#despite all this uncertainty. in the end will still wants to be there for mike and be a team | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nothingunrealistic · 6 months

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“Billions” ends not with one man reigning supreme, but two titans shaking hands. Chuck (Paul Giamatti) and Axe (Damian Lewis) joined forces early in Season 7 and — despite a history filled with trickery and betrayal — remain loyal to the very end. Along with their devout team of stock traders and political savants, the duo takes down Mike Prince (Corey Stoll) and his bid for the presidency, before parting ways as friends. Chuck will continue working for the state of New York, while Axe is back behind the soon-to-be sleek desk of his hedge fund. For a series that began with promises by both men to utterly destroy the other, some fans may be miffed that neither star is crowned as champion. But for showrunners Brian Koppelman and David Levien, the “Billions” series finale isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s an embodiment of what the series has been all along: a massively entertaining reflection of the way the world works. For every cheery, satisfied smile, there’s deeper meaning tucked within the folds. So IndieWire dialed up the co-creators to break down the ending, the final season’s big swings, and how they managed to fill “Billions” with so much beautiful music.

IndieWire: For the final season, when and why did you decide it would be best for Chuck and Axe to team up, rather than go after each other? David Levien: We felt like the real mano-a-mano thing between Chuck and Axe reached its fullness during the end of Season 5, where neither guy lost completely, but neither guy won completely. It was like pure victories and standoffs and grudging respect for the opponent who played you to your very end. Then over the course of the sixth season, as Mike Prince started to reveal the darker hues of his character and how he could be a danger, we realized we had a formidable enough foe that these others could team up against him. In a certain way, that’s the most fun because the barbing is still there, but they have a common cause. What did you hope fans would be left thinking about? Brian Koppelman: Probably in that Wendy [Maggie Siff] and Taylor [Asia Kate Dillon] leave, and Rian [Eva Victor] leaves. It seems to me we feel pretty good about the fact that they leave, and that Sacker [Dola Rashad] understands where Sacker needs to be. Scooter is a very important character to us. Daniel Breaker’s a genius, and Scooter says what he says to Prince [quitting to consider when and how their moral compass went awry], and he is going to do what he’s going to do. To us, we tried to get each of them a moment where the audience can think about what it means for their trajectory from this moment forward.

From the jump, the last episode leaves little doubt that Chuck and Axe are going to win. How did you decide on that approach, that tone, for the finale, rather than teeing up a big reversal or twist as in past seasons? Levien: If it were a season finale and we were doing this, then we could have dedicated half of the real estate toward the Prince side of the reversals, but we had to devote the other half of the real estate to the valedictories and the goodbyes. So we made the conscious decision for them to have this attitude, right from the beginning, that the outcome’s not in doubt. Basically, once they securely got Prince into Camp David without his phone, with no contact to the outside world, they knew how the rest of the dance steps were going to unfold. We didn’t want to drag that out and then have all these characters that we’d been with for seven seasons not get to have resolution on a character level. Koppelman: Two things: 1. If you’re watching the show, you know Prince ain’t winning. So to [make it appear otherwise] felt disingenuous to the audience. Between the penultimate and ultimate episodes each season, we could fuck with it, but this is the end, so they’re going to win. 2. I would say this, Ben: On a plot level, 100 percent, you’re right. We made the decision to let you know who the winners and losers are going to be. But there’s something else that’s been going on the whole time. The show has a lot of morality questions underpinning it, and so their souls are in peril for a lot of this episode. This is one of the tricks about the show, right? From Season 1, people viscerally bonded with this guy, Axe, because of his backstory and because of the corrupt forces that were after him. So viscerally, they hung with him, even though he let Donnie die and all this stuff. What we hope happens is that one asks oneself, “Why do I feel this way about this guy? What does that say about the world we’re living in? And about the value system we speak versus the value system that we actually feel and live? So Bobby Axelrod, for all this talk about freedom, where’s he end up and what does he say as his final line? [Axe ends up running Axe Capital again, and his final line is to his employees: “Let’s make some fucking money.”] So it’s working on this level, but it’s also working on that level. We have this thing about our work: People often misread it early on, but we’ve had a long enough run that eventually it lands. So, some people had to review “Super Pumped” on only five episodes, but if they watched the last two episodes, they would know that it was about something else. We accept all that. What we write is entertaining and some people want to indict us for it being entertaining, but we are interested in these moral questions. It’s in our work. It’s in everything from “Rounders” to “Knockaround Guys” to “Solitary Man” to “Billions,” even to “Tilt.” It’s just in there. Ultimately, we think people will figure it out, but we want to entertain, too. It’s important to us that it’s entertaining and that it’s not work.

These days, there’s so much to watch and so much emphasis on trying to get through everything. You kind of have to hope everybody processes not just what happens, but what it could mean, before auto-play pulls up the next show in their queue. We all need time to let stuff settle in, and the “too much TV” era doesn’t always encourage that kind of contemplation. Koppelman: It takes time. In doing this, you have a choice between spoon-feeding [points] to the audience and just choosing to trust they’ll appreciate them over time. The immediate moment we live in makes it hard. It makes it really hard. But I go back and watch shows all the time, and so does he, and so do our friends, and so do you. We all do it. Then, five years later, you notice something new and go, “Oh fuck.” That’s a great thing, and we’re comfortable [with it.] We made indie movies for a lot of our careers, so to us, the fact that we’ve developed an audience that’ll watch this shit is amazing and thrilling. Yeah, the plot is one thing, but the other stuff at stake matters as much to us, and we hope eventually it does to everyone else, too. Levien: There’s also just the mechanics thing of the audience learning how it happened. It should be very satisfying for them, even if they have a lean on which way it may work out. That’s something that we came to understand heavily when we were writing “Oceans 13” and working on it with [Steven] Soderbergh. Because that’s not a movie where you’re wondering if George [Clooney], Brad [Pitt], and Matt [Damon] are going to win or lose. They’re probably going to pull it off. But it’s like, “How are you going to get there? How are you going to turn the cards over to delight the audience?” Koppelman: That scene in “Oceans 13” when the guys are by the Bellagio Fountains — early in it, not the end — I remember George really talking about finding these little moments where you understood why it mattered to these guys. It was great. Hearing George talk out the way he thought about character has stayed with us for a long time. Within these entertaining things, you can find ways to land something significant — you hope.

Given the significance of music in “Billions,” how long have you known your final song was going to be “Take the Money and Run”? Koppelman: Did it work for you? It did. I thought it matched the vibe of the episode and leaves the audience on the upswing. Koppelman: That’s what we think, too. We think a lot about the music, and we wrote the song into the script. The two of us are sending songs and playlists back and forth all the time, and we’ve been like brothers since we were 15, so the resonance the songs have are similar for the two of us. It’s not that we thought of it so long ago, but when we thought of this song, the moment one of us said it to the other, it was like, 100 percent. There was no doubt. Levien: We can’t say we thought of it when we were making the pilot. It’d be very cool if we had, but we weren’t driving toward this the entire time. Koppelman: But it is always satisfying when you write them into the script and then it works as well as you hoped. It goes to the heart of this final season. We really were thinking about “Billions” obsessive fans this season. We decided that that’s who we are, and we wanted to make the show for folks who cared a lot about the characters, the world of the show, the language of the show. The show exists in a slightly canted world — even though we never cant the camera — and that song exists in that kind of space, too. So it all kind of felt like it worked together.

This may be a question just for me, but how often were you able to write songs into the script and actually get the music? Because the licensing, the budgets, all of that can be such a pain in the ass. Levien: We didn’t run into that problem. Maybe it was just an instinct thing, but we would write some big ticket songs into the scripts and then sometimes they’d be very obscure songs, so it tended to balance out. Koppelman: But also I would say right from the very beginning, we went to Showtime and said, “Look, we’re going to use music in a certain way. Let’s know going in how important the music’s going to be. Let’s have a music budget that allows us to take those shots during the year. We’ll manage it. If we’re going to hit the hard ceiling, we’ll call you way in advance.” And then they did a really cool thing. Not every network does this, but Showtime came to us and they said, “Any product placements you do on the show, we, Showtime, won’t take that money. You can use that money for songs.” Oh, wow. Levien: They said, “You can apply it to your show budget.” Koppelman: So if you saw a car on the show and were like, “That seems like a product placement.” Well, that’s the money that got “In the Evening” by Led Zeppelin in the show. So our post-supervisor would tally [the budget] and go, “Here’s where we are. Here’s what the product placements are covering. OK, it’s going to be really easy to use that U2 song.” Dave and I picked every song, so [our music supervisor] Jim Black didn’t have to worry about that, but what he was amazing at was the clearances. He built relationships over a long career and he expressed to people what music lovers we were. Then Jim would say to us, “Hey, to get this Neil Young song, if you really want ‘Old Man,’ you should write Neil Young a letter and I’ll get it to him. So we would write letters and they were earnest because we meant it. Levien: We were putting [these songs] in because they mattered to us, so it was easy to express that to the artist. Koppelman: We could describe to Neil Young, “Here’s what’s playing, here’s what’s at stake in this scene, here’s why we’re using the song. We think [our scene is] in the spirit of the song.” I remember doing that, and the next day they cleared the song for a very reasonable price. Then the music business noticed that when we would feature a song in a certain way, that song did well that week. Then some artists became fans, or their managers did. “Atlantic City” was the first Bruce Springsteen song we [asked for], and we heard that he was reading the script on vacation. He went outside his place, and he was reading it. Obviously, that’s nerve wracking, but then we got word back [that we could use it], and when I met him a couple years later, he told us that he and Patti watched the show on Sunday nights.

Among the big swings in the final season, the restaurant montage at the start of Episode 9 stands out. What were the origins of that? Koppelman: We had a suspicion that people might be moved by it, but it was beyond what I thought. That [montage] was written into the script. That song [“I’ve Loved These Days” by Billy Joel] was written into the script. Look, let me start from the fact that we’re two Long Island kids growing up, so that creates a certain association with Billy Joel and the way Billy Joel saw New York. We’d had that song saved for a while, for the last season, and Patsy’s is an incredibly important restaurant to us, so it’s got to start there. My dad started taking me to Patsy’s. My dad, who we dedicated the first episode of the season to, he passed away between Seasons 6 and 7. So Patsy’s matters a lot to us and what it means in New York. There are amazing stories about Sinatra and Patsy’s that are just mind-blowing. Levien: So we were intending to use it in a meaningful way, and we were saving it. Koppelman: It led us to think, “OK, this is a moment to just give a hug to everybody, to say goodbye to the show together.” That’s what it felt like, and that’s what that restaurant kind of feels like. While writing that episode, one of my son’s friends, his dad had just passed away very close in time to mine, and I went to this kid’s dad’s funeral. Then on the way home I was alone, and I went to Patsy’s and I just sat at one of these tables by myself and texted Dave from there. If you write something like [“Billions,”] it’s a part of you for so long. When he was writing this first novel years ago, before I was a writer, David said to me, “When you’re in a really good one, where it really feels like you’re connected to it, everything that happens in your life finds its way into the work in some way.”

#billions #7x12 #brian koppelman #david levien #chuck rhoades #bobby axelrod #mike prince #wendy rhoades #taylor mason #rian billions #kate sacker #scooter dunbar #soundtrack posting #7x09

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80s4life · 3 years

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Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity.

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased.

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.”

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you.

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty.

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted.

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least.

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension.

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room.

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation.

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”

#john kreese x reader #john kreese imagine #john kreese #martin kove #martin kove x reader #martin kove imagine #terry silver #tig #thomas ian griffith #mike barnes #sean kanan #kk3 #kk1 #kk #karate kid #karate kid imagine #karate kid 1 #karate kid 3

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winter-fox-queen · 2 years

Text

Fire Meets Gasoline: It’s Dangerous to Fall in Love

Fire Meet…Chapter 1

It’s Dangerous to Fall In Love

Warnings: This will be dark. The main character is female, a librarian, but blank canvas — but she is being stalked and has been trying, very hard, to stay out of an abusive relationship. So triggers may be abusive relationships (Ezra is a jewel and won’t hurt her) and stalking. She is doing her best. I think you will like her. No smut this chapter, I curse like some people breathe so let’s just assume there’s cursing. Passing food mention.

This is mostly just set up. Next part, we start to get to the good stuff. I think.

He arrived in town in a beat up truck, like some kind of Wild West fairy tale. He had a guitar that he liked to tell people he won in a poker match — but really, he got it at a garage sale. It was one of the few things he kept in the cab, the rest, rain, snow or shine stayed in the back. None of it was worth much, and he figured, if someone wants to steal his worn out clothes, they can go right ahead.

His name was Ezra, and he had both his arms (despite a very, very vivid dream about his step sister cutting it off the other night) a somewhat useless English Doctorate Degree (he’d been sleeping with the Dean’s wife, he found out and told the Council of Trustees and the President of the University that Ezra was having an inappropriate affaire with his seventeen year old daughter, who, righteously displeased at the whole of the situation went along with the lie— the moral of the story, never fuck around until yhou have tenure), some enemies, some larcenous skills, and the deed to a disreputable looking bowling alley.

Oh, Lord above, was it disreputable looking. The parking lot was more weeds than asphalt. The neon sign — The Bowling Green — flickered weirdly and the bowling pin at the end was half hanging off the otherwise featureless brick wall. “Oh, Uncle, you meant well but I do fear you have done me wrong.”

There was another car in the parking lot, fairly new. He parked next to it, close to the door, neither of them worrying over sticking to the non existent parking lines. He unlocked the peeling green painted door and went down the hall, past the office, past restrooms, to the only part of the place that still looked taken care of — the bowling lanes themselves.

There you were. His uncle had told him about you — a sweet woman, a little lonely, but nice. A librarian at the local middle and high schools. You came in every week day at 3:30 on the dot, checked around the place for problems, then spent a solid hour bowling.

Ezra leaned against the door jamb, taking you in. Something tugged at him, his heart felt like it was waking up, stretching its arms and looking around for something to love, and there. There you were. Beautiful, relaxed in your element, still in your work clothes, your bowling shoes looking well loved but old enough to predate the building.

He turned around and walked back down the hall, opened the green door again, slammed it loudly, then walked back down to the alleys, whistling, jiggling his keys.

You were less relaxed now, as he came into view. Bowling ball held defensively. Back straight, eyes wary.

“Hey!” He calls your name. “I”m Ezra. Uncle Mike told me about you…hopefully he returned the favor, without much elaboration upon my past trespasses.”

Slowly, the stiffness eases out, and you lower the ball, smiling a little. The kind of smile that makes a heart wont to jump right out of its chest, run over, tug on a lady’s pant cuff to see if she’ll pick it up and keep it.

“All he ever said was that you were a good boy…and that you talk an awful lot.”

“I didn’t work myself through college to use one word when seven will do.” He grinned back, and his smile grew when you giggled.

“I like that. So. Do you mind if I keep bowling? I mean…like…”. Uncertainty again. “I really do like coming in every day, so if I need to pay now, or if it’s not convenient…”

“I wouldn’t dream of changing a thing. I’m not sure if I am going to open this place up again or not…but it’ll be nice to see the lanes being used.”

“Thank you.” You said, the sheer relief in your tone striking him odd, but he put it aside.

“Want to play a couple frames before you have to go?”

“Yes!” You walk over to the screen and clear the previous game, then typed in his name. “There are some shoes in a plastic box behind the counter…I moved them when I realized that the mice were enjoying chewing on them.”

“I do hate mice. Bold as brass, they are…”. He found the box and rooted through. “I have not played…oh, not since I left to get my master’s degree.”

“What did you get your degree in?”

He dropped a pair on the floor, slipped off his well worn in Toms, and shoved his feel into the stiff bowling shoes. “Poetry. Almost got into trouble because I didn’t want to specialize…I love it all. Byron, Neruda, Stephen Crane…the Bard himself. Why should I deny myself any pleasure?”

“You sound like me,” You say, as you wait for him to choose his ball. “I hoard books like dragons hoard gold.”

Ezra thinks of the well duct taped plastic bins of books in the back of his truck. A sliver of the library he’d had once. “Nothing like being surrounded by books.”

“It’s my retirement plan. I keep buying books and hoping I’ll live long enough to read them…anyway…you first. I have to get home before dark, so we can’t play too long.”

“Drat. And I was hoping to convince you to let me buy you dinner, in thanks for being so kind.” He releases the ball, the feel slowly coming back to him, winces when it goes right for the gutter.

You blush a little. Look tempted. “Some other time, maybe.”

Another gutter, and he gives up the floor to you with a bow. “Well, the way I’m playing, this is going to be a short game.”

“You’re just rusty.” You let the ball go, with just a little curve. Just when he thinks it’s heading for the gutter it curves right and takes out the middle pins.

“Do you like being a school librarian?”

You stop as you reach for your newly returned ball, your side eye and sudden stiffness communicating, loudly, that she was well aware she has not told you where she worked.

“My Uncle told me. He used to speak often of you — the old goat was quite fond of you.”

“And I him,” you take your steps, release your ball, and take out the rest of the pins. “What else did he tell you?”

Little bird, what happened to make you so suspicious? “That you like bowling because it gives you an outlet after a hard day at work. That you like the job and the kids but it’s hard. Lots of stress.”

You nod, as if that makes sense. As if you are willing yourself to think it is OK. The rest of the frames go better. Ezra is more careful, filling the silence with junk about himself, about his Uncle, and you relax, little by little. You even step a little closer, both of you staring up at the board at the winning score.

“Not bad, you could probably go on the circuit, make money.”

You laugh. “Go pro? Not happening. You are a flatterer.”

“Why flatter when the truth is too good to use?”

You sneak a look at your watch, nod, and start to put things away.

“I’ve got it,”. Ezra says. “Maybe I’ll play a few more frames, get better in case you ever grant me the honor of allowing me to play you again.”

Another flash of one of those lovely smiles. “Later, Ezra.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” He calls to your retreating back.

“Nope. Never on a Saturday or Sunday. But Monday?” You turn and point. “Monday, I’ll give you that rematch. So you have all weekend to get better.”

“Since I am currently utterly abysmal, it will not be hard.”

You laugh and wave and go out the door. The light is the golden-hour gliding of the sun just going down, you’d have time to get home before dark.

He sighed, and wondered why it was that important. The town was fairly safe, as far as he knew.

He switched the machines off, and started grabbing his things out of the truck while it was still light. Time to get his things indoors, and then investigate the horror that was surely to be the upstairs apartment.

***

You made home before nightfall.

Sometimes, you thought, a smart woman might just move out. Move away from the lonely farm house at the end of a lonely lane. A place where no one would hear you scream, if someone attacked you. No neighbors to run to, to beg for help.

You sat there, as the shadows lengthened and the golden sun went down behind the trees, as if it did not want to see what happened next. You listened as the engine went tick, tick, tick, waiting, breath held.

Then you nodded, once, grabbed your stuff and ran up the steps to the porch.

The door was locked, when you tried it. Good. You unlocked it, dropped your stuff in the chair by the door, dead bolted it, then started the circuit.

How did they do it, you wonder. How did you mother, your grandmother, your aunt all live here, in this old pile that creaked and grumbled, with its millions of niches and shadows and closets that were always left open so you could see inside, see that no one was there. The cellar with the bar across the door. The steep stairs with the sharp turn that announced that you were coming to anyone who might care to hear?

You check the bedrooms, the bathroom, then go down the other set of stairs, check that the bar is on the kitchen door, then go and lay the thick beam of wood in the hangers on either side of the front door. Never bar the door until the house was clear. Now you could use the bathroom, take your stuff to the office. Turn on the TV so the white noise would cover the incidental creaks and groans and animal scrapings on this old solitary house. The sounds that meant nothing but would drive you crazy.

You’re contemplating dinner when the phone rings. You were half expecting it, but you still jump out of your skin. It’s the old landline, which you have to keep to have internet — and the ring is loud and harsh.

“Hello?”

“You’re home. Good. I thought you were running a little late today.”

“Principle Micheals.”

“Sweetheart. Is that anyway to address me? It’s after hours…you know what I want you to call me.” His voice is affable, but there’s this little hidden bite. You remember his hand around your throat, pressed right against this wall, and you shake.

“I know what you want.” You try to strip all emotion from your words. “But you know the school board…”

“Funny thing about that. I found out exactly who put forward that motion, that a principal can’t date his subordinate.” The last word is stressed, made insulting. “Your predecessor — Mrs. Whitcomb. Aren’t you shocked that someone you thought was your friend would deny you the happiness of being with your one true love?”

You wanted to argue the one true love bit, but it would not…no. That was never good, or helpful. Instead, you said into the waiting silence, “I am sure she means well.”

You did not tell the truth, that you went to her, begged for her help, and this was the best the two of you could come up with.

“Can you leave?” Mrs Witcomb asked. She already knew the answer…she was the librarian when you were a student. Your friend, book supplier, hero…she knew you could not leave the house.

“…In any case, she won’t be on the board much longer. Maybe we can ge them to revisit that stupid rule, yeah?”

You are paralyzed. What to say? What to say?

“It’s rude not to answer, sweetheart.”

“I think. I think. She’s right, that a man in your position of power should not be dating someone under him. If it went…bad, if things went wrong it could be very miserable.”

“You think things would go bad, honey?” His words, again, were velvet wrapped around a razor blade. If you grabbed them, the razor would slice right through and cut you open.

You hear the crunch of gravel. “Someone’s outside.”

“Oh, that’s just my little brother, Al. Go ahead and wave to him, so he knows you’re alright.”

“I have to hang up, ok? The cord can’t reach.”

“I know that.” A smack of impatience.

You hang up without a word. You know you will probably pay for that later.

You walk up to the window by the front door. A black and white unit is parked next to your car. You wave, then mime that you’re on the phone. The young man…plain, bland, doughy faced…nods once, and backs out.

Things are going to get so much worse, if that kid gets elected sheriff. But the Sheriff — another Whitcomb, but this one was the ex-librarian’s cousin — was popular, and you think, you hope, you have another couple of years.

You should go. Leave. Burn the place down and never look back. But there are bills — so many bills — and the fact you own your home is the only source of security you have.

“Eat.” You say to the echoing house, too large and too small at the same time. “You have to eat.”

Thank you to you lovely people for being on my tag list, if you want added or dropped just let me know. <3

@grogusmum @mishasminion360 @hnt-escape @littlemisspascal @pedro4ever @writteninthestars18 @fromthedeskoftheraven @sharkbait77

@quica-quica-quica @eri16 @the-blind-assassin @ayoungpascallover-readings @songsformonkeys @fan-of-encouragement @thegreenkid

#fire meet gasoline #pedro pascal #ezra x reader #ezra au #TW:domestic abuse

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

ansgty hc inspired by your recent post where hange and levi were sending each other letters: let's say that levi lived until the end of the finale and as he finished helping armin settle in the commander's office, an eccentric-looking box catches his attention. it turns out to be full of hange's old journals she kept as a trainee until she became a commander. some of these write-ups would be yeaaars old. research notes, grocery lists (that had stuff he liked written down, like his favorite brand of black tea and cleaning supplies 🥺) aaaand of course, for a dash of extra pain -- letters she never gave to him (she probably wrote a scratched-out love confession somewhere). imagine a post-war recovering levi clutching hange's journals and reading her entries way baaaack before and during the no regrets ova timeline until the marley vs paradis arc TIME TO SOB :((((((

"Captain, you don't have to do this," Armin spoke softly. "I can clear it all myself."

"No," Levi harshly refused. "I'll do it. It's- it's the least I can do."

"Captain..." there was an infinite sadness in Armin's voice and in his eyes. Some of it, Levi knew, wasn't caused by the need to clean Hange's office. They all had their fair share of tragedies.

"I'm not your Captain anymore," he answered wearily. "And don't bother yourself with worrying about me. Just-"

"I'll give you some time," Armin nodded. He gave Levi one last cautious look and then turned, slowly walking away.

Levi watched him go for a second and then looked at the door, grasping the handle. He opened that door hundreds, if not thousands of times. There shouldn't be anything hard about it. Yet his heart was in his throat as he stared at the wooden surface.

It was the second time he was clearing that particular room. It was the second time he couldn't protect what was important to him.

He let out a shaky breath and turned the handle.

The room was dusty. It was messy, with stacks of papers littering every possible surface. It was... just as Hange left it.

Levi gulped and stepped inside.

His knees grew weaker with every step. He tried to pretend it was from exhaustion. He tried to keep his composure for as long as it was possible.

He decided to start with a desk, gathering all the papers, quills and books. Most of it held no importance - simple reports, accounts and official letters. Levi held each paper with utmost care, laying it inside the card box he had brought with him.

Most of the stuff there was meaningless, useless. But not for him.

For him, it was a proof, an evidence of Hange's existence, a testimony of her work and life, of everything she had accomplished. For Levi, it was the most precious thing in the world.

Slowly and methodically he looked through every paper and journal. Hours went until he moved from the desk to the bookshelf, from the bookshelf to the closet.

His hand trembled, as he opened it and saw Hange's jacket still hanging inside. His fingers touched the soft fabric. It wasn't washed in a long time, Hange's smell still clinged to it. Levi took it off the rack and draped it around his shoulders.

He pulled the jacket tighter around himself and continued with his work. At the back of the closet he saw a small box, and, curious Levi took it in his hands.

Inside lay even more papers, but those were different. They still were written by Hange, but the handwriting was different, a lot messier. They were written before Erwin's death, Levi guessed. They were written back when Hange was still allowed to be a messy, crazy scientist, not an strict and experienced leader.

The box contained her scribblings and doodles, drafts of new weapons and outlines for the next experiments. There were a few of drawings, and the quality of them told Levi that they were most likely done by Moblit.

At the very bottom of it all, Levi found an envelope. 'For Levi' was written on it.

Levi's breath hitched. Carefully he opened the envelope. Inside there was a letter.

Feeling his legs buckle, Levi sat down on chair beside the table and started reading.

If you're reading this, then one of those things happened: you went through my stuff again, probably during your cleaning spree; I was too much of a chicken to tell you everything myself and left it by your door; or... I'm not with you anymore. If the latter is true, than I'm sorry and I hope you can go on without me. Also I hope that in my last moments, I looked as awesome as possible. If not, then please pretend I did.

Either way, I'm writing you this letter because there is so much I want to tell you and so little time to actually talk with you. Life has been hectic in those last years, don't you think? Sometimes I wish we could go back to the way it was. I wish we could go back to the times, where it was just us - you, me, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba and Moblit fighting a hopeless fight against giant monsters. No shifters, no Marley, just our shitty little world inside the walls. Don't you think it'd be nice?

You probably don't, and you probably are rolling your eyes at my naivety. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you how much you mean to me, Levi. You are the closest friend I ever have. You're the last friend that I have, and I... I can not thank you enough for this. For sticking by my side through thick and thin, for tolerating my quirks and weird habits, for being my rock in this sea of uncertainties. I lov... Ah, well, you probably know exactly how I feel about you, subtlety was never my strong forte.

We live in a terrible world, but if there is one thing I'm grateful for, if there is one thing that almost makes it all worth is the fact that I've met you. You make me so happy, Levi, and I'm so happy to have an honor of calling you my friend.

You know, sometimes I wonder - would we still get along if not for our circumstances? Would you still like me if not for the duty that bound us together?

Sometimes I try to imagine a different life, a life where we could be allowed to be happy. To be together - safe and alive. Maybe, I'd still be living with my parents, up in a big mansion in the middle of the capital. Maybe, you'd be a notorious criminal from th Underground I'd have a scandalous affair with! You would sneak into my room in the middle of the night, getting past my father's guards and climbing inside though the window.

Or, maybe, I'd be a student and you'd work at the bar I frequent. I'd be trying to flirt with you to get free drinks for me and my friends, and you'd grumble and roll your eyes at me, waving me off like an annoying fly.

Maybe, we could be simple soldiers, without high ranks and important tasks. We'd be allowed to retire and run away to a small village, where we could live together and raise some cattle.

Wouldn't it be nice?

It would, and I'm sure you think the same. But life is what it is, and, for better or worse, we can't do nothing to change it.

Despite all the shit we've been through, there is one thing I would never think of changing, and it's meeting and befriending you. Whatever happens when you read this letter, I hope you remember this. And remember me.

Forever yours, Hange

There was a dark, old stain at the end of the letter. As he finished reading it, another one appeared.

Levi let the tears flow, rereading the letter again and again. He could almost hear Hange's voice as he read her words. He could almost see her smile and her bright eyes.

He wished Hange told him sooner. He wished he confessed to her before the world had torn them apart. But he knew it wouldn't have changed anything.

They were soldiers, nothing more than tools of war. Their hearts weren't their own, they belonged to humanity.

But with no squad to lead and no battle to fight, Levi turned into an old and broken man. His heart still wasn't his own, as he had given it away, sacrificing it along with his hope for a happy future with the one he loved.

He could still dream, though. Dream of another life, dream of those scenarios Hange described.

He could still dream and hope that it wasn't their last meeting, that in another life, much kinder than this one, they'd be allowed to be happy.

#i wrote it while waiting for a doctor's appointment so it's probably very messy #levihan

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letterboxd · 3 years

Photo

A Leaf in a Stream.

The matriarchs of Minari—Youn Yuh-jung and Han Ye-ri—talk to Aaron Yap about chestnuts, ear-cleaning, dancing, Doctor Zhivago and their unexpected paths into acting.

A delicate cinematic braid that captures the sense of adventure, sacrifice and uncertainty of uprooting, Lee Isaac Chung’s Minari might be the closest approximation of my immigrant experience on the big screen yet. Sure, Arkansas is a world of difference from New Zealand. But those dynamics and emotional textures of a family in the process of assimilation—authentically realized by Chung—remain the same.

The film is a wonder of humane storytelling, with the American-born Chung encasing deeply personal memories in a brittle, bittersweet calibration that recalls the meditative, modest glow and touching whimsy of an Ozu or Kore-eda. As Jen writes, “To describe Minari? Being embraced in a long, warm hug.” Or perhaps, it’s like Darren says, “floating along peacefully like a leaf in a stream”.

Neither is alone in their effusive praise. Minari rapidly rose to the top of Letterboxd’s Official Top 50 of 2020, and by year’s end our community had crowned it their highest-rated film. Despite its cultural specificity—a Korean family shifting to the Ozarks in the 1980s—the film has transcended barriers and stolen hearts. Run director Aneesh Chaganty says, “I saw my dad. I saw my mom. I saw my grandma. I saw my brother. I saw me.” Iana writes, “Its portrayal of assimilation rang so true and for that, I feel personally attacked.” The versatile herb of the title, Kevin observes, is “a marker of home, of South Korea, but it can grow and propagate as long as there is water.”

Though a large portion of Minari was vividly drawn from Chung’s childhood, a few of the film’s most quietly memorable moments were contributions from its Korean-born cast.

Youn Yuh-jung as Soonja in ‘Minari’.

Veteran actress Youn Yuh-jung, who’s extraordinary as the visiting, wily grandmother Soonja, traces the origins of the scene where she cracks open a chestnut in her mouth and hands it to seven-year-old grandson David (Alan Kim), to her time living in America. “I’ve seen one grandmother visiting at the time—we don’t have chestnuts in Florida—she brought them all the way from Korea. Actually it was worse than the scene. My friend’s mother brought [the] chestnut. She chewed it and spit it out into a spoon and shared it with her grandson. Her husband was an Irishman. He was almost shocked. We didn’t do that, but I shared that kind of thing with Isaac.”

Most viewers watching this scene will likely recoil in horror, as David does, but co-star Han Ye-ri, playing Soonja’s daughter Monica, notes the practicality of the gesture: “If you give a big chunk to children they could choke on that, so it’s natural for them to do that for their children.”

In another brief, beautifully serene scene—one that is so rarely depicted in American cinema that it’s almost stunning—Monica is seen gently cleaning David’s ears. Han came up with the idea. “Originally it was cutting the nails for David,” she says. “Cleaning your wife and husband’s ears is such a common thing in Korea. Initially the producer or somebody from the production opposed the idea because they regarded it as dangerous, but because it is something that is so common in our daily lives I thought we should go with the idea.”

Neither actress comes from a traditional movie-oriented background. With no acting ambitions, Youn began her fifty-year career with a part-time job hunt that led her to distributing gifts to an audience at a TV station. “It was freshman year from college and they gave me pretty good money. So I thought, ‘Wow, that’s good!’.”

“I’m kind of ashamed about that, as nowadays all the kids plan their future,” she says. “When I talk to the younger generation, they start having dreams about being an actor in the sixth grade. In the sixth grade, I was just playing—nothing. I didn’t plan anything. [Laughs.]”

Han Ye-ri and Noel Kate Cho in ‘Minari’.

Before acting, Ye-ri trained as a professional dancer, and while she wasn’t specifically inspired by movies to cross over into acting, she was an avid film watcher in her formative years. “Working as an actress made me realize how many films I’ve seen growing up.”

“My first memory of a non-Korean-language film left such a strong impression on me, especially the ending,” she says. “The film is called Doctor Zhivago. I saw it on TV and not in theaters. The first film I saw in theaters was Beauty and the Beast. But even growing up I remember because Koreans love films so much they would have films on TV all the time. I watched a lot of TV growing up because both my parents were busy, and in retrospect that really helped become the basis of my career. [Laughs.]”

She also grew up “taking reference from Miss Youn’s body of work to study from, as did many other actresses”. Grateful for the opportunity to work with her on Minari, Ye-ri says, “On set working with her, it made me realize how wonderful it is that this person still carries her own distinct color and scent. And seeing her taking part in this production in a foreign country—she’s over 70—it just really encouraged me that I should be more fearless like her.” She adds: “One of the things that I really want to learn from her is her sense of humor but I think I’m going to have that for my next life. [Laughs.]”

As for Youn’s adventures in early movie-going, she recalls the first Korean film she saw with her father was the 1956 historical drama Ma-ui taeja, based on a popular Korean fairy tale. “I was so scared. I cried so my father had to take me out of the theater.”

“At [the] time, we always had to watch the news on the screen before the movie. It started with a national anthem and every audience from the theater would need to stand up and pledge to the Korean flag. It’s a very stupid thing for you guys but it was like that 60 years ago.”

Han Ye-ri as Monica in ‘Minari’.

For Minari fans who want to discover more of Youn’s work, she recommends starting with the first movie she made with the late, great director Kim Ki-young, Woman of Fire—a remake of his own 1962 Korean classic The Housemaid. “A long time ago I couldn’t see it. Of course I first saw it when it was shown at the theater back when I was twenty. But later on we had a retrospective, so I saw that movie 50 years later. Wow, he was very genius. I was very impressed. That time we had censorship and everything but with that crisis he made that film. That was a memorable movie to [me].”

Youn admits finding it difficult to be emotionally invested watching a film starring herself, including Minari. “It’s terrible, it’s killing me,” she says. “I always think about why I did this and that scene like that. I’m just criticizing every scene so I’m not enjoying it at all.”

Asked which films she enjoys, she offers: “Some other people’s movies like Mike Leigh and Kore-eda Hirokazu. Your Chinese movies I fell in love with. Zhang Yimou when he started. Then later on when he became a big shot, I don’t enjoy [them]. [Laughs.]”

During the shoot, members of the cast and crew caught Lulu Wang’s The Farewell, 2019’s powerful, heartfelt Chinese-American immigrant story. While Youn missed it (“I was just staying home trying to memorize the lines and resting”), Ye-ri watched with interest: “That film also had a grandmother character, so did ours, and these two are completely different. But at the same time from both films you can feel the warmth and thoughtfulness of grandmothers in different ways. To me they are both very lovely films.”

Of her recent viewings, Ye-ri reveals she found Soul made her as emotional as Minari did. “It made me look back at how I live and my day. It’s not necessarily for children but I think it’s a film for adults. [Pauses.] I’m Thinking of Ending Things. I love that film also.”

‘Minari’ is out now in select theaters across the US and other territories, with virtual screenings available to US audiences in the A24 screening room.

#minari #a24 #lee isaac chung #lulu wang #the farewell #hirokazu koreeda #Youn Yuh-jung #han ye-ri #han yeri #steven yeun #korean film #korean director #korean films #letterboxd

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asteriismos · 4 years

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Beautiful - Stanley Uris

Warning(s) : self conscious reader, eighteen! losers club, smut

Authors Note: I did this more of in a third person style, I was reading fics on ao3 and I got inspired and decided to try it out. Is this good? I am not sure

Request :

can you do a smut with Stanley where you're self-conscious about ur body but Stan wants to make you feel better by just praising you and how good you look 🥺🥺 I'm so soft for Stan 🥺🥺

Stanley Uris stood idly against the kitchen counter of Y/N’s home, watching as she cut up a red apple on the cutting board next to him. The window to their left was open, the light it let in illuminated the room with the golden setting sun. It was Saturday, a typical day where the losers would all go to the Quarry to swim or go to one of their houses and just hang around. Summers in Derry were always absolutely gorgeous, the rays of sunlight never let up until around nine at night, and the warm breeze offered solace to the people who were outside. Children rode their bikes all over, much like their group used to do before they grew up and got cars.

After ruining his own Bar Mitzvah a few years prior, his father neglected to give Stanley the money to get his own car. His mother, however adamant, was not able to convince the stern rabbi either, so Stan was one of the only people in the group without a car. Bill was the first one, fixing up a red beamer with his father around sophomore year, and for a while, that was the car Stan would drive around when his best friend let him. The only two other people who didn’t have a car were Eddie ( who’s mother swore would get him into a wreck ) and Beverly ( for obvious reasons surrounding her father’s neglect and abuse ).

He didn’t mind it much, to be honest. Yes, it would be nice to have a car to drive around and get places faster, but at the end of the day, riding his bike and feeling the wind in his hair was good enough for him.

“Here,” Y/N spoke to him, pushing the apple slices she put onto a plate towards him, snapping him out of his thoughts momentarily to look at her and smile as a thank you.

Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head, some of the tips still wet from the group’s dive into the quarry. They both had come back to her house to hang out before Stan had to go back home for dinner.

Y/N and Stanley have been in a relationship for a few years now, ever since Stanley asked her to homecoming their freshman year of high school. In all honesty, he wasn't going to do it at first, because Stan didn’t want to make things complicated. He had liked Y/N for a long time, ever since Bill Denbrough introduced her to their group because she was in Bill’s biology class. The stuttering boy thought that she would be a good addition to the club, since she had just moved to Derry and didn’t have any friends yet. Bill was always the welcoming type, and she was not just going to turn down the chance of having not just one, but seven new friends. She got really close with Mike despite the fact that he’s homeschooled.

Richie had been the one to dare Stanley to ask her to the dance. Well, it wasn't really a thing that was out of the blue. Stan had made the mistake of talking about it with Richie, and Richie being Richie, he wasn't just going to let it go. He dared Stan to do it, which wasn’t that out of the ordinary because Richie would do this sort of thing all the time to him, tease him for being too chicken to do most things. Come on Stan the man! Grow a pair!

And so he did. It was a little bit awkward considering Y/N was still taller than him in freshman year and he hadn’t quite grown into his lanky body and hadn't figured out how to style his curly hair. And he was stuttering and going over his words so much that you could’ve mistaken him for Bill. She thought that it was cute and sweet, so of course she had said yes.

The rest was history.

As life went on and the kids grew older into mature teenagers, there still wasn't much that had changed with them personality wise. Deep down, all of them felt as if they were those scrawny fourteen year olds that used to ride their bikes around town and throw rocks into the house on neibolt streets windows for fun. The boys eventually grew taller than Y/N and Beverly, much to their dismay of course. Richie’s glasses now fit his face correctly, Bill went to speech therapy and got his stutter corrected, and Eddie didn’t use his inhaler anymore.

They were all grown up.

It was sad to think that in just a month they would be saying bye to Derry, the place that they had grown up in for so many years. Y/N was new, only been here for five, and yet she still felt like she was losing a piece of her. She didn’t want to leave, graduation had been hard enough. The last day of school when the entire senior class were throwing all their papers off the roof of the high school in celebration, the losers instead roamed the halls of the empty school, reminiscing in the memories they had made. The biology classroom Y/N first made friends with Bill, the corner under the stairs where the group would sit during free period and study in silence, the library where each of them have shared a cry in one too many times after a failed quiz or test. It was hard to say goodbye. Each of them had a piece of themselves somewhere in Derry. Even Richie did, even though he insisted that he hated this town.

The group were adamant about hanging out every single day, since it would be their last summer here, even if it wasn't a full one. Everyone tried to stay light and happy, but as the days passed and the weeks started to add up, things were getting more and more solemn.

“Do you think we’re all going to stay friends?” Stanley asked Y/N, biting into an apple slice and looking up at her. “Like when we’re in college?”

It wasn’t the first time that he’d asked such a thing, just this time it was only to her. He had asked it that summer with Pennywise, in the club house with all of his friends except for Y/N. She came the school year right after that summer, meaning she didn't have to experience any of the horrors that came with that summer that still haunted Stan to this day. All of them said that they would stay friends no matter what and he wanted to believe that so badly, but he couldn’t help but think about the fact that they were all going to such different places, would they stay friends?

Y/N didn’t quite know how to answer his question. Stanley always managed to ask her questions she had to think about thoroughly, he seemed to always have some sort of wandering mind filled with thoughts beyond his capability of even answering himself. He was in the smart classes in school and wanted to go to college for math and psychology, which sounded typical for Stan, two polar opposite things that he has somehow brought into one. She answered after a passing minute.

“I’d like to think that we all would.”

It wasn't exactly the answer that he was looking for, but then again, he wasn't sure what he would've liked to hear. Stan understood the uncertainty in her voice. The future was unknown to all of them, and the unknown was scary.

The boy nodded, curls falling into his face. He brushed them away, glancing over at the time on the clock programmed onto her kitchen stove. It was almost five, he would need to get going soon, no matter how much he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep spending all the time he could with Y/N, hell, he wanted to spend his entire life with her. It was no secret that Stanley was absolutely, disastrously in love with Y/N, everyone knew. Even if you didn't explicitly know that they were in a relationship, just the way that he looked at her would be a dead giveaway. He looked at her like she was the one who controlled the sun and the stars, spinning his entire world around and around into one web filled with love. He would walk to the end of the world for her if she wanted to do. And she felt the same way about him, if not even more. She would lose herself to him.

He turned towards her and extended his arms outward, pulling her into his embrace. They sat there together like this for a while, listening to each others steady breathing and relishing in the idea of each other. Stanley couldnt help but marvel at her beauty, his eyes flicking down to stare that the part of her face he could see from the position they were in. As strands of hair fell from outside the bun and onto her face, tickling he forehead softly. Her eyelashes, which batted every time she blinked, were so long that he thought of them as flower petals upon her face.

She didn’t know how beautiful he thought she was. He knew that for certain. Every time he would mention something about her appearance she would blush and tell him that she wasn't that attractive. And it tore Stanley Uris to pieces, seeing her beat herself up about the fact that she didn’t look like the other girls that have been propped up as what a beautiful woman had to look like. No matter how many times he would hold her by the face and repeat you are beautiful over and over again, she still would have doubts. Stanley wanted to show her how beautiful she truly was, to make her feel all the love that he had for her.

His hands came to her hips and spun her around so they were looking at each other. Her warm eyes peered into his own, feigning a soft smile and giggling at the sudden action. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his soft hair on her fingertips, playing with a few of the strands. She did really love his hair, and in the light of the dropping sun, the brown curly strands almost appeared to be golden. The freckles that peppered his face here and there moved with his own smile. That sight alone was breathtaking for the young girl, making her heart almost melt on the spot.

Stanley raised an eyebrow almost as a question, his face leaning towards hers. She raised herself up on her tip toes and attached their lips together, closing the gap between both of them as their arms brought each other closer and closer. It was easy to get lost in the moment for each of them, the intoxication of love is enough to make them play into their infatuations with each other. The kiss was small, pulling away after a few seconds. They stayed close, feeling each other’s hot breath on their faces. Stanley’s eyes flicked down to her lips back to her eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” He whispered to her, his grip tightening ever so slightly on her hips.

And then there was that look again on her face, the same one that she made every single time he complimented her. It wasn’t of offense, she thought that it was so sweet that he used words like this, it was just that she didn’t feel the same way about herself. Y/N didn’t think that she was the most beautiful in Derry, there were many other better, more beautiful women here. And yet Stanley Uris picked her. She was flattered, though it never stopped the insecure thoughts she had.

“Thank you, Stan but-”

“Don’t deny it,” Stanley interjected her, pulling his hand up and putting it across her mouth. Her eyes widened, breathing getting heavier. Her heart started to beat in her chest rapidly, feeling a blush coming up to her cheeks. “You’re way to hard on yourself, Y/N.” Stan kissed her reddening cheeks, then removed his hand and kissed her lips. This kiss was different from the previous one. This one was more passionate and feverish, which is when she realized what would probably occur if they kept kissing this way.

They’ve had sex before, a few times actually, starting around junior year last year. With both of them being virgins, they lost their virginities to each other over winter break when they were opening up presents together. Even though his family didn’t celebrate Christmas, he still insisted on giving his friends gifts, and then an extra special one for Y/N. It was a necklace that had their initials engraved on the back of it, and she knew that it must’ve cost a fortune. How did you even get this? There’s no jewelry stores in Derry? She had asked him. I went with Bill to the next town over a week ago. He replied. Y/N had yet to take it off. One thing led to each other and they were all over each other.

His lips left her own and began to trail down her neck, stopping every once a while to bite on the extra sensitive spots he knew she had. A soft mewling noise left her mouth, her eyes closing and leaning into his touch. The noises she made during their intimate affairs never failed to turn Stanley on, no matter how slight they were. Just the fact that he was the one making her that way was enough to get the dirty fantasies starting in his head.

Stanley allowed his hands to fall down her sides, fingers fiddling with the edge of the t shirt she wore. His fingertips grazed the soft skin underneath for just a second and her breath hitched in her throat, her hand reaching for his head and pulling him up so he was once again looking at her in the eyes. Her lips parted, asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting home soon?” She wasn't look for an excuse not to have sex, she wouldn’t ever pass up the opportunity, but Y/N didn’t want Mrs. Uris to worry about her son who was supposed to come home soon.

“I’ll be okay. I just want to make you feel good,” Stan whispered, his head ducking down and kissing her neck again. Y/N allowed herself to relax into his touch, feeling the tension in her shoulders begin to dissipate with every kiss, nibble, and lick he put on her skin. The shirt that he had once been playing with was now off of her revealing her bare chest, dropping to the floor. They went back to kissing again, Stanley’s arms held her up by her thighs and helped her to sit on the counter. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his shirt was thrown off as well.

He pulled for a moment and admired her, seeing the slight red marks he made on her skin, wanting - no, craving to make more on her bare breasts. And he did just that, kissing the dip in between her breasts and using one of his hands to play with one of them. His touches were so gentle, like he planned each and every single one with expertise to get just the right reaction out of her. It wasn’t the first time that he had seen her, all of her, before but it felt that way each time. He would never be able to explain in words the feeling he got when she was exposed to him.

She was trying her best to kick off her jean shorts, pulling down the zipper herself while he continued kissing her body. Sliding them down her legs and kicking them away, Stan put his hand once again on her waist. He swears that he could compare her body to the ancient statues of goddesses in Greece, the curves and dips resembled chiseled stone, almost taking his breath away. “You’re so beautiful, baby,” he muttered, his lips kissing along her chest and stomach, not missing an inch of skin with his lips.

They didn’t have much time, considering his need to get home, so he was quick to slide his hand into her underwear, his thumb brushing over where she needed him most. Her hips bucked into his hand, her hands pulling on his hair, his name falling out of her lips like a mantra. The way that she wanted him was something she has never felt with another person, Stanley was able to always take her to that state of arousal she couldn't achieve with herself. Two of his fingers finally slipped into her, curling slightly as they pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace.

Y/N thought that if he went any slower she would die, but she knew that he was simply doing this to get a rouse out of her. Which was the truth, Stanley liked to tease her sometimes. Her hand came down and wrapped around his wrist, trying her best to get him to go faster. Stan couldn’t help but chuckle out, his lips coming up to meet hers again.

The newly established pace along with his thumb still pressing on her bundle of nerves was already making her get closer and closer to her releasing. She was slightly sheepish at how easy he was making her come undone, but it just added onto the charm that Stanley had. He could be terribly sweet and incredibly sexy at the same time. And she knew that if he kept doing this that she would reach her high before she wanted to, she wanted to orgasm when he was inside her.

“Stanley, I want you inside me now,” Y/N was able to make out, his hand immediately stopping and pulling away from her. She didn't have to open her eyes to know that he was pulling off his jeans and boxers as fast as humanly possible, her own hands pushed down her soaking underwear.

He pressed himself against her, his tip already slick with her arousal. “You’re so wet for me,” He muttered. “So ready.”

And then he slid inside her, both of their moans filling up the entire room. His hips jerked up, a large smack was heard as their hips hit together. Y/N tried to adjust as best as she could as he started his pace slow. Her hands reached for his face and kissed him, moaning into his mouth whenever he buried himself inside of her. The pace quickened, their skin glistening with sweat. Y/N looked so natural and beautiful that he couldn’t control the groans that left his mouth. His hand reached down in between them and started playing with her clit, her moans getting higher and more frequent. He could get off of her moans just as they were, he was sure of that. They sounded borderline pornographic, perfect coming from her pretty pink lips.

“You take me so well, princess.”

Y/N spread her legs even wider than previously, feeling him be able to get even deeper inside of her. The constant hitting of that one spot in her making her go crazy with lust. She couldn’t think, hell, she didn’t know if she was even breathing anymore. The only thing in her mind was Stanley’s name, repeating like it was the only thing that she could say or think.

Stan himself was starting to feel his high form, the constant moaning from her in his ear along with how tight she is was making him get closer and closer. He could tell that Y/N was almost there as well, her head was thrown back in pure ecstasy from the pleasure that he was receiving. So he put his lips to her ear, and whispered in probably the deepest, most lustful voice that she thinks she’s ever heard before, “Come for me.”

That was enough to do it, and soon enough Y/N was coming undone right on top of her kitchen counter. His pace didn’t stop, it was relentless as he tried to chase after his high, finally achieving it with her. They road it out together, their moans synching together like they were one. His hips began to falter, becoming more erratic until he stopped, stilling inside her and keeping his gaze on the beautiful woman in front of him.

And Y/N could see it, the way that he looked at her. He could see the love that he harbored for her as if he was waving a sign. “I love you, Stanley,” She told him.

“I love you too, Y/N,” He said, pulling out of her and kissing her softly. “And you are the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met in my entire life, don’t ever forget that, please.”

Y/N knew that she wouldn't.

#stanley uris #stanley uris x reader #stanley uris imagine #stanley uris smut #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #IT movie #it movie imagine #it movie 2017 #it movie x reader #it movie 2019

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anxiouslymalicious · 4 years

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Losers Club Plus One Part 11

A Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series

Read the previous part here or go here for the full series masterlist!

A/N: Hiya there! It’s getting serious, we have reached the last hour of the movie! I am actually growing a little sad knowing that this long ass journey is going to end soon, but I also am kind of proud? Anyway, let’s enjoy this. My hometown is being put under lockdown, by the way, so I might feel quite bored quite often and throw out more content!

This part is about 3.2k words, just fyi. I hope you enjoy and, as always, feedback, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! I hope you enjoy!

“Yeah, no, you’re staying out here.” Richie said as he noticed that his daughter was trying to follow the group. He was fumbling with something in his pockets, trying to find the car keys.

“What? No. There’s no way I’m letting you guys do this on your own.” Y/n replied, crossing her arms before her chest. Her cheeks grew warm with anger.

“There’s no way I’m letting you come with us.” Richie countered; stance equally determined.

“Richie…” Eddie started, only to be interrupted by Richie himself.

“No, don’t ‘Richie’ me. She’s not coming with us. Y/N is staying in the car where it’s safe.”

“Statistically speaking, it would be safer for her to come with us than to stay by herself in the car.” Eddie looked at Y/N, then over to the cars parked beside the street.

“I’ve told you before, it is not safe for us to split up. Y/N doesn’t even know how to drive in case she needs to get away, there is nothing for her to defend herself with once that fucking clown comes out. Staying in the car would literally be a death trap for her.” Eddie tried to argue with Richie who now looked twisted. The rest of the Losers looked on as they watched the heated discussion, not wanting to interfere. Each of them wanted the best and the best only for the littlest Loser, but what really was the best for her in that moment? Their minds travelled back to Stanley, how they saw him on the ground, his version of IT biting at his face, perhaps only mere moments from killing Stan. Did they really want that for Y/N? Did they want to risk that much? However, that first time, no one died. No matter how close. They got out of there once before, who said they couldn’t do that a second time?

“Eat a dick, Eddie.” Richie mumbled before averting his gaze to look at his daughter. The determination in her eyes was uncanny. Richie knew there was no stopping her.

“You won’t ever leave my side. You’ll stay with one of the Losers at all times. If I tell you to run and leave, you will. And don’t try to be a hero down there. And if you feel like anything’s too much for you, tell us and we’re gonna figure something out.”

Y/N nodded along to her father’s rules. She had to bite her lip to keep her tears at bay. Tears of uncertainty. No one knew what was truly ahead of them and there were no guessing games either. The Losers just hoped that at least one of them would see the daylight again.

Mike went back to the car to fetch the few flashlights he had thrown into the car before hurrying to catch up with Bill. He then proceeded to give them out to the Losers Plus One. One after another got their lights. Everyone except for Stanley. But in some way, Stan was still there. Maybe it was just a silly way of grief and remembering for Mike as he, with a heavy heart and deep sigh, gave the last flashlight to Y/N, but it seemed like the girl was Stan’s filler. Like there was a reason she managed to convince Richie to take her with him from LA back to Derry, into the mess they were met with.

Y/N shivered when she really stepped into the building. It was like every last drop of happiness had been washed away, like she had been drained of her emotions, drained of what made her human. A cold sweat broke out on her skin and she felt her heart hammering painfully against her ribcage. IT could attack them at any given moment. IT could come for them whenever. IT could be right around the corner.

Out in Derry, Y/N had felt like she was running around with a target on her head. She was in a town she didn’t know, surrounded by people she didn’t know. Everyone could have been Pennywise in disguise, as far as she knew. But now, they had entered IT’s home. The place IT knew better than anyone else. The place IT resided and killed children in. The odds of beating IT, whatever IT even was, were slim and Y/N had figured out just that. Basically, all of them were a delicious meal, presenting itself on a plate for IT.

Y/N followed the adult Losers she had grown to trust around the house, staying especially close to Richie. But she couldn’t help but feel like Eddie was keeping an extra close eye on her. Just in case.

Wood creaked below their feet, a low hum echoed through the room with the wind whistling through the cracks and broken windows. Suddenly, a new sound caught her attention. A sound that didn’t fit the picture. A sound that sounded so foreign, it was terrifying.

“What the fuck?” Y/N breathed out as she took a step back, never having seen anything like that before. But none of the Losers seemed to be weirded out by some black lava randomly seeping out of the wood, followed by a hissing sound of burning wood. Each one of the Losers seemed tense, but a strange sense of calmness accompanied their characters. Y/N felt lost. Because she felt distanced from the Losers. Not so much physically, but more mentally.

“Well, I love what he’s doing with the place.” Richie said as he watched the mass spread.

“Peep-peep, Richie.” Beverly said, voice unimpressed with the humour Richie still tried to bring up, despite the seriousness of the situation. Y/N felt a shiver running down her spine, shaking through her body, as she unconsciously tried to get closer to the Losers. Nothing she saw was right. It wasn’t natural, or so it seemed, and it made her head swim. She felt like she was thrown straight into a horror movie and was made to live there, fight her way through. It was terrifying as she didn’t know what would happen next, where she had to go, but the worst was the unknowingness of the moment, the uncertainty if any of them would ever see the sunlight again. If any of their lungs would ever be filled with the fresh, unused and clean air they were met with outside. If any of them would even be able to breathe still after this night or if they would all lose their lives.

“I’ve got to keep that one in mind. Maybe that’ll shut him up on the flight back home.” Y/N replied, hoping to ease some of her own tension the way her father always does. Successfully so, with the chuckle that escaped Ben’s lips, she did feel a little lighter on her feet. She felt some of the hopelessness melting away. She felt a little warmth in her chest.

Bill walked before the rest of the group. Slowly at first, but he seemed to be impatient, every step he took was quicker than the last. Y/N watched him go, not knowing if what he did was something conscious, something he himself wanted to do, if he knew where to go or if it was IT somehow forcing him. How, she didn’t know, but Y/N was sure IT had more tricks up his clown-costume sleeve than any of them would like to know.

Floorboards creaked beneath their feet. Dust swirled in the air, straining Y/N’s airways. The air was thick with what Y/N felt might be the smell of decay, old blood, maybe even faeces. She had no idea what she had yet to encounter, but the smell that tested her gag reflexes already didn’t give her much hope of a fair game.

For a second, she let her mind wander. She wondered how many people had been taken by IT. How many children had been led to their death with promises meant to be broken and false hopes of things they would never receive? Y/N let her mind wander, far enough to not notice that they had split into two groups, one of them distancing themselves from the other quite rapidly.

Ben suddenly groaned. Throaty, filled with pain. Heads whipped around. Before Y/N was even able to comprehend what was happening, Bev had already called out to him, a worried yell of his name. Something about the way her voice carried itself made her sound like she was already expecting the worst. And she wasn’t wrong with that.

Y/N looked around, head frantically whipping from side to side, only being able to locate Bev, Ben and Mike. Yelling echoed through the abandoned house, she heard Bill yelling for them, she heard Eddie and her father. Fists banging against a door. And she saw Ben sinking to his knees. His hands pressed to his stomach, trying to find a source of pain. Y/N rushed towards Ben, holding onto his right arm alongside Beverly, who felt panic take over as she watched how Ben’s white shirt gained blood red stains.

Somewhere down the hall, Bill was yelling for Ben. Y/N heard their voices clear and loudly and she felt how her feelings were twisted. She felt the need to run to the other Losers, stick with her father and the person who might as well become her stepfather, but she didn’t want to let Ben down. She couldn’t bring herself to leave him to his suffering.

Mike joined the two women as Ben lowered himself to the ground, screams of agony leaving his lips, shaking the Losers to their core, breaking their hearts and making their stomachs churn. Ben pulled up his shirt, revealing streaks of blood, open wounds as something none of them could see dragged along his stomach, leaving deep cuts.

Bev yelled as Ben watched his stomach being torn apart with wild eyes, too many bad memories, too much fear bubbling up in him. He was reminded of the pure hatred, the insanity in Bowers’ eyes as he cut into Ben’s stomach that one fateful summer, the cuts that pained him so much physically, but even more mentally. The wound that would taunt him until he left the town and far beyond that. A scar that never really let him go.

Y/N cringed as she watched, before she jumped up, looking for the clown in a panicked daze. She didn’t notice how she was running around, looking for something that might give away his location. It happened naturally, her instincts took over. But if there was one thing Y/N knew about the clown by now, it was that it had a preference when it came to attacks. It would use their fears against them. Now she was left to figure out what could scare Ben.

She turned to look at Ben, the carvings on his stomach now read ‘HOME AT LA’, new lines appearing on Ben’s stomach with every second. Y/N’s eyes finally landed on the mirror. She saw their huddled up figures. In her state, she almost didn’t notice the white face added to the group.

“The mirror!” Y/N yelled out as she watched IT happily torture Ben, the words on his stomach being completed as IT was ready to move for the kill. The kill IT had been dreaming of, the thing IT had waited 27 years for. The first out of eight kills that would finally give it the satisfaction and peace IT had craved for years. Ever since those kids came across IT for the first time.

Neither Y/N nor Bev really thought as they acted. Both acted on instinct, taking the first hard object they could find and smashing it against the mirror. It shattered into what looked and felt like a million pieces as the girls tried to shield their faces from the sharp shards flying around the room, whipping around to look at Ben.

The pent up adrenaline left their bodies quickly, a heavy weight being lifted off their chests as they spotted Ben’s now free-of-cuts abdomen and neck. Y/N’s relief, however, was quick to dissipate though, as the screams of the three men that walked ahead reached her ears.

She ran faster than she thought her legs could carry her towards what her ears told her was the source of the screams until she was met with closed doors.

“Dad! DAD!” Y/N yelled as she hammered against the door with her fists. Tears blurred her vision, a sharp pain shooting from her balled fists through her whole arm as she tried to get into the room, trying to get to her father who was screaming for help.

“Richie!” Mike yelled, followed by Ben and Bev as the trio ran after the girl who now threw herself against the door in hopes of getting it to open up. The wood finally gave in. Eddie was standing in a corner. Shaking his head. Face contorted with fear. Bill was screaming. For a knife. Richie was begging for help. A knife. Where? She saw it. Glistening in the low light.

Suddenly, the spider-head trying to kill Richie stopped its movement. Bill looked up in shock. Y/N held the knife tightly in her hands, the blade pushed into the head. Her knuckles were white, fingers laced tightly around the blade like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

In a fit of rage, she pulled the knife out of the head only to ram it back in. Over and over and over again. Five, six, seven times. She wasn’t met with any resistance, nothing to stop her from letting out the anger and frustration and hatred she felt towards the thing that would forever have an impact on her life.

It wasn’t until Ben grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back that she stopped. If it was up to Y/N, she would have continued to stab the thing until it wasn’t more than a pile of mush on the ground. Despite the nausea and the guilt that filled her, ate away at her. Despite the dirty feeling on her skin as she tried to end a life. Despite the burning in her brain and in her heart, both of them yelling at her to stop. But she couldn’t bring herself to do just that. She couldn’t stop. She couldn’t rest. Not until revenge had been served. Not until justice found its way to make things right again. Even though she knew that things wouldn’t be right again. What she saw wasn’t something to forget. What they had said and done wasn’t something to shrug off.

“Y/N, it’s enough. Richie’s alright.” Ben whispered to the girl in his arms as he pulled her away and tried to push her head in his chest, hoping to shield her sight. From what exactly, Ben wasn’t sure. Maybe he didn’t want to have her see IT get away with what it had done. Maybe he wanted her to just focus on him to calm down. Or maybe he was scared that some of the anger she was able to let out would rebound onto Richie and Ben hoped to prevent that. All he knew was that it felt right to hug his Loser-niece tightly as the rest of the group tried to catch their breath.

“Is everybody okay?” Bev asked as she dropped to her knees beside Richie who was coughing and sputtering with Bill still leaning over him. She pulled off her jacket to wipe whatever the slime was that IT had left on Richie’s face away.

Bill was now the one to feel the rage. Storming towards Eddie, he only had one thing in his mind. Anger burned hot inside his mind and his chest as he pushed Eddie back to the wall.

“He could have f-f-f-fucking died, man. You k-know that, right?” Bill screeched at Eddie, voice coarse with disbelief. Eddie’s gaze travelled from Bill, Big Bill, who now seemed more intimidating than ever, over Richie who was being cared for by Bev, to Y/N, still in Ben’s arms, as he and Mike tried to provide comfort and maybe just the smallest sense of calmness. She was shaking, shivering, as she watched her father, seemingly zoned out with a few stray tears on her cheeks.

“Georgie’s dead. The k-kid’s dead. Stan-Stanley’s dead. Y-you want Richie too?” Bill couldn’t help himself as he screamed, the fear settling in him, he felt intimidated and overwhelmed by the situation he found himself in. None of them wanted to be back there, none of them wanted to face IT again, but Bill was the one who had the hardest time. He was the cause of their misery. He was the cause of Georgie’s death. And Stan’s. And the kid’s. He couldn’t bear the guilt of another Loser, one of the people closest to him, to lose their life for his cause. And especially not the only Loser who had a child of their own to take care of.

As Bill kept screaming the words ‘You want Richie too?’, all Eddie could do was shake his head, eyes not meeting Bill’s as he whispered his reply. “I don’t. I don’t want Richie too. I don’t, I don’t.”

When Bill’s shouting ceased, the room filled with heavy breaths and quiet, the occasional sound of a floorboard creaking as Y/N crawled towards her father, embracing him tightly. Finally, Eddie managed to look at Bill, properly look at him.

“Please don’t be mad, Bill.” Eddie was close to begging as he felt hot tears fill his eyes to the brim, threatening to spill over at any given moment. “I was just scared.”

And at that moment, they all noticed. Eddie’s eyes were still the same. It was Eddie Spaghetti Bill was yelling at. Not Edward Kaspbrak, the successful Risk Analyser. It was Big Bill yelling, not Bill Denbrough, the bestselling author.

“That- that’s what he w-w-wants, right?” Bill asked, realisation dawning in him, the Losers and their Plus One. Y/N watched Eddie and Bill with cold eyes, a broken heart. She almost felt betrayed by Eddie. The man who had told her that he loved her father, had feelings for him in the least, who couldn’t step up and save him when no one else was available. She almost lost the only person who had stayed with her through everything, the man who felt like home. And she couldn’t forget. Hurt was deeply implanted in her chest and in her head as Richie held onto her for dear life.

“Don’t- don’t give it to him.” Bill finished, taking his hands off Eddie who now sobbed, almost not more than a quiet gasp, as he realised that his lack of actions could have led to the death of his love. And it pained him, even more, to know that it had taken him more than 27 years and he still didn’t have the balls to even think of Richie as more than a crush. Deep down, Eddie longed to be in Richie’s warm embrace, he cherished every joke Richie cracked, no matter how insulting, maybe even especially when insulting. Richie made his heart flutter, his palms sweaty. And even the thought of losing Richie to death scared Eddie so much that his body went frigid, ice cold. He froze. He was petrified. But he couldn’t tell. Not Richie, not Y/N. Not now. Not when they both looked at him, disbelief clear in their faces, eyes cold with hatred.

Only, they weren’t. But Eddie didn’t know.

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 4 years

Text

Lethobenthos || Mike Hanlon x Reader

⊳ Ch. 2: The Butcher's Daughter⊲

A/n: on the off chance that y'all know about butcher shops and meat or whatever, im so sorry cause even though i did a bunch of research, I know it's still pretty inaccurate so please don't come for me 😂 EDIT: I am crying cause I have 950 followers 🥺🥺🥺 I love each and every one of you guys, thank you so much babes 💞

Warnings: Alv*n Marsh being Alv*n Marsh. He briefly leers at reader. There's no comment, but it still needs a warning i feel. Also, long ass chapter. I truly don't know how to write short chapters, yall. Brief mention of animal death (natural causes) and signs of a PTSD attack. Marker for PTSD attack will be labeled [●●●]. Safe reading loves

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

- 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗 -

ℕ𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 of Costello Avenue Market, sandwiched between Terry's Barber Shop and one of the finer footwear retailers in town, was Derry's very own, Quality Meats. A quaint little shop - as quaint as butcher shops come, that is - right smack in the middle of the street, just across the road from the Capitol Theater. It was always a treat for Y/n L/n when the annual fourth of July parade was in full swing, she always had the best seat in the house from her bedroom window. It sat just above the shop, and truly had the best view overlooking the street. But the parade was weeks away, and it couldn't come soon enough.

For now, she was stuck in her daily routine at her father's butchery. Every morning it was her job to prep the shop before it opened, check the stock, and assure that everything was in order. Her father oversaw the shop but most of his time was devoted to preparing and tending to the meat in the back. This also left the task of receiving, inspecting, and storing meat upon delivery to her.

Her favorite part of the week. Because it meant seeing her favorite person, Mike Hanlon. He was the delivery boy who supplied some of their best selections, straight from the famous Hanlon Homestead. But this was not what thrilled her, what thrilled her was the company of the thoughtful boy. They had met the previous year when her father had hired him for deliveries, Mike had just taken up work at his grandparent's farm and the two quickly hit it off.

Mike was her saving grace. She never had the stomach for her father's work, and despite their weekly heated arguments on the matter, she'd get stuck with the tasks. At the very least, he didn't force her to work in the back in the meat locker. Not anymore. He had learned that lesson the hard way when he dragged her in despite her kicking and squirming - he figured she was just being dramatic, throwing a fit. But low and behold, it all ended with him clearing out the locker for sterilization when she got sick.

Now the only times she ever stepped foot inside was to get to the back door, which is something she didn't do - something she couldn't do - without plugging her nose and blocking out her peripheral vision as she slipped through the back door to greet her best friend.

An occasion, she feared, that she faced as she glanced impatiently at the clock on the wall for the fourth time on this hot June day. Mike was usually pulling up outside the store by now, hell, she clocked out at four to spend time with Mike and it was already three forty-five. Well, three forty-eight according to the shop's clock which one could always rely to be just three minutes fast no matter how much you reset it.

From her spot behind the counter, she had a limited view of the sidewalk outside. A variety of people passed, but none of them were Mike, the person she most wanted to see. And it certainly didn't help that a crowd of people were bunching up near the door, blocking her view of the window.

Three sharp notes from the counters bell broke her from her trance, throwing her harshly back to reality. A rather intimidating man stood on the other side of the counter, he was quite tall and everything about him put Y/n on edge.

"Sorry sir," Y/n mumbled, not feeling very sorry at all. "How can I help you, today?"

The man seemed to rethink his anger, though she would have preferred it over the new look on his leathery face. A wry smile stretched his lips and Y/n did not fail to notice his wandering gaze, only proving her first impressions to be correct. She felt her skin crawl and she did not fight the disgusted look cementing on her face.

"Just don't let it happen again, sweetheart. Now listen up, I'm in a hurry," Christ, she thought, even his voice is unnerving. "I need a pound and a half of the ground round beef."

"Right away, sir," she says, through gritted teeth. "One moment,"

Y/n hated when people ordered when her father was in the back, even though it happened often. Not just because she despised such tasks as grinding the meat and preparing it, but talking to the customers was never a favorite of hers. This was a fine example why.

Instead, she slipped into the back where they kept their stock that wasn't on display and began preparing the meat with a wrinkled nose.

"Fucking creep," she mumbled.

She wished she could say this was the first time something like this had happened, but unfortunately, Derry was filled with scummy people. Something did seem familiar about him though, she might have seen him here before. It'd make sense, Quality Meats was the only butchers around for miles.

Deciding she didn't want to dwell on it any longer, her mind began to wander. Anything that wasn't the man waiting out front really, thankfully that was easy enough. Hopefully, the rest of her workday would go by much quicker so she could meet with Mike. He said he had a surprise for her, and she had been wondering about it all day. The very thought fills her stomach with butterflies. Well, Mike did that all on his own, anyway. He always brought out that side of her. A bubbly, giddy side of her that always seemed to lose any sense of time around him.

Just ten more minutes, she thought. Just power through.

With the order all prepared, she returns to the front counter to find the man leaning against the counter in boredom. Great, now I have to redo the counters, too. When he spotted her, he straightened up and gave her a disapproving once over.

"What took you so long? I'm in a hurry. Fixing your hair couldn't wait, or something?"

Oh, a sexist fucking creep, she mentally corrected herself.

A snarl curled its way onto her face, but before she could make a bitter remark her dad's voice boomed across the shop.

"Well, if it ain't Alvin Marsh," The man in question moved his attention to Y/n's father, and remarkably enough, a somewhat friendly smile appeared on his face. "Good to see ya,"

"You too, always a pleasure,"

Y/n watched the exchange with shocked uncertainty. It frankly appalled her that this man was capable of being friendly, and even in such limited time in his presence. More importantly, she wondered, how could her father know this man? Why would her father know this man? Everything about this Alvin Marsh guy set her teeth on edge, and the only word coming to her mind for how to describe him was... slimy.

"So," the butcher asked, gesturing around the shop. "is there anything I might be able to help you with? Or has my daughter taken care of you, already?"

Y/n watched with great disdain as the man returned to her with another pointed look, glancing down at the packaged meat ready to go. He looks as if he's mulling it over, and finally, he clicks his tongue.

"Sure," he nods, looking back to her father, chuckling dryly with one elbow back on the counter. "when she found the time,"

"Ah, I see," He nods, sending a disapproving look to his daughter.

"Y/n," he sighs, nodding in the direction of the back of the shop, still a stern look upon his face. "Go wash up and clock in early, I'll take care of Mr. Marsh, and the rest."

Her mouth parted, ready to argue - not out of disappointment, for there was none, but to defend herself - when her father cut her off with a warning look.

"Now?"

She sighed heavily, her head rolling with her eyes as her arms snaked around to her back to untie her apron. At least she didn't have to pretend to care anymore now that she was technically off the clock. Her feet dragged across the ground subconsciously showing her frustration. As she made her way to the back when she heard that godawful grating voice again.

"Unbelievable, isn't it? There's just no respect anymore."

Y/n rolls her eyes when she hears her father chuckle. She sighs as turns the corner and hangs her apron up.

"Yeah, I got one of my own at home. Gorgeous little one, feisty too. But one hell of a mouth. Real bitch sometimes,"

Wide-eyed, and seeing red, Y/n is unable to take any more and heads farther back, slamming the door behind her, not caring if she took the fall for it later. Hell, she just might take the meat locker over that. She's shaking with rage, and his words echo in her skull still as she washes her hands. Her hands begin to sting and she realizes she had lost herself in thought and was just about to wear her skin down under the water as she scrubbed. Y/n shook her head, killing the water and drying her hands when her mind finally manages to break away from the creep when she thinks of the time.

Fuck, it's already five!

Quickly, she heads for the door to the meat locker, her nose already plugged when she pushes it open. Luckily, these trips were always fairly quick given the back door to the ally was just a few steps away, but what she saw when she stepped inside completely threw her through a loop.

The back door was wide open.

Upon first glance, she figured her father had opened it, and even though that was the most logical explanation, it didn't make sense. He never left it open. Not when he wasn't there. He was a stickler about that. Her head whips around the locker, but she was the only one. Fighting the urge to take an anxious deep breath, she creeps forward and peers around the corner, not knowing what to expect.

Her E/C eyes widen happily and relieved when she realizes it was only Mike. But her happiness vanished just as soon as it had come when she saw the state he was in, nevermind the fact he was laying in the heap of recycling!

"Mike!"

He jumped as she stepped out into the light, the entrance to the meat locker was quite dark from where he sat. And before he knew it was her, all he had seen was something moving in the shadows towards him. Y/n felt her heart tighten at the sight, something clearly must have happened, and it must have been bad for him to be startled by her.

Not unlike herself, though, he seemed to calm significantly when he realized who he was in company with. And yet, he still wasn't speaking. His eyes just bore into the darkness of the entrance, still panting heavily. Thick beads of sweat slid down his face.

"Mike," she knelt beside him, subtly checking for any signs of injury. "what happened?"

"I..." he gulps, finally breaking his gaze away and looking at her. "don't know."

Her eyebrows raise a bit higher in question, and curiously she searches his eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite the comfort of her gaze, he breaks himself away from it to look back into the dark abyss, fearing It would come back. Whatever It was. And as he does so, he swears he can still hear the rattling of the chains and the bleating of a goat, and the very very very back of his skull was the chilling sound of a clowns laugh.

"Mike?"

He realizes he hasn't answered her yet, and quickly he shakes his head 'no'.

"Here, let me help you," she rises to her feet, extending her hand.

He gladly takes it, and despite his lingering fear from his encounters, she still manages to send a spark through his skin just with her touch. Little did he know, she felt the same way. Y/n pulls him to his feet, and already, his attention is centering away from the locker and towards her. She's watching him carefully, and only now does he fully process the intensity of the worry held in her eyes.

"I-I think I'm okay," he stammers, chest still heaving with his labored breathing. "really."

Y/n nods after a moment, concluding he must be telling the truth. Over time she had picked up on Mike's body language, including all of his tells. For instance, she could usually tell when he was hiding something. He'd always tug or scratch at his ear. Or when he was lying, the ends of his lips would twitch up. Almost as if subconsciously offering a guilty smile before quickly suppressing it. But Y/n found no such thing, and she felt the muscles in her shoulders relax.

"Good," she sighs with a weak smile, her eyes falling to the ground. "Here,"

Her hand leaves his and immediately, they both miss each other's touch but say nothing of it. She steps around him and begins picking up the many packages of meat that had spilled out of the basket. He joins her, just as soon.

"Oh," he steals a glance at her, a small smile creeping up on him. "thanks."

It goes away just as fast, his heart still aches from how hard it had been beating. Y/n does not fail to notice his darting glances over her shoulder at the meat locker. They both rise to their feet, and Y/n casts a confused glance over her shoulder before turning back to him.

"Are you sure you're good, Mike? You don't seem yourself,"

He sighs, not entirely sure himself. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, and his lips part to speak but the words die in his throat when he hears the sudden and obnoxious revving of an engine nearby. He flinches, head jerking in the direction of the sound.

A ghostly expression washes over Y/n, and her anger visibly rises in seconds.

"Was it Bowers, again?" She scoffs, just enraged at the thought of him and she even begins to stammer as she grasps for an insult, anger clouding her brain."That-That bigoted fucking... dickhole!"

She stomps her foot and huffs, unable to properly deal with the overwhelming amount of anger and exhaustion building up in her. Mike looks at her with the tiniest hint of a bemused expression. His brow shot up and he almost felt a chuckle come out. Almost.

"Dickhole?"

"I know, I know," She chuckles dryly, the ends of her lips twitching up. "Shut up,"

The chuckle in his chest breaks loose and he feels as if another piece of stress has been chipped away. A long process in the making, but it was better now that she was here. Mike had yet to find out, the same went for Y/n. Mike placed the packages he had collected thus far back into his basket and Y/n popped her head back inside to grab a small bin by the door. She brought the small container over, placing the few packs of meat she carried inside and the two filled it in a matter of seconds. Any trace of a smile has fallen off her face as she looks back up at her best friend, shrugging.

"Well, he is," she defends. "All of them are. They're wrong in the head, Mike,"

"Can't argue with that," He shrugs, sending a grimace down the alleyway where the Bowers gang had just disappeared. "Need any help?"

"Nah, I got it. Thanks though," she grabs the bin, holding it against her frame and sends him a short smile. "Be right back,"

He answers with a curt nod, his sweaty palms unknowingly rubbing against his jeans out of nervous habit. She disappears back into the darkness, and Mike immediately feels the weight her absence leaves. The guard she had coaxed down had returned, plaguing his mind as several scenarios spiral out in his brain.

He couldn't tell her about the clown, he'd sound crazy! Hell, maybe he was. At least that's a what small voice told him in the back of his head, but deep down he knew what he saw was real. Real to him. Shaking that terrifying image from his brain would be harder than he thought.

Don't forget the turtle.

Mike shook his head, bewildered at the intrusive reminder his brain sent him. It was a strange sensation like the thought was not his own. It was a gentle voice speaking directly to his subconscious like a radio with interference. And yet, it didn't frighten Mike. Not at all like the dark, intrusive thoughts that had been occurring lately. This was soothing and gentle. Nonetheless, the message sent his hand flying for his pockets.

Relief swept over him when he felt the small lump in his right pocket where the gift resided. He smiled to himself at the thought of giving it to Y/ n. He had been working on it all year, a small wooden turtle he had carved himself in the many free moments he had stolen on his grandparent's farm. Mike couldn't quite pinpoint the exact moment he had decided to make a turtle, or that it would come to be such a big secret he would keep until he could give it to her. He had just sat down one day and started carving as if something had compelled him to do so.

And now here he was, ready to give her the small carved necklace. Mike was quite proud of it, not only was it his first carving but he had managed to secure it nicely in a thin - but sturdy - string of twine. Mike takes the time to spare a glance at the darkened doorway where his best friend disappeared, before his hand descends into his pocket, his heart hammering against his chest. His hand fishes amongst the pocket of denim and lint where his fingers find the cool touch of wood and twine. He pulls out the necklace and it dangles in the air as he carefully inspects it.

Was the twine fastened tight enough? Was the belly of the shell smooth enough where it would rest comfortably on her chest without splintering? Most importantly... Would she like it?

He sure hoped she would, given her connection to the reptile. She spoke often of it, the turtle that visited her dreams. Y/n never thought much of it, it had become merely a topic of conversation meant only for small lulls but she did find it funny the reoccurring figure. She described it as being the same turtle somehow, and it was never a threatening presence but a calm one. Like a guardian almost. It was a small and silly feeling that abandoned her by the time she was up and awake but little did she - or Mike - know just how deep the connection ran.

These were all thoughts that flooded Mike's mind but he quickly has to put them and himself at ease. The hiss of the airlock to the meat locker and the backroom reached his ears and quickly he stuffed the necklace back into his pockets. When Y/n returns, looking far less than relaxed do all of his previous worries evaporate into the humid summer air. His hardened stare never leaves her troubled frown as she locks up the side door, all the while he grabs his bike.

The pair falls into a comfortable silence as they head for the back of the alley where Y/n's bike was hidden. All that hung in the air was her defeated sigh that had accumulated after a long and stressful day, and the buzzing of cars as they passed by on the main road behind them. His worries now gone in the wake of her newfound stress he pulls up a curious brow as he walks his bike alongside her.

"Rough day?"

Y/n laughs dryly, nodding to her best friend as they round the corner and picks up her bike. "You could say that."

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

The town of Derry was quaint and rather cozy upon first glance. Quite a charming spot on the map with its snug downtown streets filled with local businesses such as Quality Meats. And one couldn't help but admire the long and beautiful running waters of the Kenduskeag stream that bled out from the Penobscot River, under the town and out into the Barrens stretching past the old train yard. The Barrens were the stretch of woods just outside of town.

And it was precisely these woods that the pair had found solace in the cruel and evil world they called their home. Months after their meeting, they had both explored the Barrens and to their luck, they had stumbled upon the Fort. The Fort was what Y/n and Mike called the large pit they had discovered past the train yard and just over the stream. You had to swing across an old rope swing they had found, but that made journey all the more fun. They almost hadn't seen the Fort behind the fallen trees walled around and piled over the top.

The way the trees had fallen it had created a rather spacious room just below the earth. When inside, one could see through the branches slats and out into the rest of the Barrens without being easily spotted. It made the perfect hideout from those who wished to see them harmed, and it also made a wonderful makeshift amphitheater. It was often they would look up from their conversations and see the wildlife walking around just feet away, still unaware of their presence.

This is where they found themselves now, deep amongst the thickets, far away from their everyday troubles. It wasn't until they had abandoned their bikes at the stream to cross and venture deeper inside did they finally feel the effects of the change in scenery. At long last, the weight that settled on their hearts and troubled minds began to evaporate slowly as they inhaled the fresh and pleasantly overwhelming aroma of pine and fresh dirt. It blended perfectly with the dewy oak that hung in the air after the past week's summer storm, as did the gentle breeze that managed to reach them after a long journey through the trees.

The sight of the Fort puts the last of their darkest thoughts to bed - for now. The crunching of twigs is the only sound that reaches their ears as they approach their haven. It is then that it occurs to Y/n, the birds have stopped singing. Come to think of it, she hadn't heard any birds in weeks. It was quite unusual considering these woods of all places were where their song carried the loudest. It was as if they were all... hiding.

She realized even the atmosphere felt different, and not just in the Barrens. It had been a thought blooming in the back of her mind for the past few months; that the town had been cast into a dark shadow. While Y/n had lived in Derry all her life, it had always felt mysterious to her. But this was different, it was darker. Like a cloudless storm had rolled into Derry, with no intention of leaving.

Mike brought her from her trance, pulling her gaze back down to earth from where it was previously fixed on the treetops.

"I feel it, too."

"What do you think it is?" Y/n asks finally.

Mike's lips crease into a flat shrug, eyes flitting to the ground as his shoulders briefly rise.

"I don't know," he sighs, his gaze trailing up to where hers laid in the treetops as if expecting to see this so-called storm with his very eyes. "But it's nothing good,"

Her hardened frown turns back to the forest floor, blinking several times as she reached for a thought that was fast asleep in the farthest corner of her brain. It almost didn't even feel like a thought so much as a part of her brain itself. But it quickly dissipates as calm washes over her, taking with it any budding anxieties. She could almost laugh, none of this made sense. Y/n had been waiting all day to be here with Mike, and now she was.

Y/n wasn't going to let anything ruin that. Or so she hoped.

A coy smile plays at her lips as she picks up her pace towards the Fort, and swiftly she navigates through their hidden entrance. Her hopeful attitude is just infectious enough that it takes to Mike, and warmth blooms in his stomach as he quickly follows her. His feet bring him to the entrance of the Fort, and through the slats, he can see Y/n settling in.

The sight of her relaxing brought a small smile to Mike's face, and quickly he joined her inside. The welcoming effect of the Fort just as soon touched him as it had her, and never had he been more relieved to see the sight around him.

Soft light from the gas lantern bathed the small dome inside the earth, illuminating the many mossy branches perched above their heads. Several discarded wooden boards lay tucked into the dirt beneath their feet, creating makeshift wooden floors that had long been covered in several spare blankets they had brought. While the dome was just that, it was not a perfect circle. It was a bit uneven but this gave the pair the advantage of a single corner. This is where they kept the single beanbag they had managed to get their hands on.

It was just as they had left it, a warm and cozy corner of the world that belonged just to them. It smelled just as the forest around them, only more intensified in their close courters.

[●●●●]

Y/n stumbled away from the bean bag suddenly with a horrified shriek, her band coming to rest shakily over her mouth as she backed into the dirt wall behind her. Mike jumped to her side, eyes wide and fearful as his mind conjured every horrible possibility. The fear from the alley returned.

"What? What's wrong?"

A heavy sob was building in the far back of her throat, her wide e/c irises were beginning to dilate and her limbs trembled. Mike recognized within moments what had caused her such distress, having recognized an attack of hers like this only twice before. But the pain of seeing her so distraught was burned in his brain so he might never forget. His hand that had come to rest on her shoulder now brought her into his embrace. As she stumbled numbly into his arms he saw her eyelids screw shut, and several heavy tears were squeezed free.

"Hey," he whispered soothingly, his hand rubbing circles in her back. "Hey, it'll be okay. You're not there anymore, you're not there. You're not there..."

Slowly but surely her breathing becomes less ragged, and he can feel her head nodding into the crook of his neck as she takes in his words. Y/n's sniffles are loud in his ear but he couldn't care less. Mike just wanted her to be okay. He only now realizes he was still muttering sweet nothings into her ear as he feels his mouth grow dry.

"We're okay, Y/n. You're safe."

She takes a long and trembling breath that he can feel in the crook of his neck. Her breath brings out goosebumps on his skin but he quickly banishes the thought away in her troubled state. When she speaks, her voice is barely audible, even from beside his ear.

"Thanks, Mike,"

All he can find himself doing is pressing a flat smile to his lips, his eyes glazing over sadly at the limp pigeon in the corner behind the beanbag. The sight brings a strong and forceful wave of sadness that washes over him, but he knows it is not quite the same kind of sadness as she is experiencing. Finally, after almost twenty minutes have passed, she breaks away, sniffling.

Mike feels the weight on his heart triple in size when she pulls away to reveal her puffy eyelids. The whites of her eyes are laced with red veins, and her trembling lips let loose a few shaky breaths. Immediately, she does all she can to wipe away the tears, but the evidence of her sadness remains. She shakes her head, disappointed in letting herself show this side and chuckles bitterly as she clutches her aching chest.

[●●●●]

"I'm sorry,"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Don't do that, okay? You should never apologize for this. For feeling anything. You have your own baggage, just like everyone else."

She chews the inside of her lip in a nervous habit, heat creeping up in her neck.

"Sor-"

He eyes her warningly, and she bites back a sheepish smile and clears her throat. "Okay."

He studies her for a moment, not aware he is even doing so as her swollen eyes trail sadly across the room where the pigeon lays. He can hear a mournful whine building in her throat before he cleared his own with a somber expression.

"It's okay, I'll take care of 'em."

A weak, thankful smile flickers across her face and she watches thoughtfully as he rises and crosses the fort to the pigeon. He grabs one of the spare towels they kept around - sometimes the old rags they spread across the wooden grates would need a quick replacement, as they discovered the hard way - and knelt before the limp bird. Y/n finally rises to her feet decidedly and slips past Mike and outside the Fort without a word, a rusty trowel now in hand.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

The pair now stood before a small lump in the dirt, their heads pulled down with gravity as they stare at their feet. After Y/n had dug a small grave, Mike had buried the old pigeon, and the two had managed a small eulogy. Hosting a small funeral for a pigeon is certainly not what the two had envisioned their day would look like, but oddly enough, it was cathartic for both of them.

Mike was hardly old enough to remember his parent's funeral. The same could be said for Y/n, and like Mike, she hadn't exactly been emotionally or mentally present for her mother's funeral, for when the time came she had still been in quite the state of trauma. Y/n didn't like to talk about it, and in their year of friendship Mike had only recently found out, but she had been the one to find her mother's body as a very young child. So it was no surprise the familiar sight of the limp body brought her such distress.

As her glassy eyes stare numbly at the mound in the dirt she feels a soft yet somehow calloused hand slip into her own, giving her palm a light squeeze. Her head feels heavier than normal in her crestfallen state, she notices, as she picks her stare up off the ground to look at Mike. He wears a small and gentle smile for her and gestures past her head towards the Fort that lies beyond only a few feet.

"C'mon. We should settle in before it gets too much later."

Her thumb flitters across his skin in response, and she nods. The two of them make their way back to their hideaway, the sounds of the earth beneath their feet filling the pensive silence once more. When they enter, her eyes flicker to the seat she was previously ready to occupy. A small shudder passes through her and she instead chooses the pile of blankets across the cramped room.

Mike settles in beside her, his hands flying back to his pockets again to ensure the turtle remained on his person. Sure enough, the small wooden necklace could be felt floating amongst his things inside his pocket. He breathed a silent sigh of relief, one she would have caught had she not distracted herself with the task of fishing out their stored away activities. A deck of cards was pulled from the small and rusty tin lunchbox they kept there for storage, soon to follow was an equally rusty - and rather dusty - silver spoon. Y/n shrugs with the spoon in hand.

"We could play Spoons or something?" Y/n suggested half-heartedly, her eyebrows falling into a curious frown. "Or was there something else you wanted to play?"

He gulps nervously though he doesn't quite understand why he was even nervous in the first place, it was Y/n! Then again, all the more reason for his heart to be aflutter... It was Y/n.

His sweaty palms return to his jeans and he wipes them anxiously hoping to keep his hands dry, and he sends her a weak and nervous smile.

"I um," he cleared his throat, and she emptied her hands, curiously turning all her attention to him. "I uh, wanted to show you something I made?"

"Oh," she says, a bit taken aback. "Yeah, okay. What is it?"

Any and all responses he had gone over previously in his mind vanished into thin air, leaving him speechless. All he could do at that moment was fish into his pockets, his fingers lacing around the string as he pulled out the necklace. It dangles in the air, the soft golden light from the lamp beside them illuminated the many grooves engraved into the wood that created the illusion. It sways back and forth before their eyes, but his gaze is set not on the turtle but her.

Her eyes had widened in reverence, and he could feel his heart swell with pride. She shakes her head in disbelief, the ends of her lips tugging up in a smile.

"This is incredible, Mike!"

He can feel a heat in his cheeks and the tips of his ears that could rival the summer sun. His grin widens bashfully.

"Thanks," he says, gesturing towards her with the necklace, inwardly cursing at himself for this moment not going as smoothly as he had hoped. "It's, uh. It's yours. I made it for you. This was the surprise I was telling you about."

Her attention is on him now, and he can feel his heart skip a beat. He notices that the swelling in her eyes has gone down a little, but the smallest of beads pool in her eyes. She was welling up a bit.

"Mike," she breathes. "Thank you. I... Don't know what to say, I feel like "thank you" isn't enough."

He shrugs as she takes the necklace into her hands to examine it more closely, her thumb tracing the shell of the wooden reptile as she gapes fondly at it. Unbeknownst to Mike, her stomach won't stop its series of flips. Finally, she looks back up at him, and he's happy to see the first genuine spark of glee in her eyes he had been longing to see all day. The pride in his chest grows even bigger knowing he had been the one to make her feel better, even if it was only a little.

"I love it." She says finally.

Y/n takes the necklace by the twine, parting it in two as she brings it to her neck. Her eyes are travel across the fort as her tongue pokes out from between her lips thoughtfully as she attempts to secure the necklace in place. She struggles for several moments, muttering a few frustrations to herself as she fumbles to tie the knot properly without it slipping from her fingers first. Seeing this, his own stomach doing a flip, Mike scoots himself closer and gestures to her neck.

"Here, let me," he offers.

A heat rages up from her neck and to her cheeks and ears, not unlike Mike had moments ago but she complies and turns herself so he can reach the back of her neck. He takes the twine from her hands, their fingertips grazing briefly creating a matching storm of butterflies in their stomach. And as Mike sets to work on the knot, neither of them can see the brilliant grins stretching across their faces that they wished to hide from the other.

"There you go," he mutters shakily, praying she can't hear his voice wavering.

She does, but it only sends her heart racing faster. She mumbles a 'thanks' as she turns back around, and sends him another thankful smile as she simpers down at the turtle that now hung from her neck. Already her fingers had snuck up to her neck to fiddle with the turtle, and a warmth washes over her.

Y/n does not know whether it was her nearly intoxicating feelings for Mike, his kindness, the reassuring presence of the turtle, or perhaps all of the above, but she now felt a great deal better. It was as if a great weight had been taken off of her shoulders, the banishing of great unease as she wore the necklace now. Perhaps it was all in her mind, but Y/n rather enjoyed the strength the gesture had brought her.

And maybe, just maybe, Y/n could take on whatever the future might throw at her.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Black Lives Matter m resources, what you can do to help. Link in the comments below, can be accessed on any computer.

Support black owned businesses! There's this great app shared by @lovechlmt on Twitter, which I found on a post from Tumblr but either way I downloaded the app and it is a great way to find black owned businesses in your area! Please download and use if you can! It is called Black Nation

As I've heard, there is a wonderful website that provides therapy specifically for black and other poc, so you can speak to someone who shares your experiences and can truly get you the help you so deserve. Particularly black women. Its a simple url: therapyforblackgirls.com

Here's the description provided from @ madamblack on tumblr for the info:

"This reminds me, if y'all haven’t heard of therapyforblackgirls.com please visit if you need a therapist. You can search by mental health need, location/distance, insurance, etc. I believe there are some that provide a sliding scale payment method for those without insurance.

If you’re not quite ready to make the jump, there is a podcast you can listen to as well as articles and links to help answer some of your questions about mental health and/or therapy.

The purpose, as I understand it, is to provide a place where black women can go to find culturally sensitive therapy. Some specialize in family/couples as well.

Take a look."

[Link]

I'd also like to provide additional resources that were added on to this source, this being a collection of free therapy resources found by @ ntbx on tumblr:

[Link]

As well as Black Minds Matter UK resource from @ girthcobain on the very same post.

[Link]

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Taglist:

@loversclwb @bibliophilesquared

Let me know if you would like to be added!

#lethobenthos #mike hanlon x reader #mike hanlon x you #chapter two the butcher's daughter #mike hanlon rewrite #MH rewrite #it reader insert #it reader rewrite #mike hanlon #chosen jacobs #derry maine #you'll float queue

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kaypeace21 · 5 years

Text

The Duffers use of music proves byler is endgame (music-analysis)

The Duffers in an interview said that they choose songs for the show very deliberately -sometimes spending weeks on Spotify to find just the right song to convey an emotion/context of a scene. Songs in all seasons (but especially in s3) were used to show how characters are feeling- or just an action they’re about to commit.

For instance, Karen when she’s about to meet Billy at the motel- feels apprehensive and wants to get out of it (since it would hurt her family) and she was just flirting with Billy as a way to escape her own issues, about her life. She never flirted with Billy for the end-goal of “getting him.”

They even use “cat’s in the cradle’ which could be shown as a way to illustrate the inappropriate age disparity between Billy/Karen.

Other examples-

Right before the boys run away from the lingerie store- the lyrics are literally “I just walk away” XD

Jim when he looks at Joyce- the lyrics are “she’s got you.” ( cause he’s in love with her).

-And Jim after getting Mike to not come over to see El, (by yelling at him) sings…

Joyce after she sees Bob’s drawing fall to the ground and then crouches to pick it up.

And songs also illustrates how Nancy feels about her job (with her sexist co-workers). As the morose lyrics of “I’ll be working here forever” play as it zooms in on Hawkins post -as Nancy rushes inside.

As well as her excitement -about investigating a new case. As Jancy leaves and the very on the nose song of “get up and go” begins -as they get into the car.

Billy when he pulls out chloroform (from a perfume bottle).

El after dumping Mike (and smiling about it) XD

So all the byler stuff I’m about to mention proves byler is endgame.

So yes, the fact that the very first lyrics that play when we see mileven kiss for the first time is “Just a little uncertainty can bring you down”- reflects that (just like the others, the song reflects Mike’s true feelings). The song is from the album “boy in the box (cough closet)”.

And we know this is how Mike (not El) feels about their relationship because he begins to sing the song right after this lyric. It mirrors how when Will danced with a girl (who owned a rainbow hair clip) the lyrics were “every smile you fake.”

Mike continues “And nobody wants to know you now. And nobody wants to show you how.So if you’re lost and on your own. You can never surrender.” He fears that if he isn’t straight everyone he cares about will abandon him, and that he’d be lost and the only one ‘like this’ -all alone.But he can’t ‘surrender’ the false-idea of being in love with El (out of fear). El even says to “stop” and tries to cover his mouth to prevent him from singing and Mike asks “What you don’t like it?” and El just says “No!”.

Which may be a purposeful juxtaposition to how Robin came out- and instead both Robin and Steve sang off-tune happily together- while El covers Mike’s mouth and tells him to stop singing. When Mileven kiss at the end of the season the song ‘the first i love you’ plays. The same song that plays when Robin comes out to steve (to illustrate the juxtaposition).

What’s interesting is ( right before the mileven kiss) we see a zoom in shot of a picture of Will and a rainbow . Like that’s Will! He has light brown hair (not black) and Will is the only one associated with fire and has drawn himself with fire in the past.

And since El has Mike related-stuff all over her room, and barely knows Will. Mike probably lied saying it was supposed to be him- which is why it’s above her bed.And we also see that based on it’s placement Mike is facing the Will drawing so he can see it (cause we see El in front of the poster and Mike sitting opposite of her during the 1st kiss) .

And during this transition the lyrics read “cause just a little more time could open closing doors” Which could be hinting at byler becoming a thing later - when (after some ‘time’) they both become ready to actually admit their feelings/sexuality - despite the other probably doubting the other has feelings for them.

I mean we even see an illustration of Will & the text of the name ‘Mike’ written out next to a rainbow-heart. And 2 other drawings next to the rainbow heart drawing (that are covered in red hearts). XD

(*for those who can’t see Mike written out in the transitioned will/mike pic)

However, what’s interesting though is the one other things he took down from his wall. In S1 Mike (before he even met El) has a heart sign, with a red heart being propelled by a rainbow. Then in s3 it's gone from his wall when he dates El (cause he's trying to repress the fact he's gay). Why El has a drawing that says Mike (with a heart also propelled by a rainbow.) He can't use El to escape the truth. His rainbow follows him everywhere even when he tries to hide it (from his basement wall and himself) - and when kissing El!Aka he tries to take it down (like he pretends to be straight). However, in the first ep of s3 when Mike is making-out with El (trying to project his feelings for Will on to her by looking at the Will drawing while kissing) we see a emergence of the heart being propelled by a rainbow (in El’s room) as a drawing. signifying Mike participating in compulsory-heterosexuality, and the fact no matter how hard he tries- he’s not straight!

Also El’s reaction to the song - hints that this isn’t actually her mixtape. But one that Mike made for her. or Will made for Mike (since jon makes mixtapes and prob taught him how- Will in s3 gave a mixtape to Dustin so it would not surprise me if he gave one to Mike).

So similar to the drawing, the mixtape hints at byler’s feelings

‘I can’t fight this feeling’ (which mileven makes out to later). Actually indicates Mike fighting his feelings for Will. And how he’s been trying to fight his feelings for Will, all season.

Besides the lyrics themselves- the singer literally went on record about the song’s meaning . Which is about a boy being in love/pinning over his friend of many years and never thinking he had a chance at being with them (and being afraid he’d ruin the relationship if he confessed)- but slowly thinking he could be with them (and that they might feel the same way about him) . And in the song the 2 people AREN’T even together yet!

“Oh, I can’t fight this feeling any longer. And yet I’m still afraid to let it flow. What started out this friendship has grown stronger, I only wish I had the strength to let it show. I tell myself that I can’t hold out forever .I said there is no reason for my fear ‘Cause I feel so secure when we’re together ‘.You give my life direction. You make everything so clear. And even as I wander I’m keeping you in sight. You’re a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter’s night. And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might”

This makes no sense for mileven who kissed after knowing each other for a week and who didn’t have a long established friendship, beforehand. And who also are already together (and not afraid to express their ‘romantic feelings’ for each other).

Then in s2, mileven dance to ‘every breath you take’ a break up song about a stalker ex. The writer of the song also has said many times “it’s NOT a love song.” The duffers obviously knew that. Lumax also danced to it and Lucas was called a ‘stalker’. El also stalked Mike in s2 (all that stuff milevens found romantic- El watching him without him knowing. Mike says he was not ok with it in s3). And in s3 he said not to do that and she just says ‘i make my own rules’. Not to mention Nancy teaching Dustin how to dance is a direct parallel to Mike teaching El.

Mike also tries to act like Dustin, and forces Will to dance with a girl (who’s wearing a rainbow hair clip). Trying to be a good sport like Dustin is about lumax. And right after this we see Dustin look sad about Max/Lucas dancing and Mike (next to Dustin) look sadly at Will/girl dancing in the same exact frame as Max/Lucas. As they switch between these 2 shots to emphasize their sadness/jealousy.Then they both sit down (mirroring each other) on the verge of tears before Nancy and El show up to comfort them and distract them. As El once again (presumably) wears Nancy dress. Mike “you cant go with your sister… i mean you can but it’d be really weird.”

Also in regards to Will- when I heard they were going to have the song ‘Never ending story’ I wondered if they were going to re-contextualize one line in particular to be a hint at Will’s queerness. And shock- they did it! XD

The lyric is “ Rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds and there upon a rainbow Is the answer to a never ending story. ”

And of course Will is the one with a secret- that is ‘rainbow’ related. And they pan to him during the “secrets” line. I think Will is less in the denial phase than Mike is and already knows he’s gay and in love with him.

And this wasn’t a coincidence because when Lumax makes fun of Dustin they sing the lyrics incorrectly as “The mirror of your dreams. Rhymes that keep their secrets…” And it pans to Will AGAIN!

We see Will obscured in shadows to represent he’s “hiding”.

And then he appears in the light, looking sadly at D&D as the lyrics , “rhymes that keep their secrets” is sang (again).

And we see he’s specifically looking at the d&d game sadly and about to give it away- since they zoom in on the game title (before he places it in the “donation” box).

Because the d&d game is used to reflect his desires (like a “mirror”) . It’s the ‘mirror of his dreams’- to be with Mike. Cue Mike saying “ what did you think,really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?” And poor Will just responding with “Yeah, I guess I did. I really did.”

This lyric about the mirror is NOT in the original song. It was used once again to establish D&D as a romantic symbol for byler. Just like how they zoomed in on d&d right before the romantic “crazy together” speech.

Mike in s3 says “Blank makes you crazy… y’know like the word (love).” Flo in s1 says “ Only love makes you that crazy and that stupid.” Cue Will calling himself “stupid” 4 times (after Mike says they won’t be together playing games for the rest of their lives-and ripping up the Halloween pic , out of heart-break).

(x)

So again right after we see the zoom-in of the game (another romantically coded scene happens after). Will puts the game in the ‘donation’ pile - and Mike isn’t happy about it.

Mike: “WHOA, dude, that’s the donation box.”

Will: “ I know, I’ll just use yours, when I come back. (pause) if WE still want to play?”

( translation: “I love and want to be with you but I’m not going to pursue you and get my heart broken again. Because even if I feel like you love me… I can’t trust my own instincts about how you truly feel anymore. If you want to play this ‘game of love’ with me you have to initiate/participate in the game properly.” Mike when fixated on El even says it was a cool campaign but “we just weren’t in the mood right now.” and also says to Will “c’mon, let’s play for real” but Will storms off (not thinking that what Mike said was genuine).

Mike : “Yeah, but what if you want to join another party?”

(*cough, the other ‘species’/girls, or just someone else: girl, guy or otherwise)

Will: “Not possible.”

(Will will always love Mike, and admits he wants to be with him for the rest of his life).

(x)

And we actually see the Hopper’s Monologue (where Mike is shown)- reflects what Mike said to Will earlier. Mike does want to love Will but he’s just scared of changing their relationship into something romantic- and even though a part of him doesn’t want things to change, he’s still afraid that Will will move on from him as they both get older. “I’ve been feeling distant from you. Like you’re pulling away from me or something” (Will does this both figuratively/literally). I miss playing board games every night (d &d)”. “But I know you’re getting older, growing, changing. And I guess, if I’m being really honest, that’s what scares me. I don’t want things to change.”

Also the lyric “ Rhymes that keep their secrets will unfold behind the clouds and there upon a rainbow- is the answer to a never ending story. ”

One way or another Will’s secret (of being queer and/or being in love with Mike) will eventually come out. And that’s the answer to this “never ending story” between Will & Mike. Their love story. I mean who else is associated with Will’s story and has loads of rainbow symbolism - and has rainbow symbolism that specifically connects them to Will?

*Lol don’t even get me started on analyzing how in s1 when Mike thinks Will is dead- Mike hugs his mom and the lyrics are “and we kiss as though nothing could fall. And the shame.” Which is queer coded and written by David Bowie- and during the s2 “freak” speech- Will even says he’d rather be friends with Bowie than Kenny Roggers.

People need to realize no one is a bigger shipper of byler- than the Duffer brothers themselves! XD

#byler #byeler

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richieisabastardman · 5 years

Text

Hold Me Now - Part 3 - Richie Tozier x Reader

Part 1 Part 2 >>> Part 4

Summary: You had forgotten about everything that happened in Derry until Mike called you up. Now, sitting in the restaurant surrounded by your friends, you remembered everything. More importantly, you remember Richie. (Fluff/Angst/Sexy Stuff)

Word count: 2887

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Situations (not smut)

Notes: Thank you all for all of the kind words about the previous parts!! It honestly motivates me to write so much :) Again, I’d love to hear what you guys think of this! Hope you enjoy. Also, I apologize for any spelling/grammar errors/inconsistencies. I read over things a thousand times and I still miss little things :’(

You felt a heavy weight around your waist and a light snoring from behind you. You panicked for a moment before remembering the events of the night before. Smiling to yourself you turned around to face the tall man who was still sleeping soundly in your bed. You raised a hand to his cheek, feeling his stubble beneath your fingers. He let out a sigh, still within the blissfulness of a dream, and you tucked some of his hair behind his ear. He blinked his eyes awake. Confusion, like yours, had laced his features before he realised where he was. At the realisation he smiled, pulling you closer into his chest and resting his face within your hair.

“Morning” he mumbled, still drowsy from sleep

“Sleep well?” You asked, your hand against his chest. You felt him nod above you, his grip tight around your shoulders now. He held you to him like he never wanted you to let you go. You hoped he wouldn’t. There was a strong protectiveness about him now that you had only seen briefly before. You remembered when you were younger and he almost pummelled a boy for making comments about your body. He could never fight; he didn’t have the coordination. However, every now and then a strong need to protect others burst through him. It was in those moments that you liked him best.

“Yeah I slept fine. Why are you laughing?” he asked suspiciously as you chucked at the memories of your childhood with the man. They rushed into your mind like a flood. However, unlike the memories that came back to you when you entered Derry, these were pleasant. These memories were of feather light touches and words as sweet as sugar. Memories of the man you left behind to pursue your dreams outside of Maine.

“Just thought about how much of a dweeb you looked with those glasses when you were a kid” you said, and he feigned injury at your words.

“Bullying Y/N? Really? That’s low. Especially considering the fact that you tried to fuck me last ni-“

You cut him off by reaching up to his face and placing your lips against his. He accepted the gesture immediately, kissing you back deeply. You tilted your head, allowing his tongue access into your mouth. His hand rested on your jaw as his thumb rubbed it lightly.

After a moment you pulled away, smiling up at him. He smiled back at you. “Beep Beep Richie, yeah?”

“Yeah” Richie said, continuing to beam at you. His eyes were glazed over and that dumb smile he had refused to leave his face. You both had almost forgotten why you were in this motel in the first place. Almost.

You had laid with Richie in bed for at least thirty more minutes, chatting about your lives in Derry and your lives now, all whilst Richie drew figures on your back with his fingers. His other hand was entangled with yours. Every now and again he would untangle himself to play with your fingers, his hands almost comically large when placed next to yours.

“I’ve seen all of your movies the day they came out” Richie admitted, placing a feathery kiss upon your forehead.

“You have not” you laughed into his chest.

“Scouts honor!” He replied “Every single one. Why wouldn’t I?”.

“And what is your professional opinion of my work?” you asked, looking up at him.

He looked at the ceiling for a moment, thinking carefully. When he finally looked down at you, a wide grin graced his face and he replied “Meh”.

You hit his chest lightly, laughing.

“I’m just kidding. They were all great. Even that one that the critics said was too self-gratuitous”.

You cringed at the memory and Richie rubbed your shoulder encouragingly.

“Still” He said “Y/N Y/L/N the director. I always knew you’d make it”.

You smiled up at him, and he at you, before you lifted your head to leave a light peck on his lips. Whilst your memories of Richie grew hazier the further you moved away from Derry; you still felt an internal force driving you to achieve your dreams for his sake. You had left him to deal with your absence alone in Derry until he finally moved away, chasing his own dreams and desires. You felt terrible about leaving him at the time - and, not surprisingly, you felt the same way now.

You remembered the insecurity and doubt you had felt when you first arrived in New York. So many times you had wanted to give up on your dreams to work in the film industry. So often you had thought that pursuing a nine-to-five job would be much easier than working your ass off for no reward and even less money.

However, these thoughts always ended with a pull at your heart and a voice within you that screamed

“Do it for him. Make him proud.”.

For a while you thought the Him might have been God. You quickly realised however that if such a being did exist, he would be too busy to be concerned with your career aspirations. People are starving on an abundant planet and are dying of curable diseases Y/N, you thought to yourself, God is probably more concerned with that. It was only when that taxi had passed the sign, Welcome to Derry!, that you had finally realised who the Him was. And when you remembered, you couldn’t believe that you had forgotten.

Seventeen years old was a strange age, you always thought. Away from the sweet sixteens and too far from the looming adulthood of eighteen, seventeen was an age of awkwardness. Your future, something you had been forced to consider (and worse, plan for) in the last few months since turning seventeen hovered over you like a cloud before a thunderstorm. It taunted you with the uncertainty of just how chaotic it could turn out to be. And yet, as you sat in the movie theatre with Richie sitting next to you watching some trashy nineties film, the clouds had seemed to clear. In fact, the sky was blue and there was a nice breeze blowing through your mind. You were the calmest you had felt in months.

Calm before the storm. A voice within your head whispered, but you paid it no mind, reaching into the bucket of popcorn which sat in Richie’s lap.

“I don’t know why you get to hold the popcorn” you whispered, irritated.

“You’ll understand once you get to the bottom of the bucket” Richie said and winked at you.

You furrowed your brow in confusion before the innuendo clicked and you gagged. Richie laughed loudly before being shushed by two men in the row in front of you. One of the men, the one who looked much more irritated at Richie’s outburst than the other, had his arm secured around the other man’s shoulders. The other man whispered to the irritated one. He spoke in hushed tones and smiles, and you watched as the irritated man’s tensed shoulders began to relax. Thank god, you thought, the last thing I need is Richie getting the shit kicked out of him. Finally, the calmer man left a kiss upon the other man’s cheek, causing the irritated man to unwrinkle his forehead and smile. It was the kind of smile that reached your whole face. The kind of smile that softens the eyes and weighs down the eyelids. There were only two reasons people smiled like that; they had smoked just the right amount of weed or they were looking at the love of their life.

You smiled at the actions of the men (though the smile was not as strong as the one currently plastered on the man’s face), before moving your gaze back to Richie. The boy was staring at the couple, eyes wide but not due to shock or fear. He continued to stare at them, the movie on the screen no longer of importance to him. His gaze only broke when he noticed your own upon him. He quickly looked back at the screen, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn.

“I can’t believe people actually spent money making this trash“ he tried to whisper; his mouth still full. Bits of chewed up popcorn jumped out from between his lips as though they were trying to escape their fate within his gut. “You could’ve have made something a thousand times better. I mean, I’ve read your scripts, and even your shit ones are better than this”.

You snorted. “Thanks Richie, I think” you said, and reached into the bucket for another handful of popcorn.

“So, this Fiancé” Richie said cautiously, and you felt yourself being yanked from your thoughts viciously. Your body froze and you knew Richie had felt your sudden rigidness as he began biting his lip nervously. “Sorry” he said “I just-“

“No. Its okay.” You replied. “We should… talk about this, I guess”.

“What’s his name?” he asked.

“David Johnson” you answered.

“David Johnson” he repeated, though his tone was mocking the man despite not being in his presence. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. “So, what’s his deal?”.

“He’s an actor” you said, and Richie scoffed.

“Why haven’t I seen him in anything then?” Richie said, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s a failed actor. He self-sabotages, you know? Every time he gets a role he fucks it up by turning up to set late or drunk or both” you rambled and you could hear Richie sigh from above you.

“Is that why you don’t want to be engaged to him” he asked.

You thought for a moment, wondering whether it was worth mentioning all the things he had done. All it took was a kiss on your head from Richie to let the flood gate open. “Partly” you said, “Also because I caught him screwing his agent in her office”.

A silence fell between the two of you. Richie was shaking his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration. You could tell he wanted to blow. He wanted to rant about your piece of shit Fiancé and how he was going to regret ever fucking with you.

He chose instead to take in a deep breath and attempt to diffuse the situation within his own mind with what he knew how to do best; joke about it. “Actor, Alcoholic and Adulterer. Wow, he’s a triple threat”. You could hear the bitterness in his voice.

Richie had never approved of the men you took interest in, even if they appeared to be God’s gift. Once, as a teen, you told him you thought River Phoenix was cute and from that point he had refused to see any movie he was in. You still weren’t sure if he had ever seen Stand By Me. However, this was different. He had good reasons to hate the man. And so did you.

You sat up and Richie’s face was painted with disappointment until he looked into your eyes. They were serious, gazing into his. The last time you had looked at him like this, you were about to leave for New York. You had stared into his eyes, just like this, and said you would see him again soon. “It’ll only be a few years; it’ll be over before you know it” you had said.

Your voice, low but strong, shook Richie from his thoughts. “I’m going to break up with him. If we don’t die trying to kill that fucking clown, I’m going to do it” you said, and Richie hoped that this time you would keep your promise.

Suddenly, you heard a banging at your motel door. You jumped slightly and groaned when you realised it was just Bill. “Y/N get up! We’re going to go meet Mike!”.

“Fine! Give me a minute to get ready” you yelled back as a reply.

Richie stared at you, his eyes shifting from a softness to a tightness that could only indicate fear was rising within him. The loud knocking of Bill’s hand upon your door had blown away the veil of comfort you and Richie had wrapped around yourselves within your motel room. This wasn’t a school reunion. You were here to kill a clown or die trying.

“We need to get dressed” Richie said. Just as he began to sit up, he scrunched up his face in irritation.

“What?” you asked.

“My clothes… are next door” he replied. The bliss of being held in each other’s arms had rendered you both temporarily amnesic it seemed.

You shook your head, taking a moment to think. You had no issue with the rest of the gang knowing that you and Richie had spent a night together in your motel room. Nothing had technically happened anyway. However, the questions and prying would be way too much to handle this early in the morning. Plus, there were more important things to spend your energy on, like that fucking clown. “I’ll keep watch at the door, and you can sneak out?” you suggested and Richie nodded his head, following you off the bed.

“I feel like a fucking teenager again” Richie said and you shushed him.

You opened the door just enough that you could gaze out of it and into the hallway of the motel. Seeing no one, you opened the door a bit wider and stuck your head out to get a better look. Seeing that it was completely clear, you turned around in order to motion to Richie that he could leave. As you turned, you bumped directly into his chest. He was standing right behind you, his hand now on your waist. You whispered a quiet “Fuckin’ hell Rich” and he smiled down at you apologetically.

You pulled the door completely open, allowing Richie to walk past you through the door frame and out into the hall. He stood there for a moment and you looked at him, confused as to why he hadn’t run to his room yet. Finally, he turned around towards you. Just as you were about to question him, he pulled you by your waist towards him and brought you into a passionate kiss. You accepted the kiss, kissing him back just as deeply, however your mind was still panicking at the thought of being caught.

He pulled back for only a moment before placing his face into your neck, kissing along the length of it sloppily. You considered pushing him back, but when reached the junction between your neck and shoulder and left a soft bite there you decided instead to shut your eyes and place your hand against his chest. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, and he pulled the bottom half of your body towards his. So he won’t do this in private, but he’ll do it in the middle of a motel hallway you thought. Such thoughts were cut short by Richie grinding himself into you, clearly excited by the current situation. You let out a gasp which Richie intercepted with his mouth once again, connecting his lips with yours in a kiss.

Another gasp was heard within that hallway. At first, you thought it was Richie. However, when his movements stilled and he removed his lips from your own, you realised it was most definitely not. Looking to your left, Eddie stood just outside of his motel door. His mouth was open in shock; his eyes wide. His hand was still on the handle of his room door, frozen. Richie considered running back into your room, but it was too late, Eddie had seen him. He had seen more than just Richie, in fact. You were not sure if Eddie had seen all of it, but he had definitely seen enough. “I fucking knew it!” he said, laughing to himself.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he began to make his way down the hall and past the two of you, towards the stairs. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that for my own sake” he said, moving quickly “but I am definitely going to hold it against you. Forever!”.

Both you and Richie were frozen in place, watching the small man jet past you and down to the others who were waiting in the lobby. To the eye that was untrained in Richie Tozier’s library of facial expressions, the face he was currently displaying would have merely appeared neutral. His mouth was closed into a thin line and his eyes, while wide, were not crying out with any particular thoughts or feelings. However, you had known Richie long enough to know that he was not thrilled about what had just happened. The face he wore was not just one of embarrassment. You had seen Richie embarrassed and he was much more bashful than this. No, it was more shameful than that. More apologetic. It was sadder.

You reached out towards him, but he backed away. He shook his head and his expression changed almost too quickly, as though he had pressed the reset button on his brain. “I should go get dressed. They’re waiting for us”. And with that he disappeared into his room, leaving you alone in the hallway for the second time in two days.

Tag list: @felicityofbakerstreet @itsfuckinemily @emiliesnowflake @adritozier @the-almond-dinger @brenna-xoxox @fionnthebandersnacc

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know in a reply to this post!

#richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier #bill hader x reader #bill hader imagine #it 2019

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haberdashing · 4 years

Text

Like Emptiness In Harmony

TMA AU of 160. When Jon wakes up after that statement, he finds that he’s changed just as the world around him has.

on AO3

Jon came back to himself... no, that wasn’t right; Jon’s self was far too nebulous a concept for that. How many weeks, months, years had passed since he’d truly been himself, free of influence by eldritch powers? Had he even truly been himself before he’d joined the Magnus Institute, or had he been controlled by the Web back then, too? Would he even recognize his true self, his human self, anymore? (Were his true self and his human self even the same thing these days?)

Jon came back to consciousness on the floor of the safehouse, with Martin standing over him, and for a brief second things seemed alright, seemed as normal as they ever were, before he saw the terror in Martin’s eyes and remembered what he’d read out loud before passing out and knew (lower-case) that something had gone terribly wrong.

The details were still fuzzy in Jon’s mind, though, and as Jon struggled to put the pieces together, to wake up more fully and figure out exactly what kind of trouble he was in this time, he was only able to say a single word.

“Martin.”

But... but it didn’t sound right, somehow. The word was clear enough, luckily, it wasn’t like he was trying to spit it out through a gagged mouth (which was a sensation Jon unfortunately knew all too well thanks to Nikola), but the tone was off. Jon was confused and curious and scared, but when he called out Martin’s name, none of that came through. Instead, his voice sounded... smug, smug and vaguely condescending, much closer to the sort of tone he would have used to dismiss Martin before Prentiss’ attack than the one he’d meant to adopt now.

“Jon?” Jon wasn’t sure how much of the uncertainty he heard in Martin’s voice just then was real and how much of it was just his mind projecting. Probably some of both there.

Jon cleared his throat and tried again.

“Martin.”

It came out the same as before--exactly the same as before, actually, his tone and enunciation both identical to when he’d said Martin’s name before, as much so as if he’d recorded it before and simply played it back again instead of actually speaking anew.

An analogy that, when Jon examined it more closely, seemed entirely too on the nose.

“My god.”

He said the words only partially because they were what he actually wanted to say; if Jon were free to speak his mind, his speech would probably be significantly less coherent right now, and filled with half-formed questions. But this would have to do at short notice, combining actual meaning with a way to test his current theory.

Sure enough, he was able to say those words just fine, just as he had... how long ago was it, now? Minutes, hours, an eternity ago? And with them came that same smug, self-congratulatory tone, one that almost made Jon want to punch himself in the face for sounding like that. But it wasn’t really himself that he wanted to punch in the face at the moment, just as it hadn’t been himself, exactly, who had first said those words. It was his voice, sure, but the words themselves, the mind behind them, were not his own.

Jon opened his mouth to say Fuck Jonah Magnus, but was far from surprised to find that the words refused to cross the gap between his mind and the world around him.

It was all starting to come together, now. It didn’t click, per se, just continued on the progression from lazy analogy to hunch to theory to something just shy of a dark certainty.

Why did nobody ever swear in the statements, goddammit?

Though that- that wasn’t quite true, was it, there were one or two instances in there where-

And then it clicked. Jon Knew, then, what he could and couldn’t say, the exact limits of his strange new vocabulary. (Or... not new, really. None of these words were new to him. Perhaps he would never say anything new again.)

“Jon, are you alright?”

Even Knowing what he could say didn’t mean controlling his speech was easy, though. It was a little like trying to conduct a conversation by flipping through a dictionary, having to find just the right word in its pages every time a new one was needed.

“No. No, of course not.” The words were right, or close enough at any rate, but the tone was all wrong, and it wasn’t even Jon’s own voice this time, the voice and words of a now-dead man leaving his lips instead.

Jon laughed, then, and that at least sounded normal enough... well, for a certain definition of normal, at any rate. It sounded sharp and cold and full of fear, without a hint of humor to be found, and that wasn’t normal for a laugh, no, but it was what Jon had intended at any rate, a sound that was still all his own.

“Jon, you’re, you’re scaring me a bit, something about your voice seems weird...” Oh, good, he noticed that much at least. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know... and it makes me very afraid.” At least it was his voice again, now, not that of... well. Jon wanted to call Mike Crew a killer, a monster, but those weren’t exactly distinguishing features, were they? Martin probably didn’t even recognize the voice that Jon had adopted a moment ago; it’s not as if he’d had the chance to chat up Mike before Daisy killed him.

“Right. Alright. Well then, er... is, is there anything I can do to help?”

Jon laughed, and this time there was humor to it, or at least levity, despite the world having gone wrong, despite his voice no longer being entirely his own, because no matter what Martin was still Martin, trying to help, putting Jon’s well-being above all else, even when the world was quite possibly falling to pieces around them.

“I am unsure if I will... be able to stand myself up again.” Between the words and the hand extended in Martin’s direction, Jon hoped that the instruction would be clear enough.

Evidently it was, as Martin took his hand, helping pull Jon off of the floor and back onto his feet. It took more effort than it should have, Jon thought, Martin grunting and breathing heavily by the end of it despite past jokes about how easy it was to pick Jon up, but it worked, though Martin’s whole body was shaking by the end of it. (Jon wasn’t sure whether said shaking was even entirely physical in nature, truth be told.)

Jon half-walked, half-stumbled his way forward.

“No, no, no--don’t, don’t go outside. It’s--it’s real bad.”

Outside had never been Jon’s destination, however, though Martin seemed to believe otherwise. Jon didn’t want to go outside, to experience the horrors that had now been unleashed upon the world outside their cabin. He simply wanted to... Jon had to suppress a bout of hysterical laughter as it occurred to him that he simply wanted to see what had happened, to watch the chaos unfold, and wasn’t that all too fitting...

The view outside the nearest window was enough to confirm all of Jon’s worst suspicions. The world had been torn apart, all the fears unleashed upon it to wreak havoc, all because of what he’d just read out loud (all because of him).

“My god.” It felt wrong, somehow, using the words of the man who had orchestrated this apocalypse to describe it, but Jon didn’t have much in the way of alternatives at his disposal.

“I don’t know if it’s just here, or-”

“No. No...” Between trying to put the world’s destruction into words and trying to translate what words he could come up with into something said in the statements, Jon struggled to speak, though it didn’t show in his voice when he did manage to string a few more words together. “...the populated world... edged with a strange, creeping fear... far, far away...”

“Is that Peter’s voice? Jon, don’t... just, please don’t.” Martin laughed briefly, though Jon could see that his eyes were filling with tears. “I, I think I’ve heard enough from him already, thanks.”

Jon nodded enthusiastically, went to apologize, realized that even a simple “I’m sorry” was beyond his reach now, settled for “I was an idiot.” instead.

“Don’t say that. You’re not an idiot for not thinking of it, it’s just...” Martin let out a long sigh. “Jon, I’m scared.”

“...fear can just become as routine as hunger... I felt every feeling... They overwhelmed me... my impact on the world... my failure...” Jon switched between different statements, different voices, desperate to find the words to explain what had happened, what the world had become and how it was all his own fault. The end result felt like almost as great a failure as what it was purporting to describe, but it was an attempt, at least. It would have to do.

Martin wrapped one arm around Jon’s shoulder; Jon briefly considered pushing it off because he was about the last person who deserved to be comforted now, when he was the one who had caused so much pain and suffering, but decided against it because that would hurt Martin’s feelings more than it would appease his own, and he couldn’t exactly explain his own thought process to Martin at the moment.

“You’re not a failure, Jon. No matter what this is, no matter what else happens, you’re not a failure.”

Jon laughed and shook his head and laughed some more, a laugh that kept threatening to turn into a sob as he looked out at the ruins of the world he had wrecked entirely.

“And with each act of glorious, hateful destruction, I felt my god’s love embrace me, consume me... ”

Jon pointed to the sky, to the giant eye that now engulfed it.

“It’s still there, still watching me.”

The laugh that kept threatening to turn into a sob finally did so after a long minute, and as it did the tears that had been building in Martin’s eyes began to flow, and the two men threw their arms around each other, holding one another for comfort as they cried over the loss of their world.

#tma #tma au #tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #the magnus archives fic #the magnus archives fanfic #personal #my writing

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

Text

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 02

<= Chapter 1

Summary : Lukas meets some new people and discovers that almost no one is this studio has manners. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/57463666#workskin

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YOOOO NEW CHAPTER I had started it a while ago and left it to rot until I posted the first chapter. And... I ended up writing 90% of this chapter in less than 48 hours. My old self would be so, so impressed with my current productivity.

Also.... You cannot IMAGINE how eager I was to post this chapter, mainly because of one character I fell in love with. You'll probably guess who it is by the end of this chapter. The drawing is mine, like usual. Mike's (awesome) design belongs to @levshany.

If you like this story, don't hesitate to leave a comment or a kudo, it helps me so much !! I get so inspired and happy when I read your reaction, I'm so thankful for everyone reading my stories ! (after my 2 years long writing and art block, it feels absolutely wonderful)

Happy reading !!

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Chapter 2 - “Excuse me?”

Lukas’s family wasn’t exactly poor. His father worked in an office and his mother was a junior high school teacher, and both gained enough money to maintain the household and guarantee a higher education for Lukas. However, when the young man had announced to his parents his wish to study law in a famous university, uncertainty fell on his family. They could afford to send him to a less renowned university, though Lukas had always been a very good and serious student. The more his parents thought about it, the more they felt like they would waste their son’s potential if they refused him the future he wished for. Compromises had to be made and all the household began to think about ways to finance Lukas’s studies. Eventually, Lukas decided to take a part-time job in order to help his parents to deal with the financial situation he put them in.

Lukas was a perfectionist, even if that lead him to stay awake a few nights just to be absolutely ready for a usual test or a more important exam. Sleep was an issue for the young man: it was always in the way of his revising sessions! More often than not, he found himself falling asleep quite often during his less important lectures.

That’s why, at the present moment, Lukas couldn’t help but wonder if he was dreaming or truly awake.

All around him, people were moving very quickly, carrying extinguishers and buckets full of water. The young man didn’t have to think more as his arm was grabbed by an older stagehand, pulling him towards the huge fire in the centre of the room.

-“What are you waiting for? Use your goddamn extinguisher!” pushed the man while pointing to the flames. It seemed enough to pull Lukas back to reality and he obeyed. He joined the other stagehands trying to put the fire out and brandished his own extinguisher. He had to fiddle with it a little bit until he was able to disable the lock. Once it was done, he started spraying the flames with the extinguishing foam. The heat was almost unbearable and the proximity and movement of people around him made him even more nervous. A deafening fire alarm rang in the room, making his head hurt. He couldn’t believe that his first task as a stagehand would be to put a fire out! It wasn’t one of Lukas’s phobias, thank goodness, though it was still a very stressful experience to him. As if his student life wasn’t stressful already!

Fortunately, the flames soon disappeared under the foam, to Lukas’s great relief. He put the fire extinguisher on the ground, his arms sore for holding such a heavy object for so long. He was sweating a lot, both from the effort and from the heat. He dried his forehead with his sleeve, not caring if he was putting sweat on it. That was the least of his problems at the moment.

The student’s inner monologue was cut short as a voice was raised despite the commotion in the room:

-“Alright, people! Five-minute break, you deserved it!” The words came from an imposing dark-haired man, whose expression looked severe. He was wearing a beige shirt as well as black pants with braces. The man had a broad face, just like his shoulders.

Lukas let out another sigh of relief. No more than an hour had passed since his conversation with both of the directors and he was already glad to have a break‌. He couldn’t help but wonder if this job really was a good idea, after all… Yet, he pushed this idea out of his head: he needed the money, so until he found a better job, he would have to deal with this one. This was only temporary.

The man from before waved at him, asking him to come closer. The student was a little surprised but supposed that this person was the one in charge of all the stagehands. Lukas hadn’t been properly introduced to any of his superiors or to his job at all, in the end. It made sense that it would only happen after the huge fire. The young man obeyed and approached the other, trying to avoid bumping into the other stagehands walking all around him. He would never get used to crowded places.

-“Hell-”

Lukas didn’t get the time to introduce himself as his first word was cut short by his interlocutor:

-“Yeah, good morning,” said the man, not even looking at Lukas, his eyes scanning a document he had in his hands instead: “You’re a new stagehand, aren’t you?”

The student was frustrated at the manager’s lack of manners but decided to put his pride aside. This was only his first working day, nothing was going to be perfect, obviously. He extended his hand, forcing a polite smile on his face as he tried to answer:

-“Yes, my-”

-“Your name?” demanded the man, cutting him short once again.

Lukas could feel his annoyance start to appear on his face, though he did his best to hide it nonetheless. He certainly didn’t want to lose his job after all the trouble he went through to get it! He took a deep breath and replied, with the calmest tone he could manage:

-“I’m Lukas, Lukas Pryce.”

He didn’t see the need of saying anything else, as his interlocutor was likely going to stop him in the middle of a sentence. He took his hand back, well aware that the man wasn’t going to shake it. It apparently was the right thing to do, since said man finally looked up from his document to stare at him, examining him from top to bottom. The student didn’t like being scrutinized this way, though he did his best to stay silent and unmoving, waiting for the other man to talk again.

-“Yeah, okay. I’m Kaleb, I’m the one in charge of everything that’s happening in the backstage. I’m also your boss, but I guess you pretty much figured that out.”

Lukas only nodded, not wanting to be interrupted again. The manager rummaged through the papers he was holding and handed one of them to the student, who examined the first sentences written on it. It was a job contract.

-“You were hired on the spot, weren’t you?” questioned the man, though his tone showed it wasn’t really a question. Maybe it happened a lot more than Lukas first thought.

-“Yeah,” he replied while reading the paper he had now in his hands.

-“Well, okay, so… Technically, you’re not hired yet, so go fill that while the others and I clean this mess. Once you’re done, come back and give me your contract. Then I’ll give you some things to do until we figure out what particular position you’re going to get. Got it?”

Lukas nodded again and walked away. He spotted a white and blue folding table and chairs in a corner of the room, probably for staff breaks. Most of the seats were occupied, though some of them were still free. Thus, the student joined the seated members of the studio and put the paper down. He took a pen from his shoulder bag and started filling the document. Well, finally a calm activity! At least, minus the hubbub all around him.

However, as he was about to fill one of the last section, someone nudged him with their elbow. Surprised from the sudden contact, Lukas lifted his head, looking for the person who tried to catch his attention. His eyes fell on a young man who seemed to have the same age as him. He had black and white hair and was wearing a red turtleneck, as well as black glasses. He had a kind expression on his face. Was he a stagehand just like him? He didn’t seem to help the others, so probably not. Maybe an actor, then? His face was familiar to the student, so it could be the case.

-“You’re a new stagehand?” asked the mystery person, smiling warmly at him. Lukas couldn’t help but feel reassured at the nice expression: finally something good in this unbelievable day!

Lukas smiled back and pointed to the form he was filling:

-“Yep. Just got hired an hour ago,” he laughed, thinking back at the improbable interaction with the two movie directors. Lukas then extended his hands, not wanting to be impolite just like his new manager: “I’m Lukas.”

His interlocutor took his hand -finally, someone who had manners!- and shook it, still smiling.

-“I’m Mike. I’m the lead designer for puppets and costumes. Well, more puppets than costume these last few days…”

The mention of puppets caught the student’s attention. So, he wasn’t an actor, then. So, that still didn’t explain why his face seemed so familiar to Lukas. Why did he feel like he had seen this person somewhere before?

-“Puppets?” he repeated, amused.

-“Yeah. The team I’m in is working on a kids’ TV show, featuring puppets and stuff,” explained Mike: “But it’s only the beginning for now, they’re still looking for actors for the main cast.”

-“I had no idea this studio was making kids’ shows,” replied Lukas, amazed: “I only heard of it through the Conductor’s and DJ Grooves’s movies.”

The puppet maker laughed at his enthusiasm and shook his head:

-“Actually, that’s a first. You know how they have a hard time working together, right?” Lukas nodded and Mike continued his explanations: “Well, this time, instead of fighting over the direction, they’re trying to see if they can each focus on different aspects of the projects. The Conductor will lead the action scenes while DJ‌ Grooves will write and compose most of the songs and soundtrack. I mean, it’s already supposed to be the case usually, but they can’t help but focus on the other’s job anyway. This show is another chance of them minding their own part of the work and see how it turns out.”

The student rose his brows, surprised. Well, from what he knew about the subject, each one of their collaborations ended up having direction problems. It was quite a shame since they always had very good ideas, at least, probably before one sabotaged the other’s work.

-“Why a kids’ show, though?” questioned Lukas with a voice full of curiosity.

-“I guess it’s just a precaution process. Better to fail on a kids’ show rather than on an eagerly-awaited blockbuster, isn’t it?” supposed the costume designer.

-“Yeah, you’re right, it makes sense.”

The student looked around him, watching the stagehands cleaning the remains of the scene. He had no idea what they had been filming, but most of the props had been destroyed in the incident. They likely lost any footage in the fire which certainly wasn’t going to improve the tensions in the studio. The young man turned back to his new friend and finally asked the question he was scared to voice:

-“Uh, is it… Always like that?” he wondered, gesturing to all the people working behind them, wincing at the idea of having to deal with such problems on a daily basis. Mike laughed and gave him a sympathetic smile before replying:

-“Pretty much, yeah, sorry.”

Lukas felt the usual pain in his stomach appear from the sudden rise of stress. Not only did he have serious and important studies to deal with, but he would also need to do the same in his free time? Now, working here didn’t seem like such a good idea after all… His nervousness must have been quite visible because the other man put a hand on his shoulder to try to reassure him:

-“Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay, it’s not so bad!”

“Yeah, right,” thought Lukas sarcastically, probably showing a bit of this emotion unconsciously.

The costume designer stared into space as if he was trying to find something to say before lifting his head again, smiling at him widely:

-“Hey, wait, maybe you could work with us!” offered Mike, suddenly very inspired and motivated: “We haven’t started filming yet but we’ll definitely need stagehands soon! Plus, it’ll probably be way less wild than working on the Conductor’s action movies or DJ Grooves’s musicals. Not that I’ll have a lot to say in the matter, but I can still recommend you.”

Lukas opened his eyes wide at the suggestion. Wait, could it really be that easy?

-“You… You’d do that? Really‌?” The young man couldn’t believe it: how lucky was he being today? It was too good to be true! Karma was soon going to collect his debt at this pace…

-“Yeah!” exclaimed Mike, almost happier than Lukas himself: “You seem nice, plus you don’t have a lot of experience. It would be better for you to start working in a smaller and calmer team.”

Lukas was about to thank him for the offer when he was interrupted -again- by a loud noise coming from behind his back. The student turned around, curious about what could have caused such a loud sound. He was surprised to see a man entering the room, having slammed the door as an entrance. His hair was black and white and he was wearing a long green coat as well as black pants. The man was wearing converse shoes and round glasses. However, Lukas’s eyes widened not because of the man’s appearance or entrance but because he knew who it was. This guy was a very famous actor, one that Lukas knew very well because he had seen him in several movies by now. MJ, that was his acting name. Just like The Conductor, MJ had done his best to keep his real name a secret, for reasons most people didn’t know yet.

And suddenly, Lukas understood why Mike’s face had seemed so familiar to him: they both had the exact same face!

The student turned back to his friend with a confused expression. There was no doubt about it, he hadn’t imagined it: apart from their haircut and clothes, they looked absolutely the same. Lukas was about to ask about it but Mike forestalled his question:

-“Yeah, we’re twins,” he explained, though it was possible to see some weariness on his face. This was surely not the first time someone had asked about it. The student felt a little guilty, though it was a bit too late for that.

-“I had no idea MJ had a brother, let alone a twin,” admitted the young man, quite embarrassed.

-“We agreed to keep it a secret. I'm not a fan of the celebrity life like my brother is. I feel ill-at-ease in crowded spaces.”

Lukas rose his eyebrows, taken aback, and threw a glance at their surroundings. Welp, apparently, they didn’t have the same definition of “crowded spaces”, if all of this wasn’t bothering him. Maybe Lukas was just shier than most introverts? It was strange because he didn’t think he was much of an introvert until now. Yeah, sure, he spent a lot of time studying in his room, but it wasn’t because he didn’t like people or anything. Or so he thought. Now that he was actually in a place like this, he wasn’t so sure of it now. It did make him uncomfortable‌.

Even more, now that he knew that there were famous actors near him.

-“Hey,” greeted a voice behind him, very similar to Mike’s one. Lukas turned to the origin of the said voice and felt his heart sink in his chest when he realized that MJ had come to them. Fortunately, the actor wasn’t looking at him but at his brother. Lukas didn’t know how he would have reacted otherwise. He knew celebrities were people like everyone else, yet he couldn’t deny the sensation of stress he had at the idea of meeting one.

-“Hey,” replied Mike, with a softer tone, smiling at his twin. If they looked the same, their attitude seemed to be different. From the way MJ stood and dressed, he looked like a very assertive extrovert. Mike, on the contrary, seemed to be the complete opposite: with his red turtleneck and his very straight posture, he was the perfect image of the introvert concept.

It was like two sides of a coin: both looked like the other, yet they were not the same on many aspects.

MJ noticed the student’s stare and glanced down at him, absolutely unimpressed.

-“And who are you again?”

The actor’s tone was everything but nice or curious. The other sounded like he just asked that question because Lukas was in the way. No need to say that the young man’s frustration grew again: apparently, people had some problems with manners here. He still put his pride aside, deciding that replying to the provocative introduction wasn’t worth it. Instead, he extended his hand for what seemed like the tenth time that day:

-“My name’s Lukas,” he answered in the nicest way he could manage, then decided to be polite, for both of them at least: “I really like your movies, they’re amazing!”

His interlocutor smiled back while, in the corner of his vision, Mike looked away in embarrassment. What for? Lukas’s confusion intensified as he heard MJ’s answer:

-“Why, thank you!” replied the other, though it sounded too exaggerated to feel sincere. The latter didn’t shake his hand back either. Then, he looked above Lukas’s shoulder to read his soon-to-be-filled job contract: “Oh, are you a new stagehand?”

The question was asked in a particular way that made the student ill-at-ease. He couldn’t help but suspect the other’s niceness was completely faked. Though, he tried not to think about it and continued the conversation:

-“Yeah, I got hired a bit earlier. I helped to put out the fire.”

MJ looked around him as if he was only noticing the remains of the incident just now. His face immediately changed from cordiality to utter disgust. The sudden change unsettled the student, who didn’t know how to react. Next to them, Mike looked even more ill-at-ease than before. Why, did they have a bad relationship? Lukas couldn’t help but wonder, until MJ spoke again, making him come back to reality:

-“Okay, so this is all very interesting but-”

-“MJ, please don’t,” warned Mike, now frowning at him. Lukas had the impression that he was in the middle of a battlefield. This was extremely uncomfortable for him, who had no idea what to do with himself in the meantime.

-“What, I’m just socializing, as you told me to! Isn’t it what you want?” nagged the celebrity mischievously. Mike only glared in response. Well, this was officially more than awkward.

-“So, as I was saying…” continued the actor innocently, as if nothing just happened: “I need a coffee, two sugar lumps, no milk, and take it to my dressing room. And quick. Thanks!”

Lukas stared at the other with bewilderment.

“What?” The student was just astounded and didn’t know how to react at first. Did he hear that right?

MJ waved hypocritically at him, his true personality finally exposed. That’s why everything coming from his mouth had seemed so insincere! Just as he was about to turn away to leave, Lukas stopped him, full of mixed emotions such as confusion, surprise, but mostly irritation:

-“Uh, excuse me?” retorted the young man, absolutely offended.

MJ faked not hearing him, leaving the student and his bottled emotions seated at the table. Who did that guy take himself for?

Next to him, Mike sighed, rolling his eyes. He shook his head at Lukas in a tired way:

-“Don’t mind him, he’s like that with everyone. Except me I guess. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of the coffee.” The other stood up and gestured to the forgotten paper on the table: “you should complete that and give it back to Kaleb. I’ll speak to him as soon as I can. For now, just do as he says.”

Lukas agreed, still astonished by the interaction he just had with this so-called actor. Welp, guess he knew who was the evil twin between the two, now.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Welp. Guess who ABSOLUTELY LOVED writing MJ ? You can read more about him here (warning : SPOILERS)

Chapter 3 =>

#A Hat In Time #ahit #Snatcher #moonjumper #MJ #Mike #fanfiction #my art #The Part-Time Puppeteer #TPTP #puppet au #lukas

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chicagoindiecritics · 4 years

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New Written Review from Mike Crowley on You’ll Probably Agree: 10 Reasons Why ‘Blade Runner 2049’ is better than ‘Blade Runner’

If you haven’t’ seen the movie, see it then read this. No intro, let’s jump right in.

1. K is a replicant

The reveal of K’s genetic code, or lack thereof, flips everything we assume the movie will be on its head. We are learning along with K what it means to exist. Do we as humans, live like replicants? Do we obey a society that treats us like trash but breath anyways out of the fear of death? Where we viewed “Blade Runner” mostly through Deckard’s eyes who didn’t have much of a personality, K’s lack of a character is his entire purpose for existing. For K to emote is to face death.

Where Harrison Ford’s Deckard entire arc was us questioning if he’s human or not (despite what Ridley Scott unequivocally says), there’s nothing much of substance to Officer Deckard. He gets drunk, retires replicants, that’s it. Name one thing that makes Deckard standout? I’ll wait. Ryan Gosling’s Officer K goes from a machine that is dying spiritually on the inside to someone wanting to have a purpose in life. All while maintaining his composure, if perhaps too much poise for the film. Anything with a conscious can feel. Whether or not how it was made is as relevant as where you were born or what skin color you are. The importance is that you’re here.

K doesn’t seek gratitude nor affirmation. He doesn’t suffer from a narcissistic personality. All he wants is not just to be another useless piece of metal.

2. Deckard has depth this time

Being a daddy changes you a lot. Rick isn’t just a slouchy drunk who likes to shoot robots out of legal obligation. He’s a man who’s principles and love for forbidden things cost him his life. What kind of soul did Deckard have in the first film? Who did he care for? Please don’t say, Rachel, we all know why he was attracted to Rachel. Like Winston in 1984, Deckard rejects Big Brother for a life of pain to gain a glimmer of happiness.

3. It’s horrifyingly relevant

Denis Villeneuve based the imagery in 2049 on a planet that has become degraded with pollution. The buildings are extrapolating enormous amounts of water into the atmosphere, the sea wall at the end of the picture will be our new Mount Rushmore, the orange Vegas is happening now. Denis Villeneuve didn’t predict the earth looking like this, but his production team was still spot on. A picture that transcends its very style, developing a look that will be discussed on its merits separate from the ubiquitous original, is a stunning achievement.

Everything isn’t dystopian because that’s the way it was in the book. It’s what will happen to us in real life, why we’d look for colonies to live on if we had the technology or funding towards NASA to do so. God help us all.

4. The love story questions the essence of relationships

The story between K and Joi further examines the meaning of love, sex, and mortality, with the two being different versions of artificiality. When the default sexed-up version of a naked Joy pops up on the screen, we are emotionally mortified. Some of us may be repulsed to observe a character we care for utilized like a thirsty Godzilla.

The towering ad tries to seduce K tempting him to buy it, rendering everything Joi said to K throughout the picture questionable. Its manipulation solidifies his final decision in life to help another man. We’re not sure if she loved him or said what it thought it wanted him to hear throughout the narrative. Possibly Joi herself didn’t know her intentions. An unusual amount of nuance and uncertainty rests in the love story. Who do we love? Why do we love? Do we love by the heart or the heart of our designers whom we don’t know?

Meanwhile, Deckard was just drunk and horny when he bashed Rachel up against the wall. Sorry, that really was all there was to their passion despite what Wallace says.

5. The movie was an honest commentary about how the world views woman

Here’s a controversial one. A lot of women were disgusted by the way they were depicted in the film. Outwardly watching the movie, I can’t blame them. I’ll let Mr. Villeneuve speak for himself. “I am very sensitive to how I portray women in movies. This is my ninth feature film and six of them have women in the lead role. The first Blade Runner was quite rough on the women, something about the film noir aesthetic. But I tried to bring depth to all the characters. For Joi, the holographic character, you see how she evolves. It’s interesting, I think. What is cinema? Cinema is a mirror on society. Blade Runner is not about tomorrow; it’s about today. And I’m sorry, but the world is not kind on women.”

Villeneuve is right. Women today are still sexualized. Even with the Me Too movement, women are continually seen as sex objects or subservient slaves in a male-dominated society. Villeneuve isn’t interested in painting a rosy picture that Hollywood does for female roles to make the audiences feel comfortable. It’s an honest reflection on who we are. What we see is what we don’t want to see, but that’s part of the honesty of cinema.

6. The score is mesmerizing

Another point in which I may face some contention. Yes, Vangelis’ score is iconic, but it only works for the era it was composed in. Much of its mixture of bleeps, blops, and wind chimes are a product of its time. A lot of emotion is missing from the score other than the opening theme and “Tears In Rain.” Hearing much of the soundtrack while on the road, I sometimes thought I was listening to something from a porno. Take a listen to “Wait For Me” in the soundtrack and tell me otherwise. Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Walfisch’s score is timeless while also paying respect to Vangelis’ synthetic use in the original. It dives into the character’s mind providing a replication of something more human than what Vangelis composed.

7. It thematically ties more directly to “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep” than “Blade Runner” does.

“Blade Runner” got the overall gist of Phillip K Dick’s novel. Replicants are scared, trying to find a way to survive as Deckard hunts them down. However, the Andies in the movie almost deserve to die. In their quest for more life, they torture and kill multiple civilians. What did the guy making the eyes do to deserve being frozen to death? What about J.R. Sebastian? He was nothing but pleasant to Roy and Pris. Did Roy eye gauge him when he was done with Tyrell?

Aside from Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), our replicants are fully rounded people. Sapper Morton is a watchful protector who was meant to be a NEXUS 8 combat medic; Joi’s true intentions come into question for herself and us. K’s inner conflict is the central core of the story. All of this revolves around the meaning of existence within a world that has forgotten about you. The introduction of Robo procreation is an evolution of Dick’s ideas, widening his notion of why life exists in the first place.

8. It doesn’t get lost in the scale

Many sequels love scope over characters. Remember “The Matrix”? Remember how they talked about Zion and all these other things we didn’t see? When the sequels brought in Zion, the focus got lost in the spectacle. “The Matrix Reloaded” was a bumbling CGI mess of Agent Smith Clones and cave orgies. “The Matrix Revolutions” was a glorified “Space Invaders” game. Shoot as many sentinels as you can before becoming overwhelmed. Amidst the sequels bumbling chaos, I missed the smaller scale of the Nebuchadnezzar crew.

The story of “2049” could have focused on the replicant uprising with thousands of robots slamming into humans. We could have gone off-world to finally see what all these other colonies we’ve heard about are like. Some have argued that the movie could have borrowed some of its source material from the later novels about replicants creating humans, so on and so forth. All of that sounds incredible in theory. In execution, you would likely get “The Matrix” sequels.

A movie that overreaches in scope, attempting to please fans by showing everything. What we got was an incredibly meaningful story that further explores the themes of the original while building upon its world without going too far. We see what’s beyond L.A. on the dilapidated west coast. The answer is not much. The film aims at minimalism over extravaganza.

9. We’re still talking about it

After being MIA for decades, “Blade Runner 2049” isn’t forgotten. I can’t say the same for “Superman Returns,” “Monsters University,” “The Incredibles 2,” “Live Free or Die Hard,” and “Indiana Jones and The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull.” In fairness, people do talk about Indy 4, but not in a positive fashion. “Blade Runner 2049” returned to the limelight with disastrous box office results yet high accolades, even gaining the Academy’s attention. Ironically it seemed destined to live the life of its predecessor.

“2049” may have tanked because it was a multimillion-dollar art film that respected its audience’s intelligence. Maybe “Blade Runner” was too far gone amongst the public to gain an interest geared almost entirely towards comic books and Disney. I think the trailers after the reveal teaser looked too generic for my own two cents, turning me off from the film for a short while.

Here we are with Honest Trailers in 2020, making a video about a film that came out in 2017. Bloodsoaked orange skies from the headlines mention the atmosphere of this film. Somewhere, about 100 other people are writing their analysis of “Blade Runner 2049” as I type right now. Seven years from now, we’ll be talking about why the world is still like “Blade Runner 2049.” Villeneuve made a timeless sequel to be remembered.

10. It’s better than the first film and one of the best films in the last ten years

Here’s why you’ll probably agree with this one when you put your pitchfork down. Remove your nostalgia goggles. I know it’s hard to do, please, trust me. Look at the points I made above. Think about how ironic the love story is to our lives. The layers of meaning behind K’s existence is lightyears beyond the featureless Rick Deckard. The picture isn’t flawless. Niander Wallace is spectacularly corny in his scenery-chewing grim monologues. Dr. Eldon Tyrell had some ambiguity regarding the morale of his intentions. For that, I’ll give the original the benefit of my doubt. I understand Ryan Gosling was cast to be intentionally deadpan, but it’s okay to emote once. His distant stare in all of his other performances made it difficult for me to discern myself from the actor’s rather dull persona.

With this said, “Blade Runner 2049” understands cinema. Its atmosphere is why we venture into a dark room that takes us to a different place. Denis Villeneuve’s masterful follow up is one of the most orgasmic cinematic experiences I have witnessed in the last ten years that demands a re-screening in 2022 when theatres reopen at an entirely safe capacity. The style doesn’t overshadow its substance, which is far richer in detail than the original without grasping at blatant metaphors. “Blade Runner 2049” is slow cinema at its finest, letting us into the character’s heads, knowing when to be quiet and when to be loud.

Like “The Empire Strikes Back,” not everyone appreciated the movie at first. Time has been incredibly kind to it, though. I wish the Academy recognized “Blade Runner 2049” beyond its technical marvels in 2018. I suppose it wasn’t the type of picture that catches Oscar voter’s eyes. But it has acquired the audience’s to this day. Now, if you could just look up and to the left for me?

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chipoisanook · 5 years

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Reoccurring Events [Part 1]

Word count: 5,603

A/N: This was an idea I and @xbubblesworldx had where all the Losers have kids. So, we’re trying something out. Part 2 will be written by @xbubblesworldx

What people don’t know is that life always repeated itself in some way. Maybe not so you can see, but it happened. The Losers found this out the hard way.

Georgia turned the page of the book she was reading, though it wasn’t strange to find her with her head in a book, she was every bit of her mother and father. She looked spitting image of her mom, but the way she acted the way she spoke with such confidence. Words on a page spoke to her more than words spilling from someone’s lips, she expressed herself more by allowing the inc to carve out her ideas that sprung into her head. She looked like Audra Phillips alright, but her personality screamed Bill Denbrough. A smile came to her face, a small bubbly laugh leaving into the air as she carried on, eyes moving from the left to the right quickly. Georgia would’ve been there for hours if you let her, however, when the door to the trailer quickly opened, Bill rushing in with an indescribable look on his face, the book had lost her attention.

“Woah, you okay?” She questioned. Georgia scanned over Bill, his chest was heaving up and down quickly but was slowing down with his deep breaths. He was clutching his hand, the one with the scar on. Georgia remembered asking her dad how he got it once but he couldn’t remember. He tried, saying he could’ve sworn it was something to Derry, but what happened wouldn’t come to him. But now? Now it just seemed to be causing him pain. Bill shook his head, swallowing thickly as he spoke. “I uh, just got a call?” Georgia raised a brow, that was strange to her. Her parents got called all the time, especially after everything was confirmed for the movie based off of Bill’s book. “Who was it? You look-” She paused for a moment, looking him over again before continuing. “Shook up.” Bill nodded, fingers massaging the scar on his hand as he cleared his throat. “An old friend, Mike. From Derry.” Georgia’s face filled with confusion. “You’ve never mentioned him before.” As she said this her dad went over to his laptop, as Bill opened the lid he began to type quickly. “We lost touch when I moved away, he wants a reunion. Me and some other old friends.” At this, Georgia’s face lit up. She sat up, sitting on the edge of her seat as her leg bounced up and down. “So that means you’re going back to Derry right?” Bill didn’t even need to answer, his mouth had opened to confirm what Georiga had said, but she cut in before he could. “I wanna come along.” The older male quickly looked away from his laptop, his eyes now locked onto his daughter. As his eyebrows furrowed, Georgia rolled her eyes. “Come on, please? You didn’t talk a lot about Derry, I wanna see what it’s like.” Georgia’s excitement poured out at this and despite the feeling swelling in Bill, the feeling that something bad was going on, the lingering burning sensation the scar gave off, and the hazy memories of Derry, he ignored them all. Instead, he smiled slightly before slowly nodding. “I don’t see why not, but make sure your mom knows too.” A squeal left the girls lips as she practically threw herself onto Bill, who had to press his hand into the seat so he didn’t go flying back. “Thank you! I’ll go tell her now.” And with that Georgia left on a search for Audra. If only she had looked back and seen the hidden fear in Bills eyes.

Fear that had been forgotten for 27 years.

***

Edward grimaced as he stood in the doorway, watching as his dad leaned over the side to throw up. Edward patted his back gently, though trying hard not to comment on what had happened, not yet anyway. “Do you need some water? Any medicine before you go on? I don’t think you should perform when you-” Edward stopped when Richie let out a laugh, not quite genuine, but enough to let Edward know he wasn’t dying. “Calm down small fry, I’m alright. Just some pre-show nerves.” Edward didn’t believe him, not for a second. However, he didn’t push it allowing his nose to scrunch up from the nickname. “Don’t call me that.” Richie laughed again as he ruffled his son hair, before getting dragged away for his comedy act, that was supposed to have started over a minute ago. Edward took time to fix the mess Richie had done to his hair, going back to the dressing room Richie was given. Even if Edward knew all his dads jokes by now, he loved them as though it was his first time, it was almost like Richie had the power to do that, be funny despite knowing what he was going to say.

Though he didn’t like standing backstage, feeling like he was in everyone’s way. Unlike Richie, Edward didn’t have a funny bone in his body. Sure he had a few comebacks up his sleeve. But compared to his dad? Richie took the top of the cake. He was often awkward, and despite Richie being built like a tree, Edward was small, fragile even. It was a surprise to most when Edward was introduced as Richie Tozier’s son, but here he was in all his glory. When Edward got to the dressing room, switching on the TV to watch the live feed of Richies show, he was met with his dad, frozen on stage. Edward almost had the nerves to go back there and drag him off the stage. With Richies distant eyes, the way he stared in front for seconds upon seconds, before mumbling, “I forgot the joke”, proved he certainly wasn’t okay. Although the rest of the show went perfectly after that, Edward couldn’t shake the look his dad had on his face. He was quick to question Richie when he was back, waiting for the show crew to leave the room before speaking. “I know you’re hiding something and that’s fine, but please tell me if it something serious,” Edward begged.

At first, the shorter male didn’t think Richie had heard him or better yet, was too stuck in his mind to hear him. However, Richie just turned around, a smirk dusting his face. “Pack your bag munchkin, we’re going to Derry.” Edwards’s mouth opened quickly, about to complain about the stupid nicknames. Until he took in the uncertainty in his dad’s voice. “Derry? You’re a hometown?” Richie nodded, turning away to grab his phone that was lying on the table. “Yep. I had a call from an old friend who wants to meet up.” Again, Edward had no time to question anything Richie had said, his mouth opened, but Richie was already calling out. “Hurry up or I’m leaving without you.” Edward rolled his eyes at this. He knew what his dad said was a lie. Ever since Richie left him with a babysitter when he was around 5 or 6 and he wouldn’t stop crying for Richie all day, the man hadn’t left him for a full day since. Edward still packed his limited amount of clothes and belongs he had brought with him, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was going on here.

Something in Derry.

***

Richard rubbed the bridge of his nose again, watching his dad mumble to himself as he threw clothes into his suitcase. He had come home with the car a wreck, but when his mom had questioned Eddie about it, squeezing his cheeks in her hands to check over his face he just replied saying he had to leave on a trip. Myra didn’t care much that he had to leave, but Richard certainly was. “So let me get this straight. You got a call from some guy called Mike back at your home town, and ended up crashing the car because of it?” Eddie let out a slight hum, checking over a shirt before throwing it in. “It’s still drivable.” Richard sighed, shaking his head. He watched his dad for a few more minutes, before finally turning away. “I’ll go pack.”

This gained Eddie’s attention, his hands dropping whatever clothing he had hold of as he turned around to watch his son. “No, no, no. You’re staying here.” Eddie didn’t need to see Richards face to hear him scoff, he let out a sigh as he stared at the back of the boys head. “Dick you need to stay here with your mom.” Richard turned as Eddie finished, an unimpressed look shown onto his face. “So she can coddle me every time I’m in her line of sight? I get it enough even when you’re here, I can’t deal with all of her attention.” Eddie wasn’t one to speak. Unlike him, Richard tried hard to not be chained down by Myra, he was braver then Eddie ever was. Though he had to admit, his humour was annoying at times. He wasn’t surprised thanks to that comedian he always watched, Eddie did watch it with him and most of the jokes made him laugh when his son wasn’t repeating them all the time. Myra hated them watching his show, but to be fair, she didn’t like anything unless she picked it out. Eddie knew how strained Richard and Myra’s relationship was, of course, he did.

The mere relief of his son face when he came home was hard to miss. Eddie couldn’t be the one to deny him coming to Derry, he had lived so long alone with Myra and honestly, it was no walk in the park. “Alright, okay. But you stick by me, I can’t remember much about Derry so it might as well be a new place for both of us.” Richard smirked when he got what he wanted, his eyes rolling even when he stuck his thumb up. “You got it, dad. So again, I’m gonna go pack and meet you in the car. You can tell mom I’m coming along.” That was the last thing said before Richard left his parent’s room to his own. Once again, a sigh left Eddie as he picked up the pants he had dropped. Relief washed over him from knowing him and his son would be away for at least a couple of days, which meant true freedom. Still, something chewed at him. Maybe it was just the thought of meeting up with the losers again.

Or the foggy memory of someone he left behind.

*** Lloyd bobbed his head enough so the headphones connect to the walkman didn’t fly off of his head. The lyrics to Please Don’t Go Girl blared from them as he sketched onto the paper, the pencil gliding over with such grace and accuracy, that you could watch the led make up pictures for days. Lloyd jumped when his foot was nudged, head snapping up to see the smiling face of his dad. He smiled, hands flying up to take his headphones off, allowing the real word to take hold of him again. “You packed?” Ben questioned, only to earn a nod from Lloyd as he pointed his pencil over to the back of the door. “Yeah, it’s over there. Finished a couple of minutes ago.” Bens eyes trailed over, a nod following as he went quiet for a moment. Lloyd had many questions about the whole ‘Old friend calling out of the blue,’ but decided to push them down and wait for Ben to explain. He didn’t get half of the answers he wanted, only that they were taking a trip down to Derry to meet some of Bens old friends.

Lloyd wasn’t complaining. Though his dad tried hard to tell him stories of Derry and why he moved there, Ben had often described the memories as distant dreams. Something that tried hard to stay hidden, even if he tried with all his being to get it out. “Are you excited? You might remember something down there.” Ben smiled, a short laugh leaving him as he nodded. “I am. I still remember them all being great friends, even if I can’t recall the best moments. Maybe snippets are the right word.” Lloyd smiled. He had always been interested in his dad’s childhood and most of the things Ben liked Lloyd was right behind like it as well. “Sorry about dragging you with me.” Lloyd pulled his attention back on to Ben again, eyebrows furrowing before he shook his head. “Are you kidding? I wanna see the famous Derry you talk so much about but also, can’t remember much of.” Bens sad smile turned up at hearing this his hand following as he squeezed Lloyds shoulder gently. “I’m glad. Anyway, I better continue packing.” The younger of the two nodded as he watched his dad stand up, hands seemingly having a mind of their own as they went back to the headphones. “Don’t forget to turn everything off when we leave!” He heard Bens’s voice call out earning a quick, “Okay!”, from Lloyd before his word was drowned into music again. Though Lloyds thoughts went back to the many questions he had for his dad but didn’t ask, the biggest one of all of them sticking out clearly in his mind.

Why did his dad look so worried when he realized who was on the phone?

*** The puddles splashed up Isaac’s legs as he rushed down the steps of the house, almost slipping at how fast he turned right to get away from the man. His father. When he was far enough down the street, he turned back to his dad’s screaming at them to get back to the house, his lips burning as the blood was washed away. Isaac’s eyes dragged away again as Beverly grabbed his arm, pulling him away until his dad was no longer in their range of sight. His chest was still heaving quickly, his bag across only one of his shoulders as they walked in silence. Issac already had a bag packed, he knew this day was coming. The day his mom would leave that abusive asshole he had the horrible pleasure of calling dad.

However, he didn’t know it would take a call to do so. He was so quick to come to Beverly’s rescue, earning an elbow to the lip in the process, he had no time to question who was on the phone and where they were going. Isaac jumped when he felt a hand on his cheek, eyes focusing back onto his mom who looked him over with concern, he hadn’t even realised they had stopped. “I’m fine, I’m alright.” Beverly didn’t look convinced, not that he sounded convincing in the first place. Though the subject soon changed from him to Beverly as he glanced at her exposed arms, that were littered in bruises. His mom said nothing more as she quickly pulled down the sleeves to her nightgown, looking away as their slow walk started up again.

“…Where do we go now?” Isaac questioned, the rain causing a shiver to run threw his body. Though right now, it was better than hearing the screams of his mom or hiding another injury so it wouldn’t ruin their perfect family image. “Derry.” The boy turned with a raised eyebrow, though Beverly looked confident in what she had said. “An old friend, Mike, called me. There’s a reunion down there with some other friends.” Isaac nodded as he turned away. It was the best thing they had right now, he couldn’t argue with the set plan his mom had set out. As he felt Beverly’s hand entwined with his, Isaac allowed a shaky breath to leave him. He didn’t know what the future had planned for the two Marshes, but he did know that all their answers now lied in Derry.

Whatever that would bring.

*** The classical music calmed William. His head tilted as he stared at the half-finished bird on the puzzle, watching his father as he placed another puzzle into its rightful place. William was what Stan liked to call, a wild soul. He wasn’t satisfied with following a strict rule set, he’d rather speak out than remain quiet, not keeping his thoughts to himself. What William lacked in Stan’s personality, he made up with the same love for birds. Sure, they both liked them for different reasons, but it was there all the same. Patrica didn’t understand what they found so interesting about them but didn’t once call them out on it. She had her hobbies, and they had theirs.

William ignored the sound of his parents speaking, even the sound of his father’s phone as it went off. He only paid attention when he heard Stan’s voice cut in. “Right Mike, hi.” William ignored the way Stan sounded, taking the last piece from him as he pressed it into the puzzle, completing the puzzle of the bird they had spent a good hour on. “Finally,” William mumbled to himself, his monotone expression breaking as a small smile tugged at his lips. “IT’s back… isn’t it?” As soon as the smile was there, it was gone again, ripped away as he looked back at his father. William finally took note of how Stan looked down at his scarred hand before looking forward again but looking at nothing particular. But the way they shifted, the way he began to clench and unclench his scarred hand. He was scared, but of what? William had no idea.

As Stan ended the call, Patrica turned to him. “Who was calling?” Stan took a moment, again, his attention on his hand. He swallowed thickly before answering. “A-An old friend. He wanted to meet up for a reunion.” Patrica’s smile widened, but William kept his focus on his father. “That sounds nice, I’m guessing you’re gonna go pack?” Stan’s eyes widened at this, fear holding them in place as he thought about going back to Derry. He cleared his throat before shaking his head. “No, I’m not going. Too much work.” William shook his head at this, finally deciding to speak about this call. “Don’t you want to see your old friends? I thought you said they were your best friends?” The older male looked over to his son, thinking over what he said before turning away. “That was a long time ago. I can’t remember much.” William was going to argue again, maybe convince Stan that he should go. However, his father was already leaving the room. “I’ll be in my office.

That’s how William ended up in his room hours later, staring at the ceiling as he thought about what had gone on in the living room. He might have been there all night if he wasn’t pulled from his thoughts upon hearing his mom calling for his dad, asking if he was alright from outside the bathroom door. As William sat up, his eyes scanning over his room, he stopped on his window. There sat a cardinal bird, just staring at him. Its red wings spread out for a moment, before resting again. He was about to grab his camera to take a picture, show it to his dad tomorrow and brag about seeing the bird until the scream rang out. The scream belonging to Patrica.

The camera was dropped to the floor as William ran out from his room, the house filled with the sobs of his mother and the screams falling from his own lips as he pulled the broken woman away from the bathroom floor. If only he thought more about the cardinal bird, he would’ve remembered all too well what the small winged creature represented.

A loved one who has passed.

*** Leroy looked around the busy restaurant, walking beside his father as they followed the woman to a closed-off part that they had booked for the night. Mike smiled, thanking the woman before she walked off. “Do you know who’s coming?” Leroy looked over to Mike as he asked this question. Mike took a moment, looking around the table before answering. “Not exactly, but, none of them said they weren’t coming.” Leroy nodded as he took a seat, waiting for his dad to stop pacing before he spoke again. “What if this doesn’t work? You know what happened last time someone tried to do this and-” Mike looked over at his son, who had one hand gripping at his pant leg. He took a couple of steps before kneeling down in front of him. “Hey, hey. It will work. As long if we all believe it will, it’ll work.” Leroy didn’t look convinced, his mouth opening again to question Mike on it not working again. But it wasn’t his voice that got there first.

“Mike?” The two males turned to be met with another adult and a girl. Mike slowly got up, scanning the male over with a large smile. “Big Bill?” Bill laughed at this, however, he wasn’t expecting Mike to rush up to him, crushing him in a tight hug. Mike laughed loudly which calmed Leorys nerves slightly. “Sorry, sorry.” Bill patted Mike’s shoulder as he let go before turning to the girl behind him. “This is my daughter, Georgia.” Mike smiled, looking back to his son as he spoke. “This is Leroy, my son.” Leroy lifted an awkward hand as he waved, Georgia returning though hers was more confident. “Oh my God.” They all turned at the other new voice, another man and boy now stood where Bill once was. “Eddie?” Bill asked. Eddie slowly nodded, looking over them slowly as he spoke. “I can’t believe we have kids.”

Mike laughed at this whereas Bill smiled again. As they all moved further into the closed-off space Eddie pointed to his own son. “This is Richard-” He didn’t get to carry on as Richard interrupted him. “But you can call me Richie.” Eddie raised a brow, shaking his head as he turned to his two friends. “Just call him Dick if you need to.” This earned a scoff from the boy and most likely a long speech on how he wanted the same nickname of the comedian he loved so much until there was a loud gong. “This meeting of the Losers Club is now in session.”

As they all turned around once again, they were met with three more members of the losers club. Richie, Ben and Beverly. Richie scanned over the faces in front of him, taking a minute on Richard who was gawking at him before he spoke. “I didn’t know there would be so many kids.” It took him a moment before a smirk came to his face, his head sticking back out the closed-off area. “Waitress!” As he turned back, the younger members of the group all knew that day that a smirk from Richie Tozier was never a good thing. “Another table please!”

*** “What the fuck are you laughing at!” Eddie yelled as he pointed at Ben, who just laughed in his face along with the others. The six kids sat around the smaller table, either with their chin resting on their palm, or leaning back on their chair watching them. “I can’t believe they put us on the kiddy table,” Richard said earning a nod from all of them, Georgia sighing before looking away. “Alright, might as well introduce ourselves again. Names Georgia.” The rest of them turned at this figuring that this was better than watching their parents have fun.

“Richard, but call me Richie.” Edward made a face at this, his nose scrunching up as he shook his head. “I’m not calling you that, it’s my dad’s name,” Richard smirked, sending finger guns his way. “Exactly, your dad is awesome. I love his show.” Edward nodded at this, his face still scrunched up. “Yeah, but that’s still weird that you want the same nickname.” Richard scoffed, palms hitting the table as he leaned forward. “Then what’s your name?” Edward leaned away from him slightly, but still answered the question. “Edward.” Richard let out a laugh at this, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Ah-ha, that’s my dad’s full name so you’re weird!” Edwards’s mouth fell open, he was about to argue until he thought about their names and who their fathers were. “Wait a minute.” They both turned to their dads, who were both laughing, grabbing the hands of each other in a handshake before Richard and Edward looked away and back at each other. “They are so gay for each other.”

Lloyd shook his head at this with a small laugh before turning his attention back on all of them. “I’m Lloyd you know, after Frank Lloyd Wright, the famous architect.” As he looked around, they all stared at him with a blank look causing him to sink in his seat. “Just in case you were interested.” Isaac sent him a small smile, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “It’s an interesting fact. I’m Isaac by the way.” When they all managed to actually look at him they all knew they were thinking the same things, however, Georgia was the one to ask. “That looks sore.” Isaac’s hand seemed to move on its own as it touched his lip shrugged as he did so. “Nah, not that much now. It did when I got it.” Silence hung over them for a while, no one really knowing what to say knowing nothing about each other.

Leroy cleared his throat a smile settling once he did. “Well, I’m Leroy. I’ve lived in Derry all my life so, I know the good spots and bad spots about this town.” Richard snorted slightly, leaning back on his chair. “So, have any good stories about this place?” Leroy went quiet, eyes casting down as he thought about any stories. His eyes moved over to his dad, who was too busy laughing and talking about the many years without his friends, that he wasn’t paying attention to him. Leroy beckoning them all closer, which they did, his voice turning to a quiet hush as he spoke. “Well, my dad told me this story of this spiritual being.” He hard one of them laugh again but he quickly shook his head. “You don’t get it. 27 years ago, our parents were up against IT.” They looked to one another, so busy with the story that they didn’t notice the fortune cookies being brought to their parent’s.

“Does this thing have a name?” Georgia mumbled to Leroy as the boy nodded in return. “Yes, its name is-” The screams tore them away from gaining IT’s name. Their parents were moving away from the cookies, but from what? The kids couldn’t see it. They all got up at the same time, though they had no idea whether to go forward and snap them out of whatever they were seeing. “What’s wrong with them?!” Lloyd shouted to Leroy. Though he stood frozen, staring at one of the fortune cookies before moving away with a yell. At this point Mike had already gone for the chair, slamming it onto the table over and over again. “It’s not real! It’s not real!” Isaac made his way to Beverly, mumbling something to her as she was coward back into the corner. The rest did the same, moving to their parents as the waitress came walking in. “Is everything alright in here?” The adults breathed heavily, looking to one another and then to the kids. Richie lifted a hand up, nodding along with it. “Check please.”

*** Georgia watched as the cars pulled out of the car park, leaving only her, Bill, Mike and Leroy. She had to admit, she had never seen her father so shook up. Mike was begging him not to go, and Georgia looked on not really knowing what to do. It was only when Bill agreed to go with Mike, that they were ready to follow the man to where he wanted to go. “Are you Mike Halon?” They turned at the voice. A boy approaching them, his face had a serious tone to it, though his eyes were red and slightly puffy. None of them commented on it however, Mike nodding as he spoke. “That’s me, do I know you?” The boy took a moment, his head shaking causing his curls to shake slightly. “No. My name is William, William Uris. I think you knew my father.” Again, a pin could’ve dropped and everyone would’ve heard it. After Beverly had got hold of Stans wife, they had heard the horrible news of what became of the 7th missing member of the Losers club. “You’re Stans son?” Bill questioned.

William moved his gaze to Bill. However, his eyes narrowed slightly, searching the male up and down before commenting. “Yeah, what’s it to you?” Bill turned to Mike for a second before his attention was back on the boy. “I’m Bill. I was also one of your dad’s friends.” William scanned him over again but nodded nothing less. “We were just heading off if you want to join us?” Mike asked softly. It wasn’t really a question, the two adults would’ve got him to come one way or another. But they wanted it to seem like he had a choice, there was no need to make him more emotional than he already was. William slowly nodded, a quiet, “I came all this way-”, leaving his lips as he followed Mike to his car, getting in the back as Leroy got to the front. Bill getting in his own car with Georgia sitting next to them him. With that, Mike lead on with Bill following close behind.

***

“I need to show Bill something, you can show Georgia and William around the Libary while we’re gone,” Mike said while motioning Bill upstairs with him. Georgia turned in a full circle, looking at the building before she turned back to the two boys. Silence danced around them until she decided to break the silence. “I’m sorry… about your dad.” William turned to her, the same monotone face as before looking back at her. “I heard he was a great man.” At first, Georgia didn’t think he was going to say anything as he looked away. However, she was surprised when he replied to her. “He was.” She nodded, looking at the ground. Leroy smiled sadly before taking a book from its shelf, dusting it off. “There are lots of books around here about Derry’s history if you want to know more about the time.”

Georgia let out a hum, stopping beside Leroy as she looked down at the pages. “About back at the restaurant, you could see what our parents could see. Couldn’t you?” The male froze, eyes not leaving the page before he sent her a smile, passing her the book as he moved along. “There are also other books if your interested, myths, legends.” Georgia raised a brow, placing the book back where it belonged as she followed Leroy. “You’re avoiding the question.“She again didn’t get an answer, instead, he just carried on with what they had in the library. "I also read this good book a couple weeks back about a turtle, very interesting-” As he got around to where William was stood, eyes scanning over the words of a book, Leroy was fast to take it away from him. “Don’t read that!”

The rain was heard from outside as both William and Georgia stared at Leroy, he held the book away from them. Georgia moved forward, attempting to take the book but there was no use. “What don’t you want us knowing about?” Leroy huffed with a shake of his head, the book angled away from her. “It’s nothing. I just know that one of you will want to go there, it’s better you know nothing about it.” William rolled his eyes, snatching the book from the other male’s hand when he was done speaking. “Yonk.” A gasp left Leroy as he reached out to take it back, but William was already finishing reading the page in the book. “What’s so special about an old house?” The book was snatched away again, Leroy slamming it shut as he spoke.

“The Neibolt house isn’t just an old house, and you’d know better not to go anywhere near it.” Georgia and William looked at one another, a frustrated growl leaving Leroy as they did so. “Its an abandoned house but it’s a dangerous, abandoned house. Just don’t speak about this again.” He explained while putting the book back. “You should be able to tell us what’s so bad about it, or we don’t know the dangers,” Georgia said as William nodded, agreeing with her. “Yeah. So a wooden beam might fall on you, so what?” A shrug followed as William said this, but Leroy just shook his head again. “You don’t get it, this-” His words were cut short as Bill came down the stairs, Mike right behind as he nodded at Leroy. “We need to go.” Bill quickly said, leaving the entrance of the library. “What? Where are we going now?” Georgia questioned since she thought they would be there long, though, the only reply she got was from Mike. “We need to stop the others, at the townhouse.”

Both Georgia and William sighed but followed Bill out of the library, Mike and Leroy being the last ones as they shut off the lights, plaguing the library back in darkness.

#bill denbrough #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #stan uris #the losers club #it chapter two #it chapter 2 #it chapter two spoilers #it chapter 2 spoilers #reddie

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dekuinthelake · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday Bloodborne

Seeing as it’s the 5th year Bloodborne has graced this mess of a planet with it’s omnipotent light I figured write a little thing about how much the game means to me. I’m going to get fairly personal so if you don’t like that kinda thing feel free to skip.

The first time I beat BB I didn’t think much of it, honestly. I’d had a rather basic playthrough where I didn’t see pretty much any of the optional bosses or do any of the story. I did as Gehrman suggested and just hunted some beasts. I took a break from it for a while and didn’t return to it until my life started getting... Difficult.

My parents a year prior had gone through a rather turbulent divorce. In the wake of this, my sister and her boyfriend moved in so we could all help my dad pay for his house if only just barely. At the time we all knew even with four of us we didn’t make the type of money to help make payments and the inevitability of him loosing the house was a constant and looming stress. Worse still, my sister only agreed to move in if she was added to the mortgage, meaning she could threaten to sell on a whim, a privilege which she started using to strong arm me and my dad in to behaving a certain way. Her boyfriend was verbally abusive towards everyone, but especially condescending to her. Tension grew between all four of us, but especially between me and the boyfriend. I could ask my sister if she wanted to go out to lunch and catch up and she’d respond, “Let me ask my BF”. His control over her became apparent and the wedges he was intentionally drawing between her and our family was impossible to ignore.

All the while I was working a 4AM shift at a Zoo in the winter and barely getting any daylight or human contact since I had to be in bed so early to wake up for the drive. I cleaned a mile of glass in the dark every day non stop, only to have it be dirtied the moment the park opened. No matter how hard I worked to keep the park as clean as I could, even to the point of putting on dust masks to knock down spider, the higher ups weren’t happy with our companies work. As our contract was rapidly coming to an end, rumors began to circulate that we might not have it renewed if things didn’t improve. Worse still, someone had been stealing from the supply closet. Supposedly only the managers knew the code, and this sparked massive distrust in the Zoo staff towards our department to the point keys were taken away and our lives were made harder by no longer having access to vital shortcuts around the park which made getting from place to place take even longer in the miles long local.

This futility and rage sparked the most obsessive play through of a game I’ve had to date. Undeniably, these situations were hopeless and lonely, and Bloodborne is a game that understood exactly how I was feeling. The Hunt is, after all, an eternal nightmare. No matter how many beasts, kin, or humans you kill, it’s an unending loop of uncertainty and oppressive danger. The tenuous state of things in Yharnam was uncomfortably familiar. Only in the game, it was far easier to focus on the things I could control.

The weapon I wielded. The stats I chose to upgrade. Which path I wanted to explore. The fluid combat enabled more split second choices every second, helped in large part by a generous stamina bar. More so than Dark Souls, Bloodborne expects you, the player, to take charge. You either commit to an aggressive plan and kill the beasts, or you die.

When I first started, I played extremely cautiously and likewise did not have a lot of success. On new game +1, however, I began to realize that vital element. Hesitate and you die. Commit entirely and live. The more I played, the more I meditated on the very nature of what this game was communicating to me.

In my actual life, I hadn’t come out as trans yet and it was something I was viciously debating internally. Earlier that year I tried to commit suicide. I half came out in the hospital, telling the ICU nurses my name was Mike. But even in the psych ward I was terrified to speak to social workers and groups about those feelings... Being that I had 6 hours completely alone and in the dark, it gave me time to listen to a lot of media by trans people. I distinctly remember one video where a trans woman was describing what dysphoria feels like and openly sobbing. I was starting to understand the core of why I hated myself, my body, and my current situation so much.

But I was afraid. Even after the epiphany that I wanted to come out, I had a lot of doubt on if I could afford HRT, if I could commit to it, and what people would think. I worried starting T and in turn second puberty would bring back my horrible temper that I had going through it the first time. When I say I had rage problem, that’s putting it mildly. I’ve punched people before just for touching me when I was younger, and with the situation between me and my sister’s boyfriend getting more tense by the day I was rightfully concerned it might erupt in to actual physical violence.

And so... I continued to come home from being alone all to spend most of my time alone playing Bloodborne. It was a great game to keep my mind off of things because of how much focus it demands to play. Funny enough, once you get good at it, the beasts are also a great punching bag.

A lot can be said about how Blood Vials aren’t the best method of healing. Having to stop boss attempts because you need to go farm some red Estus isn’t great design. However, running around that first part of Yharnam with the beast claws just shredding through citizens like a wild animal is possibly the most cathartic thing in my life at the time. It made me feel powerful, unstoppable, and like I was in complete control. I knew exactly how to handle the big pats one by one, and eventually I got skilled enough to just run into that big mob by the tree and stop people anyway because of how good the audio queues are at letting you know when you gotta dodge. I spent hours in both this location AND Chalice Dungeons farming for Echoes and consumables to the point that controlling my character in Bloodborne feels as natural as walking.

I started beating the game faster and faster. I was on +5 difficulty and working on the DLC by myself when things escalated...

At this point, I knew staying at my dad’s house wouldn’t be possible. The verbal fights between me and my sister were getting more and more prevalent. More than that, I knew it was time to come out and I didn’t feel secure doing that in an environment that was actively hostile. The plan was to save up, move out with two friends... But moving out came far faster than I had anticipated.

A few days after my birthday, we had a family meeting. I don’t remember what sparked it, but we all sat around and voiced our complaints with each other. When it was my turn to speak, I brought up the fact my sister’s boyfriend had been intentionally isolating her on top of in general just being a jackass to her. He’d make her get things for him, call her stupid when they played games... The works. I don’t remember what he said that sparked it, but I remember the feeling... A really familiar feeling I hadn’t had in years. My pulse thundered in my neck so hard I couldn’t hear anyone over it. I started yelling incoherent shit. My sister stood in front of him because I was aggressively stepping forward. It was that temper I thought I’d knocked coming back. If she hadn’t gotten in the way, I’m absolutely sure I would have pummeled that man. I hadn’t felt that way since I strangled a kid in school to the point he nearly passed out.

It was then I knew I had to leave. By nature, I’m violent. I hate it. But the decisiveness which I’d slowly been building helped me find the courage to admit this.

I took off in my car and just hauled ass to the highway. I had a bloodborne CD I’d been playing on my way to and from work. It sounds silly, but larping I was just a hunter during those crushing morning shifts was helping me keep going. Sure it was hopeless, but I felt bad ass to keep trying. I needed to have an unbreaking will to deal with this dilemma. Having so recently made a second attempt to kill myself, I had this powerful urge that no matter what I couldn’t end up there again. So, I decided not to beat myself up about it and just accept that I had to move on and away from what little family I had left. I remember not really thinking words. I listened to Gehrman’s music on repeat with the windows rolled down going 78 miles an hour and just... Screaming. Literally screaming as loud as I could in to the night. Over and over again until it hurt just to breathe.

Even though I felt betrayed by the people I thought were closest to me there wasn’t anything I could do but endure.

Eventually I arrived my current roommate’s parent’s place where they were living at the time. I told her and her husband what happened. We went to the store for something. I got a call from my dad saying my sister was threatening to move out and apparently had yelled at him for not keeping me in line despite the fact at one point he’d physically gotten up and started yelling in my face to calm down. That was it. I asked my friend’s parents if I could move in temporarily and... That was that.

The next day we gathered up all my things. I had to leave my dogs which was possibly the most agonizing part.

But that night? I beat the orphan of Kos by myself on +5 on my computer monitor plugged in the wall and set on a box. Doing that was this weird extreme elation. It’s like I’d defeated two massively difficult, seemingly impossible tasks in one day. I’m glad I had help with the moving, though. Unlike Kos, that would have been impossible alone haha.

That weekend passed and I went back to work at the Zoo as normal. After I finished my shift, however, every employee in my company was called to a meeting. This was it. We all knew what was coming. We were to be laid off in December, giving us 3 months to find new work or apply to the company that was taking over the contract.

In the wake of this news, moral plummeted. No one really tried that hard. I was coming in high to work every day and drinking with a coworker during our shift while we tired our best to continue work. That last month I worked there was a weird drug addled haze of extreme emotions mixed with ignoring them in favor of listening to VaatiVidya lore breakdowns of Bloodborne.

I was going home and spending hours on art inspired by the general vibe of the game and my impossible to digest feelings. I’d lost my job, home, and family. I don’t know if I would have survived without both Bloodborne and my art as an outlet.

In the following months, I had gotten to New Game +7 and started recording myself trying to kill bosses without healing. Even though to this day no one watches these attempts but me, making them was frankly vital to keeping me distracted and focused on something I could control.

There was a time where I didn’t think Ludwig +1 was beatable but... Here I am two years later happily having 100% Bloodborne and beaten every boss on +7, most of them without even needing to heal.

The biggest lesson I took away from this game was persistence and decisiveness. The Souls series in general made me realize something huge that to this day has helped me fight my depression back. I’m a stubborn fuck who will grind and grind and grind until I finally achieve victory.

Fight for the progress you want to make. Things seem hopeless a lot, but you have to keep going. With effort, you can change anything you want to in your life.

Two years later, I’ve been doing HRT for 1 year and 3 months. I just had top surgery done. I’m working a job I like that’s got normal daytime hours and pays more than any work I’ve ever had with benefits. I don’t think I would have had the tenacity to stick to these things without realizing a fundamental aspect about my personality thanks to the help of Bloodborne specifically.

I can endure, learn, grow, adapt.

Thank you, Fromsoft. I hope this conveys a shred of what this dumb little game means to me. I needed Bloodborne so much when I moved out. I’m so glad it exists.

#Bloodborne #long post #personal

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