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birdblorbo · 1 year

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Loser’s Club as Very Specific Sensory Issues because I have Sensory Issue’s

Also known as me heavily projecting onto my comfort characters. Also brief Stenbrough cause I love them.

Long Post

Bill: Loud noises. For obvious reasons Bill hates storms so the rain and especially thunder tip him off, but anything resembling thunder can also freak him out. For example loud music with a lot of drumming (I was in marching band for years and drumline alone would probably give him a panic attack. I hate drumline). He doesn’t like concerts or movies in theaters because of how strong the sounds are without him being able to control it. Headphones are ok because he can lower it when he chooses, though he prefers to just mute out any sound with ear plugs rather than mute out outside sounds with music unless the drumming in the song is very light and slow. If he can’t do either he likes to lay his head on Stan’s chest or just another loser if Stan’s not around so he can hear their heartbeat. The steadiness helps calm him down while reassuring him they are alive and well.

Stan: Being touched. There are very few exceptions where Stan is comfortable with touch and he is more comfortable with certain losers touching him over others. He is most comfortable with Bill least comfortable with Richie. (Full scale: Bill, Mike, Ben, Bev, Eddie, Richie) Richie calls it favoritism but its mostly on a scale of movement. Bill is very stable with Stan, making sure to limit his movements. Also he has been helping Stan become more comfortable with casual affection as Bill is very affectionate. Going along with the previous when Bill lays on him it is a comfort for both as Bill can hold onto him while Stan is on the outside able to push him off if needed rather than feeling surrounded. Ben and Mike are just very stable on their own. Beverly is in the middle, she can be still if needed but prefers not to. While Eddie and Richie on the other hand can’t sit still to save their lives and the sudden and relentless movements freak Stan out. When hugging someone his arms have to be the one on the outside, if they are on the inside he feels trapped.

Chewing Noises. He can’t stand any sort of chewing noises and has to stop eating if he can hear himself or someone else chewing. He immediately loses his appetite at the sound no matter if he is in the middle of eating or is about to eat. Saliva in general also grosses him out. For example if a dog drools on him or is excessively drooling in general he loses his appetite as well.

Eddie: Food textures. Eddie is not a picky eater taste wise but the texture could completely make or break it. He hates jello. He refuses to even touch it with his finger. Also he hates excessive oil. If he can feel the oil on his fingers after touching it, then it’s too much. (You know those frosting that leave a film on your tongue? Yeah I hate those and so does he). If he doesn’t like the texture of a food he will completely refuse to eat it.

Richie: Too tight or too loose shoes. He is constantly tying and untying his shoes as they are never perfect. Also it’s a nervous habit. He mostly despises too tight of shoes but fears if they aren’t tight they will fall off when he runs so he is always trying to find the balance between the two. This also applies to button ups. He always leaves them unbuttoned because he fiddles with the top button if it’s fully done up. On the occasion he has to dress nice he hates the top button. When it’s undone it feel too loose and rubs at his skin, but if it’s buttoned it feels like it’s choking him.

Beverly: Fabrics. She hates anything knitted, (Seriously knitted clothing and blankets feel horrible and I will die on this hill. I also can’t stand the feeling of jeans so I’m choosing to ignore her overalls). She exclusively wears faux denim as real denim makes her itch. She both hates and loves dresses. She hates them because of the objectification when she wears them but loves them because there is less fabric touching her and if it does it is very brief so as long as the top is comfortable she doesn’t have to worry about the bottom.

Ben: Tight clothing. He can’t stand the feeling of restriction tight clothes cause, especially on his legs. He hates the way pants tighten on his thighs when he bends his knees thus wears either very loose thin pants or shorts. (There’s this pair of pants I own that never tighten on my thighs no matter how I sit and I love them) He also cannot stand long socks, they squeeze his calfs too much.

Mike: Smoke. Any bit of smoke makes him cough and along with that sometimes strong smells do too, like a really strong candle. He hates cities because of the amount of cigarette smoke and if he sees someone smoking he holds his breathe until they pass or he passes them. He cannot sit close to the fire and especially cannot sit in the direction the smoke is blowing.

Can you tell I project myself onto Stan highly?

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powderblueblood · 2 months

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5 or 17 for Eddie and Lacy please

interrogate me about my characters

my divine pleasure to give you absolutely BOTH anon

5. GUILTY PLEASURES

full disclosure that I personally don’t believe in guilty pleasures conceptually but for the purpose of THIS: for all her tortured hipster reading (she and jess mariano share such a similar taste in literature it’s sometimes distressing), lacy loves a period romance novel—and I mean like, the drugstore paperback mills & boon bad for feminism shit. something about being too much of a control freak to allow herself to be intimately desired (this requires being seen) so she eats it up in its most melodramatic form, vicariously. same goes for kids fantasy novels (ahem, patchwork girl of oz should have been the first clue here), because she can relax into whimsy and the assurance that someone will save the day, the way they just don’t in her grounded-in-reality serious lit.

eddie’s guilty pleasures are harder to pin down, I feel, because he’s in part so detached from shame but so keenly aware of it in other places. but the boy loves to be pampered. I mean, head massage, hair treatments, bubble baths, the whole shebang. he loves to be coddled and taken care of and feels so weeeeeird about that because of the no duh abandonment issues, who’s gonna take care of him who’s gonna come into his kitchen and be hungry for him, and being perceived as a big tough metalhead MAN! he’s also a sucker for an off off off brand made for tv animated movie, like he does be tearing up at them. getting weepy about the last unicorn type ass.

17. REGRETS

lacy regrets not following phoebe to her homeroom on the first day of freshman year and chosing to chase the popular kids instead. lacy regrets divorcing herself from her emotions so harshly that she’s now terrified to feel them—good, bad, indifferent. lacy regrets letting herself go cold in an effort to get ahead. lacy would stand at her vanity in loch nora while a party she threw raged on outside and would think, ‘what the fuck is this all for?’ but everything she was brought up to believe told her that it’s better to be lonely and surrounded by bodies you can manipulate into company or kin than be lonely and alone. she regrets ever believing that.

eddie moves a little faster; he doesn’t spare much time for regretting stuff because he’s always had to simply survive, and to that end, improvise. finding a supplier in rick was improvising, begging bev to let him work at the hideout underage because it’s one of his dad’s preferred watering holes was improvising. but, if he had to pick, it’s letting improvising get in the way of how scholastically capable and clever eddie used to be when he was a kid. teachers remarked upon it in parent conferences that his mom would show up to alone, giving elizabeth that sidelong glance that told her her boy eddie was smart—and not just for a munson. he hates that he lost that somewhere between where he stands now and his mom’s hospital room.

#powder room talk #anonymous #edlacy #lacy doevski #eddie munson #hai brainrot #god this got kind of SAD!!!!!!

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t4tozier · 2 days

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thinking about the intimacy of disabled reddie after derry 2.0

cw: internalized ableism, accidental self harm (via tics)

eddie has really bad imposter syndrome when it comes to his symptoms because he finally came to terms with the fact that his childhood illnesses were fake and so he gets in his head about it a lot

it doesn’t help that he gets phantom pains even though he can’t feel his legs anymore so it freaks him out a lot

but richie’s always there for him to vent or talk about his fears with and he always seems to know exactly what to say to calm eddie down, reminding him that it’s okay to need a wheelchair now and for richie to help him with certain tasks and that it doesn’t make him weak

richie really tries to balance helping eddie with things and not being overbearing so he does worry sometimes but they learn to communicate more openly so that there’s no built up resentment or anxieties on either of their ends

richie gets tic attacks where he hits himself repeatedly and his neck jerks and he tenses up and can’t stop it or unlock himself and he can’t get any words out because he’s just humming every second and eddie doesn’t try to stop him because he knows it won’t do anything but he strokes richie’s hair and distracts him with stories of his last outing with bev or the phone call he had with stan and it helps richie to have something else to focus on

and after it’s over eddie will massage the knots out of richie’s neck and shoulders and rub icyhot into his skin (their house is always stocked) and he lets richie lay on the couch with his head in eddie’s lap so he can rest

when it’s rainy richie’s joint pain tends to be worse so they typically don’t go out much those days, they stay in and order takeout and watch silly movies and eddie will massage his feet even though he hates feet because he knows it helps for when richie stands back up even with his crutches

richie ties eddie’s shoes for him every morning. eddie has an album that’s just richie in different positions tying his shoes. kneeling down, laying on the floor, hanging off the end of their bed—it’s silly and eddie loves it because it makes him feel better about not being able to bend down even in his chair

they take turns making special baths for each other when they’re in more pain than usual, lighting candles and putting epsom salt and essential oils in the water, and then they’ll wash each other’s hair and body so so gently

decorating each other’s aids. cleaning them as a nice surprise when it’s been a little too long since the last time. making sure to always have at least one bottle of tylenol and tube of icyhot in the house at all times. reminding each other to take their meds. like i love them so so much i just think they’d treat each other so well

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #disabled eddie kaspbrak #disabled richie tozier

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satans-helper · 4 months

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Reaching for Stardust - Part XVII

Read Looking for Space here / Playlists / Read RFS on wattpad or read previous parts here

Word Count: ~4000

Warnings: none:)

This chapter took me ages to write! But it ended up being quite a fun one. Hope you enjoy <3

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“I can’t believe the boys actually wanted to go to a club,” I said from the passenger seat of Josh’s Jeep. Although it wasn’t a super long drive to get to the city and to see our kinsmen again, I was glad for the break in the harsh winter weather that made the journey smoother–instead of the ice-slicked and snow-covered roads we’d been struggling to get used to again, the highway was clear and dry, the snow kept to the sidelines. The woods lining the interstate were still coated in a seemingly perpetual layer of white which seemed to sparkle a bit with the rare and warm sunshine, the sky a wall of gentle blue and sparse clouds, the sunlight strong through the windshield. I was actually beginning to feel too warm with the heat from the vents and the sunshine licking my skin, bundled up with anticipation of the worst. You never knew when things might change. But underneath my coat, I was already in my “going out” outfit–a midnight blue sequined top with a deep v neckline that was slightly itchy on the inside but not enough for me to sacrifice it, a black skirt and matching sweater tights to complete it. Sequined black heels too, which made me notably taller than Josh, which he seemed to actually love.

“It is a little surprising,” Josh agreed, also dressed in his New Year’s Eve celebration outfit–gray, almost silvery, pants and a matching jacket, a white shirt underneath, all topped off with a mixture of silver and gold jewelry. I figured we’d both be sparkling quite a lot throughout the night. “Then again,” he continued, turning down the heat after he saw me close one vent. “I think they’re always riding on the high of a much busier life these days. Going out to a whole myriad of places is more natural for them now.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I looked out the window again, following the treeline with my eyes, imagining how much fun those three boys must have after their shows. Josh and I heard a lot about those nights, sure, but it would be so different to be a fly on the wall. Or to actually be there.

“Jane didn’t wanna drive down with us?”

“She’s already there,” I said with a laugh, pulling out my phone to check again for texts from her, though I had a feeling there would be none. “She drove down yesterday.”

“Oh, they had a sleepover?”

“Yes. Imagine that.” Yup–no texts. I clicked my phone shut. “I’m assuming it all went well since she hasn’t texted me at all. Did Jake text you?”

Josh chuckled. “Nope. And why isn’t Bev joining us tonight?”

“She’s got another party to go to.”

Josh gave an exaggerated, offended scoff. “Would this other party be better than spending the night with us at a club called Pearl, drinking overpriced champagne and smoking all of Sam’s weed?”

I laughed. “I think she just doesn’t wanna hang out with Sam, honestly.”

I saw Josh’s lips twist a little. “Ouch.”

“No, no, it’s not like she hates him or anything,” I assured him. “I think she’s still attracted to him but knows he’s not interested anymore. So it’s easier for her to take a step back.”

“You think that or she told you that?”

“She told me. More or less.”

“Well,” Josh said, shifting in the driver’s seat. “That makes me a little sad. Bev is great. Is this going to make their places in the wedding awkward?”

“She assured me that it won’t,” I told him and, for once, I actually really wasn’t worried about it. “She’s hell-bent on finding some hottie at her party tonight and bringing them home.”

“Oh, is that right? I hope she achieves her goal.”

I reached over to briefly toy with his earring. “What’s our goal tonight, Josh?”

He giggled and swung his head to the side to evade my intentionally ticklish touch. “Our goal, my darling, is to get absolutely wasted and have the best time ever.”

“Which we will be doing again in like, two and a half weeks.” I shuddered, not from any slight chill in the car but from the anticipation. “At our wedding.”

“So?”

I smiled, using Josh’s own smile at me to turn the nervous anticipatory energy into unbridled excitement. “So let’s do it.”

Pearl lived up to its name which, in my own naivety, I hadn’t expected. Then again, I should have known that Sam especially would only go to a club he passionately approved of, which meant it wasn’t going to be a cesspool or anything even remotely close to “subpar.” Still, I hadn’t been prepared for the slick white light, the shimmering waves illuminating a glossy, excited crowd, hot, scantily clad bartenders and servers passing out colorful cocktails in slim glasses, and certainly not the very not Sam music, which was pulsating and electric. The sound felt like it was vibrating through my bones as the entire lot of us made it past the exceptionally well-dressed bouncer and headed toward the bar.

The place was packed despite it being early. It wasn’t even half past nine, yet a throng was caught up at the bar, some people leaning over the counter in desperation while some stood back, shoulders straight and taut, eyeing the bartenders with impatience and contempt.

“I’ve never been to a club where so many people were actually dressed up,” I noted to no one in particular while I surveyed the people squishing against our group. Even the people who didn’t look fancy were sparkly enough to make up for it.

“How many clubs have you even been to, girlie?” Sam asked, a cheeky smile on his face while he stayed close to Danny, who was one of the people leaning over the bar. The two of them were dressed up–Sam was in silky, shiny creamy fabrics with a bold pop of red from his jacket, while Danny was in black and indigo. I could even see faint traces of black eyeliner around Danny’s long lashes–oh, how things had changed.

“This makes two,” I told him, earnestly proud of that fact.

Danny fell back into line with all of us and said, “It’s gonna be an eternity before we get drinks. Should you guys find us a table or something?”

“Yeah, what exactly are we doing here?” I asked, trying to peer past the crowd ahead of me for spare tables. There were people sitting on the edges of the club, but on free-standing stools, not tables, and with my strained leering I could see a dimly lit hallway that piqued my curiosity. I tugged on the sleeve of Sam’s jacket and asked, “What’s back there?”

“Actual tables,” he told me, giving Danny a shove to get him struggling for the bartender’s attention again. “There’s also a big patio out back.”

“There’s also another bar in there,” Jake said, tilting his head and looking at Sam with his eyebrows raised. “So why don’t we try that?”

“Tag team it,” Sam suggested, lifting his arms to gesture out at the hallway and back behind himself at the bar. “Us here, you back there.”

“And WE will find all of us a table,” Josh added, linking his arm with mine.

“My god,” I said, too quiet to be heard over the music while Josh and I navigated through the crowd, Jake and Jane just a few steps ahead of us. I raised the volume of my voice to say, “What do you think about this place?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Josh called back to me, pivoting to avoid being elbowed by a man shoving his way past us to, presumably, get to the bar. “Visually, I don’t dislike it. The music, however, I’m not sure about.”

I wasn’t either. The fast beats that had been laced with electric pop sounds had been replaced with what sounded almost like strange, electronic remixes of goth metal songs. “It’s like whiplash,” I had to shout back to Josh.

The dark hallway was lit with strings of fake pearls, all dripping from black wires that almost entirely disappeared into the walls, and then we were in an even larger room where there were indeed tables. I sighed with relief–the space was marginally quieter, though the same songs filtered in my eardrums, and the bar was entirely visible. I watched Jake take Jane’s hand and zig-zag through the other patrons to reach it as I cleared my throat, the air so full of so many different colognes and perfumes, smoke and sweat, everything dry and dank at once.

With the volume of the music so loud, Josh and I resigned to sitting next to each other in mostly silence, primarily communicating with facial expressions and hand gestures–a sour face from me when a man in a pleather jacket and way too much Axe body spray walked by, which made Josh sniff after the man and laugh hard into my side. The wait for drinks continued, and Josh’s eyebrows lifted and his lips parted in awe while he pointed at two girls headed to the bar, one in a purple sequined mini dress and the other in a longer, flowy, glittery teal dress.

“Matching!” Josh said, leaning against my shoulder to get right at my ear. “Kind of.”

I nodded, my eyes following the shift of those purple sequins until the girls disappeared into the sea of people, then caught a glimpse of red and black headed our way–Sam and Danny, respectively.

“My fucking god,” Sam said loudly as soon as he was within six inches of our table. He set down a try of six shots that he’d been carefully cradling the entire way as Danny set down a separate tray holding four different cocktails.

“It’s nice that they gave you trays,” I noted, tapping the one holding the shots which was all iridescent and cream colored. “So fancy.”

“You didn’t get Jake and Jane drinks?” Josh asked, scanning the tray of cocktails that all looked unfamiliar. “What are these anyway?”

“Different house cocktails,” Danny said, pointing at each one as he explained them. “This red one is called something like ‘Cherry Divine.’ I think it has amaretto in it.” He pointed at a bubbly, almost clear drink with a strawberry garnish in a shorter wine glass. “This one has champagne in it but I can’t remember what else.”

Sam shoved those two at Josh and I, clearly ready to get on with it, and took the last two for himself and Danny. “Okay, yeah, drinks,” he said with a huff, running one hand through his hair. He picked up a shot for himself and gestured at the tray. “Let’s do shots already.”

“Wait, wait,” Danny said, laughing, and grabbed Sam’s arm. “We have to wait for Jake and Jane.”

“There they are!” Josh said victoriously, standing up and waving an arm out at the pair headed toward us, another tray of shots in Jake’s hands and another tray of cocktails in Jane’s.

“Long wait,” Jake needlessly explained as he lifted the tray of shots over his head while shoving past a different couple going in the opposite direction. With a deep sigh, he set it down once he was finally at the table and Jane set her tray down in tandem, then they both looked incredulously over the four trays holding the copious amounts of alcohol.

“So are we gonna do all these shots right now?” Jane asked with a laugh, sitting down across from me, the silver and purple glitter in her fine, tulle-like top catching the light.

Jake sat down next to her and finally Sam and Danny joined in their own chairs, the table bouncing a bit as Sam slid in too hard. “We really should,” he said, already reaching for two of the shots. He and Josh were actually the least sparkly and shiny of us all, with Jake taking a little note from Danny with his all-black ensemble. “I’m feeling fairly desperate for a cigarette now.”

“Me too,” Josh echoed, passing me a shot next. I sniffed the clear liquid, discovered it was tequila, and grimaced. Josh just laughed and said, “You’ll need one too after this, won’t you?”

Twelve shots down the hatch, two for each of us, most of us wincing with each one; we sipped our cocktails as chasers and sat there amongst the excitable crowd, all of us turning our heads one direction, then the next, to take in the atmosphere.

New Years always felt strange. There was so much expectation, but for what? Josh and I tried–and succeeded, honestly–to make the best of it every time it came around. The harsh, dark, bitter cold winters ended up being no match for a rowdy night full of multiple bottles of champagne, loud music, card and board games and the inevitable midnight kiss which always led to sloppy, fun, giggly drunk sex. This year was the first in a couple years we’d gone out, although last year we had also ended the night with not just the two of us.

Looking away from the strangers and back to all my friends–my new family–I began to wonder what next year’s celebration would look like. There had been a night recently where I’d been texting Danny, mostly about wedding stuff but also about band stuff, and the latter proved to be more interesting–I’d known how talented all the boys were and I’d seen their success grow more and more over time, but I hadn’t known just quite how serious it was becoming. Danny wouldn’t tell me details–he swore that he couldn't–but apparently big things were happening. Bigger than all the other big things that had happened. And with the sudden onset of a wicked buzz in my head from the shots and somehow downing half my cocktail without even realizing it, my mind lingered on the mystery and the trepidation that came along with it more than I cared for.

“Is anyone feeling daring enough to dance?” Josh asked, scanning each and every one of us with bright, mischievous eyes.

“Can anyone dance to this?” Danny asked, tilting his head, eyes looking up. “I don’t even know what I’m hearing.”

“I’m gonna need a few more drinks before that happens,” Jane said, and I voiced my agreement.

“Patio?” Jake offered, gesturing to the vague backdrop where the patio must have been waiting, and was probably just as congested as the inside of the club.

“Are we really ready to risk losing our table?” I asked, though I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to stay in any longer once the music changed yet again. The bass was even louder than earlier, aggressive and juxtaposed by swooping, high-pitched vocals. Maybe later on they’d start playing more familiar tunes. I turned to Sam and asked, “You chose this club? May I ask why?”

“Okay, alright, the music absolutely sucks ass,” Sam agreed, lifting his cocktail. “But the drinks are good, it’s busy, it’s kind of cool. Sue me for wanting us all to do something different for the new year.”

“No one’s gonna sue you, but I do really want to see you dance now,” I told him; Josh smiled and gave an enthusiastic nod while Jake snickered behind his drink. “You know, to make up for it.”

“I would also like to see you get down with these strange, terrible songs,” Danny chimed in, nudging Sam with his elbow.

Sam roped an aggressively affectionate arm around Danny’s waist and brought their faces close together. “Only if you do it with me. You’re the one with all the moves.”

The patio out back was less crowded but still full of life, although most people had covered up their festive outfits in favor of jackets and coats to shield against the cold. Some brave girls didn’t cover up at all and I wondered how they were standing out there without, at the very least, shivering violently.

The city street in front, mostly devoid of trees, sent wind hurtling back to us but the vague sort of tree-lined courtyard behind the fence–also covered with string lights of fake pearls and tiny, glittering white stars–shielded us a bit from the other wall of cold air. I wrapped my coat tighter around myself and Josh pressed himself to my side. My hand that was holding my drink was already becoming frigid and a little stiff; I went to put the other in my coat pocket but Josh grabbed it and held it, his hand warmer while he rubbed his thumb over my knuckles for a few seconds, then he let me go to fish for his cigarettes while Jake pulled out his own and Sam whipped out a joint.

No one else around us cared about what we were doing or who we were–while I shared that American Spirit with Josh, I wondered to myself if Jake, Sam and Danny were reveling in their anonymity. Someday, they might not have much of it. But tonight, we were all strangers to the rest of the club-goers, just another posse looking for a good time and to ring in the new year with lights, glitter, alcohol, smoke and that excitement that some people like to say only comes once a year. Meanwhile, I was sure I felt those butterflies, the anticipation, the bundle of buzzing sparks every day with my sweetheart, who stayed close to my side and whose fingers brushed against mine each time we passed the cigarette back and forth.

We smoked; we drank; we danced. Danny really did have the moves, I was reminded of again–I hadn’t seen any of the boys dance in so long that I couldn’t stop laughing with pure delight when Danny was the first to get out on the dance floor and force himself to jive with the music. I watched Sam watching him, then he swept out to meet his best friend and long, gangly limbs moved alongside Danny’s more built ones; it didn’t take long for Jane to pull Jake along by the hand, giggling enough for him to laugh too, and Josh and I watched them all until the song changed. Then he was doing the same thing–grabbing my hand and yanking me into the crowd, into the circle of our very best companions, while the clocks around the Eastern time zone ticked minute by minute into the night, while everyone forgot all the bad things that had happened in the past twelve months.

Pearl had their own ball to gradually drop in the last minute of the night and, of course, it looked like a huge, shiny, opalescent pearl. It twirled in the air, sparkling in the lights from the extra layer of jewels and sequins coating it, as some people kept dancing, ignoring it, some kept dancing while watching it with their heads tilted up and fixed in the same direction, while some people stopped entirely to focus their full attention on it. It was a mixed bag in our group–Sam and Danny kept dancing as if the ball didn’t exist. Jane and Jake swayed together slowly, side by side, watching the molasses-slow drop, as if the music was something gentle and light. Josh gathered me in his arms and swayed us together too, my back pressed to his front, and I had a hunch we were both imagining the giant fake pearl as the moon outside–the moon that would ascend, not fall, on both, on all, of us in just a few more nights.

Despite the club being more or less a total mass of strangers, most people all chimed in together for the final ten second countdown of the ball drop. Sam and Danny did too, which prompted the rest of our group to join, all of us so drunk and stoned that every second of camaraderie felt like part of a huge, profound mission. In a way, I think it was–getting through any year was a feat every person should celebrate.

I felt an excited sort of trembling in my bones, my eyes wide and too clear given the amount I’d drank as I followed the descent of that opalescent orb hanging overhead like it really was the moon. The moon displaced, an artificial but still significant moon that had been created just for us, for all of us who danced, laughed and consumed beneath it.

When the chanting of counting became a roar of nearly synchronized cheers, before Josh spun me around, I saw Sam grab the sides of Danny’s face and pull him into a shocking, searing kiss. My own laugh in response at what I’d witnessed caught in my throat, a hand flying up to my mouth; I saw a flash of dark hair that I knew was Jake going in to kiss Jane, then Josh was in front of me as my mind went dizzy for a moment. But when he pressed us back flush together, facing each other this time, and his mouth met mine. I blinked into velvet darkness and felt like we were the only two people in the universe for a brief, blissful moment.

“So…” I began, slurring the single word, while Josh and I were undressing in Danny’s room. Now even more unsurprisingly, he and Sam had volunteered to share Sam’s room and leave us in Danny’s, and I had saved this juicy gossip until Josh and I were alone. It hadn’t seemed like the best thing to bring up with all six of us crammed into an uber on the way back to the boy’s house, although even in the dark confines of that SUV, Sam and Danny hadn’t hidden touches of their hands and the pressing together of their thighs.

“So..?” Josh countered with a sly smile at me not having finished my thought. He stumbled as he tried to take his pants off, helplessly hopping around on one foot until he careened over to prop himself up with the edge of Danny’s bed.

“So,” I began again emphatically, raising my eyebrows at Josh while I unzipped my skirt. “Did you see what Sam and Danny did when the ball dropped?”

“I caught a glimpse,” Josh replied with a chuckle, then a grunt of effort as he struggled to kick his pants all the way off. “Given how things have been going for a while, can’t say I’m surprised. Anyway, who doesn't want to kiss Danny?”

I laughed and nodded. “Totally, right? But yeah, not surprised, just surprised to see it, I think.” Standing in just my bra, tights and underwear, I grabbed my overnight bag to rummage through. The pajamas I’d packed felt luxuriously soft, comforting and inviting against my fingers, the electric energy of our celebration night dwindling into the usual drunken sleepiness.

“Everyone’s pairing off!” Josh said with a dramatic flair of his voice and a dramatic whipping off of his shirt to the floor. “What are we going to do?”

I laughed, tossing him his own pajamas from his bag. “Who do you think will get married next?”

“I can’t even think about that.” Josh stripped down to nothing at the same time I did. “I almost didn’t remember you and I were getting married until just now.”

I let out a loud laugh while the soft cotton brushed over my chilled skin. “You’re a little liar. I’ve thought about it a lot tonight, actually,” I told him, looking away from his nude form to find my travel toothbrush. “It was a really enchanting night. I didn’t expect it–not with the music and the club being, like, what it was.”

“It was a great night,” Josh agreed, achieving a little more balance while he got his PJ pants on. “Now it’s a new year–what are we gonna do with it?”

I paused at the bedroom door, toothbrush in hand, head and heart thumping: “We’re gonna get married and we’re gonna have the time of our lives.”

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@sparrowofrhiannon @starbuggie @lightsofthe-living-gvf @sanguinebats @gvfrry @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta @jjwasneverhere @gvfrry

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#greta van fleet #gvf #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #sam kiszka #sam gvf #josh kiszka x reader #rfs #gvf fanfiction

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imbadatwrighting · 1 year

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Dude if your writing for Stanley uris could I ask for x trans male one where the reader is absolutely completely in love with him but he hasn't transitioned yet and they don't know whether or not Stan accepts people like him so he ask bev for advice cause she like already knew a stuff. If not that alright but I've had this idea for a while and I can't write sooo....

I don’t think I’m really good at writing trans reader so I apologize if it’s kind of crappy but I tried so 🤷‍♀️also I tried to write this as an one shot but I didn’t like it so I changed it to Head-canons

Pairing: Stanley Uris x Closeted Trans! Male reader

———————

Honestly the only person that knows you’re trans is Beverly

She knew before you did-

She also knows about you big crush on Stanley

You and her talk about him at your house while she gives you a shoulder massage

You tried to reciprocate that but it didn’t work out that well, so let’s just say it’s never going to happen again

She tried to be your wingman and she’s was honestly good at it…. Sometimes

Other times she’ll go one showing pictures you took of Stan to him

I mean it does help you a lot and always make him blush and like you a little bit more but not so much for you as you just think he’s embarrassed and doesn’t like you talking photos of him

When you finally muster up the courage to ask him out he of course says yes which is amazing in the moment but of course makes you realize that you will now have to definitely tell him your trans which isn’t going to be the most fun in the world

Cue complaining to Beverly now about having to put yourself to Stan instead of the usual ‘Im in love with Stan’ stuff

But even though you were talking to Beverly you still couldn’t tell Stan about it

Until after the whole Pennywise situation

I mean after getting stabbed your self and Stan almost getting his face bitten off from Pennywise, it’s a safe bet that you would want to tell him before he died

Especially after realizing he might not have a lot of year to live

Random thing but Beverly wanted to tell you so bad about not seeing Stan in the future but every time you would talk about him made it worse and worse until she just decided that she couldn’t

Who knows it might not even have been that big of a deal… right?

When you finally got to muster up your courage to tell him my boy Stan was so understanding and happy for you

You and him ever other week will go out to shops and by some more boy viewed clothing

Honestly it’s so sweet

And not at all what you thought would happen-

I mean you expected something more of him not accepting you and finding you as ‘weird’ and ‘abnormal’

Which of course was never something that was going to happen

It doesn’t matter that Stan has different views for the world

When it’s about you he’s the kindest man in the world

Omg if you wanted to get your hair cut-

He would go with you during it and might get like a trim for himself too

He would be so happy for you

But if you didn’t then that’s ok too

He tries so hard not to push your boundaries and make you happy

But the only thing that he pushes is the fact that your closeted

Honestly he doesn’t care about that stuff

You could also tell them that you two are dating and if you guys get hate then you get hate

It’s not going to stop him from loving you

But if anyone was outright mean to you about switching your gender-

It doesn’t matter if you can handle it yourself or don’t care he will be your #1 defender for life

If he had to growl and bark in order for you to not be made fun of for something you can’t control then so be it

He might like it you’ll never know until you try 🤷‍♀️

Overall this boy is literally the sweetest boy out there and he will always be there for you no matter what

————-

I think I did pretty good for my first time writing something like this but I don’t think I’m going to be doing trans readers often :(

#stanley uris #stanley uris x reader #Stanley #Stanley x Reader #transgender #trans reader #x male reader #male reader #it 2017 #it x Reader #Stanley Uris x male reader #Stanley Uris x trans male reader #trans male #trans male reader #transmasc #it 2017 x reader #it x male reader

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fakegingerrights · 10 months

Text

Walk By Faith (4)

[TW for PTSD episodes and panic attacks, and traumatic events.)

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Crosshair huffed as he leaned into the stretch, the rough feeling of the sparring mat a reassuring sensation under his fingers.

He wasn’t allowed to work out properly until they got scans of his brain to make sure he wasn’t gonna keel over and die on them, but going through the routine of working out sore muscles, pushing them to the limit and relaxing into the strain was a familiar one.

It also helped that he could feel the vibrations of everything on the mat, pressed against it as he was in a tangled heap of too long limbs. He sat up, untwisting himself as someone stepped onto the mat.

“Just me, Cross.” You called softly, and some of the tension he hadn’t noticed building slid from his shoulders. “Bev sent me to tell you we’re ready. You’ve done these scans before, right?” You asked nervously.

Crosshair nodded slowly. “It’s been some time.” He hedged, stretching and huffing in satisfaction as his joints clicked and popped.

“Alright. Want a hand?” You ask, kneeling on the mat in front of him. He grunted.

“Don’t really have a choice, Doc.” He held out a hand for you to take, letting you pull him to his feet and lead him to the edge of the mat, where he slipped his shoes on and gingerly felt for your shoulder before setting his hand firmly on it.

As he followed you through the halls, it struck him just how small you were compared to him. Now, don’t get him wrong, small wasn’t a bad thing (he grew up with Hunter after all) and he knew he was thin compared to the regs, both he and Tech were. But you were still a handful of inches shorter than even Hunter, and he could feel every breath and twitch of the muscle on your frame.

Bev was pleased at his recovery so far, delighted at every report. Crosshair doesn’t think he’s especially different, still grumpy and sarky as ever according to you, but there was an ease in his actions he doesn’t remember there being in a long time. Pain he had forgot he carried made itself known before slowly releasing, leaving him free from the constant headaches and nausea that had sat in the back of his head as long as he could conceivably remember.

His pulse quickened as he followed you down familiar hallways, to exam rooms he hated with a passion. He flinched as you tapped the hand on his shoulder lightly.

“Can you ease up a bit? I’m not gonna let them hurt you.” You muttered into the still air of the lift as it dropped you below the waves of Kamino into the rooms housing the equipment you’d need.

Crosshair huffed, catching his breath as he released his grip a little bit, mumbling an apology as an after thought.

“Crosshair.” You kept your hold on his hand for a second. “It’s gonna be alright. Bev said your eyes looked great. I’m already working on workarounds for this with a long time partner of mine, ok? They’re willing to help me get a neural network set into your helmet so even if your eyes don’t work, the tech will.”

“Who?” He asked, grateful for the distraction, focusing on your voice as he slowed his breathing down to what could be considered ‘normal.’

“They want to remain anonymous, but they have a friend who relies on neural networks for everything in their life. We’re bargaining a trade of information right now so I can recreate it for you.” The lift opened and you started forward, Crosshair swearing under his breath as his foot caught on the gap between the floor of the lift and the duracrete floor. He waved off your concern and fell back into step behind you down the clinical smelling corridor.

In the exam room you led him to the table, Bev hustling over to the computer terminal and making sure everything was ready.

“Commander.” You got his attention quietly, “Procedure says we need to restrain you to keep you from moving so we get a clear scan.”

Crosshair paused, his muscles all going rigid.

“Restrained how so?” He was laying flat on the padded table as you had directed while Bev was working.

You brushed his hand first to let him know you were there before moving to demonstrate.

“A band here, across your chest, and here over your shoulders… your hands would be free so you could knock on the machinery if you needed something.” You pressed your hand against his ribcage, then higher up on his chest. “And one more across your forehead, here.” You tapped lightly at the spot just above his eyebrows.

Crosshair looked right through you, his pupils flinty pinpricks in his grey gold eyes and betraying his fear.

“My hands will be free?” He asks, fidgeting with the edge of the bunk.

“Yes. There will be emergency releases on your right side. Releasing them though will mean we have to restart." You said quietly. "So the longer you can stand it, the sooner we can be done, alright?" Crosshair nods after a moment.

"Just get this over with." He held perfectly still as the synth leather straps were carefully arranged over his upper body. Your hands paused as you pulled the last one into place over his head.

"Just hold still and it will be over before you know it. Take a nap for all I care. I'm here if something happens, ok?"

Crosshair relaxed a little, trying to breath easily. The strap across his ribs wasn't tight by any means, but it still felt like it was pressing down onto his chest and constricting his breaths. He heard yours and Bev's muffled voices outside the machinery and the hum of it starting up, a pricking feeling overtaking the back of his neck as he focused on his breathing, the remembering the counting he used when he was lining up a shot, his mind beginning to drift. He tried to sleep, to hold as still as he can and close his useless eyes. The longer he sat there though, the harder it was. And it felt like an eternity.

The MRI was loud. And it was messing with his head. He couldn't see anyways, but he shut his eyes tight and tried to block out sounds he knew was just his desperate mind playing tricks on him.

Tech wasn't next to him, mumbling coordinates and dates as he tried to remember his own name.

Hunter's hiss in pain wasn't there, as he tried to shut out the lights and complaining that his skin was too tight and he could feel every crease in his clothing.

Wrecker wasn't moaning softly as his body stretched to accommodate denser bones and tighter muscles. Crosshair gritted his teeth as he felt the table shift under him. Was he done?

Even though his eyes were closed, it was too bright without seeing anything. The lab, which had been clean but not overwhelmingly so, suddenly smelled like bleach and blood and he couldn't kriffing breathe.

The lights were buzzing above them. He knew it. The bulb was about to go out in a day or so, his enhanced eyes catching every minute flicker of the light searing into his head, though shut eyes it stung and he had a building migraine as he curled farther into the bench he was on, hoping for some warmth in the chilly air of the lab.

Hunter hated the lights too, his heightened senses making laboratory settings living hell for him. Tech’s constant testing for recall speed and IQ and the sheer amount of information crammed into his head often left him mumbling for hours, unable to think enough to remember his own name. Wrecker spent his nights in agony, growing pain was bad for all of them but his was worse, often spending nights in a drugged sleep to keep him from crying out as his limbs stretched and muscles tightened. Hunter hissed. Tech muttered. Wrecker Whimpered. Crosshair?

Crosshair screamed.

Three fingered hands, rubbery and too squishy and made his skin hurt when they touched him in a way he couldn't explain. Needles in his arms, in his thighs, his neck.

It all burned. Days in darkness with bandages wrapped around his eyes after the latest round of testing left them bleeding and sore. Hunter's hand was rubbing up and down his back, Tech was blinking owlishly down at him, squinting because his last pair of goggles broke and they were waiting for new ones. Wrecker was asleep.

He loved his brothers. He really did but it hurt so bad, it was too much. He thrashed, trying to get away from everything touching him as an unfathomable weight held him down.

"-s he seizing? Bev what's going on!?"

"Focus, 9904. If you want last meal tonight you'll put it together in the time limit." The bounty hunter instructing him warned as Crosshair, 7, studied the components of the firepuncher rifle in front of him. "Two minutes. Starting....Now."

Crosshair tried. He really did. 2:04 was better than even some of the bigger clones could do! But, as he lay curled around an aching pit in his stomach that night, he was reminded that he wasn't good enough. He never was. He never will be.

"You wanna skip last meal again today, 9904? Then cut the sass and put the rifle together."

Crosshair growled. He forced his hands to move faster, his eyes to move quicker. He still wasn't good enough. 2:02.

"Post Traumatic Stress episode-"

"Damn it kid! Get your ass into gear. You're not eating until you get this right." Crosshair growled low in his throat at the bounty hunter. "You got something to say, 9904?"

"I think since you've failed to teach me properly, you should hold off too. Some missed meals might do you some good." Crosshair spat. He was fully expecting the slap that came down hard on the side of his head as the bounty hunter grabbed him by the ear and started dragging him through the halls of Tipoca city, his expression one of cold rage while Crosshair hissed and spat and scratched like a feral tooka.

"He's-" "-panic attack?"

"-Flashback-"

The rain was cold dripping down Crosshair's back as waves nearly sixty feet high battered the small platform they were on. "You know what, 9904? I think you have too much energy. You need to cool off a bit before we can continue." The bounty hunter snarled, dragging him to the edge of the platform by his thin shoulders and dangling him off. "I'll be waiting in the exam room when you get back."

With that, Crosshair was unceremoniously dumped off the side.

He never was the strongest swimmer. The icy water hit him, soaking through his cadet uniform. He blindly kicked off his shoes to reduce some of his weight as he fought to stay above the surface as another wave swelled, nearly smashing him back against the platform as he was dragged harshly under, his ears popping several times and a sharp pain erupting from his left eardrum.

Crosshair choked, the sea water salty and burning the back of his throat as he gagged and spluttered once he reached the surface. His left ear had water in it, he couldn't hear on that side as he just managed to catch the edge of the platform and cling to it like a drowned rat. The chill of the water and days of missed meals had sapped his strength, holding on was all he could do as another wave crashed over the platform and crushed his ribs into the edge and his face into the platform proper before retreated, leaving him a bloody mess as he struggled to breathe. The next wave slammed into him and he forced himself to roll with it, ending up sprawled on his back on the platform.

"I've got you, easy." Crosshair knew that voice. Where?

His trainer wasn't happy to see him. Crosshair didn't care. His time didn't improve either, his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't hardly pick up the pieces of the sniper rifle.

But there was something pressing into his back too? He looked around, but nothing was there. His trainer snarled. "Well, you gonna get this done or are we gonna sit here all night?"

A hand was gripping his trembling fingers. It... it burned. But he didn't let go. Nobody was there when he looked. The feeling persisted as he blinked a few times.

"That's it, Cross. Take your time." The voice was soft, feminine. His brothers called him that. He tried to focus on it. Shut his eyes tight even as his instructor yelled at him to get busy. "Steady does it. You did great, we got what we needed. You did so well, Commander."

Crosshair was laying flat on his back, on a soft surface. It was dark, and quiet aside from your steady breathing. You had his limp hand in yours, tracing small patterns. He was disorientated, feeling for his surely broken nose and bruised ribs. But he was fine, not even his clothes were wet.

But he had been in the ocean again, hadn't he? Trainer Jai-Billic and his creative punishments?

"Nope. Nice and dry." You murmured.

"'said that aloud?" He grumbled. His whole body ached nonetheless, phantom pain still present and he was so tired.

"Mhm. Do you wanna sit up and we'll grab some water for you. Bev said you had a PTSD induced episode. You're still getting used to not having the chip to help regulate trauma. It was... interesting, to watch your brain fire off in real time. And then you started screaming and it was terrifying." You shuddered, enough for him to feel it.

Crosshair just grunted. So that was why his throat ached. He shivered in the cold lab as you unwound your hand from his. He felt wet despite his clothes being dry, everything feeling foggy.

"Here, buddy." You touched his shoulder lightly. "Wanna sit up? I have some water for you." He let himself be guided, everything still feeling dreamlike.

"Yeah, you're still really dissociated aren't you." You murmured in reply.

"Oh... I'm talking still." His words were spilling everywhere. Nothing seemed to stay where it was supposed to, his thoughts slipping away like water through a sieve. You curled his hand around the water pouch and helped him guide it to his mouth and take a few drinks. Crosshair realized how dry his mouth was suddenly, after a few swallows he drained the whole thing.

"Right, Crosshair. Can you tell me five things you can feel?" You asked quietly. It took a second for Crosshair to gather his scattered thoughts.

"Table... Clothes..." He scratched at his jaw. "Prickly... 'need to shave... my shoes... and the water."

"We can take care of that later. What about four things you can hear?"

It was getting easier to think, although he still felt oddly dreamlike. "You... Me... uh, a mouse bot... and the computer terminal."

"Good. Three things you can smell?"

"Bleach cleaner. My soap. You." He listed off, his voice becoming a little less raspy.

"Two things you can taste?"

"Breakfast... Blood. I bit my tongue."

"One thing you can see?"

Crosshair glared in your direction. "That's not even funny."

You snort. "Just checking. Can you stand up for me? I've got everything I need and can start working on getting your helmet all fixed up. Is there anything I can do for you?"

Crosshair paused. "Don't know. I want to see again."

"Alright. I got an audio adaptor for a datapad if you want to listen to reports and your new orders. Your squad is headed to Bracca in two weeks to track down...well, your old squad." You hesitated, tension thick.

Crosshair had seemed... mixed. About his old squad. On one hand, you noticed how much he missed them. How he had turned to say something to someone that wasn't there, how his eyes had darkened when you first called him Cross, then how desperate he had seemed to be called that.

He had given you Tech's name the first time you met. After, you had looked up his squad's files, made a point to memorize their names. You were surprised how often you had worked with squad 99 before you met Crosshair.

Goggles for Tech, to correct a slight nearsightedness and slight protanomaly. You later worked on the interface with his HUD to link them to his helmet and help him control his HUD through the lenses that got in the way of him directing it with his eyes like his brothers could.

A mechanical eye for Wrecker, after Tech mixed up the red wire and the green wire in a bomb and set it off at close range, leading to the discovery of his protanomaly.

Reconstructive surgery on Echo, after his rescue from the Technounion and their sloppy work on his nervous system and not properly using his eyes for nearly two years left him partially blind and sensitive to light.

Adjustable darkshades on Hunter's helmet, to keep him from being overstimulated with the flashing blaster fire and explosions.

Really, the only one you hadn't met yet was Crosshair, due to the kaminoans being fiercely protective of his eyes.

Crosshair grunted, startling you a bit. "Guess you'd better get to work then. Those idiots are going to get themselves killed without me and a new squad is hard to adjust to."

You huffed a laugh, part of you wondering if he meant his non-clone squad or his brothers. Probably his non-clone squad.

"Let's just go get your helmet fitted out, yeah?"

Taglist:

@the-hexfiles @moon-wrecked @stunkbiggu @urfriendlyneighbornightfury @anotherschuylersister @endo-bunny @renon4224 @tecker @rinwritesfics @pb-jellybeans @merkitty49 @chicknstripz @bambambunny @yeeteth-the-raven]

#soft crosshair #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #tbb crosshair imagine #hurt/comfort #crosshair #WalkByFaith #GingerWrites

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slashyrogue · 11 months

Text

Failed Twitter Attempts - Hannigram AU: His Until Midnight

Will still isn't sure how it got to this point.

The only reason he'd come to the bachelor auction was because his best friend Bev had begged him to be her date, since she was on the committee for the library project and despite hating socializing, especially with strangers, Will loved the library and didn't want to see the shitty new mayor's budget cuts end the place he'd called home for so long.

The library had always been his sanctuary as a kid, a place where he could get lost in his own imagination, and to think other kids would lose that made him finally say yes.

He'd mostly hung in the back as Bev talked the bachelors up, content to be alone, but when there's a crisis and half the bachelors get food poisoning Bev begs him to be put to auction.

"No way," Will says, shaking his head, "Bev..."

Bev is in tears as she takes his hands. "Will, I have no one. You're like, Mister Small Town Perfect: dogs, a good job, and you're adorable. Everyone out there will eat you up. I promise I won't let some weirdo take you home."

Will sighs.

"You promise?"

"Absolutely."

He walks out, blushing like mad, and Bev introduces him to the crowd like he's a movie star.

"And here we have Will, who has seven dogs - all rescues - and in his spare time volunteers at the animal shelter. He's a biology teacher at Baltimore High School, very single, and just look at those cheekbones!"

Will's eyes widen when the bids start.

"One hundred!"

"Two hundred!"

"One hundred thousand dollars."

A loud gasp makes everyone look at the man who spoke, and to Will's shock he knows exactly who the mystery bidder is.

Hannibal Lecter, multi-millionaire and the only living heir of the Lecter family.

The same family that whose murders sent Will into the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane exactly fifteen years ago that resulted in him withdrawing from the FBI and becoming a high school teacher.

He lets out a long breath, eyes wide, and Hannibal's gaze is still so intense he can hardly look away.

"Um....any other bids?"

Will feels like his chest is being ripped open when Bev says only one more word.

"SOLD!"

How is he going to survive even a second in Hannibal's presence let alone hours for a date?

He doesn’t know but apparently he’s about to find out.

#failed twitter attempts #hannigram au #auction series

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operationslipperypuppet · 7 months

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here’s a question I’ve been thinking about a lot: thoughts about what general moonshine looks like?? we know all the boobs have taken on these more defined leadership roles in the war on the astral plane and I’m so intrigued by what that looks like for moonshine, a bit of an anarchist who last we saw her still wasn’t super comfortable actively taking and acknowledging a leadership role. also what do you think is gonna be the most insane policy mawmaw put in place in gladeholm before she had to return to the crick (I’m partial to the idea that gladeholm is now just full of local critter governments where the high elves weren’t even aware there were critters before)

I think Moonshine approaches being a General tentatively. She doesn’t like to give outright commands - she prefers to make decisions a collective choice when possible. When she has to make sweeping declarations they come from herself, Beverly, and Hardwon as a unit, and that helps her feel like she’s not lording power over her troops. (Hardwon approaches his authority in a very similar way to her, he took to Crick lifestyles so quickly that he attempts to embody their teachings and habits when and where he can. Bev approaches it a bit more traditionally, but still follows the lead of his former scoutmasters where he can. Some habits are impossible to break). Moonshine doesn’t love being in charge, and often has moments where she has to talk through her doubts with Hardwon, especially at the beginning, but she’s put her own spin on it and delegates when and where she can.

Regarding Gladeholm - I absolutely adore that critter idea. I think the strongest lasting idea MawMaw set up there was the idea of a collective government, but I think the most ridiculous has to do with the water park (which is of course still operational). I’ll decide here and now that it was that once a week the park is only open to critters and no humanoids are allowed to use it that day. The traditional high elves hated it originally but now it’s a spectacle. Everyone enjoys it.

#naddpod #asks #meteortrails #pls send more asks these are fun!

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watercoloredlie · 5 months

Text

So I read Flight of Icarus and it wasn’t that bad.

I love that Eddie got his love for music from his mom. She sounded like a cool lady gone too soon. It’s cute that he shares her initials.

Al Munson can rot.

Wayne should be protected at all costs. I hate how people lump all the Munsons together when Al is the only real bad one. Wayne always had Eddie’s back and I love that.

Higgins can rot too. I hate that stereotype of the jocks getting away with bullying while their victims get in trouble.

Bev is cool for the most part. I didn’t mind the idea of Eddie also working at the Hideout.

It was cool to get a glimpse of another Hellfire campaign with Eddie as DM. Also kind of cool to get a glimpse of earlier versions of the characters we saw on the show.

Ronnie was cool. I can see why she and Eddie were compared to Robin and Steve. Love that Granny Ecker was cool with Eddie too. At least until he upset Ronnie. It was cool to see Ronnie not backing down to the bullies.

Paige. I expected her to be terrible given everyone’s reactions to her, but she really isn’t that bad. Eddie was his cute dorky self with her. I was surprised that she bailed him out after their argument though. It’s funny that people think Eddie was a virgin with no game. Man had Chrissy skipping up to his doorway. He had her smitten with him in the woods. But I digress.

Chrissy my love. She was so badass standing up for Gareth and Eddie. This book just made me love her more. I loved the flashback to the night of the talent show. She and Eddie were adorable.

Reefer Rick was pretty much just how I had headcanoned him.

Eddie meeting the Byers boys and protecting Will was awesome. I love that Will got the first invite to Hellfire. I wish Eddie knew how the boys didn’t want to play DnD with Will in season three. Oh he would have reamed them out.

I appreciate the Warners for being welcoming to Eddie. Props to Mr. Warner for calling Wayne a good guy. Sure, Eddie had to downplay stuff a bit, but it was nice to see a family like Paige’s not immediately brush off Eddie as no good.

Eddie deserved to live and to graduate. This book just made it clear how even more unfair it was that his storyline ended the way it did. There was a lot of foreshadowing to it in the book too.

It was also pretty cool to see Corroded Coffin band moments. I still think Dougie is the unnamed member of the band since they did say their rehearsal space was in his garage and that kind of does match up with what was shown in Season 4. Although he’s supposed to be a senior in the book so that doesn’t line up. I don’t really know if he is the unnamed band member or not.

Also unless I read wrong, did they really mess up Gareth’s wrist when he’s a drummer? Only to have Jason mess up his hand in season four? That was uncalled for. Leave Gare alone.

I appreciate how understanding Hop was with Eddie. I think deep down even he knew Eddie was a good kid for the most part.

Eddie’s LOTR monologues were just so Eddie lol. It was cool to see Ronnie try to help him with his studies though. Hurt to see him call the assigned reading for English bland, but I get it. There were some books we had to read for English that I didn’t like either.

It was a nice touch that they mentioned Eddie enjoying comics. Especially the Xmen ones since it kind of confirms he got the Hellfire Club name from the Xmen comics.

All in all, not a bad book. Third ST novel I read. Lucas on the Line was really good despite the descriptions of Eddie not really being accurate. Also read the Hopper book which was pretty good too.

#eddie munson #flight of icarus

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thecrimsondandelion · 1 year

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Eddie going to NY to sort his divorce etc, before moving out to LA to pursue his relationship with Richie/start a new career. They had a kiss, a sappy, heartfelt goodbye at the airport, and since then a ton of texts, calls, and FaceTimes

And eventually Eddie gets the divorce shit sorted, he’s no longer got a wife and now he can happily have a boyfriend. A real, public, happy relationship with the bane of his existence and love of his life

Anyway, Richie sends for a car to pick him up (I feel like Richie hates driving, won’t drive unless he absolutely has to.) and when Richie eagerly swings the door open to greet Eddie, Eddie’s taken aback by the streak of white in Richie’s es hair

I’m a slut for blond Eddie. I’m a blond Eddie truther, so him getting white/grey hairs wouldn’t make a stark difference. But it’s super visible in Richie’s hair. And Richie notices Eddie staring at him and he gets all self conscious - as if Eddie doesn’t think he looks hot as fuck, as if he’s not humiliated by the fact that he has butterflies in his stomach and has the overwhelming feeling of I Have The Biggest Crush On You on the man he’s already professed his love to

Idk Eddie panicking and rushing off to call Beverly like “he’s hot, Bev!?” “You just figure that out, honey?” Which ofc he didn’t. But he’s borderline silver fox now

And Richie is freaking out, texting Stan all his catastrophic thoughts, feeling bile rise up with the pure anxiety he feels that Eddie doesn’t want him anymore, that Eddie’s going to leave him for somebody younger and hotter. Stan calling Richie an idiot but also threatening to throttle Eddie if he does - bc Stan is particularly protective of Richie

Idk, Eddie is standing there suddenly glaring at Richie, super pissed off bc of that sexy streak of white in his hair, the peppering of greys and whites in his stubble. And he’s pulling Richie into kiss, immediately running a hand through his hair. Mumbling about how good he looks, and he can practically feel the heat coming from Richie’s face as he blushes

#it’s 2:30am so this might make no sense #but idk like the losers all getting together and eddie is kind of always giving richie bedroom eyes #eddie getting all grumbly and moody when richie gets called a silver fox by talk show hosts or other celebrities #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kasprak

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unfinishedslurs · 8 months

Text

Umbrella Academy Losers

Bill takes a deep breath, twists the cap off the urn, and dumps the ashes out. They fall into an inelegant heap. It would have hated that.

“M-might have been b-b-better with some wind,” he mutters. Everyone stays silent.

Finally, Richie breaks the silence. “Did anyone else ever expect him to turn into some weird alien…clown…spider…thing?”

No one replies, until Bill toes the ashes. “Yeah.”

“Well,” Richie says, lighting a cigarette, “good to know I’m not completely crazy.”

“I don't think that Bill being on your side points to your favor,” Eddie replies.

Bill frowns down at the small pile by his feet. “I used t-t-to th-think he was i-i-immortal. I g-guess I s-st-still thought th-that.”

“He was always good at making us think he was the biggest threat we’d ever face,” Mike says.

“He was wrong,” Bev replies, and glances at the ashes one last time before light flashes and she’s gone.

Richie’s sitting upside down on the couch, much to Eddie’s chagrin. Sucks for him, but there’s plenty of couches to choose from. He didn’t have to sit next to him. He pulls a joint out of his pocket and lights it. Hopefully having lungs upwards for a change doesn’t make him choke.

Bill sighs. “Richie.”

“Sorry, Big Bill, but if you think I’m going to be sober enough to chance seeing It’s ghost, you’re out of your goddamn mind.”

They all wince in sympathy.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, “but can you at least not smoke with the asthmatic in the room?”

Richie squints, trying to make sense of Eddie’s upside-down face. “Do you have asthma? I don’t remember you having asthma.”

“Were you there for most of our childhood?”

“Physically or mentally?” He asks, but gets up and moves to the bar. Close enough to hear, far enough to not aggravate Eddie’s lungs. Bev and Ben follow him.

“Got a smoke?” Bev asks, leaning against the bar, and Ben falters, accidentally turning his two fingers of whiskey into three.

“You—you’re thirteen,” he says, at the same time Richie asks, “Aren’t you an infant now?”

“I’m forty years old,” she says, fixing them with the second most deadpan stare he’s ever seen. “I’m in the body of my thirteen year old self, which is enough torture. Besides, these lungs are already ruined. Give me a damn cigarette.”

Can’t argue with that. He gives her a damn cigarette.

Ben sighs and adds another finger.

“Richie,” Bill calls, because he has some kind of Big Brother instinct that Richie secretly thinks of as his second power, “you better not be giving drugs to the baby.”

“Fuck you, Bill,” Bev snorts, and Richie follows up with, “Yeah, fuck you! The ‘baby’ gave me cigarettes first.”

“Why’d you stay, Mikey?” Bill asks. “You hated it here more than any of us.”

“Actually I think that was Richie.”

“Hell yeah it was!” Richie calls.

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rainydaydally · 1 year

Text

Boys don’t cry

Warnings

-Dysphoria

-Misgendering

-Unsafe binding

-Panic attacks

Everybody is at Richies house for a sleepover. They’re all in the living room watching Clueless, and Eddie, Ben, and Bev are making bracelets. Stan’s phone vibrates and some of them look for the source of the iPhone ringtone. Stan pulls his phone out his pocket. “Mom’s calling me, be right back.” Eddie and Mike nod and everyone goes back to watching the movie. Stan walks to the other room down the hall and answers the phone. “Hey mom.” Stan says. “Hey Soph! Are you having fun at Richie’s?” Stan immediately goes blank, all the color drained from his face. “It’s Stan.” He says, coldly. “Hmph. Whatever. I just don’t want my little girl taken away. Do you really hate me that much?” His mom says, teary. “No! I don’t hate you! And it’s not like i’m leaving you. I’m just being who i really am.” Stan says back. “You aren’t being who you really are. Stop being fake and making stuff up. You’re a girl, from your birth until your death.” His mom says coldly. Stan stays silent. “Goodnight Sophia-“ Stan cuts her off at the end. “Goodnight Mom.” He hangs up. Stan walks into the bathroom, and takes his shirt off. He stares at himself in the mirror in his binder. He slowly takes off his binder, tears streaming down his face. He stares at the mirror, at his body. He sobs loudly, he doesn’t even care who hears. He falls to the floor and sits against the wall with his head in his hands. After what it feels like hours of hysterical crying, someone knocks on the door.

“St-Stan? It’s me, B-b-bill.” The voice outside the door says. “C-Can I c-come in?” Bill asks. “One second.” Stan chokes out. He quickly puts his shirt back on, and a sports bra he kept in his backpack, not bothering to put on his binder. He knows Bill won’t judge, and Stan just doesn’t care about anything right now. Stan unlocks the door from where he’s sitting, and says, “You can come in now.” very quietly. Bill slowly opens the door to see Stan sitting on the bathroom floor, sobbing so hard his eyes are red, and his binder and phone on the floor next to him. Bill crouches down infront of Stan. “S-Stan! What happened? A-are you okay?” Bill frantically asks the smaller boy. Stan cries. “My mom.., she’s just,” Bills face softens and looks empathetic because he knows what Stans mom is like. “She keeps forcing me to be ‘her little princess’. She deadnames me whenever she can, she pretends that I never came out to her and my Dad. My Dad always genders me correctly and uses the right name and stuff, but it’s just- my mom is such a bitch.” Stan sobs. Bill sits down next to Stan, and Stan leans his head onto Bill’s shoulder. “I’m s-so sorry, St-Stanley.” Bill says, putting Stans hand in his and squeezing it. Stan squeezes back. “I’m alright, just sometimes I wish i was a real boy… Maybe not sometimes, more like a lot.” Stan smiles sadly. “What are y-you talking about?! Y-you ARE a ruh-real boy. You’re a-as much of a boy as me, and ruh-richie, and eddie, and any boy at scuh-school, and any boy a-anywhere.” Bill almost yells. “I guess. I just hate my body.,.” Stan sighs. Bill looks down for a very very quick second, and realizes Stan doesn’t have his binder on. Stan blushes. “Sorry. I guess I should have told you- or I can put it back on-“ Bill interrupts. “N-No! If you don’t want to p-put it back on you don’t have t-to. Plus, when you d-don’t have it on i d-don’t really mind. You are you ei-either way.” Stan smiles. “I love you,.,” Stan blurts, he quickly covers his mouth with his hand. Bill laughs softly. “I l-love you t-too, Stanley.” Bill says. “Is it okay if I... kiss you?” Stan asks. Bill nods. They lean in for a kiss and Stan puts his hand on Bills neck. After a while of kissing the bathroom door opens.

“Hey, you weirdos oka- OH MY GOD!” Stan and Bill let go of eachother. Stan looks the other way as Bill stands up quickly to face Richie standing in the bathroom doorway. “HOLY SHIT. WERE YOU GUYS MAKING BABIES?!” Richie yells as loud as he can. “NO!! NO WE WERENT!” Stan squeaks. “W-we were just k-kissing..” Bill smiles and looks down to Stan. Stan covers his face in his hands with embarrassment. Richie smirks at them. “Who in the hell is making babies?!” Eddie runs into the bathroom doorway. “What?” Eddie says blankly. Stan and Bill start laughing. “Let’s just go back to the living room guys.” Stan smiles. Stan waits for everyone to leave the bathroom. Bill notices he isn’t coming with them, and turns around. “You coming?” “I don’t know. Do you think I should put my binder on?” Stan asks. “It d-depends. How l-long have you been w-wearing it?” “Oh, since about 7 this morning…” Stan says quietly. “H-holy shit. Thats 13 h-hours. If you want to get top s-surgery when you’re older you sh-shouldn’t wear it that long.” Stan sighs. “I know, I know. I’ll keep it off.” Bill nods. “Th-thanks.” They both leave the bathroom. Not one of the losers says anything about stan not wearing his binder, and he’s very grateful about that. Stan feels like everyone is looking at him though, even though they aren’t. Stan’s phone keeps buzzing after the movie ends. Stan pulls his phone out of his pocket. “It’s my dad, i guess i better answer him… uhm, is it okay if you stay in the guest bedroom with me while i call him?” Stan asks Bill. “Yea, s-sure. i won’t s-say anything if y-you don’t want me t-to.” Bill says. Stan grabs Bill’s hand and they walk to the guest bedroom.

“Hey Dad.” Stan says. “Hey, son. How’s my boy doing?” Stan smiles at the extra gender euphoria. Bill’s so happy for Stan. Atleast one of Stan’s parents isn’t an asshole. “Good. We just finished watching a movie.” Stan says. They chit-chat for a while until Stan’s dad finally says, “Sorry about what your Mom said earlier. You know how she is about… that.” “Yea. It’s okay, don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I just wish she understood!” Stan replies. “Yea, so do I… well i have to go to sleep now because I am an old man, goodnight.” Stan laughs. “Night, dad.” The call ends, and Bill and Stan stand up from where they were sitting on the bed. “That went well, i’m glad your dad’s so supportive.” Bill smiles, holding Stan’s hand as they walk back to the living room. “Me too.”

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