#sees that he’s SUFFERING. because Richie had one plan for his life! he was gonna get Michael out of the tomb of his addiction

[francesderwent]

you may not like it but Syd and Richie are literally the Elena and Damon of The Bear

#Richie is. arguably. the villain of season 1 #who has this long complicated history with Carmy but still they’re stuck with each other. eternity of misery. #Syd is the bright-eyed faith-filled catalyst that walks in and changes things for Carmy #but while she’s saving Carmy she’s ASKING Richie about Michael and seeing his soft-heartedness with his daughter! sees this side of him! #sees that he’s SUFFERING. because Richie had one plan for his life! he was gonna get Michael out of the tomb of his addiction #but it was never Richie it was always Carmy!!! Carmy gets the restaurant! Carmy gets the note! #and so Richie lashes out! #BUT #even though Syd can hurt him like no one else. she’s also the only person watching him sometimes?? #that ‘you good?’ in season one? #and then at the end of season two we see the Miss Mystic Falls moment: #Elena walks down the stairs with no one there to receive her and Damon steps up and waltzes with her in the sunlight #Syd is trying to open the restaurant and Richie steps up! #THEY are the team #Stefan and Carmy in the fridge self-destructing #I don’t ship them necessarily but it’s still true #Cate liveblogs!

[hacked-by-jake]

hi and also can you write this prompt 37 so youre just going to leave me here to die pair man without the face x mc thank you

Finally

A/n: Hi and thank you for your request. I have been waiting for this pairing, thank you! I hope you like it and please apologize the mistakes. Have a good day and stay healthy.💕

Prompt: “So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?”

Words: 1,9k

Warnings: (Unfortunately, I am really bad when it comes to warnings, should anything be added, he will gladly tell me) 

⚠️Mention of death. Use of weapons, blood.

-

"So you’re just going to leave me here to die alone?" choked the disgusting man lying at your feet. You really did, you shot the man who’s been making your life a living hell for months. Your life, your friends life, and all of Duskwood. The man who brought so much suffering and hatred upon you all.

Speechless, you stare at the gun in your hand, but you feel no remorse, no guilt. Honestly, you feel satisfaction. Because you didn’t shoot a man, you shot a monster. A disturbed monster that is free of any morality, any humanity.

"Yes, yes, I let you die alone, because you deserve nothing else! You attacked my family. And when you attack my family, you attack me, "you hiss with a mocking grin on your face.

You feel like you’re in a movie, the weather suits your situation. Light raindrops fall through the thick treetops around the forest. All around you you can hear ravens croaking that bring a gruesome mood. The flowers and trees look sad and let their heads hang. Further away stands a roe deer, frightened and on guard because of the loud bang as the bullet flew out of the gun. Well, and the most striking of course, the Bleeding Man. The Kidnapper. The Murderer. You snort bitterly and you get over the urge to want to kick him in his face. You had to shoot of him to defend yourself but if you kicked him then it would be another matter. You managed to stop him and everything you would do now wouldn’t make you any better than he is.

"Do you - don’t you want to take off my mask?" his hoarse voice pulls you out of your thoughts. He tries to straighten up his upper body a little by leaning on his left arm. "Stay lying down!" you growl and take a step back. You raise the gun and aim at his belly to protect yourself.

Luckily, he takes you seriously and immediately he sinks back to the ground and groans painfully from the fast movement.

"So? You have always been so curious, take off the mask," he demands and you can hear a little amusement.

"MC?" sounds a voice through the dense trees of the forest and attracts your attention. The others found you. When you made your way to the forest, you thought about informing them. You decided not to let them know until you reached the forest so that none of them could stop you. For whatever reason, you wanted to talk to the man alone first. Jessy sounded very angry on the phone and wanted to stop you from going into the woods alone. But you couldn’t listen to them, you were blind with anger and the need for revenge, and you were lucky because everything went well.

He’s on the ground, not you.

He was defeated, not you.

You won, not him.

You look back at him shaking your head, "No, I’m not gonna take that ugly sack off your head, you want to know why?" you don’t wait for his answer at all but continue talking directly. "Because you are nothing more than this ugly mask! Because you are nothing. Because I don’t care who you are! Your plan to get attention has worked out for a short time. But now, I don’t care who you are under this mask. You are disgusting and no longer relevant to this world".

"Uh outch, you hurt my feelings" he chuckles, pressing his hand on the bleeding part of his chest. "But, you played well. You have my appreciation, it was fun, a worthy opponent".

"You still think this is a game?" you spit at him with disgust.

"Yes, when you showed up, it became a fun game, before that it was almost boring. But thanks to you it really became a nice little pastime"

Your eyes narrow and you feel like you’re getting hot and cold.

You shouldn’t let him provoke you any further, not really listen to what he says, but your hatred of this monster was too great. Blinded by the rage, you kick some of the earth and the broken leaves from the ground on his damaged body .

"You’re dirt" you hiss, "Have fun dying" you give him another superior grin.

"MC where are you?" again you hear a loud voice roaring through the forest.

Without paying attention to the kidnapper again, you run in the direction from which the voice comes.

You run as fast as you can, full of adrenaline, full of joy, full of hate. So many mixed feelings rushing through a body and pounding in your ears. You’re running for your life, happy to be with your friends now.

But there is one feeling that stands out especially and drowns out everyone else. The feeling that he was finally stopped by your hand. You made the promise to stop him and you kept it. Whether he dies or not, he will never be able to hurt anyone again. And that’s all that matters.

After about 500 meters you see them all, the whole group, and additionally at least a dozen policemen with a dog squad. All worried and looking for you.

"I’m here!" you yell as loudly as you can, "here!"

Immediately, all heads turn in your direction. Jessy is the first one to run towards you. Breathlessly you fall into her arms and the first tears break out of you. Tears of joy and relief.

You know these feelings will be short-lived. Because no matter who the man is or what he did, you shot a living person. Once the adrenaline of the last 20 minutes disappears from your body, you will realize correctly what happened. And it won’t be easy to process. But the fact that he’s the man with no face will help you not feel entirely guilty.

But at this moment you cannot think about it, at the moment there is only reason to rejoice.

"Oh God MC, we were so worried about you!" Jessy sniffed at your ear.

"Oh, thank God you’re alive" you hear Richy next to you and feel him also laying his arms around you both.

The others also join your group embrace.

And so you stand here in the middle of the forest as you cry like a waterfall with the knowledge that is all good now.

You still hold the gun in your hand as you detach from each other.

A deep voice shouts, "Put the gun on the ground immediately, and move away".

Only now do you notice how the policemen’s weapons are directed at you for safety. The others quickly step away from you and obey the request of the cops.

Of course you also do what they say and put the gun on the floor to kick them to the cops. One of them takes the gun and removes the already empty magazine. Since you had no intention of shooting someone, you only had one bullet with you to save yourself when it was necessary. And it was necessary. Luckily you have at least a little idea how to shoot, even if your hit was more luck than reason. But it wasn’t very hard because the man without a face was pretty close to you when you pulled the gun and pulled the trigger without really thinking about it.

"All right, it’s not loaded," you assure.

And then you remember that maybe you should clarify that the raven man is still lying in the back of the forest, bleeding to death.

"The- the kidnapper is injured and out of action about 500 meters from here. He’s probably still alive, but he’s bleeding a lot. I had to defend myself and shoot him, but he’s gonna need help."

Four policemen set off without hesitation in the direction you showed them. One of the others reaches for his walkie- talkie and orders an ambulance.

"You shot him?" Richy asks in amazement.

"He attacked me, I couldn’t defend myself in a other way," you say.

"Never again, do you go into this forest alone! How do you get the idea to come here alone?" Jessy hisses, "Why don’t you tell us before? We would have accompanied you immediately".

"I had to do it, I heard the conversation from a policeman and Hannah, and I was afraid the officers would wait too long. So the best way, before he can escape, was to come here himself, and I wanted to talk to him before he is arrested. But then he wanted to attack me to escape. I’m sorry you had to worry about me." you look at your friends with a slight smile.

From further away you can hear sirens of the ambulance that was ordered.

"Do you think - do you think he’s dead?" Jessy asks carefully and pays attention to your reaction. She was afraid of how you’d react to that question.

"No, I’m pretty sure I can’t shoot that well. And honestly, I’d rather he rot in prison," you clench your hands into fists and tighten your jaw as his words come back into your head. 'A funny game'

"Let’s not think about it now, it’s over, we’ve done it," Cleo reassures you immediately.

"And we should talk to the police now, Hannah wants to meet her savior," Dan grins and winks at you.

"How is she?" you ask carefully.

"She has to stay in the hospital for the next few days, but she’s doing fine. Especially when we give her the message that it’s finally over," Richy looks proud at you.

Through the forest two paramedics come running towards you and at the same time they pull a stretcher behind them.

"Where do we have to go?" asks one of the helpers and at the same time you point in the right direction.

All but Dan, he’s pointing in the wrong direction, pretending there’s nothing going on. You held back a small grin and watched as the paramedics continued their way.

"Dan" hisses Jessy and has herself on her lips in a small smile.

"What? I saw about the bird in the hospital, I wouldn’t miss him," he shrugs.

"None of us would miss him," Cleo agrees.

During your conversation, some of the policemen had left and only Alan was standing a little off and waiting for your quiet moment.

"So sorry to interrupt you but we have to ask MC some questions before you can go to Hannah" slowly he came up to your group.

"Will MC get into trouble now? So, because of the gun and because she shot?" asks Jessy and clings afraid to your arm.

Yes, and then..the realization hits you like a punch.

You didn’t even think about, that you shouldn’t have that gun. And of course shooting people wasn’t legal either, but you had to defend yourself, who knows what else he would have done to you.

"Don’t worry, we’ll sort this out, I’ll make sure MC isn’t to blame. I’m standing on your side" he assures us, that we can do this together and smiles kindly.

Over time you have joined with him and found out some more details. To have Alan on your side, will become a really important plus point, in the course of time.

Relief spreads within you and you nod to him gratefully.

And as if the world had waited only for this moment, just now, the sun breaks through the treetops and shines directly on your small group.

The unpleasantly croaking ravens fall silent and are replaced by the singing of lovely birds.

The light wind warms up and the clouds fly by and leave a clear blue sky. The smell of rain and muddy forest soil is replaced by the fresh smell of flowers and bushes. Now.. now it’s finally gonna be okay.

---

🌹

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood prompt #duskwood mc #man without a face #duskwood mwaf #duskwood jessy #duskwood richy #duskwood dan #duskwood group #duskwood everbyte #everbyte studios

[ghostnebula]

Sincere and Dignified

“Eddie's twenty-first birthday + The entire Losers' Club + Las Vegas + Being in love with your best friend = Well, exactly what you'd expect.”

[read it on Ao3]

(or here)

    Eddie’s birthday is in November. Which makes him the youngest member of the Losers’ Club. Which makes him the last Loser to turn twenty-one.

    Which means they go all-out to celebrate, since it’s the first time they can all (legally) celebrate together. And because they’ve kind of forgone “proper” twenty-first birthday festivities for everyone else, so no one would ever feel left out. Finally, no one needs to be left out of it.

    They’ve all been living together for over three years now, they’re all getting close to graduating from college, and they all saved up for this one, because this is pretty much it. The last big, fun, tangible milestone in their young lives. The last “new” thing they’re earning the right to do (legally) after driving and voting. You bet your ass they go ham on Eddie’s birthday plans.

    That’s how they end up in Vegas. Several long weeks of planning, lots of money they scraped together into jars over the last few years ready to be spent, checking and double-checking every class syllabus to make sure no one misses anything important on Friday (they have to be at their hotel in time for check-in or, between Stan and Eddie, someone will pitch a fit). Then they’re all piling into Ben’s station wagon with as little luggage as they could manage to bring for a weekend trip (the station wagon is “spacious”; it is not a fucking miracle vehicle).

    Roughly ten hours later (five hours for driving, two for check-in plus cramming all their crap into the motel room and then attempting to organize it, one for figuring out and agreeing on where to even start with the partying, two more for getting ready) Eddie Kaspbrak has his first legal drink as a proper twenty-one year old, on this night of November third, and there’s no aftertaste of guilt like usual. He’s got Richie pushing shots into his hands, Mike making sure he’s eating some snacks once in a while so he doesn’t get too trashed too fast, Bev directing bartenders to make the most delicious fucking drinks he thinks he’ll ever taste in his life (Porn Stars, or something else inappropriate like that).

    He has Bill, the oldest, practically under oath to stay sober (at least for tonight) so there’s one semi-coherent Loser present to keep the rest of them safe and sane until he can drag them all back to the motel.

    He has a wad of cash in his pocket, a chunk of his savings from the past year, ready to blow on booze and gambling and whatever the fuck he wants, because it’s his birthday, so he’s allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants.

    It’s safe, and more importantly, it’s legal, and most importantly, it’s Vegas. He never thought he’d ever have the balls to set foot in a place like this -- the kind of place his mother would demonize when he was a kid. Drinking, before he left Derry and his mom and the vice grip she had on his life, was completely out of the question, let alone getting hammered in a casino in Sin City, of all fucking places, under the care of the “evil little shits” he calls his best friends.

    He more than lets loose. He lets twenty-one years of virtually non-stop anxiety unwind in one night.

    When he wakes up the next morning, hung over for the first time in his life, it’s almost worth it. Bill’s the only motherfucker awake already, being that he’s the only one who doesn’t have several bottles of vodka et al. to sleep off, and he’s draped across the ratty arm chair in their ratty motel room, channel-surfing with the television volume as low as it can get. The light burns Eddie’s eyes, still, when he lifts his head and -- instead of turning, his head just kind of lolls on his shoulders until he can look at Bill properly.

    He wants to ask him to end his suffering, which he can only assume he has yet to see the worst of. Suddenly he understands why aspirin exists. He wants Bill to pump him full of painkillers until he stops feeling like he’s made of electrified cotton. Instead, he says, articulately, “Guh.”

    Bill turns his attention from Scooby-Doo to where Eddie is half-lying, trapped under the weight of Richie’s arm and half his chest. Richie is snoring away, glasses askew on his face, a cooling puddle of drool soaking Eddie’s shoulder. It’s gross, but he can’t really complain at this point. He’s accustomed to it by now.

    “Ah, he lives.”

    “Ugh,” says Eddie.

    “I bet,” says Bill. “So, do you want a recap of the events of last night, or did you keep your promise and remember every life-altering decision you chose to make?”

    Bill’s voice, which he’s hardly putting much effort into keeping down -- owing to the fact that all his effort is being channeled into trying not to laugh, and Eddie can’t even begin to fathom what’s so funny -- is causing the other Losers to stir. His splitting headache doesn’t want him to try to figure out what’s funny. He must have fried a metric shitload of braincells with all those Porn Stars last night, or whatever the fuck sugary booze Bev was pouring down his throat before everything went hazy.

    “Life-altering?” he repeats after a few moments, as Richie’s arm finally stops crushing him. It’s the only word that really stands out to him in the jumbled mess of hangover discomfort his brain is fighting, and it should cause him anxiety but he’s more worried, right now, about drinking some water. Richie sits up beside him, yawning.

    Bill hums. He looks terribly pleased with himself, which can be good or bad depending which side of the story you’re on, and Eddie’s got this sneaking suspicion he’s on the wrong side, here. “Yeah, that life-altering thing I tried to talk you two dipshits out of for longer than the actual ceremony took?”

    “Ceremony?” Eddie asks, trying to feel back through his poor, poor brain to remember anything after slot machines and vibrant chatter and deceptively sweet beverages being passed to him. Richie’s head drops onto his shoulder as his arms wrap around Eddie’s waist. “Guh,” he says into the fabric of Eddie’s rumpled shirt. Habitually, Eddie reaches up to pat him consolingly on the head. Richie’s not one for mornings.

    “Why don’t you take a look at your ring finger, birthday boy?” Bill says, but Eddie’s already frozen, because there was a flash when he raised his hand and he’s not entirely sure he’s believing what he’s seeing, and where the fuck did he even get the ring anyway, let alone a ring as nice as this? “Or, sorry, I should say: Mr. Tozier?”

    Eddie... mostly ignores him, in favour of smacking Richie a few times on the skull to get his attention, hangovers be damned. “Richie,” he hisses, heart going a mile a minute. “The fuck did I do?”

    Richie grumbles some kind of complaint, lifting his head from its safe space on Eddie’s shoulder, and when he follows Eddie’s gaze he lets out a kind of... laugh? More of a squawk, really. His left arm jerks off of Eddie’s waist lightning-quick, and then he’s holding up his own hand beside Eddie’s to show off their matching rings. “Oh my god,” he says, quiet (for Richie). A little bit of tension melts out of him. Then, “I think you mean, ‘the fuck did we do?’”

    “Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks, and Bill loses his battle and dissolves into peals of laughter, remote slipping out of his hands and landing somewhere on the floor. “Bill, you were supposed to be babysitting.”

    It takes a while, but Bill manages to regain his composure long enough to say, “Well forgive me, but you were a man on a mission. I distinctly remember a lot of, ‘we’re practically dating anyway’ and ‘no time like the present’ and ‘Bill, if you don’t step the fuck off I’m gonna shove this ring so far up your nostril you’ll be sneezing gold until you’re ninety.’ What was I gonna do about it?”

    “Oh my god,” Eddie says again, red-faced, mortified, heart still going-going-going. They aren’t dating, though, is the problem, and yeah, he’s always had this stupid little idea in his stupid little head that they might as well be, but he’s never asked, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Wasn’t sure if it was safe. Wasn’t sure if Richie wanted something proper or to just stay very, very close friends until the grave. They weren’t dating, and now they’re married, and ohJesusMaryandJoseph why did he let himself get so drunk last night?

    He doesn’t expect Richie to be resentful or anything, but he’s also an anxious mess by default, and post-drunken-haze Eddie is a different, apparently less chill person than mid-drunken-haze Eddie, because he doesn’t remember having this freakout last night.

    He doesn’t think that Richie will be pissed about it, necessarily, but he’s terrified that Richie’s going to want to... undo this, somehow.

    He expects regret.

    He doesn’t expect Richie to slide his hand against Eddie’s so that their rings clack together, letting out a soft little, “Aw,” as he does so, or to press his scratchy, stubbly face against Eddie’s cheek to plant a kiss there, or to say, just as quiet and soft as ever, “We’re married, Eds.”

    “Is that okay?” Eddie asks, heart in his throat, wondering if he somehow forced Richie into this when he wasn’t in full control of his faculties.

    “More than okay,” Richie says. “Is it okay with you?”

    Eddie nods dumbly, staring at their rings again, wondering what the fuck possessed them to make such a rash, life-altering decision like this, yet understanding all too well that his love for Richie is too big to contain and it has to spill out in little doses like this, or it’ll probably kill him, or make him go crazy. “Yeah,” he says finally, nodding perhaps too fast. “Yeah, Richie, it’s more than okay.”

    He turns in Richie’s arms to kiss him properly, apparently not for the first time, and just the action brings a couple snippets of last night’s escapades abruptly to the surface.

*

    “$25 Weddings,” a pink neon sign outside a squat white chapel proclaims, “Sincere and Dignified.” And below that, in smaller, baby blue lettering: “Can provide: Flowers, Rings, Witnesses, Transportation, Attire...” The list goes on. It’s a wonder Eddie is coherent enough to read it, let alone comprehend it, but he’s rounding on Richie, whose arm he’s hanging off of, with the best fucking idea already leaping from his lips.

*

    “Ffffffuck Kaspbrak,” Eddie slurs as a reluctant Bill helps him slip on a suit jacket, fiddling with the purple clip-on bowtie Richie threw over the divider at him. “Fuck Kaspbrak, right, Rich?”

    “Right,” Richie says enthusiastically -- probably too enthusiastically -- from the other side of the thin wooden divider that separates their “changing rooms.”

    “Fuck that name,” Eddie decides, nodding to himself. Bill takes the bowtie out of his hands with a sigh, and Eddie lifts his chin to let Bill fasten it to his shirt, grumbling all the while about how stupid they both are. “And fuck my mom.”

    “Fuck your mom!” Richie shouts. There’s a beat of relative quiet, then, “Not, like, fuck your mom, obviously. Fuck... you, maybe?” And then Bev’s raucous laughter echoes through the whole room.

    Eddie can’t help laughing with her, even though Bill’s insisting he stay still “so you can at least look semi-presentable for your pictures, c’mon, Eddie, this is a big moment for me, too.”

*

    “How are you the bridezilla, here, Bill?”

    “Could you please just work with me here, I swear to-- agh!” (More laughter from Bev. Stan saying something incomprehensible but loud and boisterous. Mike trying to shush them.) “I’m just trying to make sure this is actually special since you absolute buffoons refuse to just wait and do this right.” Is Bill fucking crying?

*

    Richie’s tongue down Eddie’s throat, over and over and over: in the chapel; in a bar; in front of the bar; just before Bill drags them away from the casino they’re trying to sneak back into and instead towards the station wagon he’s doing his best to herd the Losers to; in the station wagon; in front of the motel.

    Bill prying them apart with minimal assistance from a piss-drunk Ben who insists he’s “helping,” telling them once again that they are not allowed to consummate their fucking marriage in public, and especially not allowed to do it in the motel room all seven of them have to sleep in--

*

    He hears Bev’s little “aww” behind him somewhere as he and Richie break apart, and Stan’s grief about how fucking early it is “for this shit.” Eddie can hear something like a smile in his voice, if not just plain old amusement.

    “We’re married, Rich,” Eddie repeats incredulously, and Bill is saying something about their marriage license in his wallet because neither of them can be trusted, but Eddie couldn’t care less about licenses or whatever, because Richie’s smiling down at him in that way that makes his heart feel too full. And he doesn’t mean to, but a choked noise bubbles up out of him, almost a sob, maybe a laugh. Tears burn in his eyes.

    But that’s alright, because Richie’s crying already, and he wraps himself bodily around Eddie, rolling them over so he’s squishing him into the mattress while he kisses all over his face and his throat until Eddie’s squealing with laughter despite his agonizing hangover. He almost feels too good to care about it now, but he’s definitely getting some water and painkillers into his system the second the weird high he’s feeling subsides.

    “Okay, okay,” says Stan, standing above them suddenly, swatting at Richie’s shoulders. “You’ve had your fun. Noisy assholes. We were too drunk for proper congratulations last night. Move over.”

    All the Losers squeeze themselves onto the queen bed, somehow, and water bottles and aspirin get passed around. At some point Bill gets up to start the coffeemaker and comes back with (good fucking lord) their “wedding photos” in a crisp manila envelope. They’re just as gaudy as he expected. Leave it to Richie to find the ugliest possible outfit for his literal wedding.

    Eddie gets hugs and shoulder-squeezes and cheek-kisses from everyone, over and over, and Bev actually cries for about ten full minutes while she holds him, then at least ten more while she holds Richie, and then Ben cries, and... well, they all end up crying all over each other, but it’s awash with joy. “We’re happy for you,” they keep saying, and Eddie’s happy for them, too. He didn’t expect to accidentally do things this way, but he has to be glad it happened.

    “God,” he says a while later, shaking his head as he sips sugary coffee from the mug he and Richie are sharing (this room is meant for four people, max, not seven, and is equipped accordingly). He’s still examining a picture of Richie attempting to give him a piggy-back ride out of the chapel. Bill is visible in the background, eyes red and puffy, a wad of tissues clenched in his hand while Mike tries to console him. Eddie has been making fun of him for about half an hour now. “My mom would flip if I told her about this.” But the thought doesn’t scare him. He doesn’t get scared of her anymore. Not like he used to. Not when he’s so far away and he feels so safe with these six idiots who bring so much joy to his life.

    Richie’s thumb rubs over the skin of his lower back where his hand has crept up Eddie’s shirt. “Good thing you don’t have to,” he says, and that familiar mantra of “You never have to see her again,” bleeds through, plain as ever.

    Eddie hums. Passes the coffee back to him. “I know. But... I kinda want to. Just to watch her head explode,” he says with a shrug and a grin, earning a chorus of easy laughter from his friends. He stares at the ring on Richie’s finger as Richie throws back the rest of their coffee, something warm and familiar blooming brighter in his chest.

#reddie #my writing #oh look i actually found time in the chaos of my life to post this #a miracle #also a fic short enough to just post the whole thing on tumblr??? #a second miracle #the losers club #cw alcohol #cw gambling #vegas wedding babey

[ladylyra]

do your nuzlocke characters all have names and stories and personalities? if so i want to hear more about your unova nuzlocke friends!

LONG POST AHEAD

Okay, so the protagonist of my soulsilver and white2 nuzlockes is named Halle, and while in soulsilver it was very much “her” story, i focused more on gijinkas and the pokemon themselves in white2.

rin, my sunflora, is the daughter of my sunflora, ieyasu, from my soulsilver nuzlocke. i figured if i was gonna use two sunflora they’d somehow be connected. she liked to be babied all the time, blamed her weaknesses on her unevolved form, and while she was considerably weak up until the time she evolved, it was also her mentality holding her back. in terms of character she learned to despise this mentality when she saw all her friends growing to surpass her. (kind of seen here) she saw how yuki, like her, remained unevolved for a period of time; her, without a stone, he, without a friend. she filled that hole for him. even if he was a bit insensitive at first, she really does feel a connection with him. they took down many gyms together! she is the binding factor to my entire team, helping keep everyone in somewhat high spirits even when things are tense. she and yuki’s relationship becomes romantic over time.

muramasa, my samurott, was a natural born leader. this was to a fault, because he’d always be getting into fights others would be more than capable of taking on. he’d always get himself hurt and, well, in the end, fainted because of that. despite being kind of stoic, he wears his heart on his sleeve (who knows, he might actually be expressive under the mouth cover.) for a while he failed to realize that protecting rin constantly wasn’t helping her grow. while he originally also doted on elline, he came to train alongside her rather than for her. very much a “big brother” to the entire team except for elline, who i always saw as at least slightly romantic.

elline, my krookodile, is a powerhouse, but shes kind of finicky; self proclaimed ‘princess of the desert’ she demanded to be carried around and treated like royalty all the time (murmasa obliged to this and they kind of fell into a princess/knight role.) despite her attitude she was and is one of the strongest members of my team, but it took time for her to get over her mentality and help without being asked to. after muramasa “died” she really couldn’t deal with the thought of becoming a leader and having the welfare of others on her shoulders, so she kind of withdrew, leading to rin becoming the leader despite her...or, well, what everybody else thought her to be. she was very wary of acai and nari when they first joined the team because it was right after jack and muramasa died. she has no patience for yuki and acai and how clownish they act.

wess, my umbreon, went from a humble city boy to a pop star. he loves attention of any kind, even negative, but preferably you’re fawning over him. he didn’t fully integrate into the team by the time i boxed him in favor of jack, but he was a useful member (aren’t all defensive tanks in nuzlockes?)

yuki, my swoobat, started out as a menace to society. he grew up in a cave, on his own for the most part, with little regard to how his “jokes” may have harmed others. he didn’t have many friends, the few he did were just as rude as him, so it’s not like he ever had someone there to check when he was acting like a jerk and make him realize what was socially unacceptable. being a pokemon that evolves by friendship, this lead to some problems. rin, the most bombastic and happy member of my team, became who i thought could cure this attitude of his. they were both the last to evolve on my team from their base forms at the time so there was some solidarity there, and she was also one of the first people who went out of their way to get under his unpleasant exterior and make him realize that there’s consequence that comes with his behavior. while originally he only had a “soft spot” for her, he eventually warmed up to anyone that would accept him. being a bit more conscious of his behavior now, he’s actually got major anxiety forming genuine connections with others, both from guilt over his previous attitude and wondering still if he’ll say something to mess things up. rin’s kind of like a safety net to him, and he’s also a big comfort to her, given how long shes known him at this point; after muramasa’s death, they were the ‘oldest’ members of the team (those i had the longest) so even in the ever changing landscape they were like security to each other. hes usually seen with her--theyre practically inseparable at this point--but besides that he can be seen with acai. the three of them are like a clown car.

richie, my cofagrigus, actually ties back to my platinum nuzlocke. i had a tentacruel named richie who died during the elite four and it was heartbreaking considering i had him for such a long time. he was very nerdy at the time, a bit shy, didn’t mend too well, but even then. he was my baby. two years later to now, i caught a yamask and i saw the opportunity and took it, naming it after richie. in the story canon, it’s the same richie. he suffers from amnesia and doesn’t have much direction in his life. he’s near constantly wondering what he’s meant for, why he’s here, and if he’ll ever be truly accepted by the team (in reality he’s kind of the one closing himself off and not interacting, but that’s his anxiety for you.) he blames himself for the death of jack (in real life i was debating switching in my altaria or him against hydreigon because either was risky....as you can guess, i made the wrong choice) and becomes even more recluse. jack and muramasa died in the same battle, so this coincides with rin becoming leader, at which point she near forces him to be included. he was a star player during my elite four run next to elline, by which point he finally gets his memories back, and wonders if he has finally proven himself to his old friends and new ones. (i actually did a small comic about this i never posted, i have a lot of small doodles that never make it to tumblr...haha...unless?)

acai, my vanilluxe, entered the team with a purpose. he would be the defeater of dragons now that jack was gone. he and nari came on the team at the exact same time, only a route apart, so i think they were friends, or at least acquainted, beforehand. they don’t mesh super well, considering acai is very laid back and happy and jokey and nari is always going on about his “training.” acai and yuki become good friends almost immediately; acai was almost like yuki but a lot less unintentionally rude and a lot more oblivious. he mostly hangs out with him and rin, who didn’t really plan that arrangement, but she does have a lot of fun around them, and she likes seeing yuki actually enjoy the company of others. he has a tense relationship with elline, even after she warms up to nari. he is completely unaware of this “tense relationship” because he cannot read the atmosphere.

nari, my mienshao, is pretty straight faced and serious. he puts a lot of value in his strength and focus whether it be mental or physical. he and elline are a bit standoffish at first because she was refusing to accept he was a member of the team, given her close relationship with muramasa, and her unwillingness to let any other people into her heart after being so hurt, but she does get to a point where she doesn’t mind him. i feel like maybe if my nuzlocke went on longer they would have been good friends; train together, hang out, all that...they do share a nature, after all.

jack, my altaria, was a relatively short member of the team, and he had died not long after i caught him. he helped me with drayden alongside richie and died at ghetsis. for the short time i did have him, i always saw him as a ‘do what must without any nonsense’ type of person; a little bit sassy and proper, but that may be to do with how i named him after one of my ocs that’s kind of in the same vein. he died at the same time as muramasa, and given i had muramasa for longer i was much more focused on losing him than jack.

lucas, my azumarill, was only on my team for the beginning of the team. i didn’t really have a need for him (in the least rude way possible im saying this) so i replaced him with...i believe it was yuki; that, or wess. i don’t really remember. anyways, he wasn’t the sharpest fellow, but he was certainly nice. before he left the team he and rin were close friends...by the time he was an azumarill she was still a little sunkern, to put into perspective how outclassed she was beginning to feel, haha.

obviously i had more time to develop some members more than others, but i do love them all dearly, and they’re probably my favorite nuzlocke bunch of mine. thank you for humoring my long rambling, friend!

#THIS TURNED LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE I JUST KEPT TYPING LIKE THIS IS THE MOMENT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR #nuzlocke #white2 nuzlocke

[trashmcuths-a]

‘i hate everybody’ starter                  @kspbrked

    thing is, richie should, theoretically, be fine. the kid-eating clown that haunted his childhood is dead -- for real this time. he can still feel the unpleasant squish of a beating heart between his fingers. the best friends he ever had are back in his life, filling up the rotting, cavernous hole inside of him. he’s out. finally. came out on twitter in real tozier fashion. ‘just checking in to say i’m not dead, just really gay.’ he followed that up by, ‘i’m not fucking with you. jesus. what do i gotta do? blow your dad on stage? fine. tell him to whip it out and i’ll go to fucking town.’ he’s back to performing. this time, he’s writing his own shit, which actually makes doing stand-up fun again. like, he doesn’t feel sick to his stomach whenever he walks off stage. his demographic is shifting from misogynistic frat boys to a pretty diverse group of people that don’t give him a debilitating migraine when they open their mouths. life should be good, right? like, he should be happy, doing cartwheels down sunset boulevard. he’s living his truth or whatever. 

    except the hole is still there, twenty years of loneliness and self-hatred still eating away at him like an infection. the first month or two after derry felt great, best high richie ever had. then, the inevitable comedown hit. most nights, richie wakes up screaming. always takes him a minute to realize that he’s covered in sweat and not eddie’s blood. during the day, the smallest shit can set him off. then he’ll zone out and find himself back in the cistern, watching helplessly as eddie hovers over him, blood pouring out his mouth. his drinking is steadily increasing, and he spends most nights blitzed out of his mind. recently, he hopped back on the benzo express. steve nearly popped the vein in his forehead when he found a bottle of klonopin in richie’s dressing room.

    so, richie is far from fine, and knowing he should be fine makes him feel even worse, like a spoiled kid who refuses to recognize all the good shit in their life. but, instead of reaching out, he isolates. his responses to the losers’ group chat are slim to none. he keeps bailing on plans to meet-up. when one of them calls, he rarely picks up the phone. bev leaves concerned voicemails, but richie swears up and down that he’s just “busy.” mostly, he just doesn't want to burden them with his failures or see the disappointment in their eyes when they realize what a fucking mess he is. but there’s also a part of him, a real shameful part, that kinda hates them. ‘cause bill has audra and is in the middle of writing another book. bev and ben are off being ridiculously in love, doing rich people shit, probably fucking at least five times a day. mike keeps sending photos from his many travels, talkin’ about what an amazing adventure he’s on. eddie is - well, from what richie has gathered, eddie is making some sort of effort to fix his fucking life. that’s more than richie can say. so, they’re all happy. most of them are in love. the losers are somehow fucking fine, while richie is inherently broken and, therefore, not fine at all.

    he’s on tour now, a welcome distraction, and currently performing for a relatively small venue in new york. the show is going well until richie spots eddie halfway through and falls silent mid-sentence. the audience rumbles with confusion, probably expecting another breakdown. not that richie notices. his eyes go wide, mouth falling open, and he forgets how to fucking breathe. their eyes meet for, like, a millisecond before richie looks away so fast that his neck cracks in a way that should warrant concern. “oof, bet you fucks thought you were in for a real show tonight, huh? yeah, i see you over there, lookin’ all heartbroken. i get it. witnessing a celebrity breakdown is way more interesting than hearing a middle-aged man wax poetic about his gay awakening for an hour and a half, but life is full of disappointments,” he says, then shifts back into the bit. the rest of the show is a blur. thank god he knows the routine well enough that going on auto-pilot is an option. sure, his performance is gonna suffer, but, if he doesn’t switch the fuck off, there’s a good chance he’ll start blowing chunks on stage. again.

    christ, why is eddie here? richie never invited him or even told him about the show, and eddie sure as shit didn’t give any notice. none of the losers mentioned anything. must be a surprise. shit, shit, shit. no way can eddie see him, like actually see him. no fucking way. out of all the losers, eddie is the very last person that needs to see the real richie.

    once the set ends, he half-jogs off stage, desperate to be literally anywhere else. he needs to not be sharing the same air as eddie kaspbrak. steve is talking in his ear, but richie waves him off. “i’m going to the bar. the one just down the street. call me tomorrow.” he pauses, eyebrows knitting together as if he’s deep in thought. “no earlier than noon, steve-o.” his manager shoots a disapproving look, but says nothing. steve is all about picking his battles, knows when richie is gonna be most receptive. they’re definitely gonna have the 'you need to slow down, rich’ talk sometime this week. fan-fucking-tastic.

    slipping out of a venue is always hit-or-miss. if a fan spotted him, game over. they would ask for a selfie or some shit. richie would oblige, ‘cause these new fans are usually really fucking sweet and turning them down feels like the equivalent of kicking a puppy. but one selfie always leads to dozens more, and he’d end up standing out in the cold for at least an hour. and, like, he usually could care less, but he refuses to risk running into eddie. fortunately, no one seems to recognize him. thank christ. richie digs his hands into his pockets, using the collar of his coat and a knit cap to obscure his identity, and power-walks his way to the bar. 

    once inside, richie makes a beeline for the bartender. he asks for the strongest drink in the place and downs the glass in one go. the burn momentarily distracts him from all the shit knocking around in his skull. he throws back another drink before catching the eye of some good-looking, twenty-something motherfucker that’s obviously making a pass. richie has a feeling the dude recognizes him and probably just wants to fuck around for the novelty of touching a sort-of celebrity’s dick, but he never sees that as much of a deterrent. since coming out, hook-ups are on the rise, ‘cause now he doesn’t have to worry about getting caught. everyone already knows, so he can get blown by this dude in a dirty bathroom stall if he damn-well pleases. and, like, sure, it might have something to do with the inescapable loneliness he feels. maybe he just needs a stranger to grip his hips and stick a tongue down his throat, so he can, for a second, imagine that someone actually fucking loves him. maybe he has a particular someone in mind. maybe he thinks about that particular someone the entire fucking time and hates himself the second it’s over, because that someone doesn’t want him like that and would probably be repulsed if he knew.

     and maybe richie is gonna fuck this guy anyway. he starts making his way over, but stops when he feels someone grab his arm. richie whirls around and --

    "oh shit.”

#kspbrked #all's well that ends well to end up with you // v4 . #i went way overboard #i wanna die #addiction // #ptsd // #it's almost one in the morning and i didn't proofread and my brain hurts #so anyone reading this better not judge my ass

[thelazyeye]

I reblogged that happy ending post and after reading your post I think I gained a better perspective that brings me to this conclusion. Sad endings are good too even if they hurt but a bad ending is when the ending could’ve been better and people always say those about the sad endings so in turn they think the sad endings are bad. Like in IT I hate that Eddie died because I think it would be better if he healed from his abuse instead of dying, but that doesn’t make it bad or badly written.

Hello hon! First off, I’m actually really fucking glad my angry rant offered you a new perspective! I love that you popped in here to chat about it and I really like what you had to say. Bad endings vs sad endings. 

Bad endings are one thing. Bad writing is one thing. Good writing ruined by a poorly executed or planned ending is one thing. And in most cases, you can tell when an author is goading readers for shock value or pain for the sake of pain. And even in those cases, sometimes readers LIKE IT. But if you want to talk about bad endings, then talk about bad endings not hard or painful endings because they’re two different things. 

That post just... it’s so fucking judgemental. It paints those well written but difficult and sad endings as “lazy” and “cheap” and “voyeuristic.” 

I love your point about people saying sad endings are bad because they “could have been better” bitch of course sad endings “could have been better” if better is happy and you want happy!! But just because YOU wanted happy doesn’t mean it NEEDS to be happy. Just because you didn’t like it doesn’t mean it’s bad. Some people really need to step back and evaluate the criteria they have for “bad writing” and see if it’s based solely on whether or not you liked it then it’s shitty criteria. You can hate good lit. You’re allowed to hate it if you hate it but that doesn’t take away from it being well done and good. 

Some people use fiction to escape and they want fluff and happy and feel good. They want happy endings with their angst and that’s OKAY. That’s valid as hell. Angst without a happy ending is a tough cookie to bite into and it’s not for everyone. But how fucking dare you say all stories without happy endings are bad, cheap, and lazy. Eat so much shit. 

And yes! Eddie’s death is so fucking tragic and so fucking painful. He suffered his whole life, was closeted and abused and then chose a loveless marriage bc it was safe and all he knew how to do. THEN he returns home and gets murdered by an evil space clown almost immediately. It was sad, it was difficult, it was a tragic ending with no resolution (and that’s not even mentioning Richie’s character journey) - but that doesn’t mean it was bad. 

I’m gonna go on a mini tangent here. I love that you used IT as an example here because I HATED the ending of the book. And idk if you read the book or if you’re just talking about the movie endings, but they literally go back to forgetting each other in the book and I thought that was SUCH A BAD ENDING to an otherwise pretty good (with many grains of salt) book bc that’s a major plot hole!!! Because IT’s magic is the whole reason they forget each other the first time and if IT is dead then they shouldn’t forget each other!! My criteria for naming that as a bad ending is what the fuck Stephen King did you forget your own lore because I didn’t

#Anonymous #Em Answers

[gaspbrat]

Senior Year Hues

not blues

au where IT is just a normal travelling clown.

Georgie is alive and well.

As is the prom haze.

warnings: angery jealous eds, swearing

ENJOy, I don’t know why I never posted this. Undoubtedly was part of an entire series.

wc: 3500+

Gretchen Tozier was a beloved and respected 1968 partially black Barracuda “carefully” handed down through the family. Gifted to Richie’s uncle in ‘71, pawned off on Richie’s dad following his uncle’s first DUI and the damage that came with it in January of '72.

Two matte grey mismatched panels on the driver side door and the front bumper were added, hoped to be finished by '73 so Richie’s older sister could joyride through her senior year, seven years later. Thanksgiving that same year, though, dear Uncle Andy rolled through Derry again. He borrowed the car for about twenty-six minutes before overturning it on an embankment near Neibolt. Gretchen was towed, fixed and released back to his father a few months later. His uncle spent the night in the drunk tank, receiving his second and final DUI. Andy hasn’t returned to Derry or their lives since.

To his sister’s distaste, she would not be able to take it a few hundred miles down the coast to college with her like she had hoped. His parents told her she needed to buy her own, especially with her living on campus. She does, a beat up ‘88 Mitsubishi with peeling forest green paint and a bumper that didn’t match.

Richie, upon turning 15, bought her off of his dad for fifty dollars and a pay stub in '91. She has been appreciated properly for the next three wonderful years. Only the finest of company near Ol’ Gretchie.

Eddie definitely hated the ridiculous, loud, obnoxious piece of junk. He definitely didn’t end up falling for that piece of junk just like he did with its driver. Out of the question.

He didn’t get excited when he heard the rhythmic drumming of the old engine approaching his street from a block away.

He most certainly did not love the homey fabric of the seats with endless rips in them or the faint lingering smell of the little trees Richie puts up to mask the ghost of cigarettes past. (Eddie is almost certain they aren’t Richie’s, but if they were he knew Richie would never admit it.)

Eddie did not love that car. Whatsoever. But he did find a place in his heart for all the memories made with it. With him.

So when Richie told him he had to take it to the dump, Eddie nearly lost it.

“What do you mean you’re trashing it, I thought you loved that thing?!”

“Eds, why are you getting so upset, I thought you hated it?”

“I do (not), but… it’s sad seeing you just get rid of it like that.”

“You’re gonna miss ol’ Gretchie aren’t you, spaghetti?”

Richie knew his car didn’t actually need to be trashed entirely it just needed a few major repairs that he knew he would never be able to afford. At least not soon; not for another three months until he could save enough. And if Eddie found out he’d dump his savings into that thing no question. His little hypochondriac was far too good to  him. Even if he wasn’t his yet.

Eddie always was ready to help Richie any way he could, he knew that wholeheartedly, but his stupid damn pride would not allow it.

Richie took up working overtime on the weekends just so he could get back to driving his little Eddie bear around Derry as soon as possible.

Gretchen was a staple in the Tozier’s Promposals. She accompanied his parents to their prom. He was not about to break this tradition just because of his bank account. Eddie deserved the best carriage for his first prom. He was going to have to swallow his pride and buckle in for the most agonizing waiting game of his life, so far.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie called over to his friend, remembering an invitation he was to extend, snapping Richie from his brooding, “Bill’s having a sleepover tonight, did you want to go? He said you can pick the movie.”

Eddie’s smile was so genuine and hopeful the he almost said yes just so he could keep that smile right where it belonged always but he remembered he had to close tonight and work the mid shift tomorrow. And Bill never let him pick the movies, ever.

“Wish I could but I work tonight. Sorry, buddy.” he patted Eddie’s shoulder and gave him a weak smile.

“You’ll get along without me though, won’t you, Eds?”

“I guess… yea.”

Richie immediately wanted to take it back just to see that smile. Just to see those damn dimples.

He seemed to have gotten his wish when he noticed those big brown eyes light up.

“What about tomorrow? We could go see that movie you wanted to see?”

Again, almost horrendously, Eddie looked so hopeful to be spending time with him that Richie’s frozen heart thawed, just slightly.

“My old man wants me to help him get my sister’s junk out of the house and down to her dorm this weekend, shit, I’m really sorry Eds.”

Richie really really hoped Eddie would leave at that but of course not. He really wanted trashmouth to suffer even if he didn’t know he was suffering.

“..I could help?”

Eddie knew he just grasping at straws here but he really missed being annoyed by this dumb stupid asshole every day even though he would never tell him that.

“Eds, I’d love for you to,” the smaller boy’s eyes twinkled, “but there probably wouldn’t be enough room?”

He knew he didn’t sound convincing. Not at all. He just didn’t want to think about it anymore. He wanted to just get work done so he could get paid and then never ever ever have to see this look on Eddie’s face again.

“Oh. Yea, you-you’re probably right, um, sorry I asked. Maybe next week, I guess.” Eddie decided it was best to just give him his space at that point, turning away from him, trying to end the conversation.

“Eds, wait-”

“Stop fucking calling me Eds.”

Richie didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the weekend after he dropped him off at Bill’s that night. Partially from working almost the entire weekend, partially because Eddie had avoided him as much as he could.

Somehow Eddie managed to steer clear of anything remotely related to Richie that next Tuesday.

The taller boy caught a couple glimpses of him the previous school day but he would disappear before anything could be said between them.

Richie sauntered over to the rest of the losers at lunch to find Eddie absent like the day before.

“Hey, where’s Spaghedward?”

“We thought you would know, didn’t you guys just have chem?” Ben answered from beside Stan.

“Yea but he darted off somewhere in a hurry. I thought he’d be here.” Richie turned around hoping to spot Eddie coming from the bathroom or something.

“He seemed kind of upset when I talked to him earlier, what’s going on?” Beverly interjected after swallowing her first spoon of peach yogurt.

Stan ate in silence while the others discussed what could be wrong. He eyed Richie with what others would call just blatant disgust but hid it behind his thermos of chicken noodle soup.

“Yo, Stan, what do you think?” Richie finally asked him directly. He knew something.

“I think you should talk to him.” Ben responded before realizing he wasn’t the one with the answer Richie wanted.

“I second that. Talk to him.” Mike said around his turkey and cheddar sandwich.

Beverly and Bill simply nodded as they picked through their lunches.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Stan very quietly said, focusing pointedly on his sandwich.

“Why not?” Richie started to get impatient. Stan knew something he didn’t and it was clearly upsetting enough that Stan couldn’t hide his distaste. More than usual.

“He clearly just wants some space, I think you should respect that, okay?”

Stan started to raise his voice slightly and that immediately made Richie eight times more concerned knowing that Stan, of all people, was trying to keep Eddie away from him. Stan quickly picked up his tray and dumped it into the trash before heading down one of the halls.

Richie gave Beverly a kick under the table.

She initially was annoyed but softened when she saw the beat up Docs that had kicked her, nodding without a word. She kicked back twice, the second kick stronger than the first.

“Ow,”

“What, Richie?” Bill raised his head.

“Nothing just kicking myself.”

Lunch proceeded in near silence. Richie was silent for once while the others gossiped about their classes. He was debating the decision to ditch his last period to be early for work. Craig would appreciate him showing up and relieving him early, anyway.

The others returned to their classes and the day sailed by. After school most of them, save for Richie and Mike, met up by the racks to see each other off. Beverly and Ben made a plan to head to the library to cram for their English final tomorrow morning. Bill was planning on tagging along but decided to spend some time with Georgie instead.

Stan knew he didn’t want Ben to third wheel, even though it was evident Bill would be the outlier.

“Bye guys, see you Monday!” Eddie called to the other three losers as he and Stan got on their bikes to head home.

“Oh, hey can we stop by the store really quick? I need to pick up some more of the Nutty Buddies for my mom.”

“Sure.” Eddie didn’t think twice about the grocery run given Mrs. Uris had an acute craving for peanut butter after four.

He was unaware, however, that Stan had set a plan in motion.

Just so happens that the general store was directly across the street from the arcade. Eddie immediately got excited and thought to tell Stan they should go say hi to Richie. Then he remembered Richie telling him he had to help his sister today and brushed it off.

The two went inside to pick up the Nutty Buddies. Stan bought a kit-kat and a bag of chips for him to eat after dinner later.

“I don’t know how you can eat all that junk Stan, how do you sleep at night with your teeth just-,” Eddie stopped nagging momentarily as something outside of the store caught his attention. A dark green, vaguely familiar, car pulled up outside the arcade.

He saw Richie pop out and walk into the arcade with a can of Shasta cola in his hand and a snickers hanging from his mouth, leaving who Eddie assumed was his sister to drive off.

Weird. Thought she would still be in New York right about now.

“Eddie whats going on? You stopped yelling at me.”

“Shut up Stan, look!”

Eddie pointed out the window towards a car he noticed was parked every other season in the driveway.

“Wait, I thought you said he was helping his sister.” Stan inquires further, knowing far better.

“He said he was.” Eddie was immediately disappointed for a reason he wasn’t sure of yet.

Their investigation was put on hold while the clerk rang up their items. She tried starting small talk but Stan just replied curtly with, “Not interested, thank you” while waving a twenty in her general direction.

Eddie supplied a ‘thanks’ to Stan for buying the goods without once looking away from the arcade, observing a cloud of teenage girls huddled in a corner. Their ring leader was approaching the glass and Eddie started to feel dread at the pit of his stomach. He nudged Stan and then started bagging erratically.

They gathered the items and bolted out the door, trying to make sure they could see Richie through the glass without him seeing them.

“Wait, who’s that girl?” Eddie said after a long period of silence.

“Looks like Melissa Cromwell. She’s pretty hot du-.” Stan passed on the general rumor he heard relentlessly from around town. They made him sick but she was definitely well recognized by most boys.

“Shut up, Stan, who asked you?” Eddie whipped out, hoping his words stung like the sting he felt in his chest at this moment.

“You.. did-”

“What the fuck is she doing?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He scoffed but let Eddie’s rambling continue, however, because he had a feeling that Eddie cared a lot more than it already seemed he did. He hasn’t said anything to Stan like ‘Hey I’m bangin’ Richie now, deal with it’ but they’ve been spending a lot of time in each other’s company as of late.

He also knew exactly what a little jealous sap Kaspbrak was like so he didn’t intervene; didn’t mean he couldn’t feed the flame just a bit. Richie was being dismissive and kind of a dick lately, not that that’s anything new. Stan just didn’t want to see his friend tossed over a cliff over this dirt bag.

“Oh my God he’s making her laugh? Look- look at that!”

“I mean, yea? They have Lit together.” Stan announced with his all-knowing bird brain. He saw all and only repeated what he wanted to.

“Why do you care about what Richie fuckin’ Tozier does with his wa-”

Eddie turned to Stan and gave him the look.

Stan shut his mouth tight.

“He lied to me Stanley and know he’s chatting up that hot chick.”

He would never say it to Eddie’s face, (Richie’s face is another story) but Stanley didn’t truly understand what Eddie saw in that asshole. Richie was a dick about three-hundred percent of the time. A dick to Eddie three-hundred percent of the time. He was also for some reason intensely obsessed with his mom.

Stan decided it was best to just let that ship sink on its own eventually when the captain abandoned it. However, if he saw a time bomb ticking down the hull of that ship, he would hop on that lifeboat without a single word and paddle away, letting the pieces fall behind him.

But he couldn’t do that to Eddie.

Right?

The pair noticed the girls all call his name as they exited through the glass doors, cackling with their mob mentality. Stan found them repulsive but knew most guys saw the other qualities.

“Eh, Richie makes a lot of girls laugh sometimes. I guess they think he’s funny?” Stan attempted to level out some of the doubt surrounding his friend.

Much to Eddie’s dismay, Richie started to head back outside of the arcade.

He let out a panicked ‘oh fuck’ before darting off into the alley and biking through it, he didn’t care where he went he just wanted to get far from there.

Stan was struggling with the bag and his kickstand and failed to notice the quick departure of his friend.

He started off a moment later but hesitated when he saw Richie following Melissa further down the street holding a pair of sunglasses and a sharpie in his hands.

Bright neon lights blinked in the arcade window with a welcoming glow. It felt like home to Richie. Except he worked there and wasn’t allowed to play (unless it was empty because it was so slooow after eight).

He got out of his sister’s car with a quick ‘thanks, sis’ before closing the door and heading into work. He wondered what bullshit he’d have to put up with today as he munched down on his snickers.

Richie immediately noticed Melissa and her biters at Pacman not far from the counter. He knew all too well that it yielded almost no tickets at all.

“What’s up, Craig?” he called from around his almost-gone snickers.

The mid-twenties blonde looked up from his comic to acknowledge the brunette boy before him with his hand outstretched in a fist. They bumped fists before Richie set down his shasta on the glass prize display case so he could vault the counter. He landed with a huff loud enough to peak the interest of one of the vapid cheerleaders. It wasn’t hard, none of them were at all focused on collecting dots.

“Those girls came in about a half hour ago. One of them was asking about you.” Craig was telling Richie offhandedly while the younger brunette took off his leather jacket to replace it with his work shirt.

“They’re annoying please, just, like, give them your number and be done with it, totes,” Craig started to bust out laughing while he took off his work shirt and headed into the back of the store.

Richie bent down to put his keys and jacket under the register, pausing when he heard a light giggle from above him.

Fuck.

He slowly got up to face whoever was waiting on the other side of the counter.

“Heey, Richie.” Melissa was leaning on her hand with her elbow propped up on the glass of the counter.

Richie took small a step back from the register.

“Hi, Melissa.”

“I, um, wanted to exchange these tickets for something.” she reached into her back pocket and brought out a pitiful stack of tickets.

Absolutely pathetic.

“Okay.” Richie took them and put them into the ticketing counting machine next to him.

27

“You have twenty-seven.” He said back plainly.

“Ooh, jackpot.” she said slyly smiling as she bit on the end of her sunglasses.

“You can get a finger puppet, a pocket alien” He began listing the lowest tier of redemption.

“A pair of dice,”

“Or jelly bracelets.” The short list came to an end, his attention being returned to the glinting eyes across the counter. He took note of how flattering this direct light would be on anEone else. He pushed it back and awaited her decision.

“Can I get that one?” she pointed to a particularly adorable bear toy.

“Oooh, no sorry. You don’t have enough tickets. How sad.” he clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side.

“How many more do I need?” She asked with a horrible attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“One.”

“Let me check,” she dug into her back pocket, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Ah-hah!” Melissa pulled out a single ticket, setting it on the counter and sliding it across to him.

“Lucky you.” he said so sarcastically he almost sounded believable.

Richie turned the ticket over before putting it into the machine revealing red numbers and a call me in sloppy cursive loops with,his favorite, a little winky face. He paused, collected his nerves before presenting her with a coy smile.

“I’m sorry, this ticket has been tampered with. I can’t accept this.” he slid it back, grinning.

“Fine. Then I’ll take the,” she leaned much farther than necessary over the counter to point to a tiny alien on a key chain.

“Weird ass alien thing.”

“All yours.”

“Thank you.”

She winked at him before returning to her gang of much too giddy single sheeple friends.

He couldn’t wait to tell Eddie all about this petty ordeal but then he remembered he probably wouldn’t see his best friend until tomorrow at lunch if Eddie showed. Maybe he’d sneak out tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Melissa and company head towards the exit.

“Bye Richie.” they all called in shrill unison as they left the arcade, giggling manically to each other. Melissa dangled her alien keychain from hier pinkie as she turned away.

Fuck he hated his job.

He crossed his arms on the glass that he would need to clean anyway and rested his head on top of them. His nose bumped something on the counter causing him to jolt up.

Fuck.

Richie picked the glasses up off the counter before vaulting it again. He walked with some urgency through the glass door after Melissa.

Lucky for him she was lagging behind her friends while they undoubtedly chattered among themselves about how perfect him and Mel would be together. How great they would look together at prom, most likely.

“Melissa!”

Eddie’s bike was thrown into the dirt far from the arcade while he sat down on a rock and used his inhaler. He hasn’t biked that fast since they had to chase Bill to that stupid fucking house on neibolt. That house that he broke his arm in. The house that the clown tried to eat him and all of his friends in.

That goddamn house where Richie set his broken arm after relentlessly trying to keep his focus on that motherfucking shit clown.

He coached his breathing back down to mildly panicked just before he saw Stan biking rapidly towards him. He seemed shocked.

He immediately worried if Richie had seen his buddy Stan and stopped him.

“Hey Stan, what’cha got there, lube for you dad?”

“No it’s Eddie’s snacks, he bolted like a bitch when you came out.”

“Oh damn, well, I got Melissa’s digits and I would have wanted to tell him that his mom’s gonna have to wait unt-”

“Eddie!”

Stan shook his shoulder lightly.

“Wait, when did you get here?”

“Like a minute ago while you were lost in thought, dude.”

“Shit. Damn.”

“You okay?” his only sanity broke off at Stan’s useless question.

“No, Stanley, Im not o’ fuckin’ kay.”

Thanks for readin’! Much love

#reddie #it 2017 #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stanley uris #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #2 years old #lol i suck #pt 1 #gaspbrat #reddie fics #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #slowest of burns #syhnb #fics

[sedanleystanley]

Comforting #7? With whichever ship you want!

You’re right here and so, I am happy. Right now, I am happy.”

A/N: I chose Stanlon, I hope that’s okay! This was super fun to write, I hope you enjoy it! It’s a combination of the book and the 2017 movie version.

Word Count: 1,716

MASTERLIST

When Stan picked up the phone at 3:28 in the morning, his sleep-muddled brain couldn’t make sense of what the person on the other end was saying.

“Stan?” Mike’s voice cried through the landline. “Stan are you there?”

Stan, still being half asleep, mumbled into the mouthpiece, “Mike? It’s the middle of the night, why are you calling me?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The phone was quiet with hesitation, “Nevermind, it was stupid anyway. Just go back to bed.” But by this time, Stan’s muddled brain had cleared enough to hear the pain in Mike’s voice.

“Mike, don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?” Knowing Mike, he quickly added, “And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong, I can hear it in your voice.” he waited patiently for an answer, but none came. To Stan though, that was answer enough. “Mike, stay there.”

He heard Mike’s crying stop for a split second, followed by a sigh. “Stan you don’t ha-”

“No, don’t say that I’m coming over. Don’t move.” And with that, he hung up the phone.

********

Mike laid in bed, trying to forget his reasons for being upset. Not that it was easy, he tended to be an overthinker, when it came to bad things. He twisted and turned, desperately wishing to just go to sleep. But it was no use. He was stuck in his own head, tears streaming down his face.

Sighing, he threw off the covers, letting the cool air hit him. Wiping his eyes, he tried to see something in the darkness of his empty room. The first thing that caught his eye was the phone. Without thinking, he sat up and snatched it, dialing the number he knew all too well.

Before he even registered what he had done, Mike called out into the silence of the phone. “Stan? Stan are you there?”

“Mike? It’s the middle of the night, why are you calling me?” The sleep in Stan’s voice made him finally realize what he had done. He faltered.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Mike mentally facepalmed himself. What had he done? Woken Stan up, and for what, his dumb problems? “Nevermind, it was stupid anyway. Just go back to bed.”

Mike pulled the phone away from his ear and was about to hang up when he heard Stan calling through the phone. “Mike, don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?” He quickly put the phone next to his ear to tell Stan it was nothing and hang up before embarrassing himself any further.

“And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong, I can hear it in your voice.” Damnit. Mike didn’t know what to say, he knew he had to tell Stan something, but he didn’t know how to put his fears into words. Stan sensed Mike’s lingering silence and decided he needed to do something.

“Mike, stay there.” Mike’s eyes widened when he realized what Stan was planning, and what he had done.

Holding his breath, he thought about how much he could use a visit from his favorite Loser. But he couldn’t possibly do that to Stan. He needed his sleep. “Stan you don’t ha-”

“No, don’t say that I’m coming over.” The line clicked and Mike groaned, doing his best not to feel guilty. Stan had insisted, after all. But it was nearly 3:30 in the morning. ‘Great’, Mike thought. Another worry to pile onto his already stressful night. But it was too late. Knowing Stan, he was already halfway there. All he could do was wait. Holding his head in his hands, he let himself be consumed by his negative thoughts once again.

********

Ten minutes later, Stan was at Mike’s house, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to knock on the door, he might wake Mike’s parents. He also didn’t want to just let himself in, but at this point, there was no other option. Stan made his way around back, where the back door was always left unlocked, no matter what. Will and Jessica Hanlon did this on purpose. Per Mike’s mother, “What if one of Mike’s friends has an emergency?” Stan chuckled a little. She was close, he wasn’t the one who had an emergency.

Remembering why he was there, Stan ran to the back door, opening it as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to wake Mike’s parents. Making his way into the house and up the stairs, Stan skipped the squeaky step at the top of the stairs before quietly scurrying to Mike’s room at the end of the hall. What he saw broke his heart clean in two.

Mike sat on the floor, his back against his bed, head in his hands. Muffled sobs could be heard from the doorway. Stan walked over slowly, sitting in front of him. Reaching over, he slowly pulled Mike’s hands away from his face.

Taking them in his lap, Stan stared into Mike’s eyes, seeing all the pain and suffering that lay there. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Mike simply looked down at his hands in Stan’s lap, not saying anything. Tears ran down his cheeks, tracking tiny rivers on his face. The two boys had known each other long enough to hear the words in the other’s silence.

Somehow, Stan understood. “How many today?”

Sniffling, Mike sighed. “Fifteen. Fifteen, Stan! Why do they expect me to do this? They know I hate it!” Stan thought for a moment before wrapping Mike’s arms around himself and wrapping his arms around Mike. Instantly, Mike grabbed on tightly, climbing into Stan’s lap and burying his head into his neck. All Stan could do was hold him, letting him cry out his troubles, whispering quiet reassurances in his ear.

They stayed that way for a long time before either said anything. After a little while, Mike pulled back, small hiccups escaping from his throat. Stan smiled a little, relieved Mike wasn’t crying anymore.

However, dark thoughts were stuck in Mike’s mind, ones he couldn’t simply forget by crying it out. He had full-on spiraled. “How can anybody be happy in a world like this Stan? How can I be happy in a world like this? People just kill animals to eat, everybody hates each other, everybody hates me. What am I supposed to do?”

Stan was quick to answer, taking Mike’s face in his hands to calm his mind. “I don’t hate you. Neither does Eddie or Richie or Bev or Bill or Ben. We all love you. And you can be happy. I mean, I’m happy. It’s not a perfect world, but I have you. You’re right here and so, I am happy. Right now, I am happy.” Stan looked into Mike’s eyes and saw relief. Relief that Stan was here for him, relief that his worries were fading, relief that he wasn’t alone.

“Mike, it’s gonna be okay. Sure, the world can suck sometimes, but it’s not all bad. You have the Losers, and you have parents that love you. And you have me. You know I’ll always be here for you. You know that right?” At this point tears had pooled again in Mike’s eyes as he nodded, so thankful for Stan.

“Thank you Stan. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thanks for coming over, even in the middle of the night. You should get back home. I’m okay now.” After finally getting his head on straight, Mike became worried that Stan wouldn’t get enough sleep because of his call.

Stan feigned shock. “Are you kidding? There is no way I’m leaving you here alone tonight. It’s fine if I stay the night, right?” Despite not wanting to leave his friend alone, Stan didn’t want to overstep and force Mike to let him stay.

Shocked that Stan would do that for him, he responded, “I-I guess if you’re sure you want to.” Satisfied, Stan nodded a little, before pulling Mike down to hug him again.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me.” And he did. they stayed like that all night, never moving from their spot on the floor. They talked for hours, before slowly drifting to sleep.

The next morning started for them when they were woken by a sound. A coo. There stood Mrs. Hanlon, in the doorway, gazing down at the two boys on the floor. Neither had moved their position in their sleep, Mike still sitting on Stan’s lap. They both turned bright red when they realized they had been caught, Mike quickly scrambling up off of Stan’s legs. Neither would admit it, but they both missed the contact as soon as it was broken. Mrs. Hanlon chuckled, knowing exactly what was going through their heads. She walked out to make the two tired boys breakfast.

Mike reached a hand down to help Stan up, Stan immediately grabbing it and pushing himself off the floor, his back cracking and popping. Groaning, Stan leaned over to stretch his aching joints.

Mike immediately felt guilty. After all. Stan only fell asleep on the floor because Mike had fallen asleep on him. “I’m sorry. We should have gotten up. You should’ve woken me so you could get up!”

Stan chuckled, still reaching for his toes. “It’s fine. You were finally asleep. Besides, you looked so peaceful. I couldn’t have woken you.” He stood up straight. “Did you sleep well?”

“Best I’ve ever slept in my whole life.” He smiled. “But next time, if I fall asleep on you and you’re not comfortable, wake me up, okay?”

Stan grinned. “Does that mean there’s going to be a next time?” Mike blushed intensely, mouth open, trying to make up an excuse for what he had let slip.

“I-I, I mean, what I meant was,” He stammered for a couple seconds before Stan interrupted him.

“I promise, next time, I’ll wake you.” And with that and a kiss on the cheek, Stan ran out and downstairs to the breakfast Mike’s mom Han prepared for them.

Mike stood there for a few moments, jaw hanging, his hand on his cheek before he really understood what happened.

His brain finally caught up with his body, and when he finally realized what Stan had done, he absolutely beamed. He chased after Stan downstairs, the smile never leaving his face.

#stanlon #prompt request #stanley uris #mike hanlon #IT #mike x stan #stike #You’re right here and so I am happy. Right now I am happy.”

[itgraphsandcharts]

“You’re right here and so, I am happy. Right now, I am happy.”

A/N: This was requested on my other account, @sedanleystanley by @lo-is-not-coolio I hope you enjoy it! It’s a combination of the book and the 2017 movie version. Word Count: 1,716 When Stan picked up the phone at 3:28 in the morning, his sleep-muddled brain couldn’t make sense of what the person on the other end was saying. “Stan?” Mike’s voice cried through the landline. “Stan are you there?” Stan, still being half asleep, mumbled into the mouthpiece, “Mike? It’s the middle of the night, why are you calling me?” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” The phone was quiet with hesitation, “Nevermind, it was stupid anyway. Just go back to bed.” But by this time, Stan’s muddled brain had cleared enough to hear the pain in Mike’s voice. “Mike, don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?” Knowing Mike, he quickly added, “And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong, I can hear it in your voice.” he waited patiently for an answer, but none came. To Stan though, that was answer enough. “Mike, stay there.” He heard Mike’s crying stop for a split second, followed by a sigh. “Stan you don’t ha-” “No, don’t say that I’m coming over. Don’t move.” And with that, he hung up the phone. ******** Mike laid in bed, trying to forget his reasons for being upset. Not that it was easy, he tended to be an overthinker, when it came to bad things. He twisted and turned, desperately wishing to just go to sleep. But it was no use. He was stuck in his own head, tears streaming down his face. Sighing, he threw off the covers, letting the cool air hit him. Wiping his eyes, he tried to see something in the darkness of his empty room. The first thing that caught his eye was the phone. Without thinking, he sat up and snatched it, dialing the number he knew all too well. Before he even registered what he had done, Mike called out into the silence of the phone. “Stan? Stan are you there?” “Mike? It’s the middle of the night, why are you calling me?” The sleep in Stan’s voice made him finally realize what he had done. He faltered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Mike mentally facepalmed himself. What had he done? Woken Stan up, and for what, his dumb problems? “Nevermind, it was stupid anyway. Just go back to bed.” Mike pulled the phone away from his ear and was about to hang up when he heard Stan calling through the phone. “Mike, don’t worry about it. What’s wrong?” He quickly put the phone next to his ear to tell Stan it was nothing and hang up before embarrassing himself any further. “And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong, I can hear it in your voice.” Damnit. Mike didn’t know what to say, he knew he had to tell Stan something, but he didn’t know how to put his fears into words. Stan sensed Mike’s lingering silence and decided he needed to do something. “Mike, stay there.” Mike’s eyes widened when he realized what Stan was planning, and what he had done. Holding his breath, he thought about how much he could use a visit from his favorite Loser. But he couldn’t possibly do that to Stan. He needed his sleep. “Stan you don’t ha-” “No, don’t say that I’m coming over.” The line clicked and Mike groaned, doing his best not to feel guilty. Stan had insisted, after all. But it was nearly 3:30 in the morning. ‘Great’, Mike thought. Another worry to pile onto his already stressful night. But it was too late. Knowing Stan, he was already halfway there. All he could do was wait. Holding his head in his hands, he let himself be consumed by his negative thoughts once again. ******** Ten minutes later, Stan was at Mike’s house, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to knock on the door, he might wake Mike’s parents. He also didn’t want to just let himself in, but at this point, there was no other option. Stan made his way around back, where the back door was always left unlocked, no matter what. Will and Jessica Hanlon did this on purpose. Per Mike’s mother, “What if one of Mike’s friends has an emergency?” Stan chuckled a little. She was close, he wasn’t the one who had an emergency. Remembering why he was there, Stan ran to the back door, opening it as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to wake Mike’s parents. Making his way into the house and up the stairs, Stan skipped the squeaky step at the top of the stairs before quietly scurrying to Mike’s room at the end of the hall. What he saw broke his heart clean in two. Mike sat on the floor, his back against his bed, head in his hands. Muffled sobs could be heard from the doorway. Stan walked over slowly, sitting in front of him. Reaching over, he slowly pulled Mike’s hands away from his face. Taking them in his lap, Stan stared into Mike’s eyes, seeing all the pain and suffering that lay there. “What happened? Talk to me.” Mike simply looked down at his hands in Stan’s lap, not saying anything. Tears ran down his cheeks, tracking tiny rivers on his face. The two boys had known each other long enough to hear the words in the other’s silence. Somehow, Stan understood. “How many today?” Sniffling, Mike sighed. “Fifteen. Fifteen, Stan! Why do they expect me to do this? They know I hate it!” Stan thought for a moment before wrapping Mike’s arms around himself and wrapping his arms around Mike. Instantly, Mike grabbed on tightly, climbing into Stan’s lap and burying his head into his neck. All Stan could do was hold him, letting him cry out his troubles, whispering quiet reassurances in his ear. They stayed that way for a long time before either said anything. After a little while, Mike pulled back, small hiccups escaping from his throat. Stan smiled a little, relieved Mike wasn’t crying anymore. However, dark thoughts were stuck in Mike’s mind, ones he couldn’t simply forget by crying it out. He had full-on spiraled. “How can anybody be happy in a world like this Stan? How can I be happy in a world like this? People just kill animals to eat, everybody hates each other, everybody hates me. What am I supposed to do?” Stan was quick to answer, taking Mike’s face in his hands to calm his mind. “I don’t hate you. Neither does Eddie or Richie or Bev or Bill or Ben. We all love you. And you can be happy. I mean, I’m happy. It’s not a perfect world, but I have you. You’re right here and so, I am happy. Right now, I am happy.” Stan looked into Mike’s eyes and saw relief. Relief that Stan was here for him, relief that his worries were fading, relief that he wasn’t alone. “Mike, it’s gonna be okay. Sure, the world can suck sometimes, but it’s not all bad. You have the Losers, and you have parents that love you. And you have me. You know I’ll always be here for you. You know that right?” At this point tears had pooled again in Mike’s eyes as he nodded, so thankful for Stan. “Thank you, Stan. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thanks for coming over, even in the middle of the night. You should get back home. I’m okay now.” After finally getting his head on straight, Mike became worried that Stan wouldn’t get enough sleep because of his call. Stan feigned shock. “Are you kidding? There is no way I’m leaving you here alone tonight. It’s fine if I stay the night, right?” Despite not wanting to leave his friend alone, Stan didn’t want to overstep and force Mike to let him stay. Shocked that Stan would do that for him, he responded, “I-I guess if you’re sure you want to.” Satisfied, Stan nodded a little, before pulling Mike down to hug him again. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.” And he did. they stayed like that all night, never moving from their spot on the floor. They talked for hours, before slowly drifting to sleep. The next morning started for them when they were woken by a sound. A coo. There stood Mrs. Hanlon, in the doorway, gazing down at the two boys on the floor. Neither had moved their position in their sleep, Mike still sitting on Stan’s lap. They both turned bright red when they realized they had been caught, Mike quickly scrambling up off of Stan’s legs. Neither would admit it, but they both missed the contact as soon as it was broken. Mrs. Hanlon chuckled, knowing exactly what was going through their heads. She walked out to make the two tired boys breakfast. Mike reached a hand down to help Stan up, Stan immediately grabbing it and pushing himself off the floor, his back cracking and popping. Groaning, Stan leaned over to stretch his aching joints. Mike immediately felt guilty. After all. Stan only fell asleep on the floor because Mike had fallen asleep on him. “I’m sorry. We should have gotten up. You should’ve woken me so you could get up!” Stan chuckled, still reaching for his toes. “It’s fine. You were finally asleep. Besides, you looked so peaceful. I couldn’t have woken you.” He stood up straight. “Did you sleep well?” “Best I’ve ever slept in my whole life.” He smiled. “But next time, if I fall asleep on you and you’re not comfortable, wake me up, okay?” Stan grinned. “Does that mean there’s going to be a next time?” Mike blushed intensely, mouth open, trying to make up an excuse for what he had let slip. “I-I, I mean, what I meant was,” He stammered for a couple seconds before Stan interrupted him. “I promise, next time, I’ll wake you.” And with that and a kiss on the cheek, Stan ran out and downstairs to the breakfast Mike’s mom Han prepared for them. Mike stood there for a few moments, jaw hanging, his hand on his cheek before he really understood what happened. His brain finally caught up with his body, and when he finally realized what Stan had done, he absolutely beamed. He chased after Stan downstairs, the smile never leaving his face.

#stanlon #it #stanley uris #mike hanlon #mike x stan #stike

[peterkayscarshare]

Life in the Slow Lane Chapter 3 by OvertheRainbow

She hated arguments. Mainly because she was completely rubbish at them. She couldn’t do confrontation and inevitably ended up in tears within minutes. This time was no exception. It didn’t help that her journey back to Mandy’s had been to the soundtrack of Forever FM’s “Sunday Love Connection With DJ Danny Love”. The whole thing was cheesier than an extra large Margarita Pizza, with stuffed crust, cheese bites, cheesy garlic bread and maybe a fondue thrown in for good measure. She’d held it together through Van Halen’s “Why Can’t This Be Love?” but by the time the late great Whitney Houston had finished belting out the first chorus of “All The Man That I Need”, played with “All my love always” from Leanne in Oldham to Richie in Southport, she was a blubbing mess. That it triggered her memory of John, on their first official “date”, telling her about his dedication to her, that she’d missed by moments, really didn’t help her situation. Try as she might, she found it impossible to be angry with him. Frustrated yes but angry, no. Even if he could never bring himself to fully open up and give her any more than they currently had, even if he could never actually say the word “love”, preferring to make hints and coded references, even if this “thing” was never going to work out, even if he was destined to break her heart beyond any and all repair, it was his to break. It always would be and that was that. 

 As she finally parked up in front of the house that never really felt like home, Kayleigh took a moment to compose herself. Steve was in his usual location, doing exactly what he always did. Rain, hail or shine. Mandy was on the front step next to a large ladder, looking exasperated, gesticulating wildly and intermittently pointing up at the Christmas lights, which had been hanging precariously from the roof for the better part of a year. As Mandy’s tone varied from a “not in front of the neighbours” whisper, to a socially acceptable outdoor voice, to a full on bollocking, Kayleigh caught the general gist of the conversation, even from inside the car. It was best summed up by Mandy’s final, very audible declaration, “You’re a useless dickhead!” Mandy never had any qualms about venting a sense of anger in her relationship. Throughout the entire tirade, Steve had remained his usual sanguine self. Saying nothing and wiping a spanner on his oil stained shirt. She’d never fully understood the dynamic between her sister and Steve. Mandy had the Kitson feisty gene. Steve was utterly passive to the point of comatose. She wasn’t entirely sure how her sister hadn’t strangled him, or died of boredom by now and yet, somehow it just worked for them. She knew how this latest incident would play out. Steve would leave Mandy to “simmer down”, then eventually fix the lights, at his own pace and in his own time. He’d give Mandy a cuddle, whisper something doubtless filthy in her ear, she’d giggle and smack him on the backside and before long, they’d be disappearing up the stairs. Kayleigh would settle on the sofa with a brew, open her iPad, load up Netflix and put her headphones on. All while contemplating yet another night alone in that tiny box room with a cross trainer, 36 pairs of shoes, a set of Babyliss Crimpers and a plastic heart shaped lamp for company. At least now she could add in another pair of shoes, yippee. Steve tapped on the passenger side window, “You gettin’ out sometime today or what?” “You fixin’ those lights sometime this year, you lazy sod?” came her terse reply as she opened the drivers side door. “Don’t you start. I’ve already had it off your sister”. “I know. I heard. I‘m guessin’ they could probably hear it in Dundee!” “Yeah well, Mandy’s got no volume control.” “She’s got more bloody patience than I’d have, that’s for sure. You said you were takin’ them down the day after New Years! They’ve been hanging up there like an afterthought ever since. They almost came down entirely after that bad weather last month.” By now Kayleigh had retrieved her bags from the car and was heading up the driveway. Steve was still surveying their “festive light display”. “I don’t know. Maybe we should leave ‘em as they are. They look like...what do they call it?… shabby chic”. “They look like shabby shit. Mandy’s right. Get ‘em fixed”, with that Kayleigh went inside, leaving Steve to resume his avoidance of the inevitable.

 As she entered the hallway she could hear Mandy “negotiating” with Chloe and Alfie over the evening’s dinner options, “We’re having a roast!” “We want chicken dippers!” “I want a fortnight in St Lucia, all inclusive but it’s not gonna happen.” “It’s not fair!” “No you’re right. Unlike many others, you’re going to bed tonight with full stomachs and a roof over your heads. It really isn’t fair.” “Yeah but we won’t have chicken dippers!” “Your suffering is noted. I’ll call Simon Cowell, see if One Direction want to reform for a benefit gig.” “So, can we have them then?” “Eh...let me think about it...no.” “Muuummmm” “Chlooooeeeee. Both of you, zip it. We’re having a roast dinner. Any more complaints and it’ll be with extra veggies and no Yorkshire’s.” That appeared to do the trick and the pair retreated in defeat. Kayleigh smiled at her exasperated sister. “One of those days?” “Let’s just say it didn’t improve after you left. Sometimes it feels as though I’m tryin’ to manage three kids.” Looking at her bags Mandy asked, “D’ya get what you wanted?” Now there was a question. “I got some shoes and a couple of bits”. “Well then. Let’s see!” Kayleigh produced her purchases to much ooing and ahhing from her sister. “Those shoes will make your legs look incredible! You’ll knock John dead!” Kayleigh’s reaction, or rather lack of it, spoke volumes. “Oh no. Please tell me you haven’t gone and binned him off.” “No! Course not! We just had a difficult conversation earlier.” “Define “difficult””. “I sort of, off loaded on him. I was feeling frustrated and I did exactly what I always hate. I just let it all build up and then got stroppy with him. I don’t think he had a clue what was going on, I didn’t even give him a chance and it all just spiralled out of control. I’m ruining everything!” Suddenly Kayleigh burst into tears. Mandy immediately rushed over and embraced her sister, “Aw, sweetheart.” As she offered what comfort she could amid the loud sobs, Alfie wandered through the hall and declared, “See! Even Auntie Kayleigh wants chicken dippers.” Mandy’s response was swift, “She’s crying because I’ve just told her what’s going to happen if you mention them again!” Kayleigh found herself laughing despite herself. “Listen, I’ve got a roast on. Needless to say, our resident food critics approve. It’ll be an hour or so yet. Why don’t you have a lie down. I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.” “Thanks Mand.” “You really do need to talk to him Kayleigh. This isn’t fair on either of you. You need to explain your feelings and try to get some answers and he needs a chance to understand you and give his side of things.” “I’ll give him a call after dinner.” “Good idea. It would be such a shame to throw it all away when the two of you just need to get on the same page.” “You’re right sis. I can’t lose him because of this. You know, talking’s always been so easy for us. We’ve never done awkward silences. Now we’ve found the one topic that’s guaranteed to be a conversation killer and it’s the one thing we actually need to talk about.” “Well, get some rest and then take on the unspeakable Wonder Woman.” “I’ll fetch me golden lasso and cuffs.” “Now that’ll definitely do the trick.” Mandy grinned and Kayleigh headed up the stairs in the hope that a quick snooze might help her formulate a plan.

 “Christ! Take it easy Lewis Hamilton!” John exclaimed, as he swayed precariously in the front passenger seat. “I thought you wanted to get there quickly, Miss Daisy!” “I do! I’d just rather it wasn’t in a bloody body bag.” “Can I assume we’re not heading to Bury for you to have a long overdue booty call.” “Not unless it involves her sticking her boot up me arse.” “Well, if that’s how you like it. I make no judgement. Each to their own.” John gave Jim some vicious side eye. “Where’s your sense of humour these days?” “I’m just finding it hard to laugh at the general fuck up that my life has become.” “I thought we sorted this back at Big Bob’s. You love her, you want her, you just need to get over feelin’ awkward and you can crack on.” “You make it sound so easy”. “It is John. You keep on makin’ it complicated and you may as well forget it. Have you ever actually told Kayleigh how you feel about her?” “She knows. She’s got to.” “How? She a mind reader on the sly?” “I wrote her a song for Christ’s sake! It was all about hearts and journeys and colours and shit and I meant every word of it too. What more does she want!?” “Hearts and journeys and colours?” “Yeah, you know, she walked away with me heart, made my journey through life lonely and turned my world to colour from black and white, that sort of thing.” “You’re no Gary Barlow mate.” “That’s not what she said.” “Yeah, well she’s your number one fan.” “You make her sound like a friggin stalker!” “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t want theatrics and riddles. Maybe she just wants to hear you say the word.” “What word?” “LOVE! You bloody idiot!” Why does that matter so much!” “Because it’s a small word that’s about as big as it gets. It doesn’t mean “Iike”, it doesn’t mean “fancy”, it doesn’t mean “You’ll do for now until something better shows up”. It means, you’re feeling it where it matters, where it counts and not just between your legs! It says you could hurt me...maybe even more than I could ever hurt you. That’s what’s freakin’ you out. Isn’t it?” John sighed, “Yeah. Yeah it is. I’d never cried over a woman until Kayleigh. I mean, I’ve been sad before, I’ve even gone off me food.” “Jesus! When were that!?” “Oy!” “Sorry”. “I know now that she can hurt me, more than I’ve ever been hurt before, because she did”. “Now there’s a lyric. Seriously though, do you really think that by just not sayin’ it, you can somehow not feel it. Do you think it’ll protect you? Cause if you think that’s the case, I’ve got one question for you mate...how’s that workin’ out for you?” John put his head back against the headrest and momentarily closed his eyes. It was a silent answer, which somehow spoke volumes. 

 The rest of their journey was spent in companionable silence, interspersed with occasional instructions on which direction to take, from John. Finally, they arrived on the familiar road that led to Mandy’s house, or as John always thought, to Kayleigh. His heart and his brain were currently competing in a race to the finish that neither seemed willing to concede. “It’s up here on the right. Number 25. It might have a green gazebo.” “A green gazebo!” “Yeah. Her sister’s fella Steve’s into fixin’ bikes.” “That still doesn’t explain the gazebo.” “Fuck the gazebo! It’s not even up!” “Alright John! Calm down.” “Sorry, it’s here with the shitty Christmas Lights. Right, this is it.” “D’ya want me to come with you or wait here?” “Christ! I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t know how long I’ll be. She might kick me out before I can get a word in edge ways. Either that or I’ll be here for ages. It’ll be a feast or a famine.” “Well, let’s take it as it comes shall we? You need me to make meself scarce for a bit, I’ll find a Maccie D’s. You can text me when you want me to come back.” “Cheers mate.” “Is that Steve?” “Yeah. He’s sound”. Steve was already waving at John. John and Jim both got out to greet him, “Alright Steve?” “Hey John mate. I wasn’t expecting to see you today!” Furtively looking back at an amused Jim, John attempted a casual reply, “Well, Yeah, we, eh, happened to be in the area and I just thought I’d stop by and say hello to Kayleigh. She about by any chance?” “Yeah, she’s just back from the shops. Front door’s on the snib. Go on in.” “Thanks pal. This is my mate Jim by the way. Jim, this is Steve.” “How do mate.” “How do. Nice bike. Ya can’t wack a Triumph. John’s Dad were into his bikes if I remember rightly. He had a Triumph at one point and...aw what were it called? John! What was the name of that bike your Dad had?” John was already heading for the front door as he replied, “A Land Devil. Steve knows. I gave him some bits from the garage”. Steve replied, “That were very decent of you by the way”. “No bother”. With that John disappeared inside as Steve and Jim stood awkwardly like two spare parts at a wedding. Suddenly Steve produced a flask, “Fancy a brew mate?” “Don’t mind if I do.” Steve poured the tea into the plastic cup at the top of the flask, then refilled his Robocop mug”. “Nice mug.” “Thanks”. Steve looked up to Kayleigh’s bedroom. Jim watched his gaze and followed it upwards in the direction of a window with a heart shaped lamp at its centre. “He in the dog house again?” “How did you guess?” “She gets in a right mood when she’s pissed off with him”. Jim sighed before ruminating, “I think they just need a good talk.” “You ask me they need a bloody good shag!” For a second nothing was said as the two men simply looked at each other, in silence, before they both simultaneously broke into laughter and toasted each other with their mugs. Steve reached down into an ancient biscuit tin and brandishing it in front of Jim enquired, “Hob Nob?” With that, the male bond was firmly created. 

 John announced his arrival by calling out, “Hello! It’s John”. Mandy was in the kitchen up to her neck in carrots. She was shocked to see him but couldn’t deny that she was also delighted for her sister, “John Redmond! As I live and breathe. What brings you to the bright lights of Bury? Could it be a certain red head by any chance”.  Offering her a kiss on the cheek John smiled, ‘Hey Mandy. You rumbled me. She accepting visitors?” “She’s having a lie down upstairs.” “Any chance I could....?” “I’m not sure if I want you to finish that sentence”. “I just want to talk to her Mandy. We need to sort a few things.” “Do me a favour. Try to sort them in a way that doesn’t disturb the neighbours or traumatise the kids.” John smiled and looked suitably sheepish. “Up the stairs, first on the right.” “Thanks Mandy”. “Oh and John, do ya want a bit of roast?” “I’d love to but me mate Jim’s here with me. He’s outside with Steve.” “He can join us too if he likes. I’ve got half a cow ‘ere.” “Thanks Mandy, you’re a good ‘um.” With that, she smiled and retreated to the kitchen as John took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and knocked on Kayleigh’s bedroom door. She’d been lying on the bed with her headphones on listening to an old eighties mix tape. She hadn’t heard the knock at the door, so when it opened and John’s face peaked in, she literally shrieked, “JOHN!” Misty immediately started barking from the back garden. Only Kayleigh could reach that octave. She pulled her headphones off and immediately jumped off the bed. John stood in the doorway, his eardrums struggling to recover. “What are you doing here?!” “Well. I remembered it’s Sunday and I thought you might like a cuddle and a Chinese....or a cuddle and Mandy’s roast...or maybe just a cuddle.” Kayleigh stood so still, that he began to be concerned about what was to come, then without warning, she threw her arms around him and promptly burst into tears. “Oh John. I’m sooo sorry. I was so horrible to you. I didn’t mean to be such a nasty cow.” “Hey, sweetheart. Don’t get upset. It’s ok. It’s ok. You weren’t a nasty cow. You don’t have a nasty bone in your lovely little body. Don’t cry love.” “I just love you so much John”. “Look at me.” With that Kayleigh pulled back and faced him, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ve never said this to anyone before and it’s because I’ve never meant it until now. I should have said it to you weeks ago. The truth is, I probably knew it months ago...but I’m absolutely bloody certain of it now...I love you too Kayleigh Kitson. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone or anything in this world and I’m scared. I’m terrified because for the first time in my life I’ve realised that something was missing and that something was you. If I lose you, I go back to who I was before and now I know that who I was before wasn’t complete. I had a Kayleigh Kitson shaped hole in my heart and in my life and I don’t want to go back. Not now, not ever.”...and there it was. He’d finally said it.

#peter kay's car share #carshare #carshare fanfiction #overtherainbow2

[derryhawkins]

The Switch (ch 3)

summary: Mike and Richie, a pair of twins people describe as a loose canon when their together, come up with possibly the worst idea they could ever come up with – switching lives and personalities. Mike lives Richie’s life in Derry, Maine while Richie lives Mike’s life in Hawkins, Indiana. Their idea could either miraculously work out, or burn down in flames. (see moodboard & small snippet here)

a/n: i don’t think I’ve mentioned it but this takes place in the 80s; end of ‘86 start of ‘87.

warnings: [for the entire fic] swearing, idiotic boys, child neglect, accidental heartbreak, teenagers being teenagers, angst at some point. [for this chapter] rich sees a clown doll and almost has a panic attack at the end

chapter 1 chapter 2

ch 3 -- working out the kinks

Making plans to do something or ideas that aren’t so simple, come with bumps and halts and things that cause a bit of trouble along the way. Mike Wheeler and Richie Tozier figured that out quite quickly. Their plan to switch lives, basically, wasn’t as full proof as either had thought. There were multiple things that could cause anyone to instantly take notice it was Richie and not Mike, or vice versa.

They had made a list on what distinguishes themselves from one another. Well, Richie made it after realizing that The Switch (the name of their plan, he doesn’t care if Mike doesn’t like it) was going to be a tougher thing to accomplish than he first thought. It was a rather short list, just eight seven things that could cause anyone of their friends or family members to say, “You’re not Mike/Richie.” After finished it, he handed it to Mike who read over it.

KINKY KINKS IN ‘THE SWITCH’ a list by Richie Tozier ;)) 1. Glasses. 2. Hair. 3. Clothes. 4. Jane El Hopper. 5. Humor/the way we talk. 6. Jobs, maybe? (sorry bro, I work at a movie theater) 7. Our friends.

There was a eighth number, Mike realized as he read over the list. It was scratched out completely; one word right beside the number eight. Mike squinted at it as if it would help him read through the scratched out word, but it was no use. Because not only had Richie scribbled over it, but he had marked through the word with a Sharpie on both sides of the paper. Mike frowned and looked out of the bedroom where Richie had rushed out minutes before. He stood up from the desk in his room and walked out to find his twin, the paper in his hands.

Mike ended up finding Richie in Holly’s room. Richie had squeezed into a pink, tiny plastic chair and had his legs bent between him and the table he was unable to fit them under. A small light blue plate and tea cup sat on his knees while Holly pretended to talk to one of the bears. It was clear the foul mouthed twin had been caught by Holly Wheeler and unable to get away. Before Holly could see him as well and rope him into ‘tea time’ with her stuffed animals and plastic dolls and his twin, Mike dashed back to his room, leaving Richie to suffer alone.

Sure, he was curious about what the seventh thing was on the list -- but not curious enough to get roped into his little sister’s tea time.

Eventually, they figured out how to solved numbers 1-3 once Richie had gotten away from Holly and once they weren’t around anyone else. The party had come over for a short time, and then they all piled into Dustin’s truck and headed to Will’s house to hang out some before more family members came around for the holidays. Joyce Byers was so excited to see Richie, engulfing the boy in a tight hug as she admitted to missing him.

(It was a hug Richie liked to call the Mom Hug. It was warm and comforting and something he was almost unfamiliar with since Maggie Tozier never hugged him, and Karen Wheeler merely gave him loose, short hugs).

At some point they finally got home and finally sorted out that for the first thing on the list, Mike just wouldn’t wear his contacts. They both had shit eyesight. They both had glasses and eye contact prescriptions as well, but Richie almost always wore his glasses and Mike almost always wore his contacts. It was a way for everyone to tell them apart. To make sure they still had the same terrible eye sight, Mike took out the contacts and put on Richie’s awful glasses.

“Unfortunately, we still have the same shitty sight.”

“You’re gonna have to wear those.”

“That’s why I said unfortunately. At least my glasses are decent looking.”

“They’re still fucking huge...”

“If you make a dick joke, I’m disowning you.”

For the their hair, Mike had to not straighten his hair. Yes, Michael Wheeler straightens his hair nearly everyday and has been since seventh grade. It was neater looking and tamer; it was also another way people could tell the twins apart. Richie, on the other hand, had to make an extra effort everyday to straighten his hair. He complained just thinking about it.

“Some waves come out anyway, why fucking bother?!”

“Richie, I swear to God, if you want this to work you gotta use the damn straightener.”

Their clothing was something much simpler and took little to no effort to change -- they just had to switch wardrobes. Which meant, Richie would stay at the Wheeler house in Hawkins while Mike left for Derry with Maggie Tozier and a suitcase of ugly Hawaiian shirts and graphic tees. Neither were really complaining. It wasn’t like either of their style was horrible. Well, Richie’s choice of shirts could be sometimes, but so could the sweaters Mike wears on the occasion.

Richie really wanted to be a hater of Mike’s ugly Christmas sweaters, but he was actually rather jealous. The sweaters were ugly as hell, and he wanted them all. Mike didn’t really mind his brother’s hideous Hawaiian shirts and sometimes crude t-shirts, either. Most of them were comfortable to wear. 

(No, they don’t already have a small stash of each other’s clothes because of that).

(...that’s a lie).

“So, about Miss Jane El Hopper,” Richie spoke as he entered the nearly empty kitchen. Nancy was out with her boyfriend, Jonathan Byers, while their dad went to work and Karen went to the park with Holly; Maggie was doing some last minute shopping. So, they were home alone and free to talk about their plan up until one of the Party members comes over -- if not all. They had all been informed that no one but the twins were currently home.

Mike didn’t even look up from making his lunch as he said, “You’re not kissing my girlfriend, Tozier.”

“But if I don’t it’ll blow our cover! A major kink in The Switch, Wheeler,” he said. As his brother turned around to put up the sandwich ingredients, Richie reached over the counter and grabbed the cheese and ham sandwich. He quickly took a bite of it before laying it back on the plate, and acted as if he did nothing wrong as Mike turned back around.

“Make your own damn sandwich, asshole,” Mike quickly said and snatched the plate off of the counter. He inspected the rather large bite Richie had taken as he said, “Let’s get her in on the plan.”

“Can she keep secrets?”

“She’s a girl with secret abilities that Hawkins has no idea about.”

Richie hummed and nodded. “Touché.”

“What about your crush?” Mike asked after a second of silence.

Richie’s eyes slightly narrowed as he stood straight. “What about my crush?” He asked, moving away from the counter to fridge. As Mike spoke again, he searched for something to eat.

“Pretty sure you probably flirt with her if you genuinely like her. So... Who is it? I mean, if I don’t flirt as you to your crush, then it’ll be a give away, too. Or show that you’re not interested.”

He picked up a pudding cup from one of the shelves but quickly set it back down. Richie’s fingers tapped against his thighs as he stood there, just looking into the refrigerator. “Um... It’s no one,” he quickly said. He then spotted a pomegranate in the back of the middle shelf and grinned to himself before reaching in and grabbing it.

Mike scoffed at the answer. “Okay, yeah, that’s a lie.”

Shutting the door with his foot, Richie went and grabbed a sharp knife. He instantly busied himself with the fruit as he said, “My crush wasn’t on the list, so, really, it doesn’t matter.”

“Do you not want me to know who it is or something?” Mike asked, before taking a large bite from his sandwich. Uncharacteristically, Richie stayed quiet and focused all his attention on the pomegranate as he cut it open. Mike sighed right as the front door opened.

“Dustin farted! Dustin farted!”

“That was Max!”

“Don’t bring me into this, Noodles!”

“Hey! That is Richie’s name for me!”

“Dustin farted and he has a guy crush on Rich!”

“Oh, not you too!”

“Well, who can resist the Richie Tozier?” The younger twin smirked as the group of friends entered the kitchen; Lucas, Max, Dustin, and Will. As he made eye contact with Max, he winked at her. The redhead just scoffed and rolled her eyes as she went over to Mike and stole his sandwich. She took a bite before handing it back to him.

“I can,” she said.

Lucas chuckled and let an arm go around her shoulders as they stood beside each other. “Don’t wink at my girlfriend, Richie,” he said.

“Rather me wink at you?”

“Beep beep, Richie!” Mike laughed out at seeing Lucas’ face. It was a saying he heard Richie’s own friends use, so Mike started using it, too. It was limited to him and who Richie called the Losers. No one else really used the ‘beep beep’ other than them; occasionally Will would say it, or Nancy if needed, but that was all. Never did Max, Lucas, Dustin, or Eleven say it.

Richie merely grinned as Lucas shot him the middle.

“Hey, where’s El?” Mike asked.

“Oh! She told me to tell you that she’s having a father-daughter day with Hopper,” Will said. “And tonight she’s doing something with Mom, but said she’d call you in the morning.”

“That’s good,” Mike said sincerely. Jim and El haven’t gotten to have some father-daughter time because of school and his job recently, so Mike was happy they were spending time together. And Joyce Byers and El had a thing on certain nights where the woman taught the girl different things like knitting, or just watched soap operas. “That’s good,” he repeated, but quieter.

For a few minutes, the group just stood in the kitchen as everyone helped themselves to different snacks before they all made their way downstairs to the basement. Richie was still working on the pomegranate, though, so he put the fruit in a bowl and grabbed some napkins, and slouched on the couch with Max as the other boys sat at the table. Though, at some point, Richie spotted one of Holly’s clown dolls sticking out of the blanket fort against the wall. He nearly shit his pants at seeing face of the clown, also letting out a short yell before realizing it was fucking doll.

It wasn’t alive.

Max looked up at Richie, bewildered. “The hell, man?” She asked.

Mike whipped his head around to look at his brother, and the three others did the same. “Dude, what...” The question died on his lips, though, as he notice the clown doll. He instantly remembered what had happened that one summer with Richie and his friends; Richie had called him after it happened and just cried to him. Mike instantly jumped out of his seat and grabbed the doll from the fort; Holly shouldn’t have been in there in the first place.

“It’s just a doll,” Lucas said.

“Hey, clowns are creepy,” Dustin stated as Mike rushed up the stairs to put the doll back in Holly’s room. “The makeup is...”

Richie blocked out their conversation as he tried to ignore the memories of that one awful summer. He couldn’t, unfortunately, and it soon started to get too much, so he gave the bowl of pomegranate to Max and raced up the stairs as well. He ran into his brother at the top, who instantly saw the panicked look and slightly shallowed breathing. Richie felt himself be pulled into a loose but comforting hug.

“It was just a doll, Rich,” Mike whispered.

“You’re real, right?” Richie asked in return. “You’re not gonna turn into some fucking werewolf or...you know?”

“No. I’m very real. I’m very much Mike Wheeler, okay? I’m with you and always will be, Richie.”

Richie numbly nodded and hugged his brother back. He was quiet for some time before he asked, “Who the hell gave Holly that fucking doll?”

“One of our aunts, I think, on her birthday.”

“I wanna burn it.”

“Honestly, she hates it. She might let you.”

“Good.”

“You okay now?” Mike asked pulled away from the hug some time later -- a few minutes at least. He watched as Richie ran his hands over his face, glasses on his head, and nodded. “Alright,” he whispered. “I’m going back down, but call Bill or one of them if you need to.”

After fixing his glasses, Richie nodded and gave a small smile. “Think I might. Thanks,” he said.

“Hey, not a problem,” Mike shrugged and started down the stairs. “Come back down when you’re ready.”

“Yeah, I will.”

Richie found the nearest phone and dialed the familiar number of Mike Hanlon. It turned out that the Losers had gathered at his place, all together once again, so Richie took turns talking to all of them about different things until he remembered his pomegranate with Max. Shortly after that, he finished his conversation with Stan Uris, hung up the phone, and raced down stairs back to his fruit.

TAG LIST: @irredecent @vimra @jinglejamie

#it #it (2017) #stranger things #st #s2 #s1 #mike wheeler #richie tozier #twin au #h writes #the party #the losers club #mileven #the switch

[breakmyreddieheart]

(Please Don’t) Say Anything - Ch1

Ok so get ready for a Reddie AU fic based on this post by @starstruck-stargazing

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

++ Accompanying Playlist ++

Summary: It’s the last days of high school and the Losers are soon to be leaving for university, moving to different parts of the country. Richie is trying to figure out how to tell Eddie how he feels about him, but only ends up making things worse and needs to figure out how to apologize. Bev has a cunning plan, and Richie Tozier gets extra...

Setting: Derry, ME - the summer of 1995

Pairings: Reddie (main), Stenborough (on the side) also Bev is dating a girl and Ben and Mike are just wholesome individuals right now

Words: 2k

Warnings: implied psychological abuse, sexual innuendo’s (guess who), so much fluff

A/N: There is definitely some inspiration from the themes in this post by @elfiekaspbrak which I definitely recommend reading because it destroyed my emotions for a solid few days (in the best way) // Also if you didn’t get it, the title is a reference to the John Kusak film from which the stereo trope originated from // Also I’m British and know the bare-minimum about the US education system so forgive me if I make any errors!

----

As the bell rang, signifying the end of the academic year, students gleefully poured from the classrooms eager to start their summer break.

The excitement throughout the corridors of the Derry Regional High School was palpable. Students whooped, ran and jumped around as teachers tried in vain to keep the peace. Lockers emptied, workbooks were trashed, and students poured from the main doors like ants from a nest into the bright summer sun.

Somewhat less enthusiastically, Eddie Kaspbrak emerged from the last exam of his Senior year and pushed his way through the stampede to clear out his locker. He’d spent the last week meticulously studying for this Biology exam, and despite being familiar with all the questions he still worried that he’d messed up somehow. He needed to ace this to get into the University of California.

He’d heard great things about UC; it was one of the best places to study medicine, something he’d wanted to learn more about since finding out how his mother had spent most of his life lying to him about his health. He felt that if he could understand the science behind immunology, he could break her hold over him. Better still, it was in the heart of San Francisco which was about as Liberally removed from Derry as Earth is from Pluto; he could be himself without fear of the likes of Henry Bowers and the rest of the homophobes that Derry seemed to attract like flies to shit.

Of course, best of all, California is the direct opposite end of the country to Derry and the controlling grasp of his mother. 

She had cried when he told her that he’d applied to UC, “You can’t leave me, Eddie, you need me to look after you” she kept insisting, trying to work her insidious words into his mind; but Eddie had spent years pushing that door shut and he wouldn’t let her talk him out of this. “I raised you, fed you, clothed you and now you’re just going to abandon me like this? You won’t last you know, you’ve always been a fragile boy. You’ll be back here before the end of the first semester and I’ll be left to clean up the mess.”

He did love his mother, in a way, but he didn’t trust her. Having learned more about his father’s death he could see why she was so protective of him, but he could never forgive her for her manipulative behaviour. He hoped that putting 4000 kilometres between them might improve their relationship.

However, the real reason for choosing UC - the reason Eddie didn’t dare admit, even to himself - was because Richie Tozier had been talking about moving to California for years. Eddie had his reasons for hating Derry, but for Richie escape was a necessity. He rarely talked about it openly, but Eddie suspected that Richie’s biggest fear was being stuck here forever.

But that would be stupid, right? Moving to the other end of the country just to be near his friend? His best friend, admittedly... but all of the Losers Club were his best friends, why should Richie take precedence? But that was the question that nagged in the back of Eddie’s mind late at night. The question he didn’t dare answer for fear of the implications...

No. He kept himself convinced with thoughts of his career and his freedom. These were things he could explain to people without feeling an asthma attack coming on. Not that he really suffered from asthma anymore - if he ever had - but sometimes when he thought of Richie moving to California without him, he would feel the familiar old tightening in his chest.

His mind was brought jarringly back to the present when he heard a crash beside him as Richie himself came bounding up from behind and slammed his hand on the next locker over.

“Eddie m’boy!” he declared in a mock British accent, “Chin up old chap, it might never happen!”

Eddie realised he’d been staring blankly at the contents of his locker for the last few minutes. His books were neatly stacked and organized alphabetically, and a half-empty bottle of hand sanitizer sat carefully on top of the personal toilet roll he kept in case the toilets were in a particularly bad state. Some of the habits instilled in him by his mother were hard to shake.

“Sorry Rich...it just feels surreal, you know? This is the last time I’ll come to this locker. There’s a lot of ‘lasts’ today and it’s hard to keep up.”

Richie nodded in agreement, “Yeah I’ll be sorry to see that last of Miss Kowalski’s ass. Such a sad day!” He mocked rubbing tears from his eyes, and Eddie punched him lightly on the arm while shaking his head in judgement.

“She’s old enough to be your mother, Richie” Eddie scoffed, packing the last of his things into his backpack.

“Top milf material though, amirite??” he raised his hand for a high five. Eddie rolled his eyes and pushed his locker shut for the last time, leaving Richie hanging as he walked towards the exit.

Richie high fived himself and chuckled as he bounced along after Eddie.

“So how’d it go?” Richie asked, drawing level and ruffling Eddie’s hair, “Can we expect Dr Kaspbrak to be showing his face anytime soon?”

“I don’t know Richie, it was tough...” Eddie replied honestly, fiddling with the loops on his shorts where his fanny pack used to sit; a habit he seemed to do when he was nervous.

Richie swung his arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulled him into a playful side-hug. “I’m sure you aced it, Spaghetti. My boy genius is gonna go far!” He waved his free hand in front of them in a rainbow motion, looking proudly into the distance.

Eddie blushed at Richie’s confidence in him, leaning into the hug before instinctively replying “Don’t call me that, Richie. It’s silly.” He loved it really, and Richie knew it. “How about you?”

“I dunno man, I think I overperformed. Old Gladhart can’t handle all of this talent in one sitting.” Mr Gladhart was a classical theatre lecturer, and while he often berated Richie for his crass attitude towards the scripted material, he couldn’t deny Richie’s ability to engage an audience.

“I’m sorry I missed that!” Eddie chuckled, imagining Gladhart begrudgingly marking Richie’s work with the A-grade he undoubtedly deserved.

As the pair walked out of the main doors, the crowd dissipating now, they were greeted by the rest of their motley crew. Mike rushed over and bumped fists with Richie. “Dude! I hear you destroyed that Hamlet monologue, people are talking about it already!”

“Michael, one does not ‘destroy’ the classic works of Sir William Shakespeare” Richie began in a mockery of Gladstone’s poetic mannerism, “one simply adds some spice so that the audience doesn’t take their own lives after hearing fifteen renditions of the same tedious monologue.”

While Mike and Richie laughed about Shakespeare, Eddie joined Bill and Stan who were interrogating Bev over the contents of the envelope she was clutching to her chest.

“Come on, just give us a hint, I saw the college insignia on the front you might as well just spill the beans” Stan teased, knowing that Beverly wasn’t giving anything away.

“Stan, no! I want to wait until we’re all together, this is important to me.” She slipped the envelope carefully into her bag so that they couldn’t see the front again.

“Fine, but this had better be worth the wait” Stan replied, turning to greet Eddie. “Eddie! How did it go?”

“Great, I think.” He didn’t want to think about tests anymore, the sun was beating down and summer felt like it was finally getting started.

“Did Richie’s r-r-revision cards help?” Bill asked, unaware of the can of worms he’d just opened.

“Richie was helping you study Biology!?” Bev and Stan both exclaimed.

“But Richie hates Biology...” Bev pondered.

“Well I’m sure studying anatomy with Eddie has been on his to-do list for a while now” Stan sniggered. Bev backhanded him across the arm shushing him, and Eddie blushed a deep shade of red.

“It’s not like that!” Eddie exclaimed, glaring at Bill for exposing him. “He was just showing me some techniques he uses to memorize his lines, and yes it did help me remember a lot more than I usually do” he responded snarkily.

Richie had been climbing through Eddie’s bedroom window most nights for the last few years, mostly to study - avoiding bumping into Mrs Kaspbrak who didn’t like the influence Richie had on her son. But some nights Richie would come in and just sit on the bed without talking much. Eddie suspected these were the nights his father was particularly harsh, but Richie didn’t like to talk about his family. Mostly Richie just wanted to be around Eddie, but Eddie suspected he was just the closest of the group to Richie’s house. He didn’t dare think that Richie could actually care about him...

He would make tea and bring it up in Richie’s favourite mug - the one with Eddie’s baby pictures printed on it. His mother had always insisted on having one made for each of his birthdays when he was younger, something she seemed to be less concerned with after his father’s death. Richie liked to joke about what a chubby baby Eddie was, and Eddie just liked that he could make Richie smile again.

But he didn’t want the losers to tease him about Richie, so he kept their nighttime visits a secret - except for Bill. When he began to realise he might care about Richie as more than a friend he needed to talk to someone. Bill and Stan had started dating last year - the Losers weren’t surprised, but Eddie admired their bravery in being so open with their feelings, so he felt Bill might have some good advice. Stan might have as well, but he’d be way too sassy with it, so Eddie confided in Bill alone.

Stan smirked as Richie came over and picked Eddie up from behind, spinning him around before popping him down and leaning on his shoulder. Eddie glared at Stan, imploring him not to say anything.

“Speak of the Trashmouth and he shall appear” Stan quipped. Eddie clenched his fists while Stan gave him a wry wink.

“Eddie Spaghetti just can’t stop talking about me, can he?” Richie teased with a smirk on his face. Stan laughed, maybe a little too hard, and Eddie worried he might die of embarrassment right then and there.

Ben was the last to leave the building and join the group, providing the distraction Eddie needed. Stan looked pointedly at Bev, “Is this ‘everyone’ enough now?”

“Ok, ok,” Bev said, rummaging in her bag before pulling out the envelope and proudly flashing the New York Fashion Institute insignia. “I got an unconditional offer, they loved my portfolio!”

Everyone cheered in unison, embracing Bev in a group hug. She was the second to receive a firm offer, Ben already having arranged to study abroad at the School of Architecture in Stockholm. The rest of them would have to wait for their exam results.

Bill was hoping for a place at Boston University to study English Literature. Stan would be joining him to study Accounting, but they had both made sure that they had backup options in close proximity. The group had joked that their place would be the de-facto destination for group reunions.

Mike, meanwhile wanted to stay close-by to help his family with the farm. He would be travelling to the University of New England each week to study Modern History. 

The subject of Richie’s college of choice, however, was still up in the air. Eddie hadn’t managed to get a straight answer out of him, Richie always joking about going to “study Mrs K’s gigantic ass in order to discover new and fantastical species unknown to man.”

Richie had transferred his arm over to Bev now, who he was sharing a cigarette with. “Great job Marsh, got room on your floor for one more?”

Eddie felt his chest tighten. It suddenly dawned on him that he had just assumed Richie would be applying somewhere in California. He’d talked about moving there for years! What if he had been wrong? What if Richie was moving to New York? What if I’m moving 4000 miles away from Richie??

The group laughed and joked about the crappy accommodations they would probably end up living in, but Eddie was distracted by the rock that had just landed in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to ask Richie what he meant by that, but something inside him was paralyzed in fear of the answer.

They left to grab a celebratory pizza on the way home, but Eddie trailed behind, fiddling with the loops on his shorts.

- End of Chapter One - 

Taglist: @richietoaster | @vimra  | @wildcardtrip-blog

A/N: Ok so this may end up being longer than three chapters actually... at least 6 maybe. Thoughts? Feedback appreciated! Hope you enjoyed :3

#reddie #reddie au #richie x eddie #eddie x richie #reddie fic

[moonyxnights]

The Girl Who Wants to Die || au

(So this is basically a kinda interview thing that I wrote for the introduction and lead up to me posting my new series in the context of it being like a film- I thought it’d be cute and also kinda give insight to what the series will be like and what its morals are. The idea is something ive wanted to write for a while but have been worried about triggering people or just pissing them off but because this is based around my own personal experiences (I’m known as the director and screenwriter throughout the interview lol) I thought well its not completely made up and its happened to me so yeah hope you enjoy- series will be coming soon) 

it’s also something i’m going to be making into a short film anyway with some friends, so watch out for it as well!!!

If you have any questions about the series then drop it in my Ask; I wrote this purposely to answer/show things before I release the first part because I get the title is slightly misleading in some sense.

INTERVIEW

Question: Can you tell us a little about the story of the film and the characters you play within the film?

Finn: Hi, I’m Finn Wolfhard, and I play Oscar Miller in the film. Oscar is a pretty big film nerd, he’s obsessed with old films and if he was interested in a modern one then it’d have to be like perfect. He has this caring attitude towards very few people, only really his family and these guys’ characters. He tries to help Sophia’s character throughout the film, and really delves in the idea of mental health and how to help someone with it, along with Chosen’s character also. He always has this back up plan of films when he turns up at Avery’s house if she is having a low moment and doesn’t want to go outside or do the list.

Sophia: I’m Sophia Lillis and I play Avery Davies. The film is based around my character, she suffers from mental health issues and she’s pretty suicidal, and she has this deadline of where on a specific date she’s decided to end her life. The boys’ try to change her mind but she’s pretty adamant, so they decide to write a list of things that she should do before she does, eventually they try and help her get through her issues. It’s such a lovely friendship story and definitely based on true situations, some kind of changed to make the film. The whole idea is to bring awareness and encouragement around certain topics, most of the things Oscar says in the film are things that the director and screenwriter had been told or told herself when she went through things. She goes through friendship issues with other people at first, showing people who don’t really help and only think of themselves, and then it shows a comparison to how the boys treat her.

Chosen: I’m Chosen Jacobs and I play Roland Hughes in the film. Roland is a motivator for Avery, he gets her exercising and stuff to help get her active, and he is incredibly protective over the two. Oscar is one of Roland’s friends, probably the only friend he actually has, and their friendship is very open and it shows that boys can talk to each other about things and they shouldn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed. I like the way that it gives boys credit for being sentimental and also for trying to help.

 Question: So do you think there may be controversy about it even though the story is a true story?

Finn: Definitely in terms of the storyline, yes, but they only ever based it on personal experiences and exaggerated in some cases for obviously entertainment purposes. The whole idea is to help those going through similar situations, and to show friends of someone who’s going through something how they should be treating them and how they can and should be helping.

Sophia: Yeah, so the story is merely based on the director and screenwriter’s own experiences with her friends that she’d made and so they try to keep as much to honesty as possible.

Chosen: You’re always gonna get people who don’t agree or don’t like it but when I found out about the film I was so intrigued, because it’s not really that conventional. It’s more about the topic of friendship and bringing awareness to mental illness and self-help, which I think is important, and each character has their own story and is their own person, if that makes sense.

Sophia: Absolutely, like the director herself actually got through a lot of her issues through self-motivation and friends that she’d made through college. I think the film also really showcases how it’s okay to lose friends if they aren’t good for you. I know people who stuck with people just to avoid arguments, but it didn’t always help them out emotionally because they were never accepting of her, they always brought stuff up from the past. I think its just a very bringing awareness to what we all go through at some point in our lives.

 Question: So, your character, Sophia, wants to commit suicide, what was that like to play a character going through that kind of situation?

Sophia: It wasn’t all that challenging, if im honest, I mean it was tough. She’s definitely depressed, but she doesn’t want to die for the moral reasons of just being sad, you know, there’s a deeper meaning which I think we can all relate to sometimes, not so much as wanting to physically die, but to just scream and have the world just stop and listen. I like the depth of the character and the idea that she wants to die but isn’t entirely sure if she can actually do it or that she actually wants to, well I mean I don’t like that idea but you get what I mean.

Finn: What I like about the character as well, though, is that there are some times where you see from afar on the outside, so to speak, and you wouldn’t really expect her to be depressed if you didn’t know her. It really shows that anyone can be going through anything, you know, and it isn’t always obvious to the eye from the outside. Kinda bringing it back to the awareness concept, I liked it.

 Question: So, you said it’s kind of like a friendship story, is there any love within it as well? (laughs)

Chosen: No (laughs) Not with me anyway, my character just likes to talk about love but im forever alone, but the love he has for these guys’ characters is like beyond anything else.

Sophia: Chosen, that’s so cute (laughs) Basically, you can kinda get this vibe that there’s feelings between mine and Finn’s characters but nothing happens, the film isn’t really about romanticising situations or really even about relationships in those terms, but love is definitely a strong subject because of her parents and their love for each other as friendship.

Finn: The film is just kind of like a love fest of frustration (laughs) it’s like in some case, you want them to just get together and have this whole romantic scene where they spill their feelings, but at the same time, it’s a nice change to them never actually acting on what we see as an audience, you get the senses that they’re like “falling” I guess, but like they both know friendship is more important to them and I guess my character knows it’s not what she needs at that moment, you know.

 Question: Was there any particular scenes that you struggled with to film, like either too sad or just couldn’t get right in one take?

Finn: There’s this part where we had to run and climb things, they were gonna bring a stunt double until they were like ‘yo no they can actually climb’ because we were having races on set to climb over this fence so we kinda screwed ourselves up with that one- so we had to run without stopping and climb all of these walls and fences. There’s a bit where Sophia stacked it on the field and they kept it in and honestly I think my heart dropped out of my arse that day.

(All laugh)

Sophia: I had to learn how to skateboard which isn’t my strongest point because my balance is so shit. I had like 10 people teach me, because originally we were all going to ride bikes but then they thought it’d be nice to have like a little formation of two bikes and a skateboarder in the middle, who was going to be me because they like to be precise with things: two boys on bikes and then a girl in the middle on a skateboard.

Chosen: I had a pretty easy filming process (laughs)

Finn: (hums) Yeah what about that time you had to keep walking in the house because the door kept shutting on you?

Chosen: (cackles and claps hands) Oh my, okay so everytime I stepped on the floorboard the door just closed and it happened several times before someone had to literally stand behind and hold the door and try not to get in shot- but I think a struggle to film, and to watch actually, definitely was the hospital scene, I think it was a really sentimental scene and gave you an insight.

Finn: Took so many takes because even I struggled- (looks to Sophia) because you’re too good, if you were a bad actress I would’ve been fine.

Sophia: (laughs) Sorry guys, but yeah I’ll admit that was tough but it was probably one of my favourite scenes to film, in terms of the depth you then get from my character, like you get this side to her and he tells her that there’s a reason and that she’s meant to help people and be here, am I giving to much away?

(Interviewer nods)

Sophia: Oh god, sorry (laughs) You’ll see it, it’s fine.

Question: There’s a lot of sexualisation going on at the moment with you guys from some people, so at times in the film it can be seen that you are but can you clarify about the topic in the film, especially with your character Finn?

Finn: My character, I guess, is like Richie in terms of jokes. My character says a lot of sexual jokes, but he says them to and about Chosen as well, because they’re close and that’s their humour, you know, but it’s definitely not intended to be sexualised in that way.

Question: Is there any relation to you through your characters? Can you relate in anyway or is it completely separate?

Finn: I can relate with Oscar in being so adamant in wanting to help someone, hating to see someone so lost and down, you know, and there’s this sense of absolute desperation to care for someone. He really cares, so much that it can come across as he’s in love, but I can definitely say I relate a lot (laughs).

Chosen: Like Finn, I can relate with Roland in the sense of wanting to help someone and hating to see someone sad. I also relate with Roland because we’re both pretty big characters, personality wise, always try to motivate and have a laugh.

Sophia: I can relate to Avery with the idea of hating the lack of control of outside of our own life, not to the point of wanting to die, though. But I do understand and I really had to see it from that point of view, which was tough. I can relate with the film loving too, though.

Finn: Oh shit, yeah, (points enthusiastically at Sophia) same actually. The films we watched on the laptop, I highlighted and made sure to actually watch them in my own time.

Question: Like you just said Sophia, about it being tough to get into character, was it hard for all of you to be in a really serious topic with your characters?

Chosen: It’s a topic, and topics, that need to be taken more seriously and understood more. We all searched up about the illnesses and really got into the emotional feeling it held, and I’ll admit it was tough but it was worth it in the end. Sophia did a really great job in portraying Avery in those ways, I can’t imagine having to do it, but just seeing it and acting beside her I struggled sometimes.

Finn: Yeah, for me especially having to act alongside Sophia during the times of her being really down, it was tough but it really brought to light just how they feel and it’s so important for us to show how friends should be helping. I had to cry a lot and also have this massive amount of emotion on most days, it takes a lot out of you, but we had a supportive crew surrounding us. 

Sophia: Like I said, I had to see things from that perspective to try and get in the mind of Avery and it was tough, but it really made me think. 

Question: Have you heard the soundtrack, because I was honestly sobbing through it?

Sophia: I have, actually, and it’s so peaceful and beautiful. I cried too, it’s a proper lump in your throat kind of thing. I’m in love with it, though, but we listened as we did a script read and we had the whole room flooded with tears.

Finn: I cried, yes. 

Chosen: Elaborate, Finn. (laughs lightly) We both sat across from each other during the read and we looked up and we were laughing and crying at the same time, don’t ask me why both, but we just were. 

Finn: I was nervously laughing because I didn’t expect it, it just kinda came out of me, right out of nowhere. It was great, though, it meant that it would be powerful.

Interviewer: Well, thank you for your time, guys, and the film “The Girl Who Wants to Die” will be coming soon.

#finn wolfhard imagine #finn wolfhard x reader #chosen jacobs imagine #chosen jacobs x reader #sophia lillis x reader #sophia lillis imagine #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier imagine #it imagine #mike wheeler imagine #mike wheeler x reader #mike hanlon imagine #mike hanlon x reader #beverly marsh imagine #beverly marsh x reader #stranger things imagine

[trashmcuths-a]

open starter for eddie kaspbrak.

                                1994

the plan is as follows: richie drops eddie off at the airport. they do a romantic goodbye-for-now kiss in the bathroom stall where no one can actually see them. eddie lands in new york, moves into his dorm, then calls richie once he is settled in. richie gets his shit together back in derry and, with some help from eddie, finds an apartment in new york. he moves out there within the next month. they live happily ever after. simple, right?       

wrong. not simple. ‘cause everything falls apart by the third step. so, after two days of not hearing from eddie, richie takes the initiative and calls.

"hey, eds," he attempts to sound smooth, but is thwarted by the bubbling excitement in his voice.

"who - who is this?" eddie sounds confused and slightly irritated.

richie barks a laugh. "are you doing a fucking bit?"

 "seriously, who is this?" irritation increases tenfold.

 "this really isn’t funny, man." 

"i'm not trying to be funny."

"is this how dudes from new york treat their boyfriends?"

"boyfr - “ eddie spits, followed by a long pause. “that’s not fucking funny. don’t call here again." before richie can say anything, the line goes dead. he tries to call back several times, leaves a couple voicemails, but is met with no answer. 

richie always felt like a waste of skin, using silly voices and crass one-liners to distract from the fact that he is inherently unlovable. except for with eddie. with eddie, he felt like something, eddie saw all the horrible parts he tried to hide and never once looked away. eddie would kiss him on his stupid trashmouth and whisper, “i love you, i love you,” into the crook of his neck. eddie let richie believe that someone could love him, all of him, then cast him aside like he meant nothing. because he is nothing. richie knows that now more than ever.

he saves money through odd jobs and a gig at the local movie theater. outside of work shit, he isolates. he and eddie were never open about their relationship, so richie has no one to confide in - not his parents, not mike (the only remaining loser in derry), not anyone. he suffers in silence, immersed in a sea of self-loathing. three months after the phone call, he moves to los angeles. the details of his heartbreak are forgotten, but the ache remains.

                                2016

the memories return twenty-two years later. richie sees eddie and feels a tectonic shift that would send california out to fucking sea. eddie. eddie kaspbrak. love of his fucking life, the dude that broke his heart into a million little pieces. eddie fucking kaspbrak.  richie attempts to stay cool (or as cool as richie tozier can manage), ‘cause there is no telling how much eddie remembers or if he even wants to remember.

"so wait, eddie, you got married?" 

"yeah, why's that so fucking funny, dickwad?" 

"what, to like a woman?"

richie relies on the tried-and-true method of suppressing difficult emotions: pouring liquor down his throat. he steals glances at eddie throughout the evening, hoping to somehow gain access to his thoughts. no such luck. richie mulls the phone call over in his head. “who is this?” at the time, richie assumed -- well, he had no idea what to think, but ‘a clown curse erased my boyfriend’s memory’ sure as shit did not cross his mind. but now he knew. now he understood that they had all forgotten. eddie forgot. eddie never meant to abandon him. eddie loved him. loved. he takes another shot.

the evening gets progressively worse from then on. they remember the motherfucking clown, the fortune cookies go all island of dr. moreau, stanley is fucking dead. the eddie panic is replaced with an ‘oh christ, we’re all gonna get murdered by that fucking clown’ panic.

"i’m fucking leaving, man! fuck this!"

"sorry, man. i’m with richie."

richie climbs into his car and speeds back to the townhouse. "let’s get our shit and get the fuck out of here,” he says, pushing through the front door. he climbs up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and feels eddie following closely behind. he refuses to look back. he can figure that out once they are safely outside of derry. 

shit, no. outside of derry. what if they forget again? the thought is way more terrifying than anything they saw that evening or even back in the summer of ‘89. at the top of the stairs, richie whirls around and catches eddie by the arm. “do you remember?” his tone is tinged with urgency. they’re probably either going to die or forget, so he might as well shoot his fucking shot.

#this is so long i hate myself #verse tag tbd. #me realizing halfway through just how much this au would fuck richie up: oops? #drunk driving // #he's like buzzed #idc if multiple ppl wanna reply to this i'll do multiple versions idgaf

[bligh-lynch]

Maketh the Day Dark

August 7th, 2013, Lynch Mountain, Tempest, West Virginia One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual. There are open wounds, shrunk sometimes to the size of a pin-prick but wounds still. The marks of suffering are more comparable to the loss of a finger, or of the sight of an eye. We may not miss them, either, for one minute in a year, but if we should there is nothing to be done about it _________ F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night           The smoke rose in front of Bligh's face, ghostly, and as he flicked the cigarette away onto the dirt-gravel circle where the two trucks – blue Ford Ranger, black Jeep Honcho – still sat parked, side by side, it wisped into nothing, into the creeping West Virginia dusk.

           He remembered a night like this, long ago – he was trying to get Drew to go to the old abandoned church with him, before he found Duke there – it was Summer and warm in the evening and they'd both gone shirtless, Bligh at thirteen and Drew still twelve, and Drew, reluctant to go, had turned his back stood where he was, scared. But Bligh, still moving forward, grabbed Drew by the shoulder, told him to come on – Drew had almost stumbled back right on his ass before relenting, he always did that, he always did whatever Bligh wanted to do, no matter what, the hesitancy overcome by trust…by love, it must have been, it must have been…            He took a swig of beer, trying to savor it – Killian's, Irish, like him, like all his people…and Cherokee, or some other Indian, they never figured which, somewhere far back, that gave him the hair, and the fur, the color of coal, the coal his people used to mine.            No shirt, no shoes, no pants…part of him had stopped giving a fuck, part him knew that as dark as it was getting and how far his house sat back from the road, nobody would notice he was different – very different.            Below the waist, all dog, all fur – black, like his hair, and dog's feet, but flat, like a human's, and big ol sheath with a huge dog's dick that he loved almost as much as he loved anything else in the world. Furry dog's ears – pointy teeth – four extra nipples.            Some nights he would idly wonder what people would think if they saw what he looked like underneath his clothes – a werewolf, probably, a freak.            Fuck that – he was a fucking masterpiece.            He stood up from his house's front stoop – his house, now – sauntering over to his pickup, the Ranger, feeling the gravel and the dirt dig into the pads of his footpaws, painlessly, toughened like leather. As a human this would have hurt a whole lot – but he weren't no human…he was better than that.            He was proud of what he was now, how so like the werewolf he always wanted to be, the dog he always knew he was – but he still had to hide it. There were whole parts of him between him and everyone else that no one would ever know, would ever understand.            Not even Drew.            Not yet – not yet.            He came to what he needed – a blue tarp, wrinkled with innumerable creases from years and years of use, as old as Bligh was, probably older, and took it in his hands, tail swaying to balance.            Up went the tarp, over Pappy's truck, the big Jeep that was a few dings and one big scratch on the tailgate away from almost being new for the 1978 showroom – covered up like this, the truck could be protected for as long as Bligh needed it to be, as long as it would take to put what he wanted to do into action, the plan that wasn't really a plan.            This was a goodbye – the only goodbye he planned to make.            He doffed his hat, out of respect, his ears lowered and flat.            "Night, Pappy," came the murmur – his throat tightened in revolt, and his arm went to his eyes as he choked back a sudden sob.            He hated the way he sounded when he cried, because it sounded like he was laughing – it was the same noise, it took people like Drew to tell the difference…and Stevie, Stevie too, who had watched him cry that day, phone in hand, shaking like a pussy, Drew was telling everybody he and that boy he plucked off the street, Cody, were together, and would be together forever.            It hurt.            It hurt nothing like else – Drew had betrayed him in such a cutting, such a fucked up away it had left Bligh with wounds that never, would never, heal right. All that time, twenty damn years of them being best friends: Drew was bi, just like Bligh was gay – all that time they had both assumed the other was straight – all that time wasted.            Bligh had missed his chance.            Every day he woke up with a gaping, guilty pain that never, ever went away.            Little Stevie, scrawny, smartass, Stevie, knew some of it – he had let Stevie in, he had let Stevie see what even Pappy or Dan had not seen, and Stevie knew why he had done it, Stevie guessed correctly, because he was Drew's brother, his own flesh, the closest thing that Bligh could have to the thing he wanted most in the world.            Stevie was bi, like his brother, but unlike his brother and unlike Bligh he didn't care who knew and who didn't – their daddy had disowned Drew for being public about it but Bligh knew Pa Lightfoot loved his little Stevie too much to ever do anything but ignore all the talk about him he must have heard in town.            Bligh loved Stevie and Stevie loved him and some nights Bligh thought he could cope well enough with Stevie as a consolation prize – but Stevie was the very first to see past anyone's bullshit and he had been right to break up with him, after seven long months.            That was when Stevie was sixteen and Bligh was twenty – it was a fucked up situation, it was something that didn't have to end but if it had, any other way, it would have ended way, way worse than it did.            And he had told Stevie what he was gonna do, at Pappy's service, the last time they had really spoken in Lord knows how long – the awkwardness was painful as Hell, but Stevie, in that expensive black suit, the only person from the Lightfoot dynasty to even bother coming, understood him, listened to him, patiently as he could…even as he was swaying from too much Stoli, because Stevie being Stevie, he could be loving, he could be understanding, but he could never be sober, that poor drunk son of a bitch who wrecked his daddy's fancy car.            He was gonna go down there and tell Drew he loved him and he wanted to be with him. Cards on the table. Fuck it.            And Stevie agreed – and agreed, to keep it secret, both him going to see him, and that Pappy had died. Bligh wanted to tell Drew himself.            Stevie never knew why he always wore the Ravens cap now, even more than usual, Stevie never knew what went on between him and Duke and how Duke had changed him. All he had told him was the reason for it all, the root cause to this whole pile of shit: because he was alone – proud, proud always, but alone, so fucking alone.            He hadn't told Drew about him and Stevie, all those months, losing their virginity to each other, and he never would – Stevie safe in Blacksburg, it would never come up, there would never be a reason to bring it up. He would bury it, and leave it in the past, like the past all around him, all around him in Tempest was the past, time, and death…            The hat came back on – he felt a frown deepen on his face.            Drew gone, dead practically – Dan gone, dead gruesomely – Duke gone, dead tragically – Pappy gone, dead finally.            The first, Dan – there was an anger there, something selfish, because how dare, how dare that motherfucker kill himself.            Dan was cute – really chubby, ginger hair that he kept closely shaved, fat ruddy face, he was a good guy, good ol boy, his body was built to be a lineman and Bligh, quarterback, could always count on Dan to block for him, just like he counted on Drew to help him make the plays and seamlessly snap the ball.            Coach Anderson had names, nicknames, cruel, demeaning nicknames for everybody, just in case they ever thought for a minute they were better than him – short, almost a dwarf, with a bad stammer. Bligh could remember clear as it happened yesterday standing in the Adkins County High School locker room in their red and white uniforms and that angry little man screaming at them: Drew was Richie Rich because his daddy and the Baby Jesus havin a contest who got more money, Bligh was Wolfman because he a hairy son of a bitch – Dan was Little Bear.            Coach had meant it to be insulting, something like pansy or candyass, but the name stuck, and the first words out of Drew's mouth, over the phone, away in Florida and near-literally a world away from Tempest, from football, from their youth, had been:            "God – no, no, not Little Bear…"            Bligh, too, kept calling him that, twisting it into something sweet, something flirty, Dan must've known something was up when Bligh put that kind of inflection on it – Little Bear, with the smirk, and the laugh that Stevie called a cackle, he must've known something was up. Dan was no Drew, but he was still cute as fuck, he was always cute as fuck and now that they were adults Bligh wanted to do what he thought, if Drew had stayed, he should never have resorted to, and put his champion cock inside Dan's fat ass.            Of the many things he kept secret – had to keep secret, he could barely fault Drew for staying so tightly in the closet when they lived in Tempest – Bligh's fetish for bigger dudes, chubbier dudes, rounder guys that ate too much and drank too much beer, was probably the weirdest, weirder to him than any time him and Duke would fuck, and that was weird enough. But he figured – he never found out, but he figured – more cushion for the pushin, something to accommodate his massive dick, what had made little scrawny Stevie bleed…the memory still made Bligh cringe, getting tissues for Stevie as he lay there on the bed, swearing it was wonderful even when he spent the next day walking funny.            Stevie was the only person who ever had Bligh's dick when it was human – Ricky Jack had seen it back when he was fifteen and Bligh was twelve, he'd had their first kiss then behind Ricky Jack's mama's pickup – but Bligh told Stevie the truth: that they had both lost their virginity that day, months later, when they were in bed together and it seemed like they could make it.            But now…            He was alone now.            So fucking alone.            No Duke, no Pappy, not even Stevie who he didn't want to face again, and even if he could, was off to Blacksburg for college.            And no Dan.            Was it Bligh's fault Dan did what he did? He thought about that a lot. Nobody blamed him – nobody really knew – but what the Hell could Bligh have even done?            Back when he'd been human, they'd been drinking – some warm Summer's night out in Lewisburg – and Bligh, several Killian's in, finally got his balls up enough to tell Dan he liked him, he wasn't straight, could they date, could they do this, and if they couldn't, could they still be friends?            What Dan told him was a little disappointing but also really sweet – he was straight, he really did love his girlfriend, but Hell yeah they'd always be friends, shit they were more than friends they brothers, gay or straight it didn't matter, they were ride-or-die motherfucker, bring it in bro, gimme a hug.            But Dan had enough whiskey that night to want to open up too, and he needed to tell Bligh something, and Bligh couldn't tell nobody, not a soul.            And Bligh listened to Dan pour his heart out, all the things he tried to laugh off or ignore that he couldn't laugh off or ignore any longer.            Turns out, Ma Dorsey, that horrible pig-faced woman that not even Pappy could seem to want to be around, had beaten him near to every day of his life, and he was ashamed – he was ashamed of his daddy, Pa Dorsey, too drunk to ever know what was going on, and he was so ashamed of who he was, being the white trash of the town.            Some of it Bligh knew, some of it he didn't – he'd heard a little of it from the way folks in Tempest liked to talk, but he never, not for a second, thought Dan couldn't handle it, couldn't fight on like he had been.            But he gave up – poor Goddam son of a bitch just gave up – leaving Bligh all alone.            So tomorrow this old house – Pappy's house, his house – would be alone too, for how long he could not know, alone with its memories, of everyone who lived in it, Pappy, Duke…            Duke was going to die, he knew it was coming, he'd raised dogs for a little while when he was eleven and twelve and Pappy had brought over some Foxhounds from his diabetic Cousin Bobby – always the full title, Cousin Bobby, from Huntington – to breed for him after the doctor cut his foot off from the Sugar. He knew dogs were mortal, even when he wasn't, he'd seen them die, put to sleep at the vet's with Dr. Barnes, Drew's ex-girlfriend's dad, and Pappy, who was always sure dogs had souls even when the Bible definitely said they didn't, prayed over them with their families when the end finally came.            Bligh wondered sometimes what it would be like when Duke died and then he would have to live forever without him, back into the mystery from whence he emerged.            And then it happened.            Pappy was going to die, too, and he knew it was coming, too, Pappy was old and, grand and invincible though he seemed, he was human, he was mortal, and he often spoke about when it would be His Time – you could hear the capital letters in it, the cosmic strike of the clock that all Christians wait for, when the last breath was breathed and Jesus would take your hand and you would go up to Heaven and be with the angels and the Almighty forever and ever.            He would see Iris again – Grandmamma Iris who Bligh never met, but who he had heard so much about, beautiful and sweet and kind and hardy and resourceful and a Godly woman, taken in Her Time by cancer of the breast before Bligh was even born. He would see her again, they would be together again, in Heaven – and his son, Gus Junior, Bligh's father, who died in the same car wreck that killed his wife Susan Anne, Bligh's mother, he would see them too…            There was a picture of Pappy and Grandmamma Iris and Ironside Lightfoot, Ladybug Lightfoot, Drew's grandparents, on Pappy's mantle – their families were always intertwined, always by friendship, never by marriage, and when Bligh thought about it too much his heart would start to ache, how much he missed Drew, how much he loved him, all those years, all that destiny, what should have been his, what should have been his…            They were all dead now, everyone in that photograph.     They were mortal.            Pappy knew he was mortal more than Bligh ever did, ever would admit, Pappy embraced mortality, the last sermon he ever preached, in between the death-rattle of his growing emphysema: the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.            The whole congregation stood up and applauded him, a clap of thunder, many of them were crying.            Bligh wondered sometimes what it would be like when Pappy died and he would have to bury him, into the West Virginia mountains from whence they both came.            And then it happened.            None of this, none at all, hurt the way Drew had hurt him – it was a special kind of pain, there was no betrayal in the way Duke had died, Pappy had passed.            Duke didn't see the cop car, the state trooper passing through their town – he closed his eyes amidst his own agonized whimpers, his head cradled in Pappy's lap, with his eyes, one brown one blue, gazing a long wistful farewell and crying out strange little yips, almost like words, to Bligh…and died.            And Pappy, too – with Bligh clutching his hand, tightly, closed his eyes amidst him telling the Good Lord he was ready, that he was proud of Bligh, the boy he took to raise, that he would see Iris soon, that he was ready Lord, just as I am, without one plea…and died.            Both of them taken at the end of Summer, a year apart, Duke and Pappy, before the Dog Days, before the weather turned too hot and too dry – a clap of thunder, and their hearts stopped, and Bligh's heart broke.            End of Summer, end of life.            But Drew was still alive and the betrayal never, ever stopped – would he ever understand that? How would Bligh handle it? Just let it out in one primal scream? Or show him – take off his clothes, let him know, this is what he became, this was what loneliness did to him?            He wouldn't tell him about Duke, shit, like Drew would ever understand, all that big city bullshit he was in the middle of he'd probably forgotten what Duke barked and howled like, how the fuck would he ever know, ever get, how him and Duke were…a couple.            No human would ever love him, it felt like, but Duke loved him, and so by some magic, something ancestral, probably, something he could never understand and never tried to understand, he became something more, something better, something that Duke loved and something he, Bligh, loved too.            Dan said he'd loved him – brotherly love, ride-or-die, and when Bligh tried to reason that must've counted for something he remembered that Dan took the coward's way out, he couldn't love Bligh enough to trust him to know Bligh would do anything to help him.            That charred hunk of flesh they had a closed-casket for went into the ground and while every last person thought he was just an unhappy guy, whose mama forged checks and tried to sell Oxy and who used to get drunk and beat him all the time growing up, they only knew parts of the story, not the whole thing like Bligh did.            His mama died of a massive heart attack – fat bitch – right after they graduated, and his daddy, before that, pissed off the wrong person in a bar called the Brass Rail in Charleston and got run down like an animal in the parking lot…Bligh's mama's daddy had almost the same thing happen a long, long time ago.            The two elder Dorseys, Ma and Pa, had left their son the house that now sat empty, that house full of memories, bad memories, nightmares that walked the day and never quit, haints inside your head, all those years later after Dan got big and the whuppins stopped.            Right after they went out drinking that night he'd grabbed hold of Bligh and hugged him tight – went back into his house to pass out, and the next day he climbed into his Chevy with a tank of propane and something to set it on fire.            And then his girlfriend, Jenny Hartman, messed up her wrists bad with her uncle's old fish scaler because she missed that big boy with the bigger heart whose child she was carrying – they hauled her off to a nuthouse, and she hung herself. The baby died too: a boy, they named it Daniel, after his daddy.            Because that's all that Tempest was anymore, a big graveyard – for people and for dreams.            For just a second, only a second – deep, somewhere, in the places where he stowed things he couldn't ever admit, Bligh, who'd been born on West Virginia Day, and taught to be proud where he came from, he knew that it was happening all over their state, not just Tempest, not just Adkins County.            He'd defend West Virginia against the world, this little nation of miners and farmers and woodsmen that were so different in the way they talked, the way they ate and lived and sang and loved and died – he'd defend it even though he knew it was rotting from the inside, even though the coal companies had done their ritual rape and the timber companies had performed their ugly work to tear down all the forests, even though it seemed like everybody had somebody they knew died or dying of pills, even though Ricky Jack was doing a dime at Mount Olive for holding up a pharmacy to get more pills, and even though it was like that for everybody it felt like, so much drugs and violence and poverty, he'd still defend it, fuck you, montani semper liberi, motherfucker.            Bligh closed his eyes – he shuddered, letting a wave of naked honesty hit him.            He understood why Drew left.            Drew had dreams that didn't involve him – that didn't involve West Virginia.            Bligh thought he'd come in for Dan's funeral – Bligh was a pallbearer, he helped carry the coffin but not the weight, at the time he felt guilty, as if Dan telling Bligh the truth was what killed him, like the ability to give up the secrets of being beat and humiliated and ashamed his whole life was what allowed him to die.            But Bligh never cried, not once.            He cried later – when Drew didn't come home.            Drew sent his condolences to the Dorsey cousins, but that was it, the kind of bullshit politeness his daddy had mastered, acting like you cared officially, diplomatically, when you really didn't – look too closely and you'd realize it was actually ruder than not doing or saying anything at all.            But Drew was done with Tempest, he'd spent all his holidays in Tampa, volunteering at homeless shelters and looking like a white-savior jackass on Instagram and all the while pretending to the world he wasn't drinking all that expensive vodka and getting his ass rammed by boys he took home from clubs, look at him, look at how carefully he managed his image, with no Bligh, no Stevie, no Tempest, no blots on his permanent record, he could have been a fucking politician, just like his Pa.            His only dream had become Florida, freedom, new state, new him, fuck it, he'd earned it, he had made it come true.            Now it was Bligh's turn – this was his dream.            Bligh was coming for him, for Drew, for the boy, the man, that still had his soul.            His back turned to the tarp-covered truck, he let out a long, hot sigh into the cooling evening air, his eyes straining for the first stars to come out – he slapped distractedly at a mosquito as he felt a pair of tears drip down his cheeks, off his face, into the gravel.            He didn't like to think about it because it was still too painful, still too wrong – but he missed Duke an awful lot, he missed his big dick that nearly matched Bligh's own in size and weight and power, missed the feeling of his long flat tongue inside his mouth, the low and dominant growl, the only creature, human or otherwise, capable of telling him what to do…knotting, tying, in that old abandoned church Dog's Creek ran through, away from everyone, naked, just them, two dogs, just two damn dogs…            This was something he couldn't tell a soul about – there were so many things he wanted to tell somebody, anybody else, and make them understand, make it so that they didn't judge him, but how, how that would ever happen he'd never know.            Weren't it some stereotype that people from West Virginia did gross things to their cousins, their relations, their animals? Bligh didn't have a sibling but dammit, he'd done two out of three – his whole damn life he'd start some shit and throw hands with any motherfucker that said a word about West Virginia but there he was, being the stereotype himself.            He had to question – why did he feel that way? Why did he do the things he did with Duke, why did Duke do the things he did with him?            Duke was the most beautiful thing in the world, next to Drew – Dan was cute, so was Stevie, and Drew's boyfriend Cody was really something special too, but nothing next to Duke…the attraction had been slow-building, but by the time Bligh was eighteen he knew what he was, what kind of pervert that wanted to take a dog as a lover, and he left the church many years ago even though he still believed in souls and spirits and haints – weren't he a haint hisself, now? – so there was no religious or moral guilt, just slow, slow acceptance.            One day he just gave in – one day he allowed himself to be separate from the rest of all humanity, he knelt down saw that Duke was hard, hard and out with that gorgeous plump knot – he just gave in, to all his feelings. He was in love, in love with that shaggy, wire-bearded face, the different-colored eyes, one blue and one brown, the strong muscled legs and the shaggy, greyish-black fur that was streaked so evenly he looked like a ghost moving through the trees…            Bligh's tail – the tail that Duke gave him – wagged.            Because he wasn't born this way – he was born human, looking like every other human except the weird blue color of his eyes…Duke, and the loneliness that had driven them together, had made him this way.            It was a strange feeling, Bligh had, when Duke was alive, when they were together – a deep-burning, clannish kind of respect for Duke, how nobody else but his dog could match Bligh's genitals for their size, their shape, their prowess.            He would awake up most mornings, his sheath already stirring, looking down at his canine cock that he was not born with but which Duke gifted him through some weird mutation emerge, straight and firm…then he would glance drowsily at Duke, that randy little thing that the whole town marveled at how smart and almost human-like he was, and his own big dick would be starting to grow heavy until his sheath couldn't hold it, and out it would jut, dripping and ready. And so many mornings Bligh could wrap himself in the throbbing warmth of he and Duke, together, understanding each other as no other creatures in their town ever could, ever would.            All day afterward, and well into the subterranean midnight of his dreams, his mind would be filled with the image of the superb, bestial shape of the canine genitals, and there would be queer stirrings in his heart – a swelling and happy pride, to be so loved by something as grand and beautiful as Duke, and so separate and secret too.            Now he could hold it in no longer, he choked back a fresh sob, that sound that could have been laughter or tears…the only three people to know the difference – two brothers, Drew and Stevie, and a dog, Duke – were all gone.            He faced the darkened woods beyond his house, the great black beast of the mountain that rose up at the side of his house where the family of that mountain lion that he had shot in the head – the first time he had tried, and failed, to tell Drew he loved him –more than ten years ago still lurked, waiting, waiting for the revenge they'd never get.            It was where he and Duke used to hunt, together, Bligh naked like the beast he always longed to be since he was a little boy, watching Duke flush out prey…nothing but memories, nothing but ghosts, this town was a graveyard, a haunted graveyard.            The long, low tremolo, eerie but not evil, of a screech owl came to him from one of the trees…he could smell where it was, and if it was daylight he could probably bring it down from this distance. He often forgot because he was so used to it, but he could smell better too – like a dog, like Duke.            He remembered seeing another owl, big and weird, all them years ago – and thinking that in the forest there were secrets that would be revealed to him later, when he was alone that day, Duke and Drew not there to see it with him…            …Duke and Drew not here to see this with him.            If Drew were gone, at least Duke should still be here – but he weren't.            He wanted to howl for his dog, his lover, his best friend – but not now.            He would.            Before he left, in a few hours, he would.            For Duke.            And if Drew asked what happened, how it happened, that he looked like this, half-man and half-something else – he'd say a monster attacked him, like a werewolf.            If Drew asked.            Some things even Drew – even Drew – could not know the truth of.            He glanced down, feeling something hot and a little slimy against the forest of hair on his flat belly with the abs he had worked so hard to get…his dick, which at the memory of he and Duke in the church had slid out of his sheath, firm, erect, all eleven inches, two more than what he had been as a human, that little joke in Adkins County about his cock that was absolutely true, how big it was, but with the knot that no one knew about, relatively new, nearly as big as his fist. He took his hand and give it a cursory stroke – and smirked again.            He couldn't help it – even now, even in this hour of despair, when so much hung on so little and he had no way of knowing what tomorrow would bring, he still couldn't help it – he was too proud not to love on his mean ol dick, the dog's dick, the greatest treasure of his new body that Duke had gifted him.            He shook his head, trying to smile, trudging back to the stoop of his front porch, his penis swaying and wobbling proudly and wetly, retreating back into his sheath as he went, like a king carrying his scepter, he was aware of how it looked, it wasn't just to be sexy, it was him ruling the place he was born in, the place he now owned.            But it was part of a bigger problem, right? What would Drew think – what would Cody think – when they saw it, his legs, what was between his legs, and the other four nipples, the ears, the tail?            The thought, which should have made him cold with fear, never bothered him – maybe it was the dick talking, maybe it was his heart talking, that pride that never left, no matter what happened to him there was always pride, a light, deep down, that never went out.            He would make it work. There was no way it wouldn't work.            He paused – a hesitation, a moment of weakness.            But would it really work? Would it? What if Drew said no…?            And then, a quick, decisive shake of the head – no. No time for doubts. He had one shot, only one shot…            …the last moments, right before Pappy died, Bligh took off his hat, alone in the room with him, and Pappy saw, he saw Bligh's ears, the long doggy ears covered with fur, and Bligh seen his eyes light up, and smile.            He wanted to make sense of it, he wanted to understand it – maybe he couldn't, maybe he shouldn't try to.            But it meant something – it had to – that wordless smile, like he was at peace with it, like he could be at peace, calling on Iris to come meet him, he was ready.            Something told him that was a mystery he wasn't ready to solve, but – that he could, one day, one day he could.            And if Pappy could see it and smile, then could Drew…?            Bligh picked up the beer as he went, and took one last swig, it came down his throat, warmer than before, still tasty.     The bottle hung in his fingers listlessly – the night, now complete, draping down like a curtain, refreshed the Earth from the heat of the day.            His fur, his body hair, black like the night, made him blend in, like a shadow…            Bligh was a shadow. All he ever was, without Drew, was a figment of the imagination of the mountains, the trees, the creek that ran like the sleep of a never-ending dream.            Now – now, a nap, a shower, and he could get in the Ranger and then the shadow, his shadow, he, his family, his grandfather, all of it that had been cast opaquely onto Tempest would disappear, down to Florida, to find Drew, where his heart was, what he still ached for, what had been lost.            "Night, y'all—" he whispered.            And then Bligh realized nobody was there.

#bligh