Growing Up Is So Weird Because When I Was In High School, It Felt Like The Whole World. And I Know That

the suffering never ends

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i knew i was going to die when i saw you for the first time in twenty-seven years. 

your voice, first—oh, that voice—and then i turned and saw you, across the room, across the great divide—and i swallowed hard because i knew. i was going to die for you because i would always die for you. remember? all those times i ran for you, jumped off the quarry for you, drove your truck fast down the highway because you liked when i got reckless—all that stupid shit i did for you, no question (a little pushback, maybe). i would die for you, simple. and i knew when i looked to you and you looked back to me that i was going to.

but i didn’t want to. i fought it every step of the way. i could see—if i just made it through the dinner, if i just made it through the pharmacy, if i just made it through the ritual, if i just made it through the sewers—there was a life with you, waiting patiently.

i wanted to make it.

we have lived a life of should-haves. all of us—and it goes back further than that summer: we should have turned left on jackson instead of right when we were just kids and maybe we never would have found ourselves in it’s path. and i should have told you, so many times. i had every chance. i should have followed you, gone wherever you wanted, driven west in that car i saved up for and forgotten all about new york, forgotten all about anything that wasn’t you. but we never really got it right.

when the claw went through my chest, it didn’t hurt. when i said your name and my mouth filled with blood, it didn’t hurt. when you laid me against the rock and pressed your hand to my stomach, it didn’t hurt. 

but it hurt when i laughed and it hurt when you smiled that split-second smile. (that’s when i knew i would not last much longer). it hurt when your smile fell. it hurt when you walked away from me. it hurt knowing i could not get up and follow you. and it hurt knowing that when you came back to me, you would have to find me dead and i could not hold you—i would never be able to make the pain go away anymore and i would be the cause of it.

i knew i was going to die for you a long time ago. i had just forgotten for a while. i didn’t know it would be like this—i thought maybe you’d hold me a little longer, maybe i’d tell you then.

i don’t know what i said while i died. i wanted to say, i wish you wouldn’t go. i wanted to tell you i was sorry i would not keep my promise to hold on. i hope you know i wanted to. i remember the blurry and fragmented image of you, walking away after slipping your pinky from mine. most of all, i wanted to tell you that tomorrow, we should get up early and go back home to our place, how about it my love?

but the last thing i remember is you, behind me on the cliff at the quarry on a summer day, reaching out to take my hand before we jumped, your voice shouting my name. and then—

would it be a nice day tomorrow? would the sun be shining on you, the way i always liked? 

i wonder. 

Isn’t it fun how my personality and mental health is dictated by whatever tv show I’m watching

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There was an order that relationships were supposed to go in—a pacing—a calculated number of breaths before certain conversations could happen. Eddie knew this. But he also knew that he and Richie’s relationship didn’t fit the same mold, and so he really shouldn’t have been surprised when Richie brought up marriage. He shouldn’t have been, but he was.

“Yeah, Eddie. I want to marry you.” Richie leaned into Eddie’s space on the couch, nearly on top of him, and pushed his hair back with delicate fingers. “I want to spend an absurd amount of money on a ring you won’t even wear half the time because you’re worried about your blood circulation and I want to take you somewhere nostalgic and propose. I want to have a ceremony with suits and vows and cake and a ridiculous speech from Bill that’ll make us both cry.”

“Oh is that all?” Eddie laughed nervously, something pleasant and curious twisting in his gut. Richie shook his head.

“I want to buy a house with you. I want to get a bed that we spend the whole day fighting over trying to put together. I want to leave little... little sticky notes on our fridge reminding you of things I know you won’t forget anyway. I want to have kids with you—“

“Kids?!” Eddie squeaked, pulling back from Richie’s gentle touches. “You want kids?”

Richie frowned at that, and there was a hint of alarm on his face, though Eddie wasn’t sure if it was at his own words or Eddie’s reaction to them. He sat up a bit on the couch, thoughtful.

“I mean,” he started, unsure. “I don’t know, I never really got to think about it before. But I think maybe, I might.” He looked up at Eddie questioningly. “Would—I mean. Do you want kids?”

“I...” Eddie trailed off, his answer a wordless half-thought. He tried to picture it, but then not too hard.

Because the truth was that Richie Tozier made Eddie feel like he could do things that, in any other place, he wouldn’t dream of doing. And the idea of raising kids with someone who made him feel like that sounded pretty fucking decent.

“Yeah,” he said finally on an exhale. “Yeah, I want that. With you.”

There was a breath—just one—and then Richie was leaning into him again, cupping the back of his neck and kissing him. Eddie re-situated himself on the couch, laying back against the arm rest to accommodate Richie’s weight over him, and kissed him back.

“I love you,” he murmured against his lips between kisses. He wondered absently if he’d ever actually said that to Richie before. But then he figured it didn’t really matter.

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Keep reading

Nothing to see here just some tua pilot script highlights

Some words to use when writing things:

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly 

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

straining

i will steady your hand when you’re losing your grip

Pairing: Bill/Eddie

Rating: T

Word Count: 13,720

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, High School, Childhood Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Crying, Kissing, Sad Bill Denbrough, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Bad Parenting, Best Friends, Bullying, Period-Typical Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Blood And Injury, Growing Up Together, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Child Neglect, The World Is A Big Bad Scary Place But We’ll Survive It If We Love Each Other

“Okay,” Eddie says, slapping Bill on the back as they arrive at the end of Eddie’s driveway. “You gonna be okay going the last couple blocks by yourself?”

The question is routine by now, asked every single day since 1989. The answer is too, Bill waving away Eddie’s concern with a smile that crinkles his eyes. “Yeah, I’m good. You know m-m-m-me.”

That’s the problem, Eddie thinks, watching him go. I do know you.

Bill’s in a bad way and Eddie loves him through it.

Read @ AO3

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can not get over Miss Vanya Hargreeves having absolutely no memories and then a 15 year old in a terrible uniform pops up and is like 'hey you're my sister we're superheros the apocalypse is this week let's go' and she just,,,,accepted that lmao

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mike wheeler:

me: