mean, I made it clear that it was all speculative, of course. I made it clear that I was doing it off my own back. And then I found out that you’d already spoken to some of them…  It’s just… I’d really like to work with you, Francis. For you.”  James stopped, feeling light-headed.  

Francis’s mouth kept opening and shutting silently.  His face had gone the colour of cooked lobster.  

James chewed on the inside of his bottom lip and waited.  

Eventually, Francis managed;

“Fucking hell James. Why? Why the fuck… I’m no Sir John. I’m not in this for a fucking seat in the House of Lords. You won’t get me to schmooze with any of the great and good. There’ll be no champagne dinners. No golf. No parties with Richard fucking Branson. Have you lost your mind, James? I’m a backwards, Stalinist potato-fucker with bad dress sense, remember?”

“I’ve never said potato-fucker, Francis. About anyone.”

“I just don’t know what your game is here, James.”

“There is no game. I want to work for you. I think I can help you win.”

“You, Mister privately educated, Oxbridge, gap-year-in-South-East-Asia, Paul Smith ties and expensive haircuts, want to work for this ex-alcoholic, Bangor University graduate, backbench, cardigan-wearing Irish...”

“Look!” James interjected desperately. “Francis... Somewhere along the line, I think you might have gotten the idea that I don’t respect you...”

“Whatever could possibly have given me that impression, James.”  Francis said, steely-eyed.  

“But the thing is, you see, that actually, I -”  James’ larynx tried to seize up over the words and he was forced to clear his throat loudly, feeling colour rise to his face.  “I admire you.” He managed at last in a rushed voice that didn’t sound at all like his own.  

Somehow, he felt as if he’d just said something else.

Utterly exposed.  

Francis looked completely astonished. It didn’t suit him.  

They stared at each other from opposite sides of the room, evidently having run off some sort of conversational cliff.  

James chafed under Francis’s intense blue gaze, but having said his piece he found himself unwilling to back down or look away.  

Seconds ticked by, lengthening into minutes and they just breathed in and out and looked at one another.  

The office door opened and Blanky stuck his head in.

“I’m not sorry for interrupting.” He said. “Yers have been quiet for so long I thought one of you must have killed the other.  Now I see it’s just some sort of homoerotic staring contest. My mistake.” He retreated and shut the door on them again.  

“Alright.” Francis finally ground out from between clenched teeth. “I’ll consider it.”

James, whose brain had snagged on the words ‘homoerotic staring contest’, blinked at him in confusion.  

“You’ll...”

“I’ll consider bringing you and Le Vesconte on board. I’ll meet with the names on your bloody list.”

“Oh. Well. Good. Good.”  James felt as though he were having an out of body experience.  

“Just… liaise with Blanky. Set up the meetings.”

“Alright Francis. And… Thank you...”

James exited Francis’s office as quickly as was humanly possible, only to find Blanky, Ed Little, Jopson and half a dozen others crowded around the door, peering at him with rapt curiosity.  

*****

“Fucking hell, Fitz. It sounds about as nerve-wracking as asking him to a school disco.”

“No, it was worse than that.” Muttered James, strangely subdued. “It was like one of those dreams where you…  No, it was like… Like I accidentally took off my face and showed him the horrific writhing mass of gore that is the real me, for a second...”

“Fuck. That’s deep, Fitz. I’ve known you going on thirty years and I don’t think I’ve ever seen the real you.” Dundy managed around a mouthful of treacle scone.

“Exactly, Dundy. It wasn’t like I meant to do it.” James rubbed a hand over the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“It worked though, didn’t it?  We’ve actually got a shot at being in government!”

“Mmmm? Yeah.”

Dundy looked both worried and worryingly thoughtful for a moment.  

“James?” He spoke gently, as though trying not to spook a horse. “You do realise that you’re in-”

“Shut up.”  James snapped back into gear all at once.  “Come on, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”  

*****

Episode Five here...

[writeyourownlifestory]

SUCKER PUNCHED

Chapters: 4/9 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: Mention of past child // psychological abuse, Fight Club!au, mentions of suicide attempt.  Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, learning to love yourself

Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @airbenderking, @ambitiousskychild

By the time Eddie was 13, he was allergic to peanuts, tree nuts, and several cooking oils. By 15, he had never swum in gym class and never went to a friend’s birthday party or had one of his own. By 16, Eddie knew that he liked looking at boys rather than looking at girls, though that didn’t seem to matter at the time. By 18, he had graduated high school and that was the end of his social life. And by 21, Eddie’s life had been torn to pieces.

He was a victim of Munchausen syndrome by proxy and now left without a mother, without a home, and without a clue. On top of being told he should go to group therapy, his caseworker had also suggested doing something to blow off some steam. Join a book club or go to the gym. Or maybe join a need-to-know based fight club. Either or.

Chapters one, two, three

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have much to lose after all.

He tried to think of a couple of things that would make it into a good excuse not to go to the gym, but he kept coming up empty. He did need to start working out and getting healthy. Sure, his mom pumped him up with supplements and protein, but that didn’t make him healthy. He was walking everywhere nowadays, so his legs were getting a good hit, but what about his arms?

Sure, he had to carry the heavy boxes at the store and lifted a few of them while restocking, but he knew he could do better. It wasn’t like he was getting thrown into the ring after all. He would hit a few machines and lift a few weights. Nothing worth bragging about.

After coming home from work, he hung around the house for a little bit, having nothing else really to do. Ben and Beverly were going to see a movie and while they had invited him to tag along, he declined, claiming he had something he had to take care of. The two had done everything they could to not make him feel like he was the third wheel, but sometimes two people just needed to be alone, whether they were a couple or not.

Mrs. Hanscom was working late, so he had the house to himself for a little while. He lasted about twenty minutes before he threw in the towel and changed from his work shirt and jeans into a plain tee-shirt and shorts. He locked the door behind him and made his way into town, down Main street and up to the gym.

He looked through the window, finding it somewhat empty for the night. He guessed even gym rats had something else to do on a Friday night. There were only a couple of guys inside and after a few minutes of just standing there, he finally entered.

Richie was off in the morning, doing a handful of genetic stretches on the mat. Eddie didn’t want to think of how often, or lack thereof, the mat was wiped down just like the rest of the machines.

Eddie liked to keep it clean, as it was something they would do every week back when he was living with his mother. Sonia Kaspbrak wasn’t one with OCD, but it was a chance for them to bond together. Wiping everything down with Lysol was a great way to get rid of any common germs and Eddie had learned from a very early age how to disinfect and keep order.

“Eds!” Richie called out upon spotting him.

“It’s Eddie.” He retorted, already wondering if he had made the right decision.

“Eds is short for Eddie.”

“And Eddie is already short for Edward.”

“Richie is short for Richard. Wanna know something even shorter?”

“If you say your dick, I’m leaving.”

Richie gasped, placing his hand over his chest as he faked shock and dismay. “Edward! How could you? Why would I ever lie about my penis like that?”

“Beep, Beep, Richie.” Eddie stared at him, blank and unimpressed. “Can we get this over with?”

“Don’t sound so depressed, Eds. You’re spending your night with a certified hottie.” Adjusting his headband, he brought Eddie over to the machine. He gave a quick rundown of what it was called and how to use it. “This is a rower. Like a boat, all right? Hold onto that, keep your legs straight, you’re gonna lean back and well, row.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

Richie chuckled, slapping his shoulder before adjusting the weight.

The machine turned out to be a nightmare as it required a hell of a lot more muscles than Eddie thought he was capable of using. Even in a lighter setting, he felt like he was straining himself just to be able to keep up. He did a couple of sets or reps, whatever Richie called them before Richie moved him onto the next machine.

He hadn’t brought water or anything to keep him hydrated so he had to stick with the tiny paper cups from the water cooler in the corner. He tried not to think about how many times that water was changed out. He was too parched to taste the bland, staleness of old water.

When the first hour passed they took a small break. They sat against the mirrors, watching the other guys who came to work out do their sets. “So, any chance of you becoming a gym rat like the rest of us?” Richie asked him, resting his chin on his bent knees.

Eddie was very doubtful that he’d ever willingly want to work out. Ever would willingly want to sweat into his clothes and strain his muscles until he was left tired and aching.

He remembered his mother shaking her head whenever the Olympics would come around and they’d sit by the television and watch all the competitions. Sonia would comment about how they would work so hard just for one chance at winning.

“All of that hard work for nothing,” she would comment whenever they lost. Eddie, the innocent one, who always tried to be optimistic, reminded her about the winners. “They might have won but how long will that last? Trust me, Eddie-Bear. They will lose that shapely body soon enough and get addicted to opioids just like every other former star.”

She turned the television off after that. Very rarely did they watch anything that contained athletes or anything other than game shows and children’s programming. It’s a mystery Eddie turned out even half okay after having a woman like that as his only companion for so long.

He wondered what his mother would be thinking if she knew where he was. If she knew her precious little boy was sweating and working out on machines that hadn’t been cleaned and drinking water almost from the tap.

“How much is it?” Eddie questioned, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

It wound up only costing Eddie fifteen bucks a month to join. He found that to be pretty decent on account of it being a small private gym.

A small group of women came in and greeted Richie as Eddie was signing up. They flashed their teeth at him and Richie commented, calling them pearly white and magnificent. Eddie brushes his teeth every morning and every night, always flossing in between and using that terrible tasting mouthwash whenever he could. Dental hygiene was important and taking care of his mouth was one thing Eddie took pride in even after leaving his mother’s house.

Once his membership was started, Eddie hung around for a few minutes after, using the hand weights that were in the corner. He found himself watching as Richie went around the room, helping out those who needed it. He had a way about him that even if you had just met him, he’d find a way to get under your skin. Whether or not it was in a good way all depended on Richie but that was his style.

They left together after another half hour. Eddie was tired and he knew he would be sore in the morning.

“Now that you joined maybe we could become gym buddies?” Richie had suggested, playfully bumping their shoulders together as they walked down the street.

They did become gym buddies, much to Eddie’s dismay. His body aches for days after the first trip and he had become very comfortable with standing in the freezers of the grocery store on days when he felt extra sore.

Richie didn’t go easy on him but he also knew not to test his limits. They found a routine that worked for them both and on days when Richie couldn’t make it or their schedules just couldn’t line up, Ben and Beverly were more than happy to tag along with him.

It may not have been his intention of becoming a gym rat but he found himself going two to three times a week. Any night when he wasn’t in the mood to just sit back and watch tv or read a book or do a puzzle.

He also went out to the farm to watch a fight now and then. He still didn’t understand it that much, the rapid appeal of going head to head with another person, but it was another excuse to get out of the house and socialize.

Eddie found himself doing a lot of things he wouldn’t have thought he would do before coming. He was eating new foods all the time, trying different things.

He was making his own choices, going out to buy his clothes with Beverly in tow. She didn’t choose anything for him but gave her the best intel since she had a thing for fashion.

He found his sense of style for the first time. He found his sense of reality for the first time. Making his own choices and doing things he wanted to do without worrying if he would get in trouble or he would make his mommy angry.

It hadn’t been what Eddie expected when he first arrived in Bangor. Trying to move on from the life he once lived wasn’t easy but the alternative wasn’t much better.

He had spoken up about it during one of the group meetings. He was half listening, not even sure what the topic was but nobody else commented. It was obvious the director was feeling a bit dejected and thought well, why not?

“We try to find a middle ground. Between the life, we lived before breaking away and the life we’ve been thrown into now that we're out of that situation. It’s not easy. May not even be possible but, it’s worth trying right?”

“That’s right, Mr. Kaspbrak. That’s exactly right.”

“Look at you making an impression in the group,” Beverly mentioned as they left.

Eddie didn’t want a pat on the back for coming up with something that made sense or for just being honest. He knew everybody had been through something similar and he wasn’t going to pretend like he had done or said anything poetic. If they didn’t find something to hold onto, something to shape their life around, then what was the point of having a life, to begin with?

“Are you seeing Richie tonight?” Beverly asked.

He was but not for the gym. The old theatre was playing some old-time movies and Richie thought it would be good for Eddie to see them. He had blown a gasket when he found out Eddie hadn’t seen Titanic and Back to the Future so they had begun to have designated movie nights.

Sometimes they would invite Ben and Beverly and on other nights it would be a rude group thing. The sorry lot of Bangor Maine had welcomed Eddie in without a second thought and they planned on spending the remaining days of their summer before Bill and Stan went back to school out of state enjoying every part of this.

They had shown him all different types of movies, from black and white classics to modern horror. They were widening his horizon film-wise and he found that it was a great way to spend his night.

On this particular night, it was just Richie and himself, watching the classic film Singin’ in the Rain. Richie insisted he wasn’t a dancer in any way but he has a passion for Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor.

The movie itself was rather grand and Eddie wondered why his mother hadn’t allowed him to watch it. Perhaps the dancing ladies were a bit too much but he found it to be enjoyable.

They found their way to the diner afterward, sitting in the far corner away from sight. Richie ordered waffles even though it was nearly eleven pm, asking for syrup, and whipped cream, and peanut butter all on top.

Richie was rambling on about the film they had just seen and then suggesting a few others along the way. “I certainly can’t believe you’ve never seen Star Wars man. Not even like on tv or something during the holidays?”

“I wasn’t given a lot of screen time, Rich.” Eddie reminded him.

He had opened up to Richie slowly over the weeks of them knowing each other. Ben hadn’t said much about his predicament other than his mother was overly protected and shielded him from the world. Eddie had been the one to tell Richie just how bad it had been in between their weekly gym meetups and regular hangouts.

Richie took it in stride, never once showing that he felt sorry for Eddie. He treated him just like every other person, apologizing only when a “your mom” joke slipped through his lips because old habits were hard to break.

“Seriously, dude. We’re watching it. You’re gonna come over to my place and I’m making you sit through it all.”

“Aren’t there like, six of them?”

“Technically nine bit the prequels aren't that important unless you want backstory and the newer ones are garbage. An only good thing to come out of them is the eye candy.” He placed his hand dramatically over his chest. “Oscar Isaac? Oh, be still my beating vagina.”

The waitress came over then, placing their food down between them.

“Did you just quote Mamma Mia 2?”

Richie slammed his fist down on the table, something that the waitress seemed completely unfazed by. “You haven’t seen Star Wars but you’ve seen Mamma Mia 2?!”

“And the first one. Mrs. Hanscom showed them to me.”

“You, Edward, have hurt me today. I don’t know how I’m gonna cope.” He announced and then proceeds to dig into his waffle.

Eddie ate his food, which consists of a simple grilled cheese. They had gotten popcorn at the theatre and he didn’t want to start pigging out just because he was working out more. He watched Richie gorge himself on the sloppy, crunchy waffle and found himself realizing he had never eaten a normal pancake or waffle.

Everything had been gluten-free, sugar-free. He never tried whipped cream or peanut butter. Due to his birthday being around the time of thanksgiving his mom would make him a fruit cake or sometimes a gelatin cake. He didn’t even know what real birthday cake tasted like.

“Can I ask you a weird question?” He asked suddenly. “Can I have a bite?”

“A bite?” Richie asked, his mouth still full from his bite.

“I’ve never had a waffle. I’ve never had peanut butter.”

Richie swallowed hard, shaking his head in despair. “Fuck, Eds. Your mom messed you up good, didn’t she?” He slid the plate over, knowing better than offering Eddie his fork to eat off of. “Knock yourself off.”

Eddie grabbed his fork and knife to cut off a small piece. It looked soggy and heavy, completely covered in the sticky substances. He took the bite slowly, chewing it down carefully. It was hard to describe; the ooey-gooey, nutty flavor mixed with the maple of the syrup and the creaminess of the whipped cream.

Richie was watching him intensely, ready to jump into action in the rare chance his mom wasn’t lying and he needed to inject him with an EpiPen just in case.

“Well?” He asked after a moment.

“Holy shit,” Eddie replied.

“Is that a good holy shit or bad holy shit?”

“A very good holy shit. Holy shit!”

“I know right? Delicious.”

“Disgustingly delicious.”

“Do you want your own?” Richie asked, already half turning down he could get their waitresses' attention.

“No.” Eddie decided. “I want Reece’s cup.”

“Yeah? We can get you one of those.”

And they did. After leaving the diner they went down to the nearest 7/11 and bought Eddie Reece’s cup and other assortments of candy that he had been deprived of his entire life.

They spent the rest of the night driving around, eating candy, and just laughing about the stupid shit going on in their town. It was nearly one am when Richie dropped Eddie off at home.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot Spaghetti,” Richie asked, shifting in the darkness of the car. He turned on the lights above them, giving them a chance to see one another.

“Why do you think Ben and Beverly aren’t together?” He asked carefully. “It’s obvious they like one another. Even I can see that.”

“You’re not the only one,” Richie chuckled dryly. “I think they’re scared. They don’t wanna lose what they had, you know? Good friendships are hard to come by.”

“What would you do?”

“In their situation?” Richie shifted once more, turning his body slightly, uncomfortable against the restraints of the seatbelt. “Oh boy. Well. Hmm.”

He laughed again, awkward this time around. He looked to Eddie, reaching up to adjust his glasses slightly.

“You kind of told me your own sob story, so I guess it’s only fair I tell you to mind.” He admitted, turning his face so he looked at Eddie somewhat properly. “Look. You know I’m gay right?” He asked then.

Eddie had more or less guessed it along the way. Richie had been very upfront with the flirting, but he also was like that with people of all sexes. Very open and bubbly. Eddie found it somewhat off-putting in the beginning. Eddie, who was so somber and quiet, who had been trained and conditioned to be this quiet, gentle soul like his mother wanted him to be was a very large contrast to Richie’s outwardly and blunt personality.

He had grown used to it over time, thanks to the spare chances they had been given to be around one another. It was still a lot for Eddie to get used to, but after the endless comments about certain male celebrities, it led Eddie to believe Richie leaned more towards one side than the other.

“I don’t make it very subtle,” Richie admitted, another quiet laugh slipping through his lips.

“Back when I was in high school, there was this guy. His name was Connor. We met at the arcade and we sort of . . . we became friends. Like, fast friends. And like Bev and Ben, we spent all our time together. Anyway, I sort of always knew I liked Han more than Leia, so it didn’t take long for me to become head over heels for him. We wound up going to prom together as friends. We hung around the bleachers and all I kept thinking about was wanting to dance with him, you know? Not even just slow dance but just get out there and move our bodies. To just dance with another guy! Later on, we went outside to smoke and on the way back in I stopped him. I just looked at him and couldn’t stop myself. I kissed him there in the hallway. And you know, for a split second I could have sworn he kissed me back.”

“But he didn’t?”

Richie shook his head, his tongue slipping across his dry lips nervously. “Someone spotted us. Soon everybody was gathering in the hallway to see what the queers were doing. He pushed me away and a fight started. He tried to choke me right there, surrounded by everybody until the teachers pulled him off me. He said some not so nice things.”

“What happened after?”

“I had to survive without my best friend. And I guess I didn’t know-how. Being called a faggot is one thing, but hearing how sick you are. Knowing the one person you care about most in the world thought you were better off dead. It’s hard to imagine otherwise. I decided to prove him right.”

“Rich….”

“That’s how I wound up at the gym. After tossing myself off a bridge and living to tell the tale, my parents put me through all sorts of therapy. One of them happened to be physical. I decided after that I wasn’t going to hide anymore. I’d be the real me, whether people liked it or not. I dialed it down a bit. I was an annoying little shit who used to do voices and stuff.”

“You still do that.”

Eddie could count on both hands how many times he would slip into some character while they were working out. Eddie first thought it was a way to egg him on and give him a bit of a push but he soon realized it was just Richie’s personality.

Richie didn’t seem like the type that would have done something like that. Had put himself in harm's way because of the sadness he kept. Eddie knew that it was something of a well-known fact. That some of the cheeriest people can be so dead inside. That the loudest voice could be the quietest call for help.

It made Eddie angry to know that someone Richie had held so dearly could treat him so badly. Could have turned on him for his issues. It didn’t make sense to him and all he could think about was wanting to know why.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Eddie told him.

Richie adjusted his glasses again, putting on a far genuine smile as he glanced back over to him. “So now that you know my villain origin story can I ask something about you?”

“Shoot.”

“What would you do?”

Eddie didn’t have an answer. It could have been easy to say just go for it but the reality was Eddie didn’t know if he would even make that leap. He got out of the car then, shrugging in response as he bid Richie a good night.

Eddie went to bed, surrounded by his sweet treats, falling asleep to the thoughts of Richie’s laughter and wondering what he would do in that position.