given the difficulties of his own upbringing, it might come as a surprise to see how gentle he is with regards to the offspring of others. perhaps he should resent them, hate them for being gifted with the joyous upbringing he was deprived of, but he keeps those thoughts shelved away in a basement deep, deep below his home.
like any respectable man, he wants to be a father. he wants to be the kind of man who can proudly lift his child above his head, allow them to wrap their dainty little legs around his shoulders, and squeal with joy. he'd be better. he'd be loving, and kind, and so unlike his own father — his father, for whom he holds nothing but a paradoxical sort of reverence.
fortune hasn't provided a family for eddie just yet, but it's soon coming, he's certain. his wife, his children, his american dream, all just around the corner.
closer now than ever before since laying eyes on his wife.
how she'd played so carefully with her children, two shy, bright-eyed boys in for their annual check-up. it was routine enough—ears, eyes, throat, —but eddie had carved every moment deep into his memory. the way her children huddled together, both uncertain and excited by the new environment. the way she, waylon, chuckled as they fought over the lollipop, and ruffled their hair as they turned to leave. she'd even chuckled at one of eddie's jokes as he'd administered the band-aid:
One of my most loving memories of my mother was when I scraped my knee and she kissed my boo-boo and put a bandaid on it. It truly stuck with me.
and her laugh, oh! her laugh! enough to melt the heart of any man, certainly a lesser one than eddie.
while it's true that she wasn't as feminine as the women eddie traditionally enjoyed — narrow where women are wide, flat where women are soft — eddie's certain that modifications can be made. modern medicine truly is a marvel and where that fails, well, eddie is terribly handy with a chainsaw.
it should shock no one, then, that he was overcome with the unshakable urge to ram her with his car.
women and their wiles; they make men do all sorts of things. you know how it is.
when waylon wakes next, he'll find that he's been brought to a small, dingy space. he's lying above a medical bed, no doubt stolen from the hospital, with a steady IV drip in his vein. unlike what he'd find in most hospitals, waylon will find that he's been restrained to the bed with straps across his chest, across his thighs. the straps are deliberate in their avoidance of waylon's hips, wrapped in gauze and bandages and barely covered with the edge of his hospital gown.
above him stands eddie, who appears simply beside himself as waylon opens his eyes. )
Darling! I thought you'd never wake again. How are you feeling? Where does it hurt?
this is so LONG guhh
given the difficulties of his own upbringing, it might come as a surprise to see how gentle he is with regards to the offspring of others. perhaps he should resent them, hate them for being gifted with the joyous upbringing he was deprived of, but he keeps those thoughts shelved away in a basement deep, deep below his home.
like any respectable man, he wants to be a father. he wants to be the kind of man who can proudly lift his child above his head, allow them to wrap their dainty little legs around his shoulders, and squeal with joy. he'd be better. he'd be loving, and kind, and so unlike his own father — his father, for whom he holds nothing but a paradoxical sort of reverence.
fortune hasn't provided a family for eddie just yet, but it's soon coming, he's certain. his wife, his children, his american dream, all just around the corner.
closer now than ever before since laying eyes on his wife.
how she'd played so carefully with her children, two shy, bright-eyed boys in for their annual check-up. it was routine enough—ears, eyes, throat, —but eddie had carved every moment deep into his memory. the way her children huddled together, both uncertain and excited by the new environment. the way she, waylon, chuckled as they fought over the lollipop, and ruffled their hair as they turned to leave. she'd even chuckled at one of eddie's jokes as he'd administered the band-aid:
One of my most loving memories of my mother was when I scraped my knee and she kissed my boo-boo and put a bandaid on it. It truly stuck with me.
and her laugh, oh! her laugh! enough to melt the heart of any man, certainly a lesser one than eddie.
while it's true that she wasn't as feminine as the women eddie traditionally enjoyed — narrow where women are wide, flat where women are soft — eddie's certain that modifications can be made. modern medicine truly is a marvel and where that fails, well, eddie is terribly handy with a chainsaw.
it should shock no one, then, that he was overcome with the unshakable urge to ram her with his car.
women and their wiles; they make men do all sorts of things. you know how it is.
when waylon wakes next, he'll find that he's been brought to a small, dingy space. he's lying above a medical bed, no doubt stolen from the hospital, with a steady IV drip in his vein. unlike what he'd find in most hospitals, waylon will find that he's been restrained to the bed with straps across his chest, across his thighs. the straps are deliberate in their avoidance of waylon's hips, wrapped in gauze and bandages and barely covered with the edge of his hospital gown.
above him stands eddie, who appears simply beside himself as waylon opens his eyes. )
Darling! I thought you'd never wake again. How are you feeling? Where does it hurt?