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mamabear-elinor · 3 years

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The Forging of Bitter Bonds

III. A Shining Light September 07, 1992; September 14, 1992

[cw for a small instance of ~~casual racism]

The first day of the semester at the University of Edinburgh was insignificant to most. The weather was average; overcast and cool, the wind sweeping in off the ocean and chilling the bone if one was not careful. Elinor found it invigorating as she walked over the uneven cobblestones through the stone corridor that led out onto the street in Old Town. She checked the map that the student’s union had passed out at orientation and then crossed the street and into the warm little pub.

“Ellie!” A pretty, redheaded girl stood up in her seat and waved rambunctiously, garnering the attention of a few other patrons of the quaint pub.

Quickly, Elinor headed toward the table and slipped into the seat across from her. “Goldie, crivvens, you’re going to get us kicked out.”

“Oh, psh. It’s fine. I already made friends with ol’ Tommy.” She wiggled the whiskey in her hand.

“You’re underage,” Elinor pointed out, torn between disapproving and impressed.

“That’s such a nice name, don’t you think?” Marigold DunBroch ignored her.

Elinor turned and looked over her shoulder at the bartender, who was nothing to look at. Old and balding, with a red nose and a missing front tooth. “No,” she replied primly after her assessment.

Marigold made a face but just sat back in her seat. “How was it then? I don’t have class until tomorrow, thank God.”

Finally, Elinor smiled. “Wonderful! My professor for Art History 101 is a woman, Professor Howell. She’s amazing. I want to be just like her.”

“You got all that from one class?” Marigold curled her fingers in a wave at a strapping young lad a few tables away, not looking in her friend’s direction.

“Have you ever heard of Artemisia?”

“Bless you.”

“Hilarious. Listen.” Elinor tugged her friend’s arm. “She was this woman painter in the seventeenth century. She was the first woman to be a member of the Accademia di Arte del Disegno. I didn’t even know women were painters then! It’s only my first day and I’ve already learned so much. Oh, there was another one. I can’t remember her name, shoot.”

Elinor dove for her notebook in her satchel, which was made from fine leather. Her father had given it to her as a gift. She pulled out her notebook and sat back up.

There was a girl standing in front of their table.

“Oh, hello,” Elinor said with a tight smile, her brow furrowed slightly. “Can I help you?”

Marigold had turned her focus on the newcomer as well.

“You’re in Professor Howell’s class.” Her accent was Scottish, but there was something strange about it. Elinor could not place it.

“Yes?” Elinor had a feeling it was not a question.

“Me too,” the girl smiled. “I’m Sorcha. Can I sit with you? All the other tables are full and it’s started raining.”

Elinor glanced over her shoulder to the rain, then over at Marigold, who shrugged a little and moved her stuff over to make room. “Yeah, sure, sit. Please.”

“Fabulous.” Sorcha did not need telling twice. She plopped down in the spare seat as soon as the table was clear. Her gold jewelry glinted in the low light, almost too bright for the dim pub. There were raindrops in the tight curls of her black hair. They caught the light too, twinkling like stars. She reached up and shook out her hair. A few droplets fell onto the table. “Sorry. I forgot my scarf at home today. It wasn’t supposed to rain.”

“That--that’s alright,” Elinor said after a moment.

Sorcha smiled at her. “You’re sweet. I didn’t get your names--?”

“I’m Marigold DunBroch.” Marigold held out her hand. “And that’s Elinor Briar. We call her Ellie, though.”

“No, no we don’t,” Elinor corrected, feeling the tips of her ears heat slightly.

“No worries,” Sorcha said, leaning back in her chair and spreading her legs so that one of her knees bumped the table, making Elinor jump slightly. Her posture was horrid. It was alarming. “I like Elinor better. It’s pretty. Do you know what it means?”

Elinor furrowed her brow, her eyes jumping up from Sorcha’s thigh which was encroaching into her space. “What? No, uh--I think it was my grandmother’s name or...something like that.”

“Shame. You know, a name can tell a lot about a person.”

“How’s that?” This was Marigold, her eyes sparking bright as she leaned forward slightly.

“Well, you were named after your grandmother or something?” Sorcha was still looking at Elinor, her dark eyes assessing.

Elinor couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “Do Marigold,” she mumbled, but cleared her throat and laughed once.

“Yes, tell me about my name.”

“Alright.” Sorcha’s eyes lingered for another moment on Elinor and then turned to Marigold, who was sitting primly, shoulders back, and wide, dazzling smile. Ever since they had been young, Marigold commanded every conversation her and Elinor were in. They did not see each other often, but if anyone asked, Marigold DunBroch was Elinor’s best friend in the whole world.

“Well, from what I know marigolds are used for Día de los muertos.”

“What’s that?” Marigold asked, grinning like a loon now at the attention being lavished on her.

Outside, thunder rumbled and the rain began to come down more steadily against the window pane. Elinor realized she was still clutching her notebook. She wondered, if she just took a peak, if she would be able to remember the name of the artist they’d learned about in class. Maybe the artist had a name that meant something important.

“It translates to the Day of the Dead. A day when the veil between worlds is thinnest and the deceased walk amongst the living.”

Elinor shivered as if one of the cool raindrops from the windowpane had slipped down her spine.

Marigold deflated slightly, her blue eyes a bit more cautious. “Oh. Well! Do Elinor’s. I bet it means something lame like--dark-haired. Her parents are so unoriginal.”

“I--don’t know, actually,” Sorcha admitted with a little shrug, but when she looked at Elinor again, she had the sense that Sorcha knew more than she was letting on. “At least you have a family name. That’s nice. To have a legacy like that.”

“Yes, I suppose.” Elinor took a sip of her water.

A legacy. That was certainly something her family had given her. Or, more accurately, placed on her shoulders without her consent. She felt it heavy now, her first day of classes behind her and now a countdown until her new first day of classes. Elinor had yet to tell Marigold that she would be transferring to Oxford. In fact, she had yet to tell her that she was no longer seeing Francis Smith. She didn’t want to think about any of that. She wanted to enjoy her semester. To learn what she could. The comment had brought her back down again, though, as she was reminded that this was not permanent. Professor Howell would not be her teacher next year. Nor even next semester. She couldn’t write her thesis with the woman. It was silly of Elinor to have even been thinking of it.

“What does your name mean then, Sorcha?” Marigold asked, not sensing her friend’s withdrawal. She put an elbow on the table (unladylike.)

“It means brightness,” Sorcha said and those dark eyes of hers sparked, her white teeth stark against the dark lipstick and her dark skin.

“I have an Aunt Sorcha and she is not bright at all.” Marigold laughed loud enough that she snorted.

“I think you’re very bright,” Elinor blurted without thinking and then felt her ears burn.

The look that Sorcha fixed her with made Elinor’s stomach churn. She felt as if somehow Sorcha had looked right through her. Or, perhaps, more accurately, directly into her, like she could see Elinor’s soul. This time, though, Elinor couldn’t look away. Their eyes locked.

Then, Sorcha’s face broke out into another grin. “Aw, thanks, sweetie pie,” she said, reaching out to squeeze Elinor’s forearm. Her nails were long and bright red. (Garish, Elinor’s mother said in her head. Only women of certain proclivities paint their nails bright like that, pale colours only or don’t paint your nails at all.) “You’re not so bad yourself.” She winked.

“Oh, uh--I just meant--”

“I know what you meant.” Sorcha patted her arm. “Now, what’s in that notebook? I saw you pulling it out when I came over.”

“I was just--we can talk about something else.”

“Well, how am I gonna say if I wanna talk about it or something else unless you tell me what it is?”

“It was just some artist she was trying to remember,” Marigold waved. “I’d much rather know more about you, Sorcha. Where are you from?”

“Spain,” Sorcha replied offhand. She was still looking at Elinor. “What is the work from the artist? Was it one of the ones we were shown in class?”

“Spain? But you sound like a Scot!” Marigold said, looking like a dog with a bone. She was even more curious now.

“That’s because I grew up here. Now, what artist is it?”

“It’s really--I can’t remember at this point,” Elinor said, leaning over to slide her notebook back into her bag. “It’s not important.”

“You’ll just have to tell me next class. Looks like the rain has cleared, so I’m going to head out.” She stood up, the chair scraping behind her.

Elinor blinked rapidly. “Oh, well. It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.” She gave a little salute and then sauntered off.

“That was...odd,” Elinor commented, shifting in her seat slightly, crossing her ankles.

“I liked her,” Marigold replied with a grin.

→ → →

The next week, after classes, as Elinor headed back out into the misty evening. Someone called her name.

“Elinor!”

Turning, she saw Sorcha waving at her, then jogging down the steps to meet her. She had a bright yellow scarf tied around her thick hair this time.

“Did you remember the artist?”

“Oh, uhm, yes,” Elinor said as she began walking back toward her dorm. “It was Leonora Carrington.” It was a good thing the wind was brisk, for it hid the warmth of her cheeks.

“You would totally like Carrington,” Sorcha agreed with a sage nod of her head.

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just figured she’d be your style.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

They walked silently for a few steps. Elinor had assumed that Sorcha would peel off again, but instead she stayed right next to Elinor, her wide hips occasionally bumping Elinor’s own.

“I looked up what my name means,” Elinor admitted after a few more moments.

The smile Sorcha gave her made Elinor think that she had somehow known this too. “And?” Sorcha prompted.

“Light of God, I suppose. There were a few other meanings but--”

“That was the one that stood out to you?”

“No, I mean...that is probably what my parents intended anyhow.”

“Who cares what they think? That’s not what I asked.”

Elinor, if she was not so well-schooled in walking gracefully, might have tripped over a cobblestone. She clutched her books tight to her chest. Who cares what they think? What an absurd thing to say.

“Well--it also means shining light or...the bright one.” Elinor’s heart felt like it was beating extremely fast for a casual, brisk autumn stroll across campus.

“We match!” Sorcha sounded extraordinarily pleased with herself. “That’s brilliant. Would you like to join my study group?”

“Oh, I--” Elinor had a feeling saying no would be rude. She didn’t want to say no. Or...did she? There was a part of her that did. She was only going to be here for one semester. Gone before the snow melted and the spring bloomed again. Making friends had never been a priority for her anyway. She wanted to do well in school, so that her parents would give her freedom. If she failed, they would drag her back to the castle kicking and screaming.

Education for women was a privilege, after all.

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Very well,” Elinor agreed stiffly.

“Perfect, we meet in classroom 124B on Wednesdays from 6pm to 7pm. I will see you there!” Abruptly, Sorcha turned on her heel and struck off straight across the quad. As she went, she removed the scarf from her head, allowing her hair to spring free, even though the rain had just begun in earnest.

#the forging of bitter bonds #a shining light #self para #featuring sorcha benjumea #featuring marigold harrington #:))#posting this on bisexuality visibility day #was an accident but feels right

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

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secret son part 3

A/N: please let me know what you think! If anyone has any requests please send them to me!

Summary: Matt is performing for his schools talent show, which Myra will also be present for.

It’s excruciatingly hot in the car, sweat dripping down Richie’s face making his body feel clam and gross, while he’s almost panting like a dog. It’s not summer yet, but it’s June and that means that it is summer in Richie’s mind, but even he hadn’t been able to predict this type of weather.

The sun is shining scorching hot, burning almost anything she touches, not a giving way to even a slight breeze, and it fucking shows. Normally, the trip from their house to Matt’s school is only a half-hour, but today, it seems all the odds are stacked against them.

Everyone collective decided to go on a trip this weekend apparently, causing a blockage of cars as far as Richie can see it, and they were late to begin with. Eddie’s gripping the steering wheel between his fingers like a vice, vibrating and his face a dark shade of bloody red, but that might not have anything to do with the heat. For a moment, his mouth turns into a sneer again, opening his mouth to yell at the drives before them, but then he shakes his head and takes a few deep breathes.

Richie contemplates calling Myra again, to let her know that they’ll be late so she can let Matt know, but that will most likely send her into another tirade, and that is the last thing they need right now. As they stop for the third time in 3 meters, Richie vows to buy Matthew a phone, whether it be against Eddie’s wishes or not.

The twenty-first annual middle school talent show is hosting its show tonight, and Matt had asked Richie and Eddie to show up. They said yes, of course, both of them more than excited to see their son perform on stage, even if the show itself will just be a bunch of middle-schoolers, dancing and parading.

Their son, a voice repeats in his head. Not deter by the atmosphere hanging around him and his boyfriend, Richie’s heartstrings pull together, making Richie feel breathless for a second. Cause that’s what Matt is to him now, his son. Maybe not biologically, but in every way that it counts.

Matt called his pops a few times as a joke whenever Richie would mirror Eddie’s ministration, like warning him to be careful in the park, or not to go with strangers, a testimony to how many times he had overheard Eddie say it, and a habit developed from there.

Sure, Matt still calls him; ‘Richie’ sometimes, mostly when Myra is around, or when they’re taking playful jabs at each other, but all in all, Richie has become pops. The name suits him, Eddie told him, but it still seems a little unreal to Richie, that he trashmouth Tozier, is a dad to a wonderful kid. Said kid also wants to spend as much time with him as possible, spending every week and weekend with them, expect a weekend every two weeks with his mother.

That’s a fair deal in Richie’s books, considering that it was Matt who wanted the arrangement to be like that, but Myra had to audacity of claiming that Richie poisoned his mind against her, and that he was the one manipulating Matt to make these claims. He hadn’t expected her to forfeit like that straight away, but he also hadn’t expected her to do everything she could to make Matt have to go to her. She fought Eddie for full custody, ignoring all of her sons own pleas to her.

She lost, but the whole thing resulted in Eddie being more aggravated to her, for trying to take away his son, whereas before, he was content to leave her be as long as she didn’t interfere in his life.

‘Motherfucker’, Eddie mumbles under his breath angrily, a grunt-like sound originating from him as he watches the car in front of them skid to a halt again, his face turning more sour by the minute.

Experience has taught Richie that he best lets Eddie rage inside his mind for a little way, at least until he has inwardly yelled at everyone and everything in his mind, before attempting to talk him down.

They’ve both gotten much better at that, both Eddie and Richie. Richie so he can stop his motormouth running a mile a minute, spouting out whatever comes to mind to stop the situation from exacerbating, usually leading to the situating exacerbating, and Eddie has accumulated hos behavior, not lashing out at people who don’t deserve it.

‘Hey fucker,’ Eddie seethes when they reach a crossroad, a car coming in from the left and cutting them off, even though that won’t make him get to his destination any faster, the flow of traffic still blocked like Eddies mom’s underwear.

‘Was that so worth it asshole? What you gonna do now? Speed away?’

Richie places his hand on Eddie’s arm that’s still wrapped around the gear stick that’s off no use, rubbing what he hopes are comforting circles on his upper arm.

Eddie’s eyes turn to his, a sigh escaping him as he takes his hand of he wheel, one of them interlocking with Richie’s hand.

‘You’re right, you’re right Rich. But I don’t wanna be late to my sons performance. You know how Myra is going to have him agitated, and I wish we could be there to calm him down.’

Richie does know, which is why it sucked balls that Matt was going over to her house this weekend of all times. Compromising had been no use, Myra kept insisting that it was her time and they weren’t going to take that away from here, even when Eddie promised her that Matt could go the weekend after.

A call from Matt’s teacher had informed them that Matt was in fact not present during rehearsals on Friday after school, and that told Richie and Eddie all they needed to know.

Contacting Matt was off no use, since he had no phone and Myra refused to let them interact with one another. Again, Richie made a mental note to gift Matt an iPhone or something alike, and no one was stopping him.

‘I know Eds, but that guy is not responsible for that. Stop reacting to other people in daily life like you do during our sexy times.’

The punch to his arm is hard, but he sniggers regardless.

Taking another peek out the window told Richie they were getting nowhere, so he exhaled harshly, preparing himself for the worst.

‘Okay, do your best Eds, give it to the speeding brake like I gave it to your mom every night.’

Richie expects a retort back, an angry fuck you maybe, or a middle finger, but instead he is gifted the sight of speechless Eddie, his mouth open in shock.

‘You’re serious?’ He asks, even though Eddie has already made up his mind, and is fastly shifting into speed gremlin mode.

With his head thrown back, Richie releases a loud groan, rumbling from all the way in his chest. ‘Yes, now hurry up before I regret it, lay it all on me Jesus.’

A menacing smirk that threatens to overtake every other feature in Eddie’s face, Eddie presses a short kiss to his mouth, pulling back before Richie even has a chance to reciprocate, and speeds off to the emergency lane on their right side.

Eddie is a monster while driving, which is why it’s Richie that drives most of the time, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The clocks ticks on unforgivably, striking three pm exact when Richie looks at it, and let that be the exact time when the show is supposed to start.

They’re too late to wish Matt good luck, but at the very least he’ll see both of them in the audience in their designated seats, right next to Myra. If he doesn’t, Richie fears that he might panic.

Driving on the emergency line is highly illegal, but Eddie brushes that aside as he propels his way to the parking lot.

It takes the barely five minutes after that. They got honked at countless of times, but they made it on time, so Richie counts it as a win anyway. Jumping out of the car before it has even come to a complete stop is dangerous, but discarded on the side when they rush inside the school.

The show has started, but Matt was not the first one on, thankfully, so all they’ve missed is the speech that the principal always gives at the beginning of these kind of events, and a kid who thinks she can play the flute, but really all she’s doing in blowing air into the instrument.

Richie claps animatedly anyway, her moment over when they get in, since he knows what it feels like to be laughed at for something you like the do, and she’s also a kid, so she deserves a pass.

Eddie claps too, snorting when he sees the absolute ridiculous movements his boyfriend is making.

‘What the hell are you doing Rich?’

‘I’m just granting this little girl what you and the rest of the losers deprived me off. Validation for my talents.’ Eddie whips around lightning fast, his laugh loud and uninhabited while he raises his middle finger to Richie.

‘Do those talents include humor?’ While they’re talking, both of them carefully tiptoe around other parents and grand-parents, trying to find a way to get to their seats. He nearly steps on someone toes, offering them a short apology and hopes they except it, but he is too busy avoiding every one else to see if they’re angry or not.

‘Well yes of course Edward. You as young lad should have seen the absolute hidden potential that was harvesting in me.’

Eddie laughs so loud that his knees nearly buckle, several people shushing him even though there’s no one left on stage, and they’re waiting for the next person to make an appearance.

‘Oh please, you’re still not funny now what makes you think you were then?’

In their haste, the knowledge that they would have to spend the entire late afternoon with Eddie ex-wife had disappeared off into the background, but then Richie makes eye contact with her, and it back with much vigor.

Richie wants to slouch, dread already pulling him down towards the ground, but he refuses to let Myra drag him down, and he has Eddie with him anyway, so it’s not that bad.

As soon as their eyes meet, Myra, like a cliche, turns her nose up and looks away, acting as if she is the one that is ashamed of them. There are two empty seats next to her, who will be occupied in a second by them, but Richie still searches for another vacant spot, without luck.

It’s ridiculous anyway, since the seat were granted two weeks before today. It’s a mystery to Richie who organized the seating arrangements, but man did they fuck up bad.

Eddie, who is walking in front of him, reaches out to grab Richie’s hand, squeezing two times for strength and asking Richie for protection, despite him not needing any. His not fearful of his former wife, but she gets under his skin, and not in the good way that Richie can, make him struggle to remain his composer.

Remorsefully, Richie says goodbye to his sanity, a polite and cheerful face covering him like a mask, even when all he really wants to do is yell in her face.

He stills Eddie by placing two of his large hands against his arms, effectively stopping him from walking any further, and moves to stand closest to her.

Someone else has made his way on stage, this time the kid is dancing, and his music is loud enough that Richie can speak in a normal voice, which still means he has to keep it down.

He ploughs down in the middle seat, right in between Myra and where Eddie will be in a second, like a wall between the two of them. Eddie shoots him a grateful smile, sitting down in his chair much more gracefully than Richie, with his hands in his lap.

‘Hello Myra,’ Richie greets her, to establish to her that they were not planning on being rude to her. If anyone was going to start a ruckus, it would be her.

‘Richard’, she greets, followed by ‘Edward.’

Hearing his full name sound absolutely ridiculous to Richie, but he ignores to avoid creating an argument, god knows Myra only needed one slam word and she would blow off.

‘Myra’, Eddie too nods at Myra, Richie bites his lips to stop himself from making a fool of the situation, but by the knowing look in Eddie’s eyes, he knows that Eddie knows what he wanted to say.

After the boy, there are two more children, then a group, and then a little girl comes up. Boredom is starting to take it’s toll on Richie, who can’t sit still if it could help save his life, so his knew has been insistently bouncing since the dancing act.

Eddie helps somewhat by hooking his leg under Richie’s, their ankles linked while his hand plays with the bracelet on Eddie’s wrist, made by Matt when he was being babysit by Ben and Bev.

The girl is shaking all the way through her body, the microphone she’s holding swaying dangerously. Her face is ashen white, and she looks about two seconds away from vomiting, which Richie can relate too. Being on stage is scary, especially when you’re that young, a pang of sympathy for the girl embracing him in it’s warm hold.

The song she has chosen to sing was let it go from frozen, but she only made it past 1/4 of the song, when she forgets her lines and makes up her own lyrics.

The lyrics do not make any sense, she’s mostly naming things she can see, ranging from things like curtains, to teachers, the mortification on her face revealing how embarrassed she is.

It’s that that makes Richie stand up resolutely when the final note dies out, leaping to his feet to applaud her as much and as loud as he can.

‘This is I folks, the best act of the night. Nothing can top this. The way that she improvised is a talent that is rarely seen in anyone ever before.’ Richie whoops, preening when other parents join in on the applause, and the little girls face lits up like a Christmas tree.

He’s only half kidding. He’s going to find Matt the best no matter what, call it a part of fatherhood, but the girl was really inventive, and she did not give up. Besides, seeing the tears in her eyes blinked away is enough to make Richie smile in delight.

When everything dies down and he retrieves his seat again, a woman taps him on the shoulder. She’s holding a camera in her hands that she puts away and grins.

‘Thank you. That was my daughter, I can’t tell you how happy this will have made her.’

Richie is touched, but he also can’t take credit for something he has nothing to do with.

‘It was all your daughter ma’am, she’s a natural.’ Eddie presses a kiss to his cheek, conveying what he’s not saying out loud; ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘Are you always like this?’ Myra inquirers curt, her face stuck in a permanent sneer. Eddie tenses beside him, but he won’t allow her to ruin the afternoon before they have even seen the person they came for.

‘What do you mean Sonia?’

‘My name is Myra.’

‘Same difference. Am I always this awesome and funny and caring towards others?’ He’s not being serious, but to Myra that doesn’t matter. She opens her mouth to say something else, but Richie has already turned his back sideways to here, his entire being focused on Eddie when the latter taps on his arm.

Eddie is staring at the stage however, and when Richie follows his gaze, he sees why. It’s now Matt’s turn, the boy scorching over every head in room, until he finally spots Eddie, Richie and Myra and grins from ear to ear.

He never told Eddie nor Richie what his act would be about, saying that it was supposed to be a surprise, so Richie has no idea what to expect.

His clothes, a yellow t-shirt with a cat on it, and blue jeans that look a bit to dirty to be knew does not seem like something Myra would have let him wear. If anything, Richie was expecting to see him in something not unlike a suit.

His suspicion is conformed when he hears Myra complain next to him. ‘That’s not what I dressed him in.’

‘Hi, my name is Matt, and today I’m going to be telling you a bunch of jokes my pops taught me.’

Even though Richie will adamantly deny it, and Eddie will confirm it to anyone who asks, Richie starts crying.

He hasn’t even heard any of the jokes, but he already loves them and he loves him.

‘Jean goes on a walk with grandma in the park’, Matt begins his story, ‘and on the way back from the park, he sees a banana peel. When he goes to pick it up, his grandma tells him that he can’t do that, because everything that’s on the ground is dirty and he shouldn’t touch it. Two days later, Jean and his grandma go back to the park, and his grandma trips over the banana peel. When jean’s grandma asks him to help her up, Jean says that he can’t do that, because everything that’s on the ground is dirty, and he can’t touch it.

It’s not even that funny, but Richie loses his shit regardless. The laughter pours out of him relentlessly, making him shake from trying to hold it in.

When Matt thanks the audience for listening, indicating that his act has come to an end, Richie still can’t stop cackling. Eddie is in the same state as him, holding his stomach like it’s hurting and actual tears stream down his cheeks. They’re a stark contrast to Myra, who’s sour look has only worsened, and is just clapping politely like the rest of the parents.

Matt has never been prouder of himself, bowing once and then waving while he gets of the stage, just like Richie does.

When he gets himself under control, a few children later, Myra is has yet to stop her dead glare which is pointed his way.

‘Pops? He calls you that? You are not his father, you’re nothing but filth that has corrupted my Eddie bear and my son. A boy should spend more time with his mother, not with a confused father he thinks his’, she chokes over the words. ‘gay.’

Richie is stricken, hurt despite him knowing that that is just the person Myra is. A hurt emotion that he tries to keep under wraps at all times peaks it’s head up from the darkest part of his soul, but before it has any chance to come up and out, his head is turned, and Eddie connects their lips.

It’s a bit messy, Eddie having knocked his lips on the first area he could find, causing the kiss to be a little off balance, while he brushes at the nap of Richie’s neck. Richie replies by setting his arm on top of Eddie thigh, not high, just above the knee.

They’re in the same position as they were in when they shared their first kiss, and it makes Richie a little dizzy with love and devotion.

Eddie pulls back first, chuckling when he sees the hazy look Richie’s eyes have, and then steels his expression to address Myra.

‘I’m not confused. I’m gay, and yes Matt calls Richie pops, because he wants too, not because we asked him too. Why don’t you wake up Myra? Neither Richie not I are trying to replace you. You’re his mom, no one can do that, but if you continue to be disregard him, he might not be as friendly in the future.’

Then, Eddie stands, pulling Richie up with him, who still dreamily is unaware off what’s happening, his brain not being up to speed yet.

‘Come on Dickwad, pull you head out of your ass, we’ll wait outside until Matt comes.’

He shifts his gaze to Myra; ‘I’ll see you in two weeks.’

Outside, Richie laughs breathlessly. ‘I can’t believe you just did that in front of all these people.’

It’s still insanely warm, but it gets ever warmer when Eddie leans up, and presses his forehead to Richie’s.

Suddenly, Richie is transported back to many summers ago, when Eddie and him were still kids and they had yet to confess their feeling for one another. They shared a moment like that one too, where it was so hot yet they still huddled together.

Richie had thought then that that would be the peak of his life, smelling the scent of warm water and grass, and Eddie colon that stuck to every piece of clothes item he was wearing.

He was wrong, adding Matt to the equation, made it only better.

They must have been there for a long time, but Richie was unaware of that, until he heard Matt call out to them.

‘Dad, Pops, I missed you.’

He leaps into Eddie’s awaiting arms, just small enough for Eddie be able pick him up, while Richie envelops both of them in his arms.

‘We missed you too bud.’ We’ve missed you our entire lives.

#reddie #reddie fluff #reddie imagine #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie tozier imagine #eddie as a parent #reddie as parents #richie as a dad #My writing #eddie x son

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deductionfreak · 7 years

Text

wulf watches conan falls over a cliff, the musical

feat presume and patsu, who accompanied me on this shitfest

新一 ☆-Today at 01:35

sees preview oh boy its one of those 'haibara is the only competent one' aos isnt it dreads next part sigh yyyyep it is another good premise ruined at least the police are semi competent tho seriously tho why go alone just mghghghgh conan as well just places face in hands why do u do this @ writers esp bcthey should have noticed that cave at the cliff

犯人の灰原さん-Today at 01:35

face > hand

新一 ☆-Today at 01:35

re cops like all this feels like it hinges on four fucking boats missing a gotdamn cave boats CRAWLING W COPS LOOKING FOR STUFF IN THE WATER just LONG SIGH

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 01:36

doesn megure like tell them to look in the morning Kogoro is like NO

新一 ☆-Today at 01:37

they do it rigth away

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 01:37

NOW

新一 ☆-Today at 01:37

yea kogoro says no now and like i can understand why he'd wait for the morning, the seas at night are fucking inky black it looks like a tar pit its very hard to spot anyone but they'd have seen a goddamn cave FOUR BOATS

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 01:38

新一 ☆-Today at 01:38

AND THEY KEPT SEARCHING TILL MORN THEY WOUDL HAVE SEEN THE FUCKIN CAVE im just shakes fist it sets itself up okay then goes for shit tropes like 'cops cant see shit' and 'the competent chara who is not the mc™ goes off on their own' plus 'conan tells no one but haib he survived for NO FUCKIN G REASON'

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 01:39

ye the second part was like wtf

新一 ☆-Today at 01:39

first part was intense second part was shit the whole stunt w the belt too lfmao the more i watch the worse it gets i want to file my Big and Long complaint, see reason why im scared to do a case myself unless i have it planned out: this happens cc is like..........my one mistake that i will not repeat most of yall dont know the story for that tho his reasons to not tell anyone else dont make sense like its fine that they want the bandits to think the guy is dead but not the police??? his friends??? this is just so much bullshiti need a drink I KNOW IM ALWAYS BITCHING ABT THIS STUFF BUT ITS BC ITS BAD

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 01:51

,,, *refills the salt shaker* continue

新一 ☆-Today at 01:51

omg and of course haibara has no complaints about LETTING THEM THINK THEY ARE DEAD whats this about having the police force wrapped around your pinkie? i dont know them lit when he could have made THE MOST USE OF THE POLICE FRIENDS HE HAS LIKE U KNOW WARN THEM OF THE PLANNED ROBBERY BC APPARENTLY THIS WAS A SLOTTED PLAN BEFORE and then'explain to them later' >just the db >not lit everyone you love who thinks you fucking died well not really but w using the comp they rbought they lit know where the next hit will be you arent gonna use your cop buddies? REALLY? redeeming trait: they do fuckin call the cops

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 01:56

refills the salt shaker again just in case -img of conan tantrum on table-

新一 ☆-Today at 01:58

me tbh

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 01:58

its ok let it go

新一 ☆-Today at 01:59

i hate how so many anime originals that focus on haibara do this to all characters around her tho like you dont need to DUMB THEM DOWN to make her stick out its just bad writing

新一 ☆-Today at 02:00

u can tell when its a manga one instead because the characters at least dont get dumbed down i think the only character gosho has dumbed down to the point where it felt extremely noticable was jodie unfortunately yes i get it writers love salty science child but STOP DESTROYING THE CAST AROUND HER TO MAKE HER SHINE FOR GODS SAKE a a a a a

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 02:01

papapapap

新一 ☆-Today at 02:01

just this is such a prominent problem and then its reflected on the fandom

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 02:01

it is

新一 ☆-Today at 02:01

bc then THEY DO IT TOO

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 02:01

I agree I'm just half asleep

新一 ☆-Today at 02:02

screams into hands i hate this

犯人の灰原さん-Today at 02:04

angrysquint @ staff why th

新一 ☆-Today at 02:04

same wow conan, talking to three big armed men all by yourself

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 02:05

-haibara thumbs down emotes-

新一 ☆-Today at 02:05

another sin and now he's taunting them

犯人の灰原さん-Today at 02:06

,,,,,, k for a moment i read that as talking to three big arms

新一 ☆-Today at 02:06

LFMAO sentient robber arms

犯人の灰原さん-Today at 02:06

ur ran-neechan's already got them big guns no need to look at others

新一 ☆-Today at 02:06

tbh seriously conan confronting three men. Alone. They-re armed.

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 02:07

with a fucking crossbow

新一 ☆-Today at 02:08

and then he tells the man they want to kill to COME IN and then the cops come out of nowhere honestly like they could have shot them both before they got arrested literally esp a guy who shot ppl who -resisted- so why bother w the stunt show??? that made absolutely no sense and then they just give up when there are just three cops three. unarmed. cops ran also nowhere to be seen he just fuckin drops his crossbow and bows like?????????????? this is one sudden character flip an d makes absolutely no sense for all of them what makes more sense? for them to come in to a room full of cops this plan is just flimsy and relies on them not taking potshots at the toddler not to mention them not resisting arrest SOMETHING HE SEEMED TO HAVE NO PROBLEMS WITH WHEN HE SHOT THE COP IN THE FIRST HALF 'you photoshopped them' lfmao the detco constable frozen sigh this little twist at the end wasnt even worth it and was sadly predictable he just fell

children look smug over mantantrum

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 02:16

looking at that makes my knees hurt

新一 ☆-Today at 02:16

same i guess the end was worth it for them being mad at him for doin this fucking bullshit its kinda sad tho bc it felt the emotional investment in their worries and fears was just brushed aside for comedy

Rancrow 🎃-Today at 02:17

yeah kinda just not a good thing to do

新一 ☆-Today at 02:18

im tired of this ao bullshit so ill watch fanboy mitsuhiko later but honestly that was just so underhanded this whole second part just toys with potential and throws it in a firepit then laughs at you for expecting any better it was also my problem w the conan in a coffin one well one of the many the emotional investment was just brushed off haha how funny he forgot to tell everyone else he wa s still f ucking alive best part??? kogoro knew but apparently ran didnt the whole cops knew and we dont even know how they felt about this agasa also and its just what the fuck why cant you even bother to tell them 'im ok but we're hiding' hell just augh it was just plain bad this ao was shit, lads

#long post #cone bloggin #of me yelling at aos #takes out guitar and strums

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