#clown still exists but they kill it as kids and never have to separate and they all go on to have families together <3

[gloomy-prince]

Reddie Week day 7: Canon Divergence

They killed the clown the first time and got married and had a baby. Oh and Eddie is trans. The End :' )

#this is prob the case for my baby au tbh #clown still exists but they kill it as kids and never have to separate and they all go on to have families together <3 #reddie week #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #it 2017 #it 2019 #it movie #gloomy draws #reddieweek

[santacarlahorrorshow]

There’s a Bad Moon on the Rise (Ben Hanscom/Reader) (1/3)

Summary: You're Richie's twin sister and a member of the Losers' Club. When the other members all pack up and leave town, you elect to stay behind with Mike to wait for It to come back. After 27 years pass and Pennywise returns, will you and the other Losers be able to finally defeat him?

Pairing: Ben Hanscom/Reader; Richie Tozier & Reader; Background Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak

Word Count: 6.2k

Author’s Note: This is finished at 16k. I decided to split it up into three parts to make it easier. If you enjoy this, then letting me know would make my day! If you’ve seen It: Chapter Two, then you know what you’re in store for regarding warnings...but with the added fun of some canon divergence! 

Masterlist / Read on AO3

The summer of 1989 was one of the most terrifying and exhilarating times of your life.

Growing up, all you really had was your twin brother, and by extension, his group of friends. The girls at school never gave you the time of day, which was the way you preferred it, and most of the guys were completely disgusting.  

By the time school let out in June of '89, your only plans involved hanging out with Richie and his friends while avoiding Henry Bowers and his gang if at all possible.  

Of course, you didn't count on Pennywise.  

The Losers’ Club rose and fell that summer all thanks to the clown who seemed hellbent on traumatizing you all for life.  

You were used to the little group that consisted of you, Richie, Eddie, Stan, and Bill. You had grown used to their antics and usually had to be the first to talk them out of their more dangerous plans. Most days, they drove you absolutely crazy. You figured that was probably par for the course since you were the only girl among a group of boys.  

Surprisingly enough, you got along with all of them. Richie was your twin and the person who knew you best. Out of anyone else in the world, you knew that if you had to, you would die for him. He could be a bit of a jackass, but he loved you in his own way.  

Eddie was the worrier of the group. He was always the first to voice a concern, no matter how outlandish it might seem. You spent half your time with Eddie reassuring him that he was fine and the other half trying to get him out of his own head so he would actually enjoy his time with the group.  

Stan was the other much-needed voice of reason for the group. Both of you had to work overtime to keep the others out of trouble and ended up bonding because of it. When you were just a little too done with the others, you looked to Stan to pick up where you left off. Richie liked to joke that maybe you were misplaced at birth and actually Stan's twin since you two were so alike at times.  

And then there was Bill. He seemed to be the unofficial leader of the group, because everyone always turned to him for a plan. He was sweet and despite the tragedy he went through with Georgie, he always wanted to help.  

He was also the one in the group that you had a giant crush on.  

Crushing on one of your brother's best friends was inconvenient at best. Mostly, you were sure Bill only saw you as his best friend's sister and left it at that. At the very least, even if you wished he saw you as more, you could still always count on Bill to have your back.  

So, while you were more than happy with the friends you had because of Richie, you couldn’t help but wonder if your little group would ever grow.  

Fortunately, that summer, three more kids joined The Losers' Club.  

Ben Hanscom, or Ben Handsome as you liked to call him, literally dropped right into your lives. He was shy and sweet and you found yourself gravitating towards him as time went on. He seemed to have a doomed crush on Beverly while you were totally miserable over your feelings for Bill. You spent many moments with Ben, both of you commiserating over the wreck that was your love lives.  

After Ben joined the group, Beverly Marsh was soon to follow. She was funny and fierce and fearless. You couldn't help but admire the way she absolutely took no shit from any of the others and even managed to fit in with the group of misfits that made up The Losers' Club.  

Mike Hanlon seemed to be the final piece of the puzzle you didn't even realize was missing until the infamous rock war against Henry Bowers and his gang. To your surprise, you and the other Losers managed to win, and it seemed the prize was Mike Hanlon. He was studious and calm in a way that leveled out the group. You were grateful for his presence when he joined, because he soon became your only anchor in the whirlwind that was soon to overtake your life.  

You were glad for the friends you made that summer. Without them, you weren't sure if all of you would have survived. Pennywise would have come after one or all of you and without the others, you might not have made it.  

Storming Neibolt House the first time was only the first fracture you experienced as a group, though. After Eddie broke his arm and everyone went their separate ways, you were scared about what it would do to you. As a group, you all stood a chance against Pennywise. But alone with only your brother to fall back on? You couldn't help but think that it would be oh-so-easy for Pennywise to take his revenge on you all.  

You spent most nights terrified out of your mind that the shadows on the wall spelled your doom. The near-constant fear seemed to only help you bond with Richie more. You spent most nights in his bedroom, staying up until all hours of the night, and doing your best to not flinch at any and every strange noise.  

You watched Richie slowly fall apart without the other Losers. You knew there was one in particular he was missing the most, but you didn't push him to talk about his feelings for Eddie. Derry in '89 wasn't the most welcoming place for what Richie was going through and Henry Bowers and his bigotry in no way made it better. All you could do was let Richie know you loved him and accepted him no matter what and he seemed to take solace in that.  

The group didn't reunite until Beverly was taken by Pennywise.  

Going back to Neibolt House to confront Pennywise felt like the most idiotic decision you had ever made, but it was your only choice if you wanted Beverly back. You were so terrified that she would be dead like the other missing kids, and even though you tried not to let fear rule your movements, it was hard not to jump at every shadow or errant noise down in the tunnels.  

In the heat of the battle against Pennywise, when he flashed his several rows of sharp teeth your way, you almost hesitated. You could easily imagine those teeth tearing through your flesh and ripping you apart. It was Bill's voice urging you to swing at Pennywise that had you using the piece of wood in your hand to attempt to hurt Pennywise.  

By the time Pennywise had managed to escape, you were exhausted. Stan was hurt. Beverly was acting odd. Bill had broken down after having to essentially kill Pennywise's borrowed form of Georgie. The rest of you were still shaken and terrified, but everything you suffered through only seemed to work in your favor afterwards. The group came back together and you couldn't help but think that you felt invincible. If you could go up against a murderous clown with your best friends, then there was absolutely nothing you couldn't do.  

Despite everything you all went through and achieved that summer, it wasn't long before the group broke apart again. By the end of that summer, The Losers lost a member. It was a trend that would continue over the next few years until there were only two left in Derry.  

Beverly was the first to leave. She promised to write, but something weird happened. Once Beverly left Derry, you didn't hear from her. You could tell it worried Bill and the others, but a part of you wondered if it wasn't for the best after everything Beverly had endured in Derry. If you could, you would have wanted to cut ties with the town as well. Although, you hated that she also seemed to be cutting ties with The Losers’ Club.  

After Beverly, Ben's family left. And then Bill. And then Stan.  

By the time it was only you, Richie, Mike, and Eddie, you started to wonder what the future held for all of you. You started to wonder if they were ever coming back.  

Eddie and Richie planned on leaving for college, but you had known that you were going to hang back in Derry. You were going to stay with Mike and wait for It to return.  

It was something both of you had decided on and while Mike insisted he would be fine on his own, you knew that it would be a very lonely existence to spend twenty-seven years in Derry just waiting for Pennywise to resurface. You knew that Mike would need someone to help him through the worst of it and while you knew it didn't have to fall to you, you also didn't notice anyone else sacrificing themselves.  

It didn't make it any easier to say goodbye to Richie and Eddie once they finally left.  

"Are you sure you don't want to get out of this shithole?" Richie was watching you as if he had half a mind to just shove you in his car and drive as far away as he could. "You don't have to stay."

"Yeah," you told him with a sad smile. "I kind of do."

"Well, I'll call," he assured you with a pat to your shoulder.  

"Sure," you agreed. He wouldn't. He would forget. You were sure that was what happened when you left Derry. You just forgot. Forgot the town. Forgot the life you led there. Forgot everything.  

If you forgot Pennywise, then how would you ever know to come back and try to finish the job? No, you would stay in the cursed town with Mike and wait. That was all you could really do.  

You watched Richie go with a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach.  

It wasn't so terrible at first. Pennywise wasn't around to terrorize the residents of Derry or making meals out of fearful children, so a sleepy contentment settled over the town. It was peaceful, but incredibly boring.  

Mike managed to secure a job at Derry Public Library while you started working the check-in desk at The Derry Townhouse.  

You found that even with Mike's company, you still felt incredibly lonely. You found yourself flipping through photo albums and wishing that Richie would call. You wanted to hear how Beverly was doing and if Bill was working on a new book. You wanted to ask Richie if he ever made a move on Eddie or if they went their separate ways. You wanted to see how Stan was doing and if Ben was making a name for himself as a renowned architect.  

You never did, though. If the others didn't remember Derry, then maybe it was for the best.  

You usually spent most nights having dinner with Mike. He was doing his best to research Derry's history and figure out Pennywise's origins. He figured if he could just figure out one weakness, then it would give you all a fighting chance when Pennywise inevitably came back to wreak havoc on Derry.  

Despite how much you hated it, time wore on. Some years seemed to drag on while others flew by. It seemed like you were bringing Mike a sandwich at Derry Public Library when he mentioned forgetting his lunch at home in 2009 and then suddenly it was 2015 and you were starting to see Christmas decorations appear around town.  

You were at the library one night in mid-December, waiting for Mike to finish shelving returns so you could eat dinner together. It was your turn to cook, so you were planning on making spaghetti and meatballs. Mike had already mentioned the leftover birthday cake in the staff breakroom that was up for grabs, so you were hoping to have some for dessert.  

You were sitting at the front desk, scrolling through a news article about Richie adding more dates to his US tour, and trying to distract yourself from growling stomach. You felt a strange mix of grief and pride as you read the article. You were so proud of your brother, but you mourned the years you missed watching him grow in his career and as a person. There was an ache you got every time you checked up on the other Losers, but it was especially fierce when you came across any news about Richie. It seemed unnatural to have to go without your twin for nearly twenty-seven years and some days you didn't know if you could stand it anymore.  

"You know what's coming, don't you? You know what has to happen?"

You startled at the sound of Mike's voice coming from just behind you. He was reading the article over your shoulder, a sad smile on his face when he looked to you.  

You bit your lip before nodding your head. "They have to come back. They have to help us."  

Over the years, you had both talked over the possibility that Pennywise would be back numerous times. You half-hoped the evil fucker wouldn't dare show his face as long as there were any Losers left in Derry to protect it, but you knew better. Your luck had always been rotten and it wouldn't be long before the murders and reports of missing people started featuring in the news again.  

You had spent so much of your time with Mike trying to convince him that you didn't need to involve the others. Two was always better than none, and while you wanted to see your brother and friends again, you didn't want to risk their lives. Mike was adamant that they all had to come back, though. He insisted it wouldn't work otherwise.  

Mike was incredibly vague about what he meant by that. You knew there was something he was hiding from you. It had to do with the research he had carefully hidden from you, prompting you to believe that there was something heading your way that was likely to kill you all. You hated that after all these years together, he still didn't fully trust you. He had only ever asked that you trust him. He claimed that whatever he had discovered was the ace in the hole you needed to defeat Pennywise.  

You felt a sinking feeling in your gut with each day that passed during the year of 2016. You weren't sure when Pennywise would resurface, but you instinctively knew he would reappear during the summer. It only seemed fitting that the summer of 1989 started this strange and horrifying journey, so why shouldn't it be the summer of 2016 that would end it for good?  

You thought it was morbid that you found yourself thinking that either you would die and Pennywise would continue his reign of terror, or you would somehow live and defeat him. With each passing day, Mike's confidence seemed to be infectious. You caught yourself thinking wistfully of a future away from Derry. You weren't sure where you would go or what you would do, but after so long spent trapped in the tiny town, all you knew was that you wanted out.  

Even though you seemed to always be waiting for his return, Pennywise still managed to catch you by surprise. You were going over the books for the Townhouse, having managed to successfully buy it from the owner in 2014 when he decided he wanted to leave Derry, and bemoaning your choice to become a business owner, when the phone rang. You absently reached out to grab the receiver, frowning down at the numbers that you were sure had to be complete bullshit.  

"Derry Townhouse," you muttered into the phone. "How can I help you?"

"He's back," Mike said, his words immediately sending a chill down your spine. "I need you to meet me right now."  

You weren't really sure how you got from being on the phone with Mike to standing at his side, both of you struck speechless by the bloody message Pennywise had left behind for you to find.  

"Come home," you muttered, feeling fear begin to settle deep within your gut. You tried to fight it off, knowing that was exactly the reaction Pennywise was looking for from you, but you couldn’t help it.  

Mike sucked in a deep breath, as if steeling himself, before he put an arm around your shoulders. "Let's go back to the library," he suggested with a weight to his words that let you know what was coming.

Mike volunteered to make the calls. He seemed a lot more level-headed about what had to happen than you did. You felt like you were sentencing everyone you loved to die. You didn't know how Mike was able to stomach calling each and every former Loser and reminding them of the oath they had sworn in 1989.  

Mike had always been resolute in doing what it took to survive, though. Trapping himself in Derry for twenty-seven years, with the memories and ghosts and fear, was more than enough proof of that.  

When the last phone call was finished, Mike turned to offer you a grimace.  

"I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens now. But I think they'll show up. They have to," he added with a tone that told you he didn't fully believe that. "Do you have any open rooms at the Townhouse?"

You couldn't help but bark out a surprised laugh. "Business isn't exactly booming," you offered when Mike shot you a confused look. "I can house the Losers."

"Then all we have left to do is wait," Mike added with a wry twist to his lips that told you what he was thinking.  

You had both done nothing but wait for the last twenty-seven years.  

It was later that night, after you managed to drag yourself back home, when you got a phone call from a number you didn't recognize.  

"Hello?"

"How the fuck did I forget I have a sister?"

You laughed, a smile on your face. "That's the magic of Derry," you said. "Hey, Richie. I've missed you."

"I think I've missed you too. Fuck," he hissed. "This is so fucking weird. I can remember Mom and Dad, but not you. How the fuck is that fair?"

"Mom and Dad eventually left. I never did." There was a heavy silence left on the line that made you mourn the easy communication you used to share with Richie. "How did you end up with my number?"

"When I stopped freaking the fuck out, I called Mike back and asked him for it. It's funny," he mused with a tone that suggested it was anything but funny to him. "I always felt like there was something missing, but I couldn't figure it out. Like there was someone there who should have been. I guess it was you," he offered with a sigh. "So, hey, you know I'm famous now?"

You felt a genuine smile break out on your face as Richie launched into telling you a story about an afterparty he once attended that resulted in him getting so wasted he accidentally threw up all over a former Spice Girl.  

Later, as you were settling down in bed, you couldn't quite fight off the anxiety that had taken hold of you. If Richie came back to Derry, then Richie would have to fight Pennywise. You couldn't quite justify the idea of making your brother relive some of his worst memories, but you knew that it had to happen. If you believed Mike, and you did, then it would have to be all of you. It didn’t mean you had to like it, though.  

You reached over to turn off the lamp on your nightstand, plunging your room into darkness.  

Moonlight peeked around your bedroom curtains, lending you enough light to just see the outline of the other pieces of furniture in your room. You started to close your eyes, but you caught sight of something that looked out of place.  

There was a figure standing just near the foot of your bed. You felt your breath hitch, a familiar thrill of terror coursing through you when the figure seemed to take a step closer. You heard a wheezing, rattling breath as a hand reached out to rest on the edge of the bed.  

You gasped out a choked breath before you made yourself move, quickly turning on the lamp again. When you looked to the end of your bed to see that there wasn't actually anyone there, you let out a relieved breath. It had seemed so real and with Pennywise back, you couldn't help but wonder if this was It's doing.  

You felt like a child when you left the lamp on, only managing to doze off every once in a while, before jerking back awake to hastily check and make sure no one was standing at the end of your bed.  

You remembered the sleepless nights you suffered in ‘89 because of the same brand of fear you felt that night. There were nights when you swore there was someone else in your room while you were trying to sleep. Whether it was Pennywise’s demented giggle jolting you out of sleep or the feeling of fingers drifting over your ankle accompanied by the sound of a rasping, wheezing breath. You weren’t sure you actually got a full night of sleep that summer and you worried you were in store for the same now that Pennywise was around yet again.  

You spent the next day booking rooms for the other members of the Losers’ Club and counting down the hours until you were all supposed to meet for dinner. You felt a nervous excitement at the idea of finally seeing everyone again. You weren't really sure how everyone would react to remembering Pennywise and the summer of 1989, but you were nearly relieved that it wouldn’t just be you and Mike any longer. It felt like you had been carrying around a terrible secret for years and now the burden would finally be lifted just the slightest bit from your shoulders.  

When you got to Jade of the Orient, you had to sit in your car for a few moments and take deep breaths. You weren't sure why you were so nervous, but you couldn't help but fear that the group dinner was going to be disastrous. You didn't know how much the others remembered, but you were sure once the full effect of Derry began to hit them, it wasn't going to be pretty.  

As you walked up to the restaurant, you noticed a man and a woman standing near the entrance. You felt a smile break out at the sight of the red hair on the woman. You knew instinctively who she was as you got closer.  

"Beverly?" You couldn't help but ask as you considered her.  

Beverly turned to look at you, her eyes narrowing for a split second as she attempted to recognize you, before her eyes went wide. "Y/N?"

"Yeah," you confirmed with a nod of your head as you moved to pull her into a hug.  

"God, it's been so long," Beverly said as she pulled back. You noticed her look at the guy standing just behind her before she glanced back to you. "Ben," she mouthed with a tilt of her head, silently clueing you in to the man's identity.  

"Ben Handsome," you started as you took a step away from Beverly. "Is that you?"

You noticed a blush spread across his cheeks before he ducked his head, suddenly sheepish. It was a gesture you recognized from childhood and you couldn't help but let out a pleased laugh as you moved to tug him into a hug as well.  

"It's good to see you, Y/N," he murmured in your ear.  

You pulled back and let yourself fully consider Ben. You couldn't help but think that he was remarkably handsome and you felt yourself blush when your eyes met his. His hands were on your shoulders and even though it was well past the moment when you should have stepped away, you felt nearly transfixed by him.  

You were struggling to think of something to say, not sure if the moment was turning awkward or oddly heated, when you were interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.  

You glanced over to see Richie standing just a few feet away. "Well, you all look amazing," he observed as he studied you, Beverly, and Ben. "What the fuck happened to me?" He wondered with a self-deprecating tilt to his lips.  

"Richie," you couldn't help but say as you practically flung yourself at your brother.  

"Hey, Y/N," he said with a delighted chuckle before he brought his arms up to embrace you. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"  

"Too long," you agreed with a sigh as you pulled away from him. You stepped back so he could have his own little reunions with Bev and Ben as well.  

"So, were you guys going to stand out here all night or are we going to get on with this impromptu Losers' Club meeting?" Richie asked after hugging Beverly and shaking hands with Ben. "You three looked kind of cozy out here," he added with a raised eyebrow in your direction.  

You shook your head and turned towards the entrance to the restaurant. "Beep beep, Richie," you muttered before you pulled the door open and stepped inside.  

Reuniting with Bill and Eddie felt just as bizarre and surreal as seeing Richie, Beverly, and Ben again for the first time. Your eyes kept seeking out the empty chair at the table, however. You wondered where Stan was, but like with every meeting of the Losers' Club, it quickly turned loud and chaotic.  

Richie couldn't help but poke fun at Eddie and while you were onto him, it felt like you were able to breathe again after years of suffocating within Derry's walls. You had felt trapped for so long that you forgot what it was like to have almost everyone back with you again. You listened to everyone catch up, your eyes seeking out Bill from time to time. You could still feel the remnants of your childhood infatuation and a part of you wondered if you would ever be over him. You kept glancing to where a wedding band had recently resided on his left hand, surreptitiously reminding yourself that while Bill was recently divorced, it was unlikely that he would ever feel anything for you.  

You focused on the little things that made you feel at peace for the first time in years. Mike's small, proud grin as he listened to Bill talk about his new book and the way Richie kept glancing at Eddie, as if he couldn't believe they were in the same room again. You also saw the spark of interest in Richie's eyes once Eddie mentioned he was separated and well on his way to a divorce.  

You noticed the soft, private grins Beverly shot Bill and the way Ben kept watching Beverly with a reverence that told you his childhood crush was still in effect as well. You let their laughter wash over you as you ate and drank, your thoughts turning to Stan more and more often as the evening wore on and he failed to appear.  

"So, Y/N," Ben started as he leaned forward in his seat, focusing on you. "What have you been doing all these years?" You knew he was trying to deflect after Richie had embarrassed him by calling him hot, so you decided to have mercy on him.  

"I, uh," you started before taking a sip of your drink. "I've been running Derry Townhouse for the past few years."

"You own that shithole?" Richie asked with incredulity in his tone.  

You rolled your eyes before reaching across Beverly to pinch Richie's arm. "Yes," you answered. "And since you're all staying there for free, I'd like a little more gratitude."

"Thanks, Y/N," you heard Ben pipe up before the rest of the Losers toasted to you.  

You had fooled yourself into thinking it might be a nice, uneventful reunion, but you should have known better. Pennywise had to take the first shot at the Losers' Club through the most disturbing and grotesque display.  

The Pennywise bomb had just been dropped on the rest of the Losers right before the fortune cookies were dropped off at your table. Mike had reminded them of the oath they had all sworn and while Richie had attempted to lighten the mood a bit, you knew that everyone was well on their way to freaking out.  

Once Eddie pointed out that his fortune was just one word printed on the small slip of paper, you realized that none of your fortune cookies actually contained a typical fortune.

After you deciphered the message from the fortune cookies, an ominous warning about Stan's fate that read 'I Guess Stanley Could Not Cut It,' chaos erupted from the bowl of unopened fortune cookies in the middle of the table.  

You barely had time to process the fact that you were all being attacked by nightmarish monstrosities when you felt a hand wrap around your bicep, quickly pulling you away from the table. You looked over to see Mike, his eyes wide and frightened, as if he too had allowed himself to forget for a moment why you had been forced to call the Losers back to Derry.  

It wasn't long before there were horrifying creatures flying about the room, knocking into the light fixtures and diving towards you all.  

You heard Eddie scream and glanced over to see Ben trying to shield Eddie from something attempting take a bite out of him. Richie yelled Eddie's name, concern and fear clear in his voice. You only had a moment to make sure your brother was safe before something big and terrifying and screeching flew right into you.  

"Fuck!" You blurted as you tried to ward off whatever was trying to sink its talons into your forearm.  

You felt an arm around your waist before someone spun you away from the threat. You were suddenly facing the wall while someone stood at your back, shouting as they tried to face the creature that was just attacking you. You were panting for breath, not sure if it was out of fear or the adrenaline crashing over you, as you turned to see it was Bill who had saved you.  

"Y/N! You okay?" You heard Richie ask, but you didn't get much of a chance to respond before Mike picked up a chair and began to smash it over the middle of the table in an attempt to destroy the rest of the fortune cookies, insisting that what you were all seeing wasn't actually real.  

You were all more than a little jumpy as you finally gathered outside Jade of the Orient. After the hilariously inappropriate way Richie had yelled at a kid, forgetting for a moment a line from his own comedy routine, you were more than ready to crawl into bed and forget everything.  

You didn't even realize that Beverly was trying to get in touch with Stan, because you were so distracted by the way everyone else was freaking out. Richie and Eddie were yelling at Mike for lying to everyone by conveniently forgetting to mention Pennywise when he called everyone home while Ben and Bill seemed to be silently trying to process everything that had just happened.  

Mike was doing his best to keep everyone from skipping town when Beverly turned to face the rest of you, her phone held to her ear. She quickly put the call on speaker, allowing all of you to hear who was on the other line.  

It wasn't until you heard Stan's wife confirm that Stan was dead that you realized all of your worst fears were coming true. The Losers' Club hadn't even had an opportunity to really face Pennywise and one of you was already gone.  

You were barely aware of the fact that you were struggling to breathe. Stan couldn't be dead. Stan was always the shared voice of reason with you and one of the first to try to talk some sense into the Losers’ Club. He was Stan. Steady and dependable and sarcastic as hell. And he was dead.

"Mike," you called, tears starting to track down your face. "Did we kill Stan?" You whispered as you rounded on him, your breath stuttering in your chest at the thought. "When we called him, did we kill him? Did we do this? Is it our fault?" You could no longer justify calling everyone to ask them to return to Derry. Stan was dead and you couldn’t help but feel like it was all because you weren’t capable of facing Pennywise by yourself. Your fear of getting everyone you loved killed was washing over you and stealing your breath away.  

"Y/N, no," Mike murmured before he moved to pull you into his arms. You only had a moment to rest your head on his shoulder, the tears flowing freely as guilt threatened to overwhelm you, before you were tugged out of Mike's hold.  

"Hey, what the fuck did you do to my sister?" You heard Richie ask as he pulled you into a hug.  

"Yeah, fuckwad, why are you making Y/N cry?" Eddie jumped in. His specific brand of indignation in his tone had you laughing somewhat hysterically into Richie's shoulder.  

"He didn't do anything," you assured them as you finally managed to calm down. “I’m just upset about Stan.” You knew that what you were feeling in that moment was just going to give Pennywise nightmare fuel against you later. How was he going to twist this to haunt you? You shuddered at the thought before you patted Richie on the shoulder and stepped back. "I'm okay," you managed to say as you reached up to hastily wipe away the tears still tracking down your cheeks.  

You felt someone place a hand on your shoulder and you looked back to see Beverly standing there. You noticed the tears welling in her eyes and the haunted expression on her face and knew that Stan's death was hitting her just as hard.  

"Come on, Y/N," Richie pleaded as he pulled your attention back towards him. "Let's just get the fuck out of this shitty town."

"I’m not going anywhere, Richie. I live here," you reminded him with a helpless shrug of your shoulders.

"Well, you're moving," he told you as if it was that easy. He let out an incredulous laugh as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. He looked like he was trying to resist the urge to reach out and grab your arm, as if he was toying with the idea of dragging you out of Derry if he had to. "I can't believe I let you stay here," he muttered.  

"I had to," you argued with a shake of your head. "I couldn't leave Mike alone all these years."

Richie snorted before he rolled his eyes. "Just, come on," he insisted as he nodded over towards his car. "You too, Eduardo. Let's go."

"Yeah, I'm right there with you," Eddie agreed as he made a break for his car.  

"I drove myself here," you reminded Richie when he seemed like he was about to herd you towards his car.  

"Fine. Fuck," Richie sighed as he glanced away. "Meet us at the Townhouse," he conceded before he took off across the parking lot.  

You turned and met Mike's gaze, silently asking what you should do now.  

"I've got him if you've got them," Mike said as he nodded over towards Bill. "There's something I've got to show him. But we'll see you at the Townhouse."

"Yeah, okay," you allowed with a grimace.  

"Y/N," Mike called before you could fully turn away from him. He pulled you into a hug, letting you rest your weight on him for a moment.  

"It was Stan, Mike," you muttered into his shoulder. "Stan."

"I know," Mike soothed as he pulled you closer for a brief moment. "We're going to kill It this time. We'll make It pay. But we can't do that if the rest of us don't band together."

"Yeah," you sighed, understanding what he was telling you to do. You had to go to the Townhouse and make sure none of the Losers were trying to skip town.  

"Y/N," Mike called again just as you were reaching your car. "Thanks," he said when you turned to look at him. "I really couldn't imagine doing any of this without you."

You offered him a weak smile and a nod before you got behind the wheel of your car.  

If you cried all the way to the Townhouse, mourning Stan and wishing that you could go back in time and stop Mike from calling him, then no one had to know but you.

#it: chapter two #it 2019 #ben hanscom x reader #richie tozier & reader #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #reader insert #it #it imagine #reader imagine #the losers club #the losers x reader #reader insert fanfiction #it fanfiction

[teentitanimals]

Batfam on a MineCraft Server

idk man im just vibing

Bruce: He just wants to be apart of what his kids are doing from time to time, but ends up just having his kids kill him constantly and forcing him to live in a hole. Sometimes he pretends to be worse than he actually is, because his kids are having fun clowning on him :)

Alfred: They managed to get him to play once, on Bruce’s account, and they treated him like a king, building him an entire palace of gold and iron. Bruce was very confused when he logged back on not in his dirt hole prison.

Dick: He’s the average player, who enjoys building and battling equally. He often starts the prank wars, and always ends up losing them, but he doesn’t mind, because his family is bonding. He gets stolen from and griefed the most. He definitely had a mountainside house with a village he built underneath it, but he ends up abandoning it for an underwater base, and got upset when Jason blew up his old base.

Jason: He is, essentially, just a troll on the main MineCraft server. He exists solely to make his siblings’ lives digital hell. TNT is his favorite weapon, and he’s not too shabby at redstone. He excels at TNT cannons, but often finds they take too long to build. Despite this, he has a singleplayer world where he’s built himself a little hut with his wolf friend, and spends his time making the village under his care beautiful.

Tim: He purposely builds a dirt house, and proudly keeps making his house out of mostly dirt. Despite that, he has many redstone traps and potions in his Dirt Mansion. He is also the owner and admin of the main MineCraft server. He once hacked into Jason’s account and went onto his singleplayer world and destroyed a part of his village and hide his wolf after Jason blew up a redstone project he was working on for days.

Damian: He’s the type of person who claims to be a hardcore gamer, and will want as many overpowered items as possible to defeat the Enderdragon in a stunning show of strength so he can brag, but his fatal flaw lies in the fact that he keeps taming every wolf and cat he spots, and anytime any of them gets the tiniest hurt he drops everything to heal them despite reminding himself they’re just data. Somehow he ends up with an entire zoo of every animal he can get, and he ends up being more of a farmer than the hardcore gamer he wanted and claims to be. He also forced Tim to add a mod that allows you to tame Enderdragons.

Cassandra: She has fun just playing the game with her siblings, and her favorite part was finding the mineshaft and beating the Enderdragon. She participates in prank wars and ends up winning them 50% of the time. She’s never made a base, instead just taking a bed around with her. She once slept in a cave Bruce had been imprisoned in, right in front of his face.

Duke: He loves MineCraft, it’s one of his favorite games. He likes building, crafting, fighting, brewing, everything. He’s eager to play and mess around with his siblings’, and sticks around Cass and Tim’s sides the most. He’s joined Jason in blowing up others’ houses and Dick in starting prank wars. He wins the other half of the prank wars.

Barbara: Tim made her admin at the start, but she immediately started abusing the powers and messing around with everyone, including helping Jason blow shit up and blowing Jason up. Tim took away her powers, but he knew it didn’t matter as she just hacked herself back in. Luckily, she’s not on too often.

Stephanie: Switches between being Jason’s troll buddy and building herself a beautiful mansion without warning. She’s not the greatest builder, but she’s definitely not the worst. She also builds things and then blows them up, and then demands Tim go back to a previous save file to get her building back. Mostly just to annoy him.

Kate: Got invited to the server once and just kinda walked around, stole some stuff, and then logged off. She rejoined eventually and built herself a house and then logged off again. They wait for the day she joins again.

Carrie: She loves playing with mods and constantly begs Tim to add more and more mods. She has multiple separate servers of her own with different modpacks. She managed to convince Damian to join a server of hers that had a bunch of animal modpacks and they’re currently building a zoo. She also likes playing creative, even though she isn’t that good at the building aspect of MineCraft, but she tries her hardest, and has fun.

Harper: She begged so hard for Tim to make them play “The Floor is Lava” on the server that he eventually broke and did (creating a back-up first). They didn’t tell anybody, but suddenly lava started rising and all hell broke loose. Babs helped, and Harper hasn’t logged back on since Tim reset it back to normal. She’s waiting for when Babs hacks in and makes them play the Floor is Lava again.

Cullen: Really just wants to play normally, but knows its impossible. He made his house out of obsidian as much as possible so Jason couldn’t blow it up. He has diamond everything but Dick keeps replacing it with wooden stuff during prank wars and at this point he just lives with wooden tools now and doesn’t care. Jason still blew up his house.

Helena: She builds pixel art. That’s it. She’ll go mining with you and help you beat the Wither if you ask, but she just likes building pixel art. Also has an army of dogs rivaling Damian’s own, except she will actually use hers and doesn’t care if one or two dies.

Alina: She doesn’t like to go mining, she’s bad at fighting, doesn’t know anything about redstone or potions, accidentally hits bees and wolves all the time, but also has the most stacked gear. This is due to constantly asking her older brothers to give her items, or just straight up stealing them. When everyone figured out she was conning them, she logged off the server until everyone forgot.

Terry and Matt: The two brothers have their own two servers that they play on from time to time, one is normal survival, other is hardcore. They argue a lot as they can both be tryhards when it comes to the game, but they have fun together, so they don’t really mind.

#batfamily #batfamily headcanons #batfamily fluff #batfamily memes #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfam #batfam incorrect quotes #batman #batman and robin #batman headcanon #bruce wayne #damian wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #barbara gordon #helena wayne #alina wayne #carrie kelley #harper row #duke thomas #kate kane #batfam memes #alfred pennyworth

[ghost-band-aids]

Interview with GHOST and TRIBULATION

The Undisguised Truth

TOBIAS FORGE and JONATHAN HULTÉN have a lot in common. While one of them currently slips into the role of the exalted charmer Cardinal Copia as the singer of GHOST, the introverted TRIBULATION guitarist on stage transforms into a fascinating, expressive being who exists beyond genre and gender boundaries. What is real, what is an artificial figure? METAL HAMMER met both of them during their tour together for a conversation that allows far more than just a look behind the scenes of two of the most popular metal bands at the moment, but also unexpectedly intimate insights.

Tobias, originally you didn't want to be the singer of Ghost. Did the mask help you to come to terms with this exposed role?

Tobias Forge: Yes, well, at least from today's point of view. But I never wanted to be unknown.

What function does your stage make-up have, Jonathan?

Jonathan Hultén: It helps me to put myself in a certain mood. The idea behind it is to isolate and reinforce a fraction of myself, an aspect of my personality. To immerse myself in this is an experience beyond the everyday state of mind.

Strengthen also Cardinal Copia or Papa Emeritus facets of your personality, Tobias?

Tobias Forge: I'm not shy, but I'm not as sociable as Cardinal Copia - and also not a "physical clown" like him. What I do is a kind of mixed bag. I imitate people I find funny or interesting.

Basically, the way actors do it. If you asked Robert DeNiro how he came up with the young Don Corieone, he would probably say: Well, there was this guy in my old neighborhood... The costume gives you the opportunity to completely surrender yourself in that moment and just be that new person. That's interesting, because you only reveal it to a few people for a limited time. You don't have to see how that person lives the other 22 hours of the day. Like with actors: James Bond is cool because you only see certain sides of him. Never in the bathroom or shower. Well, not in the toilet, in the shower. But always in the company of a snake or something he kills.

How long does the transformation take?

Tobias Forge: But you finished much sooner than I did.

Jonathan Hultén: For pragmatic reasons. I like to get it done as soon as possible so as not to get in a bind later. How about you?

Tobias Forge: We have a very tight schedule. Pretty much exactly one hour before the show starts I walk in the door as Tobias and come out as someone else.

What does this transformation do to you?

Jonathan Hultén: You have to enter a stage with emphasis. So it's good to be prepared.

Tobias Forge: And that's what happens within this hour. You slowly start to move differently... I love being a different person for two hours and then changing back. But I need some time for that, usually I stay alone for an hour after the show.

Jonathan Hultén: That's good. As far as I can, I try to do the same. Mostly by doing something that I can be introspective about... ...carry things back and forth or something.

Tobias Forge: I think that's very important. There is potential suffering in art, especially in mental health. The smaller the discrepancy between yourself and the person you are portraying on stage, the harder it is to deal with. If you are merely associated with your stage character, people expect you to behave like that in real life.

And that can be problematic...

Tobias Forge: Exactly, because they created this super human being who can do anything, who has a carte blanche. Everyone applauds, everyone laughs, and everything you do is funny or cool. And if you take it to the bar afterwards... There are bad examples of people who can't get down in normal life, become alcoholics or, well, die.

Jonathan Hultén: Sure, all that can be destructive. But in my case it was very helpful to discover my more explosive, extroverted sides. And to dare to give them more space, because privately I am quite shy. That's also part of the process of building up, which takes a long time.

I gradually gain self-confidence from this, so that I can now express myself better in everyday situations.

Tobias Forge: I think they are one and the same. It's like mental martial arts, where the person who doesn't like the fight, but still has to face it - within the limits of the dojo, of course, so as not to hurt anyone. And, yes, art is basically good for anyone who has the desire to become someone else. It's a generalization, but I think there's a lot of truth in it: many artists choose this path because they weren't very popular at school. Or they can't come out of themselves, but their art offers them an opportunity to do so. It's fun to go on stage, to transform and feed off the energy or admiration.

How you interact with the audience has changed over the years.

Tobias Forge: Sure. The masked person has an advantage of about 70 concerts, so 1,000 hours on stage. If I had given myself the same amount of time to develop without the make-up, without the role, just with acoustic guitar, I might have created a completely different stage personality. But this is completely uninteresting for me, because I prefer this super character! (laughs)

Jonathan Hultén: transformation would then no longer be so dramatic, but much more subtle.

Tobias Forge: And you'd have to be comfortable in your own skin.

Jonathan Hultén: I'm working on it. (laughs)

Jonathan, your solo debut, CHANTS FROM ANOTHER PLACE, will be released soon and you will also be touring with Chelsea Wolfe. Will you be different on stage there than you are here with Tribulation?

Jonathan Hultén: It has become harder to separate the two. They are like different shades of the same color. And I've found that they both borrow a lot from each other. The tribulation performer exists much longer, so he has much more experience. He/she is like an archaeologist who explores an inner wildness and passion. Over the years a lot of weird stuff has been dug up and included.

On the other hand, the solo performer, who has only been around for about three yen and is still is at the beginning of the excavations. However, I expect that also here many interesting things will appear

What can we expect from you live?

Jonathan Hultén: Just like with Tribulation, the atmosphere will be very important. But apart from some dramatic excursions, the show will be mostly silent and contemplative. The silence gives more room for more complex emotions to unfold in a way that I miss in the energetic performances of Tribulation.

These in turn defy the unwritten rules of a traditional metal show, not least thanks to you. Tribulation are considered a death metal band...

Tobias Forge: I wouldn’t call you guys like that.

Do you see yourselves as pioneers? Do you enjoy being different?

Jonathan Hultén: I stopped thinking about whether people see me as stupid, weird or whatever. It's the only way I can do it. Headbanging just wasn't enough. I felt there had to be something bigger, some kind of ectase. This may be weird, but it feels good.

How important are grace and style to you?

Jonathan Hultén: Both are important, but it's equally important not to be obsessively attached to them. Someone once said that grace is a combination of spontaneity and control. It's a good rule of thumb - on and off stage. It's always about balance. Every situation is unique and requires a unique approach.

Tobias Forge: You should be really proud of it, apart from the fact that your music is great. Your performance is dramatically different from any other. Besides the music, your physical attributes and the way you present yourself make you a very unique and interesting person. Strange, cash, different. You should definitely pursue that. Yes, I think you should see yourself as a pioneer.

Jonathan Hultén: Mm, thank you. (chuckles)

What does that do to your audience?

Tobias Forge: If you are a live musician, have an antenna for it and you don't completely care, you always enter a symbiosis with the fans. Give and take, almost like in a physical relationship. You will try to perfect ways to give pleasure to each other. I know it sounds weird, but every decent relationship changes with age. You grow together, you have new needs or ideas. That's why some couples bring in other people, or whips or plugs. It's the same with you and the audience. During our second show I noticed that our audience is very positive, but I couldn't make a rhyme out of it.

Why that?

Tobias Forge: The room was filled with Hard Rock people, the kind of people I've been playing to since I was a teenager. But they weren't headbanging as usual. Instead they did something else.

Jonathan Hultén: Wiggle.

Tobias Forge:  Yeah, they were wiggling around. (laughs) And singing and laughing, very different from what I knew from Death or Black Metal shows.

Are there any other special features of your fans?

Tobias Forge: When we played the first headliner shows in America, I noticed for the first time the gender diversity in our audience. Our fans are a lot of girls, a lot of guys, and a lot in between. We've always been a magnet for people who are unhappy with their gender or don't feel they belong anywhere: Kids, many outsiders and outcasts in various fragile states.

Jonathan, Tobias' words seem to resonate with you.

Jonathan Hultén: Yes, they do. I don't speak for tribulation as a whole when I say this, but I personally don't feel I belong to either gender. But I've never felt the need to choose either. Androgyny is what I feel most comfortable with. This tendency probably also applies to performance, whether tribulation or solo.

Tobias Forge: The best portrayal of the devil I've ever seen is from the movie 'The Passion of Christ'. Satan is portrayed by a woman, but speaks in a man's voice and thus becomes the epitome of androgyny, completely genderless. For incorporating this aspect into your stage personality, I give credit to you and the band. Especially when you get together with Adam (Zaars, guitarist of Tribulation) on stage, it seems elfish and feminine, but also masculine. This is incredibly interesting and unusual, especially in the rigid heavy metal genre with this "men are men" and "women are women" thing: Doro Pesch, girl, Manowar, guys, great. But when I think of all the metal bands I like, there are also examples of very attractive androgyny, which is not necessarily sexual. Not to mention seventies rock bands.

You have been confronted with different kinds of music and art forms from a very young age. Does that give you an artistic advantage?

Jonathan Hultén: It helps me to keep my relationship to art fresh, to get excited. Whether in childhood or in adulthood: open-mindedness helps the creative process. If you're not afraid of opening up to all kinds of different music styles, you can find inspiration in the most surprising places. No matter where the idea comes from - the important thing is whether it works. Certainly, this is reflected in all areas of creative work. Become the medium through which the flow of inspiration flows - then collect the gold pieces that this flow carries with it and create something beautiful out of them.

Does the metal context limit your expressiveness?

Tobias Forge: I don' t feel restricted with Ghost at all. There are only a few ideas I can' t realize with the band, because Ghost is a combination of all the things I like about music, cinema and theatre. But if there is enough time in the future, I would love to be in a completely different band where I am not the center of attention. I am a guitarist and would like to sing backup. That corresponds to me much more.

Jonathan Hultén: I'm exploring something new, and it's been quite interesting - and different. There are endless possibilities to discover yourself, artistically and as an artist. Only unfortunately there is not enough time.

I'm afraid that we don't have enough time either.

Tobias Forge: Yes, but these things are existential. They are not only about art and being an artist, but also about how both are connected to the human psyche and why people, artist or not, need art to function in modern times. That, by the way, is also one of the things I appreciate about tribulation: You are artists, not just any death metal band. I don’t want to hang anybody on the fence but especially in metal many musicians claim that they make music for themselves first and foremost. That’s not true! As soon as you go on stage you want to get something back. Even GG Allin! And his gigs were really a confrontational and bad experience for every lover of the fine arts. Playing just for yourself? That's not how it works. You either do it to please or to deliver something. People laugh, cry, clap, scream, whatever... And when they leave, they feel a little bit better. That's entertainment!

Anja Delast/ Metal Hammer

-------------------------------------------------

Please do not share without naming the origin. I have taken a lot of effort with it and unfortunately it is distributed without stating the origin. It's somehow sad...

#thebandghost #the band ghost #cardinalcopia #cardinal copia #tobiasforge

[motsimages]

A list of Hollywood things that may be what real life is in the US and the equivalent situation in Spain. Feel free to add your own country. I’d love to know of other places :)

This is going to be long, so the TL:DR is there are many things I know about the US because of the movies, landscapes, hobbies, cultural things, everyday life things and sometimes they feel very normal or like something that happens in movies, no in between. They are neither and this is a list of differences I can think of in regards to Spain.

Click there to find out, there are pictures and all.

- Going to school by car, by bike or in a yellow bus: We either walk or your parents drive you (specially when you are too young to go by bus on your own or your parents are overprotective). Not really bike because bike lanes are a mess (in that they don’t exist) in Spain, it is dangerous. There are school buses if students come from places that are further but they’re average travel buses and once you are 16, you cannot use them. You have to go to school from 16 to 18 in public transportation because school is not mandatory after 16, it is understood it’s your choice. You may have a motorbike at 16 but I don’t know anybody who went to school in it. All of this is extra -fun- if you live in a village as in there may not be any bus service if it’s a small place or you live far apart from the village.

The picture is an average school bus with a woman in charge of picking up children. It looks like it’s in the country or maybe, the outside neighbourhoods of a city.

- Dating: we don’t date. If you like someone, you find a way to hang out with them and hope for the best. It may be more or less clear what is going on but it’s not a date, just a plan. You go to a restaurant/movies/theater... when you _are_ in a relationship or with friends. Not a date. The confusing hell it is to watch people saying things like “It’s a date! I’ll pick you up at 8!” Ok. Maybe they pick you up but still not a date. Also: not a problem if you have sex straight away or if you don’t feel like it (because there is no social obligation around it, no date). It seems to be a big deal when you are 30 and “never been in a date” but the first time I was in a date was with my current boyfriend _after_we started going out (I was 30 btw). I met him on a dating app, btw. Still don’t consider the first time we met “a date”. “Going on a date” maybe a thing but still probably based on movies.

- Prom: very confusing. Specially the part where you _have_ to have a _date_ (again, not something we do ever). If we do a ball (IF, also it wouldn’t be a “ball” as such but a “party”), it is actually expected to go on your own, with your friends. It would be a massive social pressure to go with the boy you like (with whom nothing happened prior to this) in front of people. Nah, you either go with your partner that you already have or with mates. But generally speaking, there is no “prom” or “graduation” in high school. In my high school, we spoke with a restaurant to have dinner, invited the teachers we liked and after that, went to local bars to party until the next morning when we went to see what grades we had received for the year. It was done like this so those who failed the exams could still party with the rest.

As for uni, maybe some other colleges do something but we didn’t (mainly because I studied translation and half of the people in my year were abroad that year). I don’t even have a picture of my graduation. People usually dress smart and then wear a band with the colour of their faculty.

The picture is graduation from Tourism (if I’m not mistaken). It shows a group of girls on a scene, all of them smartly dresses with an orange band on their shoulders. Their classmates are sitting on the grades of this “theater thing”, all wearing the same band.

- High School: in general, it’s very confusing. It seems to me like there is some kind of obsession with high school years given all the movies about high school and all the “childhood sweetheart” stories out there. For us, it is quite an irrelevant period of our lives, almost like school. You do it because you have to but often, life (and interesting things) happen AFTER high school. Our high schools don’t have lockers, you just carry 5 books in a backpack. But you have your class, only a couple of things take place in other rooms (maybe Science in the lab, or some optional subjects). Public schools close once the classes are over and all the activities you may want to do, you do them somewhere else (paying for them, most of the time). There are no School teams of anything, you don’t play against other schools either (maybe private schools do, I don’t know). In my high school, I remember for Spring we organised like a week of activities and you would sign up with your mates if anything. You and 2 others would make a basketball team to play in the Basketball league against other people in your class but it isn’t “The Official Team”. I remember there was a card tournament for the game of Mus (typical from Madrid). Also, we don’t have The Popular, The Band Kid, The Nerds, etc. clearly separated. There is bullying (but our toilets are not full of water so you cannot drown there) but either you are normal or you are the weird kid, so to say. I was a weird kid who suffered some light bullying and then I went to average, with no bullying. Overall, everyone speaks with each other and unless it’s a severe case of bullying (which there are), there are no underdogs or closed groups. We don’t have yearbooks AT ALL and this “Clown of the class” thing? I personally find it borderline problematic.

Picture of an average high school in Spain. It’s separated in two halfs. On the left, there is a couple of people carrying backpacks in a corridor. It’s quite dark, a window at the end giving light to the corridor. On the right, one of the doors of the corridor is open and shows a classroom. There are lots of green tables and chairs, all of them in pairs. At the end there is a blackboard. The light comes from the window.

- Alcohol consumption and other drugs: We can drink at 18 and it’s not a big deal if you get drunk. By the time you’re 18, your parents have seen you drunk more than once. You may have gotten drunk with your parents. You’ve seen them drunk more than once. Spain is quite an alcoholic society, tbh. BUT we do not like aggressive drunkards or dependant drunkards. You can get drunk but you have to be able to still be nice. Your friends will stop hanging out with you if you get drunk too often, too heavy or too badly (and you will find those who follow you, obvs). We do it to socialize and have fun, not to knock out. Weed is partially legal (I don’t really know the law, you can get fined for carrying but not arrested, you can buy paraphernalia in shops, there are cannabis clubs, people can smoke on the street in the open, you can grow it at home, it can be used for medical purposes or recreational). Other drugs are illegal though personal use may be allowed? I don’t know but I do know that it’s relatively easy and cheap to find other harder drugs, and so, they are commonly used at parties. The 80s were a complicated time in Spain because the heroine consumption was over the roof. It killed many many people in that generation.

- Houses: in cities, it’s more frequent for people to live in a flat. Depending on the time when this flat was built, the quality of the materials will be better, the flat will be bigger or smaller. Houses are something you see mainly in villages and they tend to be next to each other, no garden (maybe a patio). In the last 20-30 years, people started to show an interest in something that looks like “suburbs” from the movies (even though “suburbio” in Spanish actually means the full opposite of “suburbs”) but it doesn’t fit the weather nor the way we live and I personally hate them. And wooden houses are out of this world, everything here is made of stone or brick. Traditional houses here are made of stone with thick walls (up to one meter of thickness). I attach pictures of houses in the North of Spain. Southern houses are full white, no wooden structures to be seen from the outside.

A village in what looks like the North of Spain. There is a lot of vegetation, you can see some white and brown houses in a grass field. There is a tower at the back. We see a town square with houses made of stone, red roof and wooden balconies. Most of the walls are painted white, some aren’t and you can see the stone itself.

- Physical contact: in the movies, people rarely hug. It seems to me that maybe in the 80s-90s people hugged, touched more on screen. At some point in the 2000s it stopped and now you have people crying their eyes out and their best friend just standing there. We stand closer to each other and touch each other to show care, interest and affection very often. Some people in Spain are not very tactile (and thus, really like Northern Europe) but generally speaking, if someone cries, you hug them (unless you know they don’t want it, in which case you stay nearby). Heterosexual men also hug and also hold each other by the shoulder, for instance. I know this is a shock for some foreigners (don’t know if in the US it would be). From the times I’ve met US people, they’re not only surprised but sometimes actually scared that people touch them. Not even Asians react the way US people do to physical contact in Spain. BTW, when I say “touch”, I mean “the arm, shoulder” mainly. Other places require closer levels of friendship. However, you may kiss your partner/lover anywhere in the street, it’s ok, usually goes unnoticed by people. Even my parents grab each others asses occasionally in the street.

This picture is from La Torre de Suso, where 4 friends gather after 10 years of being apart because an old friend died. It also touches on drug addiction and the 80s. It shows 4 men in their 40s wearing a jacket and a tie, smartly dress, smiling and about to hug each other in the middle of the street of what looks like a small town.

- Welcoming someone to the neighbourhood: apparently, people bring cakes to the new comers. We don’t, you’ll eventually meet your neighbours. Or not. But you have to say hello to the people you see on the stairs of your flat, in the street you live. In small towns/villages, you have to greet everyone you know, at least say “hi”, ideally actually stop for small talk (I’m terrible at this but getting better now that I live in a small town).

- Church: it seems to be a big part of people’s lives. Very often, people are going to church, all ceremonies seem to be religious (marriage, death...) and they tend to be Christian (sometimes Jewish but they seem to be less involved in their religious life?, or maybe the movie is done by non-religious people?). In Spain, everything is Catholic and at the same time, it isn’t. Many traditions are Catholic and people enjoy them but they aren’t Catholic themselves. There are churchgoers, of course. There are Catholic cults with massive power in politics and society (Opus Dei, mainly). But we had a fascist Catholic dictatorship and many people got very tired of it. To give you an idea of how things usually go: everyone in my village eats the same meal (fish and garbanzo beans for lunch, potato omelette for diner) on Good Friday (even my family, where nobody has ever been religious willingly). Only old people and some very Catholic families go to church. Most holidays are related to Catholic Saints (this gives us lots of long weekends and days off during the year) and they are often celebrated with a town fair that lasts several days.

In theory, Spain has no religion. In reality, it is Catholicism. In schools/high schools there is a subject called “Religion” and almost always it’s about Catholicism (teachers of this subject, even in public schools, are related to the Church somehow). It is not mandatory but often there is no alternative if you don’t want to take it (I was the only child who didn’t attend and had my own homework during that time that my mother chose for me: Ethics).

The image is from El Rocío, an important religious fair that takes place in the South of Spain. Many local fairs look similar to this. Lots of people are gathered in a small temporary white hut, decorated with garlands (white and red) and the flag of Andalusia that is green and white. There is a bar with small glasses of white wine and some plates with food on them.

This said, it’s very frequent to get married at the Town Hall with a couple of witness and it’s also very frequent for burials to happen in the Tanatorio, where people can say goodbye to their loved one but it’s not in church.

And even many church goers are not devoted Christians, are open minded about LGBT issues or other, for instance.

- Prison: We don’t have death penalty but people can spend their life in prison if their crimes are massive and they add years and years to their sentence. Prisons here are public and as far as I’ve seen in Spanish movies, there are no uniforms, you wear your everyday clothes. You will only go to prison if you committed a serious crime or if you have several small crimes. Often, the first time it’s a reduced sentence that can be made into paying a fine. The second time you will go to prison. This happens even for domestic violence/rape which usually causes great controversy in society. You can leave earlier if you behave well (very earlier actually) and sometimes you can leave the weekend and the come back to prison, or leave for x hours and come back to sleep. It depends on the sentence and behaviour, etc. I’d say terrorism is the hardest charge and right now, they are using terrorism as an excuse to sentence activists (there quite a lot of political prisoners in Spain).

I mention crimes because you have to have LOTS of other offences to go to prison. They usually are just fined.

The picture is from the movie Cell 211 which is an excellent movie. Do watch it. It shows the main character, a bold man with a goatie wearing a sweater whose sleeves have been cut off. He looks serious. On the background, many men wearing everyday sports clothes cheer and look in the same direction as him.

- Laws: I don’t know Spanish law very well (it bothers me to say that I may know better what to do with the police in the US than in Spain) but it seems to me, from the movies, that many things are made into a massive deal in the US. Like jaywalking is apparently an offence of some kind? Here you can just cross the street wherever. People respect the crossing path for safety but it’s not a crime to not do it. People also don’t sue companies or other people as often and it’s usually not that big of a deal maybe? In any case, it’s a completely different legal system.

. The 50s: The 50s in the US are fancy and colourful. Society seems to have been thriving, everything was getting better. In Spain, the hunger years were starting to be over but many people were poor. We were in the worst of the Franco dictatorship, it was quite a rural society that had been destroyed by a civil war (the effects of which are still being felt). Rich people were fascist, poor people could be anything (many were actually communists, republican or other leftist). This is not a happy time in Spain. Many people had left to be refugees in other countries, many were leaving illegally to work in Germany or France. The music we listened to at the time was definitely not Elvis Presley (look for Lola Flores or Miguel de Molina, even though he ended up fleeing the country because he was openly gay and republican and they almost killed him once).

This image is from the movie Los Santos Inocentes, based on a book of the same title. A classic of Spanish modern literature and cinema. This is the way most people looked in the 50s in Spain. Even now old people look like this in villages.

It is like a family picture in front of a white house. Everyone is wearing black, dark blue, dark green or grey. From left to right, there is a boy sitting on a bench that is situated next to the door. Next, it’s a young girl wearing a long grey skirt and a dark green jacket. By the door, the mother holds a very thin boy who seems to be either deeply sick or dead. She wears mostly black and gray. The boy has the brightest green in the scene. Next to her, there is a man wearing a gray jacket and a bonet and finally, there is an older man that seems to be smiling (the only one smiling, everyone else has a serious and gloomy face).

And that’s what I can think of right now.

#hollywood #cultural differences #life in Spain #Spain #comparing movies #us life #spanish life

[sylvanfreckles]

Impaled (FebuWhump 04)

I had an extremely crappy day at work today...like coming home crying level crappy. So, as a defense mechanism, this came out. Granted, it was always going to be a slightly humorous take on this scenario, but this went a little...extreme.

You can also read this on AO3

Fandom: Supernatural Summary: Who would have thought, in the end, it would be vampire clowns in a busted-up barn in the middle of nowhere?

Not the Winchesters, that's for certain.

And certainly not Castiel, who did not get resurrected again just to die at the hands of a monster with a fourteen-year grudge.

* * *

After everything..after Chuck and Free Will and rewriting their own lives...it all came down to this.

A musty old barn in the ass-crack of nowhere, facing down a gang of vampires of all things.

“So, what, now's when we find out Gordon isn't actually dead?” Dean muttered, standing back-to-back with Sam. “Or, ah, what's-her-name...the hippie one who only ate cows. Think she's here?”

“We watched Lenore die,” Sam reminded him. “And I killed Gordon. I don't think this is either of them.”

“Yeah, unless Chuck brought them back,” Dean shot back. “Cas?”

Castiel, who had been silently and efficiently dispatching vampires turned back at Dean's question. “I find it unlikely Chuck would have considered either of them important enough to bring back from Purgatory.” Another vampire roared up behind him, and without even looking Cas stabbed him through the throat with his angel blade.

Dean had to admit, the flutter of Cas's new calf-length trench coat was pretty impressive as the angel spun around to yank his blade from one vampire and plunge it into another. Jack had apparently hooked his adoptive father up with some new duds on his return from the Empty, so Cas wasn't exactly rocking the whole “holy tax accountant” look anymore.

On the one hand, the long black trench coat was absolutely badass. The way it spun around Cas as he moved in battle reminded Dean of the shadows of wings cast on the barn ceiling all those years ago, and it had a much more stylish cut that emphasized the muscle on the angel's powerful frame.

On the other...the rainbow-colored sweater vest was a little much. But the combination was something that was just so essentially Jack they really couldn't complain.

“Dean!”

Pulled out of his daydreams by his brother's warning scream, Dean managed to deflect an incoming vampire and roll out of the way, narrowly avoiding the dangerous-looking nail that was poking up out of one of the support beams. Damn, they really needed to stop confronting vampires in fallen-down old barns.

Cas hauled him to his feet and manhandled him to one side, a blast of holy power from his other hand obliterating yet another vampire clown. “How many more are there?” the angel shouted over the sounds of battle.

“They just keep coming,” Sam panted. They were cornered now—Cas's angel blade was still embedded in a vampire a few feet away, Dean's machete had gotten notched when it had gotten stuck on a particularly dense vampire spine, and Sam was favoring his right arm as though chopping off so many heads in such a short amount of time was giving some kind of hunter's carpal tunnel. “Are we sure...I mean, is Chuck really de-powered?”

“You think he planned for one of us to die in some shitty barn in the middle of nowhere?” Dean scoffed. “Dude. The man's a hack, but he's not that bad.”

“Enough!” A fourth voice—because, really, the vampire clowns had done nothing but snarl since the Winchesters had busted down the door—cut through the air as another figure strode into the center of the barn.

It was, predictably, another vampire. This one was obviously the boss, judging by the way she was dressed—halter top and jeans instead of baggy clothes and a clown mask. Seriously, why clowns? Was someone trying to make this place Sam's worst nightmare?

“Well, well. If it isn't the Winchesters.” The woman flipped a lock of long, dark hair back over her shoulder. “I'm sure you're surprised to see me.”

Dean stared at her for a moment then glanced over at his brother. Sam shrugged. “Right,” Dean said after a few seconds. “You're...the Ringmaster!”

Sam let out a groan and stumbled back to lean against the wall of the barn. Dean couldn't see much of Cas's face but the angel's body was radiating out disappointment. “Come on,” Dean protested. “Clowns? The circus?”

“Enough!” the woman snapped again. “You killed my entire clan fourteen years ago. I've waited a long time for this day, when my new clan would find the Winchesters and we would put an end to them!”

Dean let his gaze travel up and down the woman's body again. She was still familiar, but that wasn't really enough to jog his memory. “Sweetheart, you're gonna have to be way more specific than that. Fourteen years is a long time.”

Cas shot him a dirty look—though whether it was over the sweetheart comment or Dean's snarky tone of voice he couldn't tell.

The woman hissed in anger. “Jenny? I had been chosen to join Luther's clan? You kidnapped his mate, Kate? Killed all of them to get your father and your precious Colt back?”

Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. Oh, right, he remembered her now...not that she needed to know that. “Sorry. Doesn't ring a bell.”

Jenny gave a shriek and charged toward him. Cas intercepted, easily turning her momentum against her. Sam charged in, the machete in his left hand now, easily cutting through the seemingly endless swarm of vampires.

With a rueful glance at his ruined machete, Dean took up a position to cover Cas's flank. Maybe he couldn't charge back into battle like Sam, but he could at least keep the small fry off the angel's back.

“This reminds me of the place we first met, Cas,” Dean called over his shoulder.

Cas grunted. “Hell was nothing like this, Dean. This barn has no resemblance to Alistair's pit.”

“What?” Dean shook his head. Right, sometimes he forgot about the whole raised-you-from-perdition thing. Maybe he needed to get that handprint tattooed back on or something...if he could face Sammy's teasing. “No, I meant the barn, man. Where I tried to shoot you.”

With a twist of his hips Cas flipped Jenny onto her back and wrapped one hand around her throat. “You also stabbed me,” he retorted. He was on limited power while he was on earth, but he had enough juice to burn Jenny out of existence.

“Still. Memories.”

There was a ragged cry from one of the vampire clowns—one of the few Sam hadn't managed to decapitate in the last five minutes (really, their heads just popped right off if you got the angle right...his high school history teacher had been so wrong). The vampire charged at Cas and the angel wasn't quite able to defend himself before he was driven back against one of the barn's support posts. Dean shouted a curse at the vampire and took a swing at his head.

The machete stuck. Dean swore and tugged it free, then swung again. The vampire went down, but it took a few more blows before he finally managed to separate the head from the body. “Dammit,” he swore, wiping his forehead on his sleeve. “Sammy?”

“Forty-seven,” Sam panted. He was doubled over, hands on his knees. “That was forty-seven vampire clowns. What the hell is happening?”

“Maybe Chuck's still in charge,” Dean theorized. “Cas?”

The angel grunted. Dean twisted around to see Cas staring down at his own chest, then the angel slowly peeled back one lapel of his trench coat. “Oh. I've been impaled.”

It was the rusty bar Dean had narrowly avoided earlier. It was longer than he'd thought, and the tip was poking out of Cas's chest right below his heart. “Cas?”

“I'm all right,” Cas reassured him, though the spray of blood he coughed up wasn't very reassuring.

“Oh god,” Sam fisted both hands in his hair. “Wh-what do we do? Should we call Jack? Do you need an ambulance? Or, wait, a spell? Maybe, maybe there's something in the car...”

“Sam, this is nothing,” Cas protested. He gripped the bar with one hand, frowning a little when he wasn't able to push himself free. “Though I could use some assistance.”

“No-no-no-no!” Sam waved his hands frantically. He'd pulled a bandanna out of...somewhere...and was trying to put pressure on the wound around the rusty bar. “We'll just...we can control the bleeding, and-and Dean can call an ambulance, and they can take care of you at the hospital.”

“Sam...”

“I didn't even get to say good-bye last time,” Sam whispered.

Ouch. Damn. Dean felt that one, right in his gut. That spurred him to action. “Hey, it's okay,” he said, quietly. He placed a hand on one of Sam's arms and leaned in closer to study the wound. “You said it's not bad? 'Cause I'm pretty sure some of that's supposed to be on the inside.”

Cas coughed and the wound gurgled as he sucked in a breath. “It would be a fatal wound if I were human,” he admitted. “But it cannot kill me. It is merely...uncomfortable.”

“There, see?” Dean knocked his shoulder against Sam's. He was worried, too...he would never get used to seeing Cas injured, no matter how long they were together. Especially not since the angel always tended to get the more...dramatic injuries. Like now, Sam and Dean were coming out of the fight with barely a scratch between them, while Cas had been impaled on a piece of rusty metal.

The absurdity of the situation finally struck Dean. The piles of dead vampire clowns. The woman from their past, who had apparently been planning revenge for fourteen years even though they hadn't even remembered her name.

And, most of all, their badass angel-of-the-lord (even if the lord in question at the moment was their adopted kid) in his rainbow sweater vest and badass trench coat staring down at the metal protruding from his chest like it was personally offending him.

Oh. I've been impaled.

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

Sam turned, scandalized. Cas looked on with resigned amusement.

“He-he just,” Dean wheezed. “Like that snowman...just...”

Cas gave a long-suffering sigh and gripped the piece of metal in one hand. With a mighty twist it broke away from the barn's support beam, and with another wrench Cas had pulled it free from his body and dropped it to the floor. His legs buckled beneath him, but Sam caught him and eased him down, that ever-present bandanna pressed to the wound in Cas's chest.

“Oh man...it's gonna be okay, Cas. We'll...we'll figure this out.”

“Dude,” Dean staggered over to kneel next to them, tears of laughter running down his face. “He's fine, just...just let it go.”

“Stop quoting Frozen and put your hand here!” Sam snapped, yanking Dean closer. “We need to stop the bleeding!”

Cas just stared at them patiently while Sam rocked up to his knees to apply more pressure to his wound. Dean tried to help, he really did, but the entire situation was just spiraling too far out of control. If Chuck really was still writing their lives he'd obviously gone insane.

Sam peeled the bandanna back to check Cas's wound and there was...nothing. Just the smooth, colorful knit of his rainbow-colored sweater vest. Even the blood stains were gone, as though Cas had never been injured.

With a relieved sigh, Sam sank back onto his heels. Cas pushed himself up on his elbows, idly brushing at the straw that was sticking to his trench coat. Dean picked up the rusty piece of iron that had impaled Cas and flung it across the barn.

“Not today, Chuck!” he hollered after it. “No one's dying in some shitty barn in the middle of nowhere, you hear me?”

There was a companionable silence for a moment, then Sam suddenly shot to his feet and looked around. “We forgot about the kids!”

* * *

Jack sees his father both as a badass unstoppable force, and as the caring dad who always has time for him. Thus, when designing his wardrobe for his current resurrection, he went with the odd combination of cuddly rainbow vest and Neo-style trench coat. Oddly enough, it suits Cas more than anything else he's ever worn.

#supernatural #fic #fanfic #febuwhump #febuwhumpday4 #impaled #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #destiel #castiel and dean and sam friendship #jenny #vampires #episode fix-it: s15e20 Carry On #cas in a black trench coat #dean watches frozen #attempt at humor #hurt/comfort #there is one emotional punch moment

[gayedmundo]

a missing eddie scene from it chapter two

One moment Richie was right next to him, running through the tunnels and towards whatever the next horror this stupid clown had waiting for them, and the next moment he was alone.

His surroundings are new. When he looks behind him, he can still see the tunnels that they had been running through, but then it transitions into a room. It’s still dark and ominous, but significantly less cave-like. The only way out is to go back the way he came. He doesn’t see any separate path that Richie could’ve taken to explain his absence.

“Richie?” He yells out, hesitantly, “Richie, man, where did you go? This is so not the time to fuck around, asshole. If you’re planning to jump out at me, I will stab you with this fence post, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly a familiar voice comes from the dark behind him, making him jump.

“Oh, Eddie, there you are!”

It’s his wife. She’s shivering and drenched in water and dressed far too nicely for a walk through the sewers.

“Myra? What are you- what are you doing here?” He figures it must be a trap. This is what It does, he knows that. But still... she looks so real.

“I’m here to help you, Eddie. You just ran out on me without an explanation, I was so worried about you! This is too dangerous for you, we both know that. Come with me, Eddie-bear, please. We can go home and pretend like none of this happened. If you stay, you’ll get hurt.” She’s sobbing, predictably.

He shakes his head and backs away from her, “No, you can’t be here. I- You’re not real.”

“What? Of course I am. Honey, you’re not thinking straight.” She walks closer towards him and reaches her hand out to stroke his face but he flinches away from her touch. She sobs again and puts her hand over her mouth in horror. “What are these friends of your’s putting in your head? I mean look at you, you’re covered in sewer water! You’re hurt! Eddie, that’s gonna get infected! You’re so dirty!”

He’s shaking his head and looking away, trying to convince himself that she’s not real while she speaks but he notices a change in her voice when she says the last word. The tone goes from worried and panicked to accusatory and mocking. Slowly, he looks back at her.

Except his wife is no longer there. Standing in her place is his mother, the way she looked before she got sick. Despite the fact that by the time he stopped growing, he was slightly taller than her, she seems to tower over him. He realizes that the dark room they’re standing in has taken the shape of the living room in his childhood home.

“Dirty. That’s what you are. That’s what you’ve always been. You’re friends just make it worse. Especially that Tozier boy. He’s the dirtiest of them all and I think he’s been a bad influence on you. Made you sick like him.”

“That’s not true, don’t talk about him like that that’s not true!” He’s starting to wish he hadn’t burned his inhaler.

She’s sneering at him. His mother would get like this sometimes when she was in particularly bad moods, but it was rare. She usually preferred for her methods of manipulation to be more subtle. Guilt-tripping was her favorite. But as a teenager, he started to grow used to the way she would use her tears as a weapon and some days he refused to let them work on him. That’s when she got mean. He learned that maybe the tears were the better option.

“Yes, it is, Eddie-bear! You just can’t see what he’s done to you.” She switches to her worried voice, as she so often would after she got mean. It was all because she was worried, she didn’t mean it, she always promised. He was foolish enough to believe her more times than he’s proud of.

“That’s why you need your mother to protect you, to keep you from getting sicker than you already are. You think any of those friends of yours will want to touch you when they know what sickness you actually have?”

“Shut up!” He yells out, louder than he was expecting. His heart is pounding harder than before. He wants to curl up into himself and close his eyes until she goes away, but something makes him stay strong. 

You’re braver than you think.

“Eddie... how could you talk to your mother like that? I love you and this is how you treat me? I always said you would leave me and I was right! You don’t deserve all I do for you!”

A part of him wants to apologize. He knows she’s not real but there’s still a reflex in him to stop and comfort her, assure her that he loves her too and tell her that he appreciates everything she’s done for him. And god, if that isn’t the most fucked up, backwards feeling. 

“You’re right! I don’t deserve it. I never did.” She flinches back. The sight makes him gain more confidence.

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, and I.... I didn’t deserve it! You told me I was sick, dirty, tainted, made me feel weak, and the worst thing about it is that I believed you! But the truth is, I’m not. I know I’m capable of being brave.”

With every word, he feels like a weight he didn’t even know existed was being lifted off of his chest. He never got to say all of this to her before she died, he never even let himself think it most days, and he felt guilty when he did. But getting to say it now felt freeing, whether she was real or not.

“Eddie, please-“

“No, you’ve said enough. I loved you, Ma, I did. In your weird, fucked up way, I know you loved me too and maybe you genuinely did think you were doing what was right for me. But I’m so, so tired of your voice controlling how I think of myself. I’m tired of hearing your voice in my wife’s mouth! I’m tired of feeling like who I am, who I really am, is wrong because of the shit you told me as a kid. I’m tired of the look you would give me every time I would hang out with Richie. I’m tired of my skin crawling when I stare at him for too long. I’m tired of feeling like I need to take a shower after touching his skin. I’m tired of the guilt I feel when I realize I want to touch him again anyway. So I’m not gonna let you control me from the grave and I’m not gonna run from myself anymore, I’m gay!”

He pauses for a moment, taking in what he just admitted. What he had barely been able to admit to himself before.

“Holy shit. I’m gay. Yeah.” And then he laughs. It’s a little hysterical, but more than anything he feels relieved. He said it. He’s gay, and that doesn’t make him sick.

But then his mother’s frown turns into a wicked smile, and when she bares her teeth, they’re sharp. Her features slowly become more horrific, and he watches in terror until she, or It, lunges at him.

His body reacts before his mind and the next thing he knows, he’s yanking the fence post out of the chest of the nightmare version of his mother. The room changes back to the damp tunnel walls. It stumbles back and then vanishes down one of the other tunnels.

He stands there alone for another moment to process what just happened. Despite everything, he smiles to himself. What does it say about you if facing off with a shape-shifting demon could be one of the most cathartic moments of your life?

Snapping back to himself, he grips onto the fence post again and heads in the other direction to find Richie again. Which reminds him, he still has one other important thing he needs to get off his chest. But first, it’s time to kill that fucking clown once and for all.

#eddie kaspbrak #reddie #it chapter two #it films #reddie fic #i mean kinda its mostly eddie idk how else to tag it tho lol #my writing #long post #if the read more doesnt work i guess #reblogs are much appreciated

[jonathan-cranes-mistress-of-fear]

Jonathan Crane Angst Alphabet

A- Accident, Would they blame themselves if you died in an accident?

Crane would feel guilty, especially if he had clown close to his partner. If they died of a toxin overdose, or thanks to the Dark Knight’s brute force, he would feel at fault. He may even go on a rampage to quell his anger, trying to fight batman or just spreading fear in some vain hopes that it brings his partner back to him.

B- Break up, How would they deal with one?

It depends on how close he is with said partner. After a week? He wouldn’t feel much sting, but if he had gotten close and exposed himself to them, then it would really hurt. He does not handle rejection well and may even attack his ex-partner with fear toxin.

C-Crying, Are they much of a crier?

Jonathan doesn’t cry very often, but yes he has cried before. He cried when Great Granny locked him in the chapel, he cried when Sherry cruelly tricked him, he cried the day he lost his job at Gotham University.  He keeps it in check most of the time, usually burying those feelings until the explode. And when they do? He cries himself to sleep.

D-Death, How do they deal with any death?

He knows death is inevitable, and he’s prepared for it. he doesn’t have a will or any plans for a funeral, he just hope he’ll be buried somewhere where no body will find him. Not that anyone would visit him any way. Death of others is different though, he didn’t care about murdering his family...but he would care of say, someone like Harley died. He’d feel sorrow that day.

E-Emotion, What’s the emotion they tend to push away the most?

Happiness. He doesn’t believe he can be truly happy, and even though he experiences joy within his passions, it’s an ever fleeting emotion that never stays it’s welcome. He’s suffered most of his life, and to him...that’s normal. It’s normal to live life without so much a a smile. And that’s what hurts him.

F-Frustrated, How much would it take to push them off the edge?

It depends on what it is. Making fun of him or attacking his appearance is NOT a good idea. He can’t stand bullies and will attack you with fear toxin if you provoke him.  Otherwise, he has quite a lot of patience for tom foolery.

G-Great Pain, What is the most painful thing they have witnessed?

That would be his childhood trauma, being locked in the aviary and forced to deal with hungry crows. No amount of punches from the Dark Knight could ever compare to an innocent child suffering alone and afraid.

H-Humiliation, How could they be humiliated?

By being bullied, even though he has thick skin as an adult, the same could not be said for his teenage years. He despises being made fun of, it hurts him deep down and he can’t control his tears. Even in the comics he’s ran away from bullies with his eyes red and swollen from crying. One time he was pantsed in front of his crush, Sherry Squires. It really embarrassed him, and from that point on he trusted no one. (this didn’t happen in the comics, I just came up with it(

I-Injured, How do they handle themselves when injured?

He hides his pain, and cringes though it all. He does not want to look weak, and being vulnerable during this time makes him feel that way. Even so, he has a very high pain tolerance thanks to aforementioned childhood trauma, so most attacks don’t harm in heavily.

J-Jittery, Which part of their past makes them flinch or even worked up?

Everything about his childhood. He hides it well, but if you dig deep enough he’ll break down and cry. (this is to say, only a few people have cracked him) He hated his great granny, so bringing her up brings out anger and scorn. He wishes he could have killed her a second time.

K-Kill, Would they kill for revenge?

Hell yes, and he actually has in the comics. He’s killed both his great grandmother and grandmother, and he TRIED to kill is father and mother. If batman had not intervened, he would have succeeded.

L- Loss, What was their greatest loss?

His childhood. He laments the fact that he never had a normal childhood. He lost out on so many milestones and had to grow up much quicker than your average kid. He didn’t have a best friend. He never got to swim in the lake. He didn’t get Christmas presents, and every day he suffered.

M- Mistakes, How much do they want to fix the mistakes of their past?

He doesn’t consider many of the choices in his life a mistake. The only exception is when he pulled out a gun in the classroom. Even though he KNEW he was in the right, and he KNEW it was a good experiment, other did not agree and that was his downfall. He really misses teaching. If he could do it over, he would. Anything for a chance to teach again.

N-Need, How would they react if you needed emergency surgery?

He would worry, because for one thing, he does not have the money for that. And besides, who would operate on a criminal? He may just accept his fate and suffer until his last breath. Besides, fate will get him sooner or later.

O-Outrage, What makes them angry?

Betrayal, anytime someone breaks his trust he gets extremely aggravated. Trust is something that he does not hand out lightly, so being back stabbed really hurts him. He can’t stand those who hurt him. He’s been hurt enough as is.

P-Pressure, What stresses them out to the breaking point?

When his toxin isn’t strong enough, he’s constantly honing his craft and yet the secrets of the chemicals elude him. What and when will he create a toxin strong enough to dismantle the bat. He is extremely smart, that’s a fact. yet still there is much more to learn. His is the only man in his field after all. No body but him can create fear toxin. He has nobody to rely on.

Q- Qualify, What part of themselves do they see as dangerous?

His lust for revenge. That’s the dangerous part. He will not give up until his anger is quelled. All who make him suffer must in turn suffer. That is what makes him scary. He never forgives.

R-Rock, What weighs them down?

The past. He can’t let go of it no matter how hard he tries. He buries it deep down and hides his pain from everyone, the friends, the doctors, you name it. He needs help to conquer this pain, but that he will never admit to.

S-Sorrow, Would they feel empty after the death of a loved one?

He would feel empty inside, this is someone he finally, after all those years of solitude, grew close to. He trusted him, and yes, he loved them. He would feel like his heart has been ripped apart, a hole exists now and nothing can fill it. Not toxin, not batman, not anything.

T-Time, What if they had a limited time to live?

He would make the most of it. Crane would likely spend the last of his hours fighting batman and spreading fear as that’s what brings him the most joy. Maybe he’d settle down and read a book for the last hours of his life, but more likely he’ll die fighting.

U-Urge, How badly do they get the urge to see you after separating?

It depends on how long him and his partner have been apart. He is fine with being alone, and may not miss them at the time but given more than a few weeks he would change his tune. If they were sent to Arkham, the there’s no doubt they would be broken out by the Scarecrow

V-Vent, How do they get rid of feelings they find unnecessary?

He doesn’t he rarely vents, most of the time he bottles it up until it explodes. And that is not a pretty sight, he gets really angry and his southern accent comes out in full force. Beware the wrath of the Scarecrow.

W-Wild card, A random angst headcanon.

He does not do well on his birthday. he actually wants to forget the date entirely and treat it as any other day. He was severely punished on his birthday, and those memories have not faded with time. DO not, I repeat, do not celebrate his birthday. He hates that date. (However, this may change depending on his partner and how long they have been together)

X- X-ray, What makes them transparent? How obvious can they get around something they hate?

He’s very good at hiding his true nature, so he doesn’t get angry until necessary. However, he has a bit of a grinchy side and will snear and make faces at what angers him. In that one way, he can be very transparent.

Y-Yearning, Do old memories make them yearn for your touch?

Yes, he still wishes he could’ve kissed sherry, despite the fact that she betrayed him. If that tells you anything, it should tell you that old memories bring up longing feelings. Old memories can hit him heard.

Z- Zoophobia, Is there any animal/bug/creature that scares them?

Bats He’s terrified of bats because they bring forth images of the Dark Knight. He would never admit to having this fear, but bats keep him up at night. He can’t stand these creatures. That’s why he keeps crows around, they keep the bats at bay, in more than one way.

#Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #The Scarecrow #Angst Alphabet #Mistress' Headcanons #Mistress' Headcannons #Text Posts #I can go more in depth with any of these if you guys would like #I was afraid of writing too much #so I kept responses kinda short

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 13: Yugi Dies in California, Makes Everything Awkward

Hey guys. Yugi’s DEAD. (again, but way earlier in a season than I thought he’d be)

So lets get into it.

Last we left off, Pharaoh got imbued with the powers of Lime Green. A green that I swear used to be more Aqua, but seems to sort of shift and change depending on if it’s day or night.

As a consequence, Yugi now can’t have any communication with Pharaoh. I guess this makes it so now Pharaoh is split with his “light” side but like...both Yugi and Pharaoh have both light and darkness so...I see the metaphor going on, but I don’t think the metaphor actually...worked when you think about all the screwy stuff Yugi has done even without Pharaoh around. So just don’t think about it.

The big consequence of the Yugi Banishment was more that Yugi wasn’t there to tell Pharaoh how the Oricalchos card works because--and I say this a lot--but Pharaoh doesn’t know how to read.

Pharaoh’s biggest downfall isn’t so much his greed or pride this episode, it’s his goddamn illiteracy. If he took just five seconds to study the fine print then...he wouldn’t have even cast the Oricalchos in the first place. He did it because he wanted to protect his dragon Timaeus on the field, but the Oricalchos made Timaeus immediately disappear so...Pharaoh cast this for no reason other than the plot really wanted him to do it.

Just kinda shocking that Pharaoh, of all people, made such a huge card mistake when he’s supposed to be from where all cards came from. Then again, he’s separated from Yugi who I guess had more card input than I realized, because the rest of this episode is just Pharaoh playing kind of like a dumbass.

And on the voice acting side, the guy who plays Pharaoh had to try and talk even deeper--which was kind of funny when he’s already as deep as he can go. So...it just seems like Season 1 Pharaoh to me, except he laughs more.

TBH Pharaoh was WAY more rude to PaniK than he ever was to Rafael.

(read more under the cut)

Meanwhile, Rex and Weevil have joined the pack.

Only to be hassled by the pack.

And so, since this is a show about cards, how do you make Pharaoh look like a bad person when he...always plays cards, and is usually a good person for doing this same card playing thing?

And as the person in charge of the Death Count, sorry Yugi, that doesn’t even make sense to me. If you’re telling me that JUST NOW cards are suddenly real and not 10+ episodes ago, and if you’re telling me that all of the other times Dark Magician Girl died didn’t count?

If I had to count every time that a card died when I’m pretty sure they were real then we would also have to count most Bakura duels, probably that Pegasus duel, any Shadow game, really, and like...I don’t want to do the math so I am not counting Dark Magician Girl, y’all.

She was alive at the end of this episode, and as far as I’m concerned, her prime function--the reason she exists--is to die a lot. She’s a card, that’s what they do, and I doubt she even felt bad about it. Like...I don’t think the cards are mortal. Does that make sense? I just...maybe it hurt her but like...does she care? She’s a god in this universe.

You can’t kill Zeus. And like maybe people can hassle Zeus but like it would be maybe the sensation of an itch to Zeus if you stab him directly through the throat--that’s how I feel about Dark Magician Girl. She can take a beating and won’t even know it’s happening. Girl is freakin Zeus.

A lot of this Rafael arc is about making a false reality to justify your actions. Rafeal’s was a pretty extreme case involving cards that are angels and that are still cards...or something. Pharaoh’s was “I’ll be fine, I’ve always been fine, I’m very good at this, I’m the exception to every rule.” which is a much more approachable and relatable fake reality than Rafael.

Thing is, Pharaoh’s not entirely wrong. That’s usually true for him. He usually is the exception to every rule bending RNG to his every whim. Like there’s a reason why he took the chance on the Oricalchos, it really should’ve worked out.

And TBH, would have liked to see Pharaoh do this for longer than one episode, especially since him going his brand of cray only lasted during a card game, which I don’t really watch anyway. But eventually all good things must end, and it catches up to him when he realizes the horror he has wrought.

Spoiler, it’s not that horrifying.

Like for reals, I have seen Pharaoh do some THINGS and maybe this is a sign I’ve seen too much Yugioh when I’m like “lol Pharaoh went nuts and that was it???”

I cannot believe he did not pull out even so much as a single knife this entire episode. The hatchets are right there. Then again, his puzzle powers don’t really work in the Oricalchos realm so he has to play normie style. But knives are pretty normie. I feel like Pharaoh should have pulled out some sort of makeshift brain teaser involving knives, but youknow, this season is very much more for kids than previous seasons of Yugioh.

Again, what he did to Panik is about 1000x worse than making a Halloween Kuriboh.

But, now that all the cards he sacrificed to the Shadow Realm are being resurrected and used against him, he looks into the blank face of Dark Magician Girl and accepts his defeat.

Which is very similar to what happened to Kaiba in the earlier seasons of this show. Pharaoh got Pharaoh’d.

But...while it is a throwback, heaven forbid that this show used a real ass human as a stand in for Dark Magician Girl in this scene. Could’ve had just any actual person standing around here to make Pharaoh realize a change of heart--maybe even the kid he banished in his head? But nah.

It was Dark Magician Girl for this emotional beat.

I mean we are watching Yugioh but lol, that was a decision the writing team made. Joey Wheeler’s right over there. Maybe remove Tea from that RV? No? Want to use Dark Magician Girl instead? OK then.

Anyway, now that Pharaoh was shamed enough by a paper card to remember how to be slightly more human, Yugi holds his Puzzle high over his head and screams “BY THE POWER OF THE MILLENNIUM PUZZLE!” or something and does his own brand of magic. Surprise, it’s punching stuff.

Punching stuff is always the answer.

So apparently the puzzle is more powerful than Oricalchos. Which we basically knew the whole time, I mean...Pharaoh got possessed by Oricalchos and all it did was make him play cards.

I can’t believe no one got set on fire that entire sequence.

So, since the Oricalchos demanded a soul, Yugi figured out a loophole.

And again, another Yugioh game was ended by someone threatening to kill himself, and this time it was Yugi. Who died so that Pharaoh’s yummy soul would not resurrect the Great Leviathan.

Because, while Yugi may be a soul-copy and somewhat reincarnation of the Pharaoh? Or something? He’s still not yummy enough. Not yummy enough for that Leviathan tummy.

Which lead to this great scene that I’m sure you’d remember vividly if you ever saw it even once. This is so unexpected and wild and everyone should see it.

This is moments following a very heavy death in the show--Pharaoh’s lowest point--and it is just SO JARRING AND FUNNY in context. I don’t think they meant it to be that way but I had to rewind like 8 times.

First off, enjoy this wtf helicopter, and then...

Wow.

A+ animation, I would never have been so bold as to do drop Pharaoh like a sack of potatoes from 50 feet in the air right after killing Yugi Muto on screen. 10/10. Amazing.

And after it happens, Duke kinda looks over and has the gall to ask... “Are you guys all right?” It’s just...

Wow.

I’m applauding at my computer, I am so glad that whole sequence exists. I’ll probably lift it eventually just to have.

And then the rest of this episode is Pharaoh trying to tell everyone what happened but Everyone still doesn’t quite get it, despite how wildly blunt Pharaoh is.

Cue the endless crying, because if this show loves anything, it’s men in eyeliner openly weeping into the dirt at their feet. Thankfully, Yugi had the foresight to get waterproof mascara, because if he’s gonna die, he doesn’t want Yami to blow up that perfectly cut stiletto heel line.

MAN I am so jealous of this teenage boy’s makeup.

And since I asked the void nicely for Yugioh to be in PAD, and now that PAD put Yugioh in there as if it heard me, I will now turn my attention to Sephora.

Please, Sephora, make me a Yugioh makeup line that is waterproof as hell so I can ugly cry in the hottest desert in America and still not smudge, thx.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand Yugi Muto is officially dead!

Didn’t expect that, being real.

Wow.

Really I thought that they would die if ever they ever got separated, but apparently Pharaoh is fine he just...lacks his Yugi half that knows how to read stuff and had a slightly longer attention span.

I can’t believe they cured Yugi of his curse! Congrats, Yugi! You are no longer possessed! 

Y’all. Lets just appreciate the Yugioh Episode 13 curse for a bit.

First episode 13, Bakura killed everyone with like no warning

Second Episode 13 was Ankle-slicing Bandsaw Clown

Third Episode 13 Noah revealed he was Seto’s Secret Already Dead Brother trying to take over Seto’s body

Fourth Episode 13 Yami finally managed murdering Yugi.

Like I dunno if they planned for all 13s to be all the WTF ones, but I’m glad it’s managed so far. I should’ve known when I started this episode that it was a 13, but I just...I just forgot.

Really thought Yami was going to survive this one and we’d have to bury Rafael on this mesa. Lucky for them and the local police, it’s just paranormal murder today.

Anyway...there’s like a lot more episodes of this season left and I don’t know where it’s going anymore. Should be fun. At the rate we’re going, we’re gonna take a bike ride over to New York City to do more card games on the desert Mesas of NYC. Lets see how long Yugi will remain dead.

Maybe next episode Pharaoh will just throw on a bedsheet and Rebecca’s shower sandals so he can go full Egyptian Era? Maybe the eyeliner will be drawn all the way to his freakin ears? Y’all what if he gets really into beads and gold now?

(and if you just got here, this is a handy link to read all of these recaps in chrono order. There’s a lot of them.)

#ygo #yugioh #photo recap #episode recap #yugi muto #yami #joey wheeler #rafael #duke devlin #tristan taylor #rex raptor #weevil underwood #a helicopter #Dying in a kid's show #Yugi's freakin dead

[grody-cosplay-n-crap]

The Ones that Die

After everything he’s seen, this might as well be next. Sentient lights that feed off the fear of mortals make an afterlife seem kind of dull after all.

Eddie is a ghost, but it doesn’t bring him any more clarity.

I never really knew what “this fic got away from me” meant until I started writing this. Wanted to explore Eddie being able to realize Richie was in love with him and vomited this out instead. I hope you enjoy the result.

on ao3

__________________________________________________________

 Slowly, he blinks. Once, twice, three times. He was standing, or at least that’s how it seemed. His body somehow felt wrong, not heavy enough, not…dense. As he contemplated gravity’s seeming lack of power over him things came into focus. A cave. Well…cave might be generous. A nasty, damp hole might be more accurate, and god what the fuck was that smell? After a few moments of just wrinkling his nose as hard as he could he glances to his left, almost physically jumping when he realized there was a group of people immediately next to him. How fucking long had they been there and what the fuck were they doing hanging out in this hell hole (what was he??) To be fair they looked like they were ready to leave ASAP and he became vaguely aware that the area around them seemed to be all but falling apart. Clearly this place should have been blocked off to the public this was a HUGE liability. It looked like one of the people had already been hurt, slumped against the wall-

Everything stopped.Sitting there, eyes glassy and unblinking, dark thick blood still dripping off of their chin, a trail that led his eyes down to a gaping wet hole. He doubled over to vomit only to realize he couldn’t, as if his organs had been stolen out of his body cavity. There in front of him was himself, unmoving and very clearly dead. 

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the EVER LOVING FUCK

Slowly he realized sounds were coming back to him, like someone turning up the volume on a TV. How had he not noticed everything was silent? Now voices, breathing, ambient sounds and distantly rocks falling. If he still felt like he had lungs  he’s pretty sure he would be hyperventilating. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Was this a new more detailed type of lucid dream, could he be medicated for this? What if he was the first case EVER and there is no treatment-

“-we got it man-” His panicked thoughts come to a screeching halt and he finally really looks at the people standing around his -definitely a hallucination- body. Gravity suddenly feels like it has been turned back on as memories all fall into place in a way that is nothing if not devastating. He knows why he’s down there…he knows who these people are. He knows that he…..that he really is dead. It feels like his heart is back and a cold hand has wrapped around it and squeezed. 

“Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” He whispers “ It got me, that motherFUCKING clown-” covering his mouth and squeezing his eyes closed acceptance seeps into him. After all he has seen this might as well be next. He’s not sure why he has not been crippled by grief and pure raw panic by now, except for the strange feeling that his mind is missing something it had in life, just like the density seems to be missing from his bones. He supposes after the alien shapeshifting sentient lights that fed off the fear of mortals and a….a turtle?? an afterlife seemed almost dull. He really thought for a minute he had killed that motherfucker, his bright eyed joy seemed truly embarrassing now. Somehow the memory of the shameful irony is more powerful to him than the memory of the physical pain. God being dead had really fucked up his priorities. How long had he been spacing out since remembering what was going on, seconds? Minutes? Was time even real anymore? God what a cliche. He could see Richie’ s face in his mind right when he had been stabbed and that hurt more than the actual claw going through his organs. Oh god Rich. 

Time snapped back to moving normally again and he was once again watching his best friends all gathered around his corpse. 

“-he’s alright, we just got to get him out of here, he’s hurt man-" 

What? He looked at Richie with confusion, frowning. The denial in his voice, as if he truly believed what he said…. Eddie was clearly gone, his eyes staring endlessly into nothing. Why would his friend say that, so utterly out of touch with reality? 

"Honey… honey he’s dead…” Bev’s voice cracked as she spoke.

“Richie…” Eddie said, his voice sounding just the same to his ears as it always had “It’s true man, I’m gone… I’m gone." 

"We gotta go-” Bill. He watched as Richie took his body into his arms in a gesture more tender and desperate than he could ever remember seeing from the other man. 

“Richie come on…. Why are you-that-” he gestures “ That isn’t me anymore. It’s okay you can just leave it-” A recoiling feeling hit him at the thought of being stuck in this place forever, but he pushes it away. Not him, just something that used to be. Rocks were starting to fall. “ You guys can’t get hurt over… over a body!” Ben, Bill and Mike are trying to pry Richie off now and he only clings tighter.

“We can still help him guys, we can still help him-!!”

“Let me GO Richie!!” He all but yells, feeling like stomping his foot in frustration, just like he had countless times as a kid.“ Why are you being like this?!”

“We can still help him-!!!” He was being dragged away now, successfully separated from Eddie’s body, but he’s struggling. 

“Just fucking go, asshole.” Eddie mutters, a violent fear that the others will be hurt seeping into him. He hears one last cry of “Eddie, No-!!!"before they are out of sight. The other worldly detachment he has had since waking dissipates completely. He misses it immediately. 

________________________________________________________

He blinks back into existence outside on Niebolt Street. Bone deep relief washes through him as he sees the rest of the losers club run out of that shitty house before it starts to properly collapse. Well, he thinks as he watches, the meat sack that was Eddie Kaspbrak is officially gone, buried under tons of rock and dirt. It should upset him more but deep down he knows a pristine embalmed body in a casket would have made no difference. Next to him he realizes someone is struggling, trying to get back to the ruin. Richie.

"We gotta get back in there and get him, he’s still in there!!” It takes both Mike and Ben to hold him back. “Eddie, Eddie!!!" 

Eddie snaps "Richie, what the fuck are you doing?!” He yells right into his face. “Why are you acting like this?? It sucks man, I know, it fucking sucks but what exactly are you going to do?!?” He points to the pile of rubble. “What if someone else got hurt what if-” a sudden realization. “What if you had just…just stayed?? You would have died too! For no reason!! Do you…do you think any of us would want that…. If, if we… for someone else to… ” he trailed off as he watched the fight drain out of Richie and he all but collapsed onto the road below. 

“You always were different.”

The breath he didn’t need anymore leaves him all at once as he spins to his right. A new man was standing there, looking right at him. He had soft, wise eyes partially hidden behind reading glasses and a tamed mop of curly hair.

“Stan?”

“Hi…hi there Eddie.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking shit.” Stan watched quietly as he had a little freakout. “God damn it, sure, sure why not, christ. I… God, Stan I have so much to say to you.” Stan gave a sad little smile, but Eddie got distracted again quickly. “Wait what do you mean I’m different?”

“To him.” Stan gestures to Richie. “You were always different than the rest of us.”

“What?” Eddie said, watching as the other losers gently pull Richie up off the ground “That doesn’t make any sense, you were his best friend, man.” A sinking feeling hits him “Ah fuck, Richie…” 

“Hm.” Stan said quietly “Maybe.”

________________________________________________________

He and Stan were sitting next to the water in the quarry, just waiting. 

“Why…” Eddie broke the silence awkwardly “Why did you…do it?” Stan kept staring over the water. 

“I suppose you will never get my letter… I remembered as soon as Mike called. And I knew that I couldn’t…. I was too scared to come back. But I couldn’t let you guys try alone either. I just knew if I let you face It without me…” He swallows slowly “you would all die. So this..this was my other option.” Eddie frowned. 

“I don’t understand.” A sigh.

“My absence would only be okay if I couldn’t be here. I had to take myself out of the game.”

“Shit Stan…” Eddie looked out over the water too “We missed you like fuck. I’m not… not mad but, fuck. Do you regret it? At all?”

“It worked. I would take myself out to save all of you a hundred times over.” He gives another painful looking swallow. “Most of you.” God this was so fucked. “But I wish…. I wish I could have just been brave instead. Maybe if I was here we all could have made it out. We would all have a chance to be…” He took off his glasses and pressed his fingers hard into his eyes, exhaling shakily. Eddie couldn’t quite bring himself to try to touch Stan’s shoulder, could they even touch?”

“Were you happy?” Stan looks up at him. “Your life… was it good? Were you happy?” 

“Yeah…” he breathed “I was pretty happy. It would have been better with all of you in it though.” 

“God I’m fucking sorry Stan.”

“Were you happy?” Stan says in reply, sounding as if he already knows the answer. Eddie gives a humorless laugh. 

“No, no I don’t think I fucking was.” he ran his hand through his hair “I think my life might have fucking sucked.” Stan was quiet for a moment.

“All of us were…. stunted by what we went through. It seemed like we grew up but really it’s like we were all on pause until we came back, remembered, and ended it.”

“Yeah well, you were the most grown up back then too. Probably why your life was okay.” He chuckled then groaned, putting his head in his hands. “That  summer I stood up to my mom. I remember now. I realized she was full of shit and I stood up to her and then I forgot. Right back to square one and she’s dead but it doesn’t matter  because I fucking married version 2.0, what the fuck is wrong with me?” 

“We all regressed in some ways. All of us repeated mistakes after our memories were taken.” Eddie didn’t say anything or lift his head. “If you still could…. What would you do next?” Eddie finally looks up. 

“I want to think…God, fuck… if I could stop being a fucking chickenshit I know exactly what I’d do. I’d leave Myra, leave that fucking city I hate. Do something worthwhile with my life. I don’t think med schools take many 40 year olds but I could be a radiologist or something. A nurse practitioner maybe. Fucking Richie would probably be an asshole and call me a “murse” or something.” His chest tightens again. “This really fucking sucks Stan. Really not fair, you know? Is this just going to be forever? Just hanging around for eternity rotting? Because that sounds a lot like hell.” 

“I don’t know.” Stan says “No one has told me the rules of the afterlife.” 

“Glad religion turns out to be so helpful.” Eddie snorts “Hope you’re not too disappointed Stan.” 

“ Religion was more my father’s thing.” 

They are interrupted by a loud splash. Bev, as always, had just lept first into the quarry from the cliff above. ‘That should really be blocked off, that is NOT safe-’ Eddie’s thought is cut off as he saw four other figures leap into the water. He and stan watch as they swim around, cleaning themselves of blood and grime. Eddie found his eyes wandering to Richie the most. He was moving less than the others, mostly staring at the water. 

“Eddie would have hated this.” Eddie’s gaze switches to Ben.

“What, cleaning up in dirty water?”

“Yeah I fucking would have you assholes.” Eddie groaned “But kind of irrelevant now, huh?” Bacteria seemed pretty fucking unimportant when you no longer had a body to be infected. How many hours had he wasted worrying about microorganisms when he wound up just getting fucking impaled?? 

“He would be looking out for us, like he always was.” warmth flooded his chest and for the first time in a while he felt like crying. He really wasn’t ever going to be able to talk to them again, to touch them, to really be with them. But they were smiling at his memory and that’s what he wanted, for them to be okay, to be happy. 

“Right Richie?”

Richie wasn’t smiling. For once in his life he had nothing funny to add. Instead he was sobbing, curling into himself in the waist deep water. 

“Fuck.” Eddie says aloud. He is immediately up, walking towards where all the losers were converging, holding Richie comfortingly. 

“He won’t be able to hear or feel you.” Stan says.

“I know!” Eddie snaps, focusing on how he can feel the drag of the water around his legs but they don’t seem to be wet at all. When he reaches the group he awkwardly mimes draping himself over Richie’s back. He concentrates hard and when he softly leans his forehead against him it doesn’t go right through like a cartoonish ghost, thank god. Rich and the others might not be able to feel him, but the idea of comforting them is good enough. 

“Rich come on.” He whispers. “Where are you? You’re strong, why are you…taking this so badly??” Not that he wanted anyone to take his death WELL, but they had just remembered each other, knew the danger they were facing, had thought about their own deaths and the deaths of everyone else. And Richie had never been the most sensitive of them, had always had a thick protective layer of humor and smarts around him. 

“I don’t have my glasses so I don’t know who you people are, but thank you.” Eddie physically sags with relief when he hears Richie finally crack a joke. Thank God. 

“No really, I can’t find my glasses.”

“Idiot.” Eddie says with a small smile. 

________________________________________________________

He and Stan are back on the shore, watching the other losers still splashing around. 

“Is he going to be okay?” Eddie asks suddenly and it is very clear who he is talking about. “Just like…. I was thinking. You were his best friend, and he’s not… not coping well with me being gone, I’m just fucking worried-” 

“I don’t know.” Stan says and Eddie can sense a little fear in his voice.

“Come on Stan you are the senior ghost here you’re supposed to have the answers.” Stan raises his eyebrow but smiles a little too “I just… don’t understand man. I mean I know I got stabbed right on top of him and that’s pretty fucking traumatizing but-” he exhales trying to gather his thoughts. “I’ve never seen him like this.” He hears Richie’s desperate screams of his name replay and a lump forms in his throat “I’ve never seen anyone-” 

“I have.” Stan interrupts “Patty. When she found me.” 

“Patty?” Eddie’s eyes widen with realization “Your wife.” 

“Yeah.” Stan’s voice was quaking slightly “I wish I didn’t have to do that to her.” A deep breath “But when you’ve made someone a part of yourself and suddenly they’re gone…. That’s what it looks like.” 

“But Stan that’s your wife.” Stan gives him a meaningful look and they lapse into awkward silence, even as the living losers finally climb out and head back to the inn.

“I know I said this already but this really fucking sucks.” Eddie finally says. “I still exist, but I can’t do anything. I can’t talk to anyone, or feel anything or grow or fix my stupid fucking life. I can only watch for eternity. Sure I know my friends are okay but to them I’m gone. I can’t help them or-!” he lets out a frustrated noise. “I think just ceasing to exist would have been better, at least then I wouldn’t care, I couldn’t hurt.” 

After a moment Stan speaks up. “We may be here because of our connection to Pennywise. There are probably other beings like it…. out there.” Eddie does NOT  want to unpack that.

“At least one thing I suspected about the afterlife is true” he says instead “It’s worse for the ones that get left behind than the ones that die.” 

_________________________________________________________

When the losers make it back to the townhouse Eddie and Stan arrive there too. Eddie is not sure if he has to be wherever they are, or if he just wants to be. What’ll happen when they split up to go home? He supposes he can just take turns traveling to each of them in turn. God, when he was a kid first learning his mom was forcing him to leave his friends behind forever he would have given anything to be able to teleport to them at will.

Almost everyone immediately showered to actually clean themselves, except Richie who had to be bullied into it.

“You will feel better afterwards.” Bev had said. Richie had given a short humorless laugh. 

Eddie’s room was still covered in his and Bowers’ blood. Mike and Ben clean it quickly while Richie is in the shower. When they are leaving they stop next to his bed, staring at his abandoned suitcases. They convien with Bill and Bev. 

“Someone needs to inform his wife.” Mike says barely above a whisper “And his belongings should be returned to her as well. I hate to say it but we should also agree on a story of what happened and keep it consistent. I doubt his wife will simply accept his death without question and I can’t blame her. The Derry police are not going to do much of anything, but who knows about her local police.” Everyone glances around uncomfortably. Bev has her hand over her mouth, eyes damp. 

“I can take them…. and talk to her. I live the closest and maybe… I’ll be able to break it more gently.” 

“I’ll go with you.” Ben says softly “no one should have to do that alone.” Bev gently took his hand, smiling. 

“No, I’m going to do it.” The entire group jumps, spinning to where Richie was standing, jaw and fists clenched. “Having a fun little secret meeting?” 

“Richie.” Bill was using his leader voice as the others glanced around guiltily. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea.” 

“I don’t fucking care.” Richie spits back “You’re not my fucking boss, Bill. I’m taking his stuff back to New York. And I’ll… I’ll tell his w-wife-” his voice starts to tremble and he scrubs his face hard. “Fuck.” Bill steps forward and everyone is tense until he throws his arms around Richie. 

“Okay Richie.” He says quietly, rubbing his  back “Okay.” Richie buries his face in Bill’s shoulder and trembles silently.

Eddie had forgotten that Myra probably did need to be informed that he was dead. She may be controlling and possessive and occasionally demeaning but she was a person and deserved to be treated like one. It would be a shock but she would be okay, he has good life insurance, ironically, and they had never really loved each other anyway. (would life insurance pay out if they never found a body?) Maybe he should be more worried for her but it was hard when all his focus was stolen by Richie, who now had Bev’s head on his shoulder, Ben and Mike placing their hands comfortingly on his arms. 

“I’m…… I’m okay.” he finally breaths “I’m going to go…. Get his things together.” 

“Do you want us to-” Bev starts

“No. No, go get some sleep. I’ll… go to bed soon too.” he gives a shaky smile.

____________________________________________________________ 

Richie has been staring at Eddie’s suitcases for half and hour. Eddies has been silently waiting just as long. He almost felt like he was part of a standoff, except one member of the party was an inanimate object. Finally with a shaky sigh Richie leans over to start unzipping the first one. He begins to go through it carefully, putting pill bottles to the side in their own pile as he comes across them. When he was up to ten he paused.

“Jesus Christ Eddie.” He whispers with a small smile.

“Listen, asshole” Eddie replies instantly “Just because I’m prepared-” he didn’t finish, realizing that a) most of the conditions these pills were for were probably fake ( gazibos, his mind supplied) b) none of this had done him and good when he was fucking gutted by a clown. Richie had started actually reading the medication now, with a strange concentration. After a minute he pockets one that Eddie recognizes as a sleeping aid. After yet another moment he reaches back into the suitcase and also pulls out a soft grey sweatshirt. Before Eddie can even begin to question what he’s going to do with it Richie has strode out of the room with purpose. Eddie follows hot on his heels, passing Stan in the hallway. 

“What the fuck, did you only bring one change of clothes? What are you doing with that?” He watches as Richie dumps several pills into his hand and knocks them back. “Richie the fucking dose for those is two you asshole!” Eddie looks horrified as Richie falls down onto his bed. Improper dosage is suddenly the last thing on his mind as Richie takes his stolen hoodie and brings it to his face, curling his entire body around it as he lays down on his side. His shoulders begin to shake.

Stan is in the doorway now, and he can tell from how he is gazing at him that Eddie’s face looks just as devastated and confused as he feels.

________________________________________________________

Richie is screaming in his sleep. Eddie had been sitting vigil on the end of the bed. At one point he had a moment where he realized he couldn’t sleep, like ever. That had given him a mini freak out moment, he couldn’t even take a break from consciousness for a few fucking hours? He calmed down a bit however when he realized that if he simply let focus slip time would move by as quickly as he seemed to want. It had slammed back to normal when Richie’s first scream cut through the air. Eddie scrambles up towards the headboard immediately, intent on shaking the other man awake. This time when he tries to touch him his hand sinks right through like he’s in a fucking episode of Scooby Doo. Fuck. Richie is tangled up in the blankets he hadn’t bothered to get under before, sweating like he had been running. The stolen hoodie was still in a vice grip against his body.

“Rich wake up!” Eddie yelled in desperation “Come on man!!” There is a scrambling noise followed by Bill bursting into the room, the others close behind. He glances around the room, sleep clumsy, as if to make sure there is no actual monster inside. Immediately after he stumbles toward the bed.

“Richie! Rich!!!” He yells, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders. Richie sits ups so quickly he nearly smashes his skull right into Bill’s. He’s gasping violently, looking wildly around the room.

“Hey, hey Richie, it’s okay. You’re awake, we’re here. It’s dead, It’s dead.” Richie’s breathing slows slightly as he looks Bill in the face. His eyes then flick over his shoulder. 

“Eddie.” said man feels the air leave the room. Richie looks back at Bill and the expression on his face tells him all he needs to know. He crumples in on himself and can’t hold back as he begins to sob. Eddie feels a bit like dying all over again. 

_________________________________________________________

They all part ways the next day. There is some doubt at first, with many worried glances at Richie, but in the end it is unanimous that they want to get the fuck out of Derry. He and Stan watch as they all pack, Eddie’s suitcases going into Richie’s car. He’s wearing Eddie’s sweatshirt. 

“Where are you going to go?” He asks Stan, who is still very quiet. Quiet and sad. 

“I’ll stick with you wherever you go, for now.” 

“You sure?” Stan had other people he might want to be with, check in on.

“You’re going with Richie, right?” Eddie’s jaw clenches slightly as he nods. Stan doesn’t say anything else. The living losers hug countless times, promises are given over and over. They will check in with each other every day. A group chat is established, two, on different messaging services. Plans are already being made for how many times a year they are going to meet. It takes them forever to actually part ways. Bev and Ben leave together, Bill on his own. Mike has a little longer to stay before he can finally get out of Derry forever. In the end it’s just Richie sitting in his ridiculous rental car. He is going to drive to New York, Eddie has a feeling he didn’t want to be around a ton of strangers right now like he would be in an airport. Eddie was sitting in the passenger seat, Stan in the back. It felt incredibly ridiculous. The car is on but they haven’t started moving yet. Richie had been staring out the windshield for minutes, knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. Eddie wishes he could at least send some kind of…. Comforting vibes at Richie. The tension is heavy. Finally, Richie puts the car in gear, a look of purpose on his face. They drive slowly through their shithole of a home town and Eddie starts thinking about how he’s actually pretty grateful for his new found ability to to make time pass faster for the drive. If he could just stop worrying about Richie long enough to relax. He looks, quite frankly, like shit. Eddie was pretty sure he had not slept again after waking up screaming. His mind was still working trying to figure out why his death had hit him so much harder that it had the others. Even harder than Stans. The vice that felt like it had been around his heart since the day before keeps tightening. He is startled when they pull over suddenly. 

“Where the fuck?” He asks as Richie gets out, glancing back at Stan. Stan is just looking out the window with a strange expression. He almost looks like he was expecting the pit stop. He glances at Eddie and then nods out the window as if telling Eddie to follow Richie out. He takes a minute trying to open the door before remembering he can just be outside of the car if he wants. Ghost rules are weird. Once he’s outside he recognizes where they are.

“Is this the fucking kissing bridge??” 

“Hm.” Stan says in vague agreement, now standing next to him. His eyes were on the other side of the bridge where Richie was now kneeling, facing the railing where so many names and initials (and some dicks) were carved.

“Did Richie… have some secret childhood love we didn’t know about in the fucking town? Who the hell did he even talk to that wasn’t us?” He felt strangely grumpy and exasperated by the thought. Stan stayed silent, just continuing to stare over at Richie. The man had pulled out a pocket knife, flicking it open. 

“Is he carving something now?” Eddie mutters, utterly confused. Stan finally gives him a look that says ‘just go over there and find out, idiot’. Eddie does.

“Hey man,” he says, getting very used to not expecting answers anymore “what the hell are you even doing-” The moment he really sees the letters being re-carved into the shitty old wooden railing sound turns off around him. His vision seems to zoom in as if it was a camera in some shitty action movie.

R + E 

He looks up helplessly at Stan, who simply looks back with melancholy and understanding. He glances back down to make sure he read right, make sure those were the initials Richie had refreshed with his knife. Richie was gently touching them now, smiling but with eyes watering, threatening to spill. Eddie is vaguely aware Stan is next to him now.

“That-” His voice comes out slightly choked. He swallows. “That…. E doesn’t stand for Emily Williams from 8th grade math class, does it?” Stan gives him a small shake of the head. It was strange to feel the perspective of his entire life suddenly shift all at once. As if every memory he had was now under bright new lighting. 

“Rich…” 

Bickering endlessly while the other losers sighed with exasperation. Richie mocking him for his video game skills, even when it was painfully obvious how happy he was that Eddie had agreed to play. Eddie snatching Richie’s notebook away when he realized he was writing angry Richie had been that Bill didn’t even seem to care that Eddie had almost died in Neibolt, that he wanted to go back. The day Richie seemed to deliberately stop touching him, the strange look of fear he had when skin contact lasted too long. 

“Oh shit,” Eddie covers his mouth “Oh fuck Rich, all this fucking time?” Richie Tozier was a loudmouth who couldn’t be touched by doubt or insecurity. Richie didn’t spend days torturing himself over how other people felt about him. Richie didn’t keep secrets for years out of what…?

“Why didn’t he ever say-”

“He was afraid.” Eddie looks at Stan.

“You knew?” Stan nods. 

“Only for a moment, he told me the night before he left Derry. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. But he was…terrified Eddie. As though I would immediately be disgusted by him once I knew, as if we would all throw him away once we found out he was ‘defective’.” Eddie really felt like being sick. All this time one of his best friends in the world had been letting part of himself eat him away inside. The most confident man he ever knew felt like he had to push down who he was so deep even he couldn’t acknowledge it all these years later. 

Richie had slid down to sit on the ground, head leaning back on the railing next to the initials, eyes closed. Eddie is sure that he has never wanted anything more than he wants to be able to touch him right now. His entire adult life he had felt incomplete, hollow. His professional and personal accomplishments had never felt as good as he thought they should. His connections with other people had never been as deep as they were supposed to be, shallow imitations of friendship, of love. He wasn’t sure he had been happy even once before sitting in that chinese restaurant with the losers. Hadn’t been happy until he was sitting there next to Richie. Richie, who had always made him feel MORE than even the other losers. He had made him angrier than anyone else could, but also made him happier. He thinks of his sham marriage, how he just accepted this was normal, to feel numb at best towards a person that was supposed to be his other half. What would it have been like with someone different? Someone like-

He slides down the railing and slumps next to Richie. Trembling he reaches towards his hand, praying he will be able to touch him, almost crying when his own hand gently rests on top. He swears he can feel the warmth of Richie, alive, and he realizes he has actually begun to cry. Fat, embarrassing tears roll down his cheeks. He had wondered earlier if he could even cry anymore, he supposed now he knew. Being dead really gave him no more peace or insight than being alive, only a feeling of somehow being even more helpless.

“Fuck.” He rasps “Fuck.” he squeezes Richie’s hand and can’t help but to hope for some kind of a reaction. There is nothing. “It’s not fair.” anger is rising in him now “This just isn’t. Fucking. Fair. My whole life….. How many other ways did I waste the whole fucking thing??” He knew his pitch was rising, angry tears not slowing. He tries to take a deep, shuddering breath. He finally looks back up at his other ghostly companion. “We were just kids, Stan.Why did we have to be shoved into a war with a fucking interdementional being of evil? How the FUCK did that land on us?? We…we were just normal kids who wanted stupid normal kid stuff we didn’t deserve this, to have our whole lives altered, ruined! It’s not fucking fair!!” He knows he sounds hysterical now, taking big gulping breaths, the way a child would while having a tantrum. 

“It’s not.” Stan whispers. He covers his mouth, turning away, his own facade cracking. Eddie is startled as Richie begins to rise, unaware of the breakdown happening beside him. Eddie reaches out on instinct, as if he could grab his wrist and make him stop but Richie just goes right through him. He feels Stan’s hands on him, pulling him up and embracing him, hard. 

“I miss him too.” Eddie buries his head in Stans shoulder, hot tears still leaking out.

“You were the best one of us.” Stan chuckles as if to say ‘I don’t know about that’.

“I missed you all so much.” He actually says “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to meet you all grown up.” his voice cracks slightly and they lapse into silence, Eddie squeezing himself even tighter into him. Stan places his head on top of his gently.

“What are you going to do now?” he says softly.

“Stay with him.” Eddie answers immediately, obviously. 

“How long…?”

Eddie looks up at Stan’s face and knows there is only one answer to give.

“Forever.” 

#Reddie #it #it fanfiction #richie tozier #eddie kasprak #fanfiction #ghosts #set at the end of chapter 2 #R+E #stanley uris #is a good man #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #it movies #it chapter 2 #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #benverly #stanpat #the losers club #reddie

[f-da-program]

Contains IT Chapter 2 Spoilers

So I just got to see Chapter 2 and I have a lot of thoughts that I need to get out, good and bad.

Con 1: Bill’s entire story line: I didn’t really care for Bill’s story line at all. Pretty much the first moment we have with him is him and Audra having a tiff. Unlike the book, you don’t get the sense that they have a strong relationship. The line he gave about being the girl he wants her to be comes to mind. And I kind of figured they were using that to say he wanted her to be more like Beverly, but we don’t even really get that. I’m not a huge Bill/Bev shipper so I’m not super bummed about it, but we never really get anything with that. Bev kisses Bill once and then we never really get anything from Bill’s side again. And it’s just strange because they seemed to hint that was going to be a thing, but it never was. In fact Bill never brings anything up to Bev and she and Ben ride off together into the sunrise. Perfectly fine, but awkward. It would have made more sense to have Bill’s relationship with Audra just seem like a happy one and have Bill push her away (fuck book canon there, there isn’t time to get into the ‘we’re just doing it because we’re going back to childhood’ and if you don’t have time for that or to explore Bills feelings for Bev more, then we don’t have time for Bill to cheat on his wife).

I’m also not into the idea that Bill wasn’t sick the day Georgie died. It’s unneeded. He doesn’t need that to feel guilty. Honestly, why do they have to push the guilt that hard anyway? Can’t he just be sad and angry his little brother was murdered? Why do we need a new guilt arc that was never brought up in the first movie or in the book?

Also, was the scene with the little kid in the fun house necessary? We get it, Bill feels guilty he didn’t save Georgie. And now he can’t save this kid. Oh no. Like, I didn’t need another scene to reinforce that Bill is guilty. It was already apparent. All this did was waste screen time that could have been used for more important scenes.

Pro 1: Ben is amazing I love Ben. He was totally the mom friend in this movie and I was digging it. Him checking in on everyone was nice. I feel like he got a good amount of screen time and his scenes were justified in being included in this packed movie. I’m so glad we got Ben the architect!  

Pro 2: The Clubhouse I didn’t think we’d ever see the clubhouse or the Barrens outside of the Quarry. It’s a little shoehorned in, but I love that location so I’m going to call it a pro. Although, can we talk about how the book 5x5 clubhouse got a major upgrade? Like, holy shit, that place was huge!

Pro 3: Ben kept the yearbook page Look, I’m a sucker for the idea that Ben kept the yearbook page with Bev’s name. For one, how fucking cute is it that it’s been 27 years and he has no fucking idea who Beverly Marsh is, but he still keeps it?

But, it’s also a double edged sword. Because how lonely must he be that he keeps that? Like, he keeps this reminder that there was a time that someone would write hearts by their name in relation to him. That’s so indicative of Ben’s character. It shows how even as a successful man, he still feels all alone. Very nice.

Con 2: Dirt doesn’t equal germs I wish I could scream this from a rooftop. This pissed me off last movie and it pissed me off this movie. So let me say it again:

DIRT DOESN’T EQUAL GERMS.

The movies have not done enough to separate Eddie’s fears from Stan’s. Stan doesn’t like things that are unclean. Eddie doesn’t like things that can make you sick. Those are two different things. Eddie can reach for a ball on the dirty ground. Because cobwebs and dirt don’t cause diseases.

Con 3: Everyone is mad at Mike Seriously? The losers come back to Derry because they all made a promise, and they’re mad at Mike? Like, y’all made the promise. What was Mike supposed to say on the phone, ‘Hey, the killer clown we fought as kids is back, are you still in to come back and kill it?’ It just doesn’t make sense to have them all pissed at him.

Pro 4: The Ritual of Chud I never would have thought they would include that. It seemed too complex and out there (outing Pennywise as a million of years old cosmic being, that’s a whole different level). But they did! And I liked the idea that Mike found that out in his research. Sucks he shared it with Bill and not Richie, but I wasn’t made about it. It was a cool way to include it and give Mike some more screen time.

Con 4: Mike lied to everyone Wait, what? I don’t understand why anyone thought this was necessary. Mike said he needed everyone to believe they could kill It. Okay, that checks out. But they literally already know they can hurt It. They did it in the last movie by believing they could. So why do they suddenly need a fake ritual to do it? I like the idea of Mike getting the vision of Pennywise’s origin but I wish it had stopped there. The losers didn’t need that to know they could take It down.

Like, Mike needed more screen time, but not like that.

Pro 5: Richie loves Eddie If you didn’t think this would be on the list, you don’t know me. I think it’s awesome that they went this direction. I’ve always thought there was enough evidence to argue that Richie was bi and had a thing for Eddie. Getting to see that on the screen was great. And I loved the use of the Paul Bunyan statue. Because first movie they’re sitting by that statue when they ask Richie what he’s afraid of. Whether he’s really afraid of clowns or not, we now know he’s also afraid of people knowing he’s gay. When Pennywise attacks him there later, it’s relevant because that’s where he lied to the losers.

Eddie’s death and onward is handled really well. Richie having to be dragged out of the sewers and crying in the Quarry is so sad. But him re-carving over their initials is beautiful. He’s finally able to be okay loving Eddie. And even though Eddie’s gone, that’s still a powerful thing.

But...

Con 5: Eddie’s feelings weren’t clear Look, I read the book, Eddie’s gay. Like, if you argued that in the book Richie was straight, you would have had a leg to stand on. But with Eddie, you really wouldn’t. He was so clearly intended to be a gay character (Stephen, just say it next time).

But here we have a movie that doesn’t spend any time on confirming that, let alone confirming that he shared Richie’s feelings. Like, come on! It would have been so easy to show!

Here’s how I would have done it. First, scrap all the freezing bullshit (that’s the next con, don’t worry) and have them talk when they’re about to go down the hole to face Pennywise. Richie: Are you ready for this? Eddie: No, I’m scared shitless. But I keep trying to remind myself that I have nothing to lose. Richie: What the fuck does that mean? Eddie: I hate my life. I hate my wife. I might as well have married my mother. I don’t like my job. I wanted to do something with cars. And remembering all of this shit has just made it more obvious that I don’t to be who I was. I don’t want to go back to that. Richie: No one says you have to. Eddie: Where else would I go? Richie: I have a spare bedroom. Eddie: Like you could put up with me full time. Richie: I always did. Eddie (realizing Richie means it): ...I’ll think about it. And then the sewer fight happens, Eddie saves Richie because why the fuck wouldn’t he. And their last conversation goes like this: Eddie: Rich, *grabs Richies arm* I thought about it. Richie: About what? Leaving with me? Eddie: I want to. I’ve always- Pennywise starts attacking so he doesn’t finish.

And that shows that the feelings aren’t one sided and adds some angst for when Richie comes back over and he’s dead (or he could just not leave his side, whichever).

Con 6: Eddie freezes There’s no shame in freezing in terrifying situations. It’s natural. Fight, flight, freeze. Those are the options when scared.

But Eddie has literally never frozen in the past. Eddie never froze in the first movie. He didn’t freeze when Bowers attacked him. But you want me to believe that suddenly at the last leg of the movie he’s going to start? And for what? So it’d be dramatic when he stepped in the save Richie? That’s just who Eddie is. He’s always moving and acting and talking. It just made no sense to suddenly introduce this flaw that has arguably no pay off. Cut it and use the time for something important.

Con 7: Stan’s fears are never clearly explored It’s so easy to write Stan off as just being weak and scared. Even with the letter, it’s so easy. Because the 1st movie took away the scenes where he was brave (being the one to make them promise and being the one to say they needed to clean Bev’s bathroom).

But Stan’s issue isn’t just being scared, it’s being unable to accept things that aren’t logical. Pennywise existing offends him as a child. As an adult it very likely would have made him lose his mind. And this movie did better at touching that, but didn’t quite get there. They accept that he’s the most scared, but they don’t get down to why.

Pro 6: The losers grieve for Stan I don’t think the book even does as good a job at this. Stan was their friend. Part of the lucky 7 that made them powerful. Him being dead should feel like part of them is ripped out. They aren’t whole anymore. Having a scene where they mourned him was so important and I’m so glad they included it.

Pro 7: The ending This one is controversial, but I liked the ending change. It never made sense to me that after purifying Derry they forgot everything. Pennywise and the Turtle are dead, so who’s there to make them forget? In some ways I think remembering might be sadder (Richie gets to accept being gay just in time to watch the guy he loves die), but I think it makes more sense. I also think the losers being able to call each other and be lifelong friends is a good change. I don’t know if I’d call it the happy ending the movie implied that it was (it’s a small change Stephen, don’t pat your back too hard. It’s not like Eddie got to live), but I do think I prefer it.

And Stan’s letter really worked for me despite the flaws (Stan took the time to write this letter and then kill himself? Also, Patty saw this letter, I assume with the losers club’s names and decided to send it out? She wasn’t pissed that Stan killed himself for these people? She didn’t want any answers from them about what the fuck her husband was talking about?). It was needed to give Stan’s character some kind of redemption for how weak they made him out to be.

Pro 8: Eddie stabbed Henry with a knife he pulled out of his face Look, there’s not a lot to say about it, it was just cool. The whole scene was hilarious and Eddie Kaspbrack is a badass.

Pro 9: Pennywise is scary as shit I thought the first movie was a little heavy handed with CGI and didn’t give us enough horror movie makeup. And there was plenty of CGI here, but it felt more balanced with how much we saw of Pennywise. Honestly, Pennywise is so scary on his own, he can carry the movie. Things like the leper just look kind of fake. But Bill Skarsgard delivers.

I think that’s it!

I know there‘s stuff I left out, but I think I got the big ones. I feel bad I didn’t mention Beverly much, but her story line this time around was mostly centered around Ben. Which I could consider a flaw, but given the amount of time in the movie and how much focus she got last movie, I’m not mad about it.

#it spoilers #It Chapter 2 #It 2 #losers club #It #bill denbrough #ben hascom #beverly marsh #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #mike hanlon

[miitgaanar]

Misdirection

SERIES: Marvel SHIP: Cassie/Bucky Barnes and Cassie/Quentin Beck CHARACTERS: Cassie Theron, Bucky Barnes, Nick Fury, Quentin Beck WORD COUNT: 3,159

Chapter 1

Summary:

n. a form of deception, usually used by magicians, in which the performer draws the audience’s attention to one thing to distract them from another.

------

The war is over, the souls the Mad Titan had wiped from existence brought back from whatever dark abyss he had banished them to, his grand plan for the universe thwarted at last—but the peace that follows is almost worse than those years of terror and grief.

Desperate for a purpose, a distraction from the anxiety that plagues her waking hours and sleepless nights, Cassie jumps at the chance to help when Nick Fury calls looking for aid in some new, potentially world ending threat.

But there’s something off about this Beck guy…

***********************

It had taken Fury exactly seven months and eighteen days to contact them.  Cassie should know, she'd been tallying every day that passed since the funeral, since they said goodbye to Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

Since they all went their separate ways.

It was weirdly easy to accept at first.  After all those years of chaos and strife, it was nice to just be.  The grief was there, open and exposed like a festering wound, and the nights were still hard.  More than once Bucky had to shake her awake, assuring her that he was there, that he hadn’t just turned to ash in her hands again.  Like he had in every other nightmare that plagued her sleepless nights.

But that was all they were—nightmares.  As much as they dared to try to reopen those ever so slowly healing wounds, to make her relive the horrors she had seen in the wake of the Mad Titan’s universe wide genocide, she always woke in the arms of a man she loved.  A man she thought for sure she would never see again.

And her nightmares couldn’t take that from her, no matter how hard they tried.

And yet… that peace and security became stifling after awhile.  Cassie found that the quiet—the stillness—was impossible to bear.  It harkened back to those days, those years, spent listless and helpless mourning the lost, trying desperately to push through the constant fog that loomed in their heads, to find some sense of normalcy in a world that was far from normal.

But things were no better now than they were then.  At least not for her.  These days she felt as if she were perpetually looking over her shoulder, just waiting for the other inevitable shoe to drop.  There was no peace in a world like this, in a world where it was possible to kill billions with the snap of a finger.  Where you could remove the ones you held dearest from existence as if they had never lived at all.

She felt as if she were living a lie, just as she had for those five long years.

No, she didn’t take well to peace.  Maybe that was why she answered that call from a restricted number, why she dragged Bucky with her to a decrepit, abandoned warehouse on Manhattan’s west side to meet with Nick Fury.

Why she currently paced the dirty concrete floor, her every step like a clap of thunder in the dim, cavernous space, waiting for Fury to grace them with his presence.

“Cass,” Bucky said softly, his voice laced with obvious worry.  He leaned against one of the solid concrete supports that lined the empty warehouse, his arms crossed over his chest.  She knew he was trying to look relaxed, unconcerned, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, in the forced slouch of his back.  “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor at this rate.  Sit down.”

Cassie scoffed, continuing in her pacing.  How could she possibly sit still?  What did Fury want?  And with them of all people?  The Winter Soldier and the girl who was unceremoniously entangled in the affairs of gods and super-soldiers.  She couldn’t even imagine what this could entail.  “On this floor?  Absolutely not.  There’s probably rat shit everywhere.”

Bucky sighed, brushing a wayward strand of his long, dark hair from his face.  His steel blue eyes followed her every step, his mouth set in a thin, grim line as she walked back and forth along that invisible path she had set for herself.  “It’s New York, you probably sat in rat shit on the subway ride here.”

That made her pause mid-step, her gaze shifting to fix the fearsome super-soldier with a glare.  “That’s not helpful.”

A crooked smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.  “It made you stop, didn’t it?”

She was about to respond, a vulgar word or two on the tip of her tongue, when the heavy steel doors at the back of the warehouse suddenly let out a loud bang and began to creak open.  Bucky immediately pushed off of the support beam to come stand beside her, his arms now hanging at his sides.  The tension in his shoulders seemed to double, the black hoodie he wore doing little to hide the rigidity in his stance.  

Ever the soldier, she supposed.

“It’s about time one of you kids answered your damn phone,” a deep, familiar voice called.  It echoed harshly off the walls of the gutted building, making the ex-Director of SHIELD seem far louder than he actually was.  “I’m not a fan of voicemails.”

Bucky relaxed next to her, his arms crossed once again—though his face remained as impassive as ever.  “I don’t have a phone,” he deadpanned.

“Your girlfriend does.”  Fury nodded toward Cassie.  She never thought she’d be so happy to see that infamous eyepatch and ridiculously dramatic black coat of his again.  “And thank God for that.  But I wasn’t talking about you.”

Cassie and Bucky exchanged a glance, brows arched in confusion.

“Never mind.”  Fury waved away the unasked question hanging in the air, abruptly changing the subject.  “I’ll be dealing with that later.  I’m sure you want to know why I asked you here.”

“That’d be nice, yeah,” Bucky said.  Cassie elbowed him in the side.  He didn’t even flinch.

Fury stood ramrod straight before them, his hands clasped behind his back.  His typical stance when he had something to say and wanted to be heard.  Clearly he meant business.  “We have a potential new threat on the horizon.”

“Do we now,”  Bucky said, the question coming out as an amused scoff.  Cassie tried elbowing him again.  Still nothing.

Fury merely continued, his features severe.  “It seems that whole mess with the Infinity Stones caused a rip in the very fabric of our reality.  And, as a result, we’ve inherited the problems of another Earth.”

Cassie blinked.  “Pardon?”  She couldn’t keep the utter bewilderment from her voice.  Surely she’d heard him wrong.  A barely intelligible ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me’ came from where Bucky stood to her left.  She ignored him.  “What do you mean ‘another Earth’?”

The soft crackle of radio static reached her ears, like the sound of an incoming comm message.  Fury’s head just barely tilted to the side, a habit he had when listening to his earpiece, as if he could lean in closer to better hear who was on the other end.  He glanced back up at them, measuring them up with his single good eye.  “Maybe it’d be best if you hear it from the source.”

She and Bucky locked eyes once again.  He just shrugged.  Hell if either of them could understand why Fury was always so cryptic.

The warehouse doors opened with another set of bangs and loud, metallic screeches, the noise causing a rather unpleasant sensation to skitter up Cassie’s spine and into her jaw, her teeth aching as she clamped down on the urge to wince.  She must’ve failed in the attempt, because she felt Bucky take a step closer to her.

“It’s about time you showed up, Mr. Beck,” Fury said, turning to face the man pushing through those large, heavy doors.  A long, plum colored cape billowed out behind him, perfectly framing the golden chest armor and green bodysuit he wore.  In some places, both the cape and armor glowed a magnificent shade of bright blue.  Cassie had to blink a few times to ensure she wasn’t seeing things.  “I thought I was gonna have to give the brief myself.”

“Apologies, Director,” he said, his voice light and pleasant, but with an undercurrent of severity.  “I wanted to do a sweep of the city.  This would be the perfect place for one of those monsters to strike.”

Cassie arched an eyebrow.  The faintly exaggerated tone in the man’s voice wasn’t lost on her.  He sounded almost… theatrical.  With the same cadence an actor on the stage would adopt to ensure the audience truly understood his plight.  It was bizarre.

Bucky must’ve noticed, too, as his choice of greeting was: “And who’s this clown?”

Both Fury and the man in question turned to face them, the former’s annoyance playing out clearly on his face.  “This, Sergeant Barnes, is Quentin Beck.  And he just may be the only thing standing between us and another world ending catastrophe.”

“Oh, no, we can’t have another one of those, can we?” Bucky's derision was blatant.

“Bucky,” Cassie hissed, placing her hands on her hips to keep from outright punching the former assassin.  It’d probably hurt her far more than it’d hurt him, anyway.

Fury looked like he was about to say something, but was quickly cut off by Beck.  “It’s fine, Director.  Allow me.”

Beck strode forward, his head high and his shoulders back.  The picture of an experienced soldier.  He looked like he could be around Bucky’s age—physically speaking, at least.  His hair was a deep chestnut and cut short, the strands swept back off his face in a neat, precise way.  Even the thick growth of scruff lining his jaw was carefully, almost painfully neat.  Not quite long enough to be a beard, but not short enough to be scruff either.

He was the epitome of the heroes the world had come to rely on—and something about that rubbed Cassie the wrong way.

He extended his hand to Bucky, a polite smile on his lips, though it didn’t seem to quite meet his bright blue eyes.  “It’s a pleasure, Sergeant Barnes.  Director Fury briefed me on what you’ve endured on this Earth.  Truly, I’m sorry to have to drag you back into the trenches.”

Bucky just glared at him, his arms still folded over his chest.  Something told Cassie that he wished it was customary to shake hands using the left arm.  Instead, he just nodded.  “A pleasure.”

Beck let his hand fall back to his side, nodding in return.  He pointedly avoided looking at her as he addressed Fury.  “And this is?” he asked, gesturing back to her like she was an unwanted stray.  She tried her best to contain the irritation prickling beneath her skin.  She wasn’t sure she succeeded.

“Cassandra Theron,” Fury intoned.  “A longtime unofficial affiliate of ours.  Pretty sure we tried to get you to join up more than once.  I don’t do well with rejection, you know.”

“Considering your little organization turned out to be run by Nazis, I’d have to say I made the right decision.”  Cassie couldn’t help but glare at the back of Beck’s head.  He still refused to look at her.

“And yet you still end up smack dab in the middle of my affairs.  Had you joined up, you could’ve at least gotten a paycheck for your troubles.”  Fury then turned to Beck.  “She’s trustworthy, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The newcomer visibly stiffened, but did not acknowledge her.  If he wasn’t careful, she might wind up punching him before this meeting was over.  “Not at all.  I merely wish to keep any civilian involvement to a minimum.  There’s no need to endanger more people than we have to.”

“That won’t be a problem, Mr. Beck,” she cut in, leaning forward slightly to force herself into his line of sight, a placating smile on her lips.  She saw Bucky shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye.  “I assure you I’m more than accustomed to how these things work.”

Beck finally turned to face her, regarding her with a tight smile and a curt nod.  He looked at her with what she could only describe as unbridled sadness, those bright blue eyes darkening to a deep cobalt.  It caught her so off guard that she couldn’t find it in her to ask what the fuck his problem was.

And when he spoke, it was with the softness and intimacy of someone overcome by grief.  “Glad to hear it, Miss Theron.”

Cassie flinched, unsure of how to handle his abrupt change in demeanor.  At her reaction, a wounded look crossed his face, a look that made her gut twist with guilt.

An incredibly awkward silence permeated the cool, dusty air.

Mercifully, it was cut short.

“So is anyone gonna tell us why we’re here in this asbestos infested death trap?” Bucky loudly interjected, stopping just short of stepping between Beck and Cassie.  Whether it was because he could feel the discomfort rippling off her in waves, or because Beck continued to look at her like she had just told him his dog died, she wasn’t sure.

Either way, she was grateful when Beck broke eye contact, shaken from whatever stupor he had fallen into.   He blinked a few times, his hand coming up to comb through his hair.  A nervous habit for some, but a common way to stall as you searched for the right words.

Cassie wrinkled her nose, her uneasiness momentarily forgotten.  This had better be good.

“Of course,” Beck sighed shakily, walking back over to stand beside Fury, his hands clasped in front of him.  He cleared his throat before speaking again, that theatrical cadence back in full swing.  “What I’m about to tell you two may seem impossible, but you must believe me when I tell you that the threat is all too real.”

“Just get on with it.”  Bucky didn’t even bother to hide his exasperation.

If Cassie didn’t know better, she’d have sworn she saw a muscle in Beck’s jaw twitch.  “I’m from Earth, but not this Earth.  Where I come from, powerful entities known as ‘Elementals’ wreaked havoc on the people of Earth, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake.  These entities embodied the might of the four base elements—gods of water, earth, air, and fire in their own right.  And now, they have somehow found their way here, to your reality.”

“We have an idea of how that might’ve happened,” Fury said.

Cassie nodded slowly.  “The Infinity Stones.”

“Whatever power they unleashed upon this world, it allowed these monsters passage from my world into yours.”  Beck paused, a hand coming up to rest on his chest, right over where his heart would be.  “I followed.  They took everything from me.  Friends, family…”  His voice cracked, his hand fidgeting with what looked like a simple gold wedding band on his ring finger, and again he refused to look at her.  Cassie’s brow furrowed as she watched him.  

After a moment, he stood straighter, his words filled with a renewed conviction.  “They destroyed my world, and I cannot let that happen to this Earth as well.  They must be stopped.”

A beat of silence followed, broken by a disbelieving ‘uh-huh’ from Bucky.

“I swear it’s the truth, Sergeant Barnes, as inconceivable as it may seem.”  Beck sounded appropriately desperate.    

Truth be told, she was on the fence.

Fury tapped at something on his wrist, projecting a bluish hued hologram of the planet in the air before them.  Various spots on the globe were highlighted in red.  “You heard what happened in Mexico yesterday, Barnes?”

Bucky jabbed a thumb toward Cassie.  “She watches the news, not me.”

“Yes, he heard about it.”  She glared up at him and he didn’t dare to contradict her.  “A tragedy, to be sure.  What about it?”

“One of the Elementals—Earth, to be specific—was responsible,” Beck replied solemnly.

“Is that right.”  Bucky was less than impressed.  “Dust storms can be pretty bad, y’know.  I read an awful lot about the Dust Bowl when I was a kid.  Do they teach you guys about that these days?”

“How many dust storms you know that got a face?” Fury wasn’t amused.

“C’mon, Fury.”  Bucky gestured toward Beck.  “Doesn’t this all seem like a bit much?”

“You fought a big purple alien and his army of bitchass aliens, got turned to dust, came back five years later, and fought that big purple alien and his army of bitchass aliens again, and this is a bit much?”

Cassie frowned slightly.  He had a point.

“The mind can only take so much, Director,” Beck said.  “He can’t be blamed for finding this… difficult to take in.”

“Now you listen—”  Bucky made to take a step toward Beck, but Cassie put a hand on his arm, holding him back.  She wasn’t in the mood to play referee.

“What is it you even want us to do?”  she asked, throwing Bucky a warning look.  He huffed out a breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.  “As skilled as he is, I don’t think he’s capable of taking on the destructive powers of the elements, and I’m pretty sure I left my ‘Waterbending for Dummies’ book at home.”

“We want him for his expertise in military maneuvers and covert operations,” Fury said.  “And he could be good for crowd control, too.  People tend to listen to a guy with a metal arm.”

“And her?”  Bucky asked, his voice hard.  “What do you need her for?”

Fury leveled him with a stare that would have cowed a lesser man.  “Would you be here if she wasn’t?”

Bucky had nothing to say to that.

Cassie visibly bristled.  Fury may as well have slapped her.  “I’m gonna try to pretend that isn’t an insult.”

Fury just chuckled.  “Hill will need help with something or other.  You’re just not goin’ out in the field.  Quit lookin’ at me like I just kicked your cat.”

A handout to ensure Bucky was on board.  Awesome.

Were she not so desperate to be involved in something, anything at all, she might’ve told the spymaster to go fuck himself.

“And you’re so sure we’re gonna agree to this.”  Bucky looked between the two men through the still slowly rotating hologram.  Cassie tried to identify what some of the highlighted points might indicate, but the best she could do was ‘Europe’ and ‘Northern Africa.’

“Sergeant Barnes,” Beck spoke up, his voice imploring.  “Wouldn’t you rather come with us and be right about this all being nothing, than stay behind and be wrong?”

Bucky sighed loudly through his nose, looking between the floor and Cassie and back again, his foot tapping out a rhythmic, anxious beat that echoed throughout the warehouse.  A terrible knot formed in her gut, Beck’s words reverberating loudly in her head.  She knew what Bucky was thinking.  The words were reminiscent of a dear, dear friend of theirs.  A kid from Brooklyn who would never run from a fight.  Who would never turn down the opportunity to save the world.

Who never shied away from doing the right thing.

Beck was good.  She had to admit that much.

A reluctant groan fell from Bucky’s lips, followed by a minute shake of his head and a soft ‘fuck it.’ “Where do you need us?”

The former SHIELD Director’s brow rose.  “Ever been to Morocco?”

#otp: tell me who I am #otp: misdirection #fic: Misdirection #writings from Mandalore #sometimes you just gotta stop rereading the same piece of writing over and over again and just post it

[v01d-ch1ld]

Diary of a Psycho Clown Girl pt. 2

It was different the first time I went to stately Wayne Manor but I endured. Alfred greeted me and I thought that Mr. Wayne’s father answered the door so I embarrassed myself there when he gave a look like “poor confused thing” and Dick was laughing like a psycho. I made it inside and took off my shoes because I immediately did not want to put footprints on tile that expensive looking. This was just the mudroom and I was embarrassed about breaking anything. We got into the living room and it was enormous. A full mantle, fireplace, several black leather couches, paintings, hung swords, guns, hunter’s trophies decorated the room lavishly and I thought I had just stepped into a fairy tale palace. Dick showed me to the Entertainment Room where there was a pool table, poker table, fuse ball, ping pong, darts, chess, and about every board game known to exist. Dick said that if we went out to one of the garages there was air hockey but I was content with teaching Dick how to play pool. Well, I thought I was going to be teaching him but he made it clear that he had skill and that we were in competition. It was a tough game but I won because he missed his called pocket on the eight ball. Shame. Well, that means that I get the last cookie the next time Alfred brings us some! We were playing music on the speaker and eating pizza and playing video games on the flat-screen when something red and black barreled into Dick knocking him over the sofa and onto the floor and knocking down the curtains. They fought in the mass of fabric while I laughed and laughed. Alfred came running because he heard the crash and so did a black-haired man in his late thirties. Mr. Wayne himself! I hid behind the couch.

               “Jason! Dick! Get out from underneath those drapes now! You know better than to roughhouse when we have guests over!” Alfred chides the boys. Every so often a hand can be seen grabbing at something, the only thing giving away whose hands it was being size. Bruce was looking on mildly amused. Alfred had no way of separating and Bruce is too much of a moron at parenting to stop them so looks like I have to fight. Shit, this is not how good first impressions are made.

               I jumped over the back of the couch past Bruce and Alfred and grabbed hold of one of their torsos and dragged them out of the curtain. This was a 12-year-old. Jeez, I stopped being that hot-headed when I was 9.  I shoved him over to Alfred and reached under the curtain where Dick was hiding from me. I grabbed his ear and he wailed. I take him out from under the drapes. I dig my fingernail into the center of his lobe.

               “Richard Grayson! How old are you?” I scold. I’ve had to do this to kids on the street that were fighting like kids before.

               “Sixteen! Ow!” He squeals.

               “And how old is your brother?” I ask again in the same tone. You know it. The one your mom uses on you when you have been being an immature pain in the ass and its before 5 PM so she can’t have her Chardonnay yet. That one. The one that promises punishment.

               “Thirteen!” He screams a little when I pinch harder. I smile.

               “And as his elder brother he looks up to you to set an example. You are also older and expected to act like an adult sometimes. He is smaller than you and that makes it easier for you to hurt him when you fight like that. Besides you are brothers! Do you have any idea how much that should mean to you? That’s family. More family than I’ve got anyway. SO, TAKE CARE OF IT AND DON’T FIGHT YOUR BROTHER!” I yell at him. He looks guilty. Good, he should be, picking on his brother like an asshole. I release Dick’s earlobe and then look at Jason who is smiling at me from behind Alfred’s legs. I wink at him.

               “Well that was interesting.” Bruce says after a while. “And you are?”

               “Rebecca Napier, sir, Dick invited me over for the afternoon he said you were okay with it.” I say nervously. He could have me charged with assault for what I just did.

               “I am. Now that that’s over I am going to have my video meeting with Lucius I will be back down for dinner. Oh, and Dick you have good taste in friends.” Bruce smirks before he walks out. Alfred leaves soon after but Jason stays.

               “Why’d you tackle me like that!” Dick asked harshly.

               “Because you invited your special friend over and I asked to meet her and you said no!” Jason said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He continued, “But, I didn’t think that when I did meet her I would know her. Hi Becca!” Jason greeted me like an old friend and then it all came back. I was helping him scam people on this one street but there was a gang member who found out that we were doing business on his gang’s turf so we had to escape and I distracted them so he could go. I secretly gave him the money because I knew that I was going to end up killed or taken back with them and forced to work for them so I wanted Jason to be okay for a while.

               “What’s up Jaybird?” I smile and we high five. It was good to see him again even if our relationship was a brief one. We lived together for 3 days and then I had to work off a debt to the family. Which actually wasn’t that bad. They didn’t make me do anything that was illegal really, they just kind of made me into a maid/bartender and sometimes I would help them sell marijuana. That was the only really bad part. It got me into a bad habit. I only smoke that good good on the weekend though. And sometimes I still do the family favors and they pay pretty well once they know you and respect you.

               “Happy to see someone that I recognize.” Jason says looking at me intently.

               “Bruce is filing the papers to adopt him. He isn’t enrolled in school yet but he will. He will be in 7th grade.” Dick says.

               “Dude when I knew you on the streets I thought you were way older than you are.” I say confused.

               “Good that’s probably why I survived so long.” Jason said. “How is it over there?”

               “Same old, same old. My roommate got arrested so I now don’t have enough money for rent. I have to pick up some extra work and maybe pull some slight strings.” Jason immediately knows what I mean and Dick, bless him, his completely in the dark.

               “No! Don’t do that! It’s too dangerous. I’ll ask dad if he can help you.” Oh no. That’s Jason’s commander voice. The one that used to get other kids his age to follow him as he took them through raids in convenience stores, selling to the black market, even when he first started scamming. He was stubborn and refused to take no as an answer.

               “NO! I am no accepting charity from Bruce Wayne! I am fine by myself you don’t need to get involved, Jason. I’m the older one here let me take care of myself.” I plead.

               “Wait just what are you talking about?” Dick interjects. I give Jason a look and he glares back.

               “Drug dealing. We are talking about drug dealing. If she can’t get money legally she deals drugs for a local gang. She has been doing it since she was 12 and I was 9.” Jason says monotone. I scowl. Dick looks like he’s in catatonia.

               “How did you know that I’ve even done it that long?” I’m irate at this point.

               “I would see you when I was in the alleys squatting and I would see you selling. You gave me a twenty once. I bought food for myself this other kid I was squatting with.” Jason said.  Well fuck. Dick finally unfreezes.

               “DRUG DEALING? You’ve sold drugs! But why? I know you have a job?” Dick.exe has stopped working.

               “Sometimes it isn’t enough. Especially when they up my rent.” I shrug. A dark look washes across Dick’s face.

               “I’m telling Bruce.” He stalks off. Shit.

 Five hours later and a very stern “You’re staying here” from Bruce along with a two-hour argument over why he “cannot condone a minor living orphaned with another minor in an apartment in that part of town, nor her dealings with the local gangs or the crimes she commits to support herself.”  Bruce was less than happy that his son brought a low-level drug dealer to his house but he understood why I was doing it, now at least he is happy that I never have to do it again and that he could still do some of his night job while the sun’s still up.  Even if that meant he essentially unofficially adopted another kid.

 I have a family again. Home. I have a home.

Note: When Becca says Jaybird its a play on the word jailbird and Jason’s name when Dick says it it’s because Jason is Robin

#bruce wayne #Jason todd #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #batman #alfred #wayne manor #oc #iwsbtw series

[tempestshakes01]

happy and anxious. 

happy because i love my apartment and i love Lil Cup of Joe. he is a terror and the sweetest boy ever, and i feel so much love for him. this is why i can’t be around an animal for an extended period of time. i will die for any creature i get attached to and lil joe is now my baby. 

but i am anxious because i put of working when my brother brought home a puppy. he didn’t ask me to, but he’s an idiot who’s never home and bought a puppy to make him come home. i gave him 3 days and when his habits didn’t change, joe was being left alone and untrained, and i needed a running buddy--well, i took over. joe’s now potty-trained and knows a few (one) command. i take him everywhere to socialize him. he’s mine. but i’ll never say that to nick. who still needs to go therapy. i don’t know him. i don’t know what goes on in that head of his. it’s like we switched personalities in our 20s. i went from the quiet, serious type to basically a manic 13 yr old boy. he went from a wildly charismatic clown to a brooding hipster. what makes him laugh? what is he thinking? what is he passionate about? how does he talk to other ppl for hours but he can barely speak to his family for more than half of one? what did we do?

i got really angry the other night thinking about the fights i’ve had with my parents this past year. 

1) washington d.c. - mom and i got into to it in front of the fuckin white house at dusk. i was so emotional and upset at being there, right there where trump fucks over our country, and my mom was being...well, the woman fox news molded. i was furious and trying to keep it nice, so i asked if we could just stop. stop talking. i was gonna blow up. and my mom was like, “why do we stop when you say stop, but when i ask to stop, you continue?” which...is it true? i didn’t think so, and because i can’t keep my mouth shut, i argued until i walked away. i walked into the crowds and then i kept walking. i kept walking. i kept walking.  

it was terrible. i texted her “i’m gone” and i left. 

i forgot the details but i wandered that area of d.c. got a coffee. tried not to cry. and then...remembered how much trouble my mom’s phone was giving her, that her gps apps weren’t being accurate, that she wasn’t confident at the metro, and that it was now dark. that she was alone in an unfamiliar city with a camera bag strapped to her screaming “i’m a tourist!” 

i felt like utter and complete shit. it was one of the most despicable things i’ve ever done. later, i told some people and they were like “she’s a grown woman! you were both upset!” but no. i can’t make excuses like that. i knew that my mom was scared. i burst into tears. a crazy sobbing girl in the middle of d.c. i immediately texted her and told her to get back to me when she got to the hotel. 

an hour later, back at the hotel, my mom couldn’t even look at me. couldn’t speak to me. i knew i had to apologize and i did, wording it carefully because i walking on a minefield. i again blocked out most of the conversation, but it quickly dissolved into a mess of confessions. i was wrecked. at first because of what happened, but as our conversation turned into an argument, i became furious again. over how she interpreted some of our interactions. over how i “blamed” her for my anxiety and anger. i told her i got my anger from her. that i was slow to it like my father, but when something lit inside me it burned bright and hot and deadly like her. that her grudges and cold shoulders hurt me so, so badly when i was a kid (which she then explained wasn’t a grudge, just her processing her anger...but that was way, way into the night). oh god, it was so bad. so bad. she confessed how she felt about all us kids. told me about her problems with andi and nick. told me she wanted to move away from us. told me she didn’t want a relationship with me or them if it was going to be like this. 

i didn’t sleep. just cried and cried. like i did when i was a kid. sobbed in the bathroom and then under my covers. we barely talked the next day, but it slowly became okay. i didn’t know how to explain how much i loved her, so i tried to show her.      

in the end, we were ok enough. 

2) driving 30 hrs across the country - my dad and i were talking and he told me how he didn’t get us, and that we were hurting mom by rejecting her or something. he was upset and my dad doesn’t get upset, so i got upset and moody. and he was like “why are you like this? just with me? just with us. you’re so cruel.” and i knew it was true but it still took me an hour to snap out of it. and i apologized. 

--

but i feel sometimes angry bc i got the emo dump from both my parents. about both my siblings! and they don’t even talk to them about it! my parents don’t even touch nick anymore! they leave him alone because it’s easier that way and he wouldn’t listen even if they tried to talk to him! and my sister would get super huffy and feel judged and act out in some way and take the kids! so. i get it but i hate it!!! because i got the feelings dump! i got the tears and the hours of psychoanalyzing why we are the way we are! and i hate that i feel burdened by it sometimes?

 i want to be there for my parents but sometimes i’m that petulant child that still wants a mommy and daddy, not two parents who are human and exist with their own emotional life. and that’s so unfair to them and wrong of me, but i feel that way because i’m the child that gets this brunt of this side of them.  

but it’s because in my own way im the most difficult and this shit spills out when i push them. 

--

my parents (mostly mom) are only getting more set in their ways and defensive of their opinions. my mom...my mom who taught me so much about art and the world and appreciating different cultures and music and lived life with such vigor and wonder...i can see that fading and hardening. she’s stubborn about what she like and doesn’t have much interest in anything new. she’s offended and hurt when i gently bring up her how she used to be. 

my dad’s always been this way. very traditional, but kind. spoiled, but hardworking. likes what he likes. but he’s eating more greens. he’ll try what i make because i made it. we listened to latino usa and old radio lab podcasts that whole drive from wa to tx, and he loved it, and we discussed the episodes. and i loved him so much because he gave them a shot and we connected. 

but my mom. my mom. i miss her and she’s right there, but she’s not. and i know i’m part of the reason she’s retreated into herself and her more ‘sturdy’ beliefs and the friends who share them. she’s so quick to judge and harsh about it these days. is it age? is it us? is it this horrible world?

--

i came home to this. i came home and how quickly people change bc i didn’t expect my mom to be so old. in spirit. she’s tired. she doesn’t trust me. we’re working on being gentle. i’m working on not being so quick to anger.

my dad and i...i’m thrilled we’re getting along so well after i treated him like shit during the ~separation years~ between my parents. i was awful to him and he knew why, but he never called me out on it. 

my sis and i are fine. i’m so relieved she got out of that last relationship with that TERRIBLE PERSON and came to her senses, and somewhat grew up. we kick it. she cooks for me. we don’t completely jive cause she’s hood, but can code-switch between worlds, and i’m suburban through and through, so i’m not as cool or smooth as she is. i’m her dorky weird little sister and i appreciate her love for me. 

my brother? a mystery. a complete mystery. 

and i’m reminded of how he called me on my birthday and started weeping and asking about therapy and saying he’s sorry he never believed in my anxiety because it’s true--you don’t ask for, you don’t know why it appears, and it wrecks you. and he deals with it now for no discernible reason and he sounded so, so broken over the phone that i was shaking and crying when we hung up.

but now he’s as chill as ever and takes minimal care of his puppy because the 1st dog he got was pretty hands-off from the jump, but she was grown and pooed and peeded everywhere for months (he says no, but that’s selective memory), so now lil joe is mine and i need to get a job because the lack of structure is killlllllllllllllingggggg me. but i don’t want to leave lil joe :( 

--

it’s funny how i never set out to write all this shit, but it comes spilling out. 

huh. wait.

i left and i worked on myself but then i missed my family.

did i come back to work on the family? to work on my relationship with them? is that my purpose here and why i felt compelled to return?

--

went climbing with GA. i was totally afraid of falling and bouldering isn’t as fun to me as top rope, but i wanna keep at it. 

trying to set something up with B and A. my buds. i love em. 

gotta set something up with L because I have a feeling we’ll be good friends here. and weirdly, BG contacted me even though I haven’t talked to him since college? and even then we weren’t that close. he was just inching toward asking me out and never managed it.

--

fav emmy looks: zendaya (obviously. omg, whatta babe), maisie williams (whatta look, suits her perfectly, killed it), gwen christie (whatta jesus babe), that girl in the billowing mint green dress, anddddd clea duvall (a babe in a tux). 

vm continue to make me sad and hopefully things go well with tour for them. it’s nice to see them getting along with charlie and tanith. with bby charlie and tati and max’s kid coming along...oh boy for scott’s emotions. he’s gonna ignore the HELL out of those sad feeling for what couldvebeen with tess and he’s gonna plan hard for his and j’s future offspring instead. (can i also predict that i think one thing scott’s gonna have trouble with in his marriage--oddly enough--is keeping the marriage a partnership and not bulldozing over his spouse with his wants and needs ...wait, that’s not odd lol) 

--

anyway, gotta take joe out to pee. gotta get to bed soon because i wanna be on the trails by 7am and then maybe to the climbing gym. this face maybe a potato but my body can improve! (i’m thicc at the moment thanks to texas food 🤧) 

#miranda this is your life

[jeidafei]

D.Gray-Man: Few Things You Should Know about “Red”

A few facts we DGM fans really should talk about before succumbing to that Red!fic plotbunny pouncing about in our brains!

So I’ve been suffering through another D.Gray fangirling phase. I’ve been trawling Fanfiction.net for every DGM story I could sink my teeth into. I absolutely adore fanfictions about Red. Heck, EVERYONE absolutely adore fanfictions about Red (just look at the number of favs and comments!). Firecracker, A Blast to the Past, Red, etc., you name it. I’ve pretty much read through all of them more than once.

But something just isn’t right about these otherwise perfect fanfictions (well, other than the fact that they’re never finished T T), and it bugs me so much, as I am myself an avid fanfiction writer (of a Thai novel), and I’ve seen this same mistake play out in various fandoms.

It’s Red himself.

I’ve read Lost Fragment of Snow (LFS) whenever I wanted to tear my heart to pieces, and recently I’ve been translating it, so there are a few things I’d like everyone to keep in mind when you come up with little past!Allen plotbunnies.

1. Red does NOT talk back at Cosimo. Or anyone.

Red is rough and bitter, yes, but he is not a big-talker and he is not stupid. He is deeply traumatized, and traumatized kids will not do things they know will only get them more beating-ups.

Actually, I think anyone will know better than to talk back at Cosimo, not just traumatized kids.

So if you have Red yelling his head off at Cosimo, you’re not only giving the poor kid unnecessary misery but you’re also making him look silly.

(C’mon Allen, use your brain. You’re seven years old and a pipsqueak. Unless you’re sure you can beat him up with your Innocence then shut your trap, kid!)

If you look carefully at Red in LFS, you will notice that he barely even talks at all. He could curse them wankers for pages in his head, but he’ll never voice it out.

Hoshino-sensei described Red in the guidebooks as nama-iki, which could be translated along the lines of brazen, impertinent, cheeky, feisty...etc. Red (and later Allen) has certainly shown that side of him to Mana, Cross and Kanda, but even he knows when he must bite his tongue and keep his head down. 

Examples:

1) Cosimo is annoyed when he fails his act, and throws a juggling ball hard at Red’s face, blaming his cursed arm for dirtying the ball.

Fanfiction!Red: What da heck ya stupid wanker! It’s ya own fault ya messed up yer own show! (goes on and on and on until Cosimo knocks the fluff outta him.)

CanonLFS!Red: He thought how performers would blame the propsー and himー for their mistakes. But to Cosimo, he simply glared after his back (and not before he turned and left the tent.) and said nothing...at all.

2) In the opening scene, Cosimo just came picking on Red and started kicking him like a punching bag. Not because Red said anything to him; just because Red (foolishly) gave him an angry glare (he’s seven years old, you gotta forgive him sometimes).

As far as I can see, not a single Whaddya want, ya wanker! I can hear. When you’re Red, you don’t have to go that far to get a kick from Cosimo. You only need to exist.

2. Actually, Red’s life is not that bad.

Please don’t kill me yet and hear me out on this. I mean yeah, it’s bad. Sorry, it’s EXTREMELY BAD at that circus. And I cried and cried whenever I read LFS, but some fanfictions just go waaaay further than the original story confirms the circusーand the world in generalーhas done to Red.

We don’t ever see the Cook poisoning Red or Red recalling he had glass shards or cyanide (smells like almond) in his soup. In fact, it is shown Red has no qualms digging his spoon into his food. He just digs in right away because he’s so hungry he could eat a horse. Yep. I’m still talking about the Red. 

As much as the Ringmaster despised Red, he said it himself he still wants to work Red to the bone until he earns back the gold he paid to buy Red. So why kill Red now when you can still exploit him? After all, who’d do all the errands if Red is six feet under?

Though the Ringmaster did change his mind at the end and threw Red to the lions, that’s after he thought Red had killed Mana and Allen, his top money-spinner. Other than that, he tolerated Red enough to let him live, at the least.

Another thing is sometimes people would have Red mention churches and mental institutions trying to burn or imprison him, but actually, Red remembers nothing but the circus he now lives in and he has never left the circus for the outside world (except of course the occasional supplies-run with the Cook). So how could he have been through all that?

And no, no-one has sexually assaulted Red, either. Not even Cosimo. Red himself never once mentioned anything of the sort in his narrative/thoughts. One might argue it could’ve happened off-screen, but Red would definitely have recalled such a horrifying experience if it had happened, right? 

I’ve seen many fanfictions that has Allen revisiting his old circus (which I will rant about in the next point) and reliving how he was used by the disgusting men there. No, this has not happened to Red. Cosimo beats him regularly, and he is mostly ignored by the other members of the circus, but no one has ever abused him in that way. No! They are disgusted of him and they shun him. That is all.

I’d guess this last part is probably the influence of the legendary Mana, which describes Allen’s long history of sexual abuse in gruesome yet ingenious detail. That fiction was a masterpiece and I read through it despite usually reading only canon. But canon!Red and Mana!Allen is separate, my lads!!

3. The old circus is gone and Cosimo is DEAD. Pe-ri-od. (HOORAY!)

Yes, some fics had Allen meeting Cosimo again in a literal trip down nightmare-fuel memory lane, or musing that Cosimo is probably still alive, and I’d only stumbled upon this mistake recently when I re-read LFS.

This is impossible, you see: Cosimo died along with the other troupe members when the Millennium Earl attacked with his Akuma army, which is disguised as the audience. In fact, as Cosimo is ranting about the show starting without him and stepped onto the stage first, I’d even say he’s the first poof.

Everyone who was in the backstage (which is basically pretty much everyone in the troupe, as Cosimo had called them all in to hear him frame Red for Allen’s murder), save for Mana, died from the hail of Akuma bullets. The only survivors of that night were Red, the Ringmaster and the two performers he had ordered to drag Red to the lions, because they’re in a different place: the warehouse. And of course Mana, because Cross stepped in just in time.

So if you’re going for canon, let’s leave Cosimo in his grave. 

4. Red is truly, EXTREMELY scared of Cosimo

Like, sh*t-his-pants scared.

Well, who can blame him? He’s scrawny, crippled and freaking seven-years-old and the wanker would stomp the daylights out of him if he merely looks at him wrong, and he knew nobody would ever stand up for him.

Nobody...at least until Allen the Dog comes along.

Simply the sight of Cosimo emerging from a tent sent him screaming and hiding behind a tree. Simply the sight of Cosimo standing before him sent his hand trembling. When Cosimo is annoyed his breakfast isn’t served first, Red all but hightail it outta there for dear life.

Red avoids Cosimo as much as he could and would not seek to prolong their interactions or annoy him by talking back.

Red’s friendship with Allen is the only thing that gave him courage to stand up to Cosimo in the end, and when he accused Cosimo of killing Allen, that’s the first and only time we see him actually verbal-sparring with the wicked clown.

5. Red is very quiet and reclusive, and polite when necessary.

No matter how bad they treated him, Red does not talk brashly with the circus troupe members. He talks in polite form (keigo) to the cook, the jugglers, the Ringmaster, as of course he needed food and a roof to live under, and he doesn’t want to be socked (though he did look sullen in general).

And most importantly, it was as Red has always told himself: Things have always been like this, and he’s used to it. (yes, yes, we later know he’s just trying to be strong and he’s really very sad, but you know what I mean XD.)

So no point ranting a paragraph at them, obviously. Red understands already that it has to be this way. So why the rant? Why ALL the rants?

He also avoid interactions unless truly necessary; they ignored him, and he never speaks to anyone first. He doesn’t care about anyone back then. When he does speak, he speaks shortly. If he realizes that even if he speaks for himself, no-one would listen to or believe him, then he won’t waste his breath.

No lengthy tirades about how churches would attempt to burn him and Cosimo would beat him up or that it’s not his fault in the least and Cosimo has framed him and all that blah blah blah blah blah...(seriously, why would he spill this many beans to people he just met and did not yet trust, like Komui?)

//Even when he’s grown up and became the Allen we know, he’s almost never shown talking about his life at the circus, or even what happened to Mana to anyone, for that matter (Link said so!). Yes, he told Lenalee how he travelled with his adopted parent, but it was only happy and funny stories, and he told Bookman how his eye became cursed, but that’s just because Bookman asked and he couldn’t possibly wriggle out of answering. I seriously wonder if anyone knows his full bio except Cross, the Bookmen and the church authorities. It’s simply too painful and he’d only just come to terms with it recently, when he mused about Mana to Link.//

The exception to all this is probably Mana, and that is because he is the first person Red decided to go talk to. And this is solely because Mana is Allen’s owner, and Red is simply curious as to what kind of person he is like. He probably knows Mana is a decent person, being Allen’s owner and the brilliant new clown and all, and so is not afraid to talk casually (and quite a bit roughly) around him.

Anyway, most little boys pretty much talk like that in Japanese. It’s not as if Red’s that much ruder than any normal kid his age, in my opinion. 

At least, Red hasn’t called anyone a “*bleep*head” like that antisocial little chopped-hair, girly-faced douchebag we all love, either. So no need for the T-rating and tone down his language, please, dear DGMers.

.....End of rant! Will keep adding more if I could think of anything else!

Thanks for bearing with this crazy fangirl!

#dgm #d gray man

[sheisbornadreamer]

Brother

Centered around Yamato's role as a big brother and from Takeru's point of view.

Disclaimer: just borrowing, I don't own anything

Takeru had never seen his brother like this.

Growing up, he had practically thought of Yamato as an adult; he was twice or even three times as tall as he, that was enough reason. Other than that, his brother acted and thought like an adult, and definitely treated Takeru as if he were his son. He nagged, he worried, he took care and spoiled, but most of all he comforted.

The memory of being lifted onto his brother's lap and held close was as familiar as eating, dressing, or even going to the bathroom. He had grown up with it, even when they lived separately Takeru would regularly come back to that familiar place between his older brother's arms and frame.

Yamato was the perfect person to calm you; although he wasn't always alright and sometimes even depressed, he was equable and stable like a tree. Even at the young age of six he used to hold his difficult and energetic three year old sibling still until he stopped crying or fell asleep.

Though their parents tried not to, Yamato was sometimes used as a calmer for his brother, when they didn't manage.

Takeru was the happy one of the two boys, but being a careless kid he often hurt himself, and easily cried. To be fair, he soon smiled again, after being consoled by Yamato.

Said boy, however, didn't cry very often. Though neither did he smile. He was careful and still and therefore most of the time managed to avoid getting hurt, but there was often pain carried somewhere inside him, especially after their parents' divorce.

Somehow, his monotone behavior (compared to his brother's ups and downs) left him with almost no comfort from anyone. Since he was never feeling great and never feeling awful, he was always okay. So he didn't need to be checked upon.

Being his little brother, Takeru naturally noticed the tiny changes in his sibling's mood, and if Yamato was sad one day, he saw it.

The younger boy never comforted his big brother, but when that face was frowning, Takeru's mouth would instantly open and he'd babble about his day, about his thoughts and what he had seen and heard. If that didn't help, he would tell him funny stories and crack jokes (that he always managed to destroy in the effort of explaining) make faces, dance, anything to make his brother laugh. Or at least smile a little.

Next to their father, Takeru could grasp that Yamato was smaller, and not the one in charge. But Mr Ishida never treated Yamato like he treated Takeru; he didn't ruff his hair or lift him up into the air or pet his cheek. He was kind to him of course, but hardly ever affectionate or protective.

Come to think of it, there had only been one time in his childhood, where he had witnessed the shocking image of his older sibling for once acting by his age, and their parents treating him by his age.

It really hadn't been Yamato's fault. No one had ever even hinted that since it happened. Of course, if the blond nine-year-old hadn't climbed up that three just to answer Takeru's question, he wouldn't have broken his leg.

But it was practically the only inconsiderate thing he had ever done as a kid, and their parents forgave him for it before he even fell.

That doesn't mean they weren't shocked. Everyone was. Most of all Takeru.

The image of Yamato being picked up by their father, crying his eyes out as though he had completely forgotten his whole identity (Takeru still has a hard time picturing his brother crying without holding back) and not letting anything comfort him, was just as shocking as what was now taking place right before his eyes. Maybe this wasn't as shocking... or just in a different way, not exactly easy to compare...

Ishida-san's expression hadn't eased the six-year-old's shock either -it had been the first time Takeru had ever seen his father look scared.

He had never felt so small and distant as then, as if watching from another planet. Kind of like the feeling you get when watching thunder, or disasters in other countries. One second you're thinking about your stupid shoe-lace that never wants to stay in the knot, and the next you realize that there's a giant world around you.

Everything isn't from your point of view any longer.

Yamato isn't just a big brother who will always wait for Takeru to trip and fall, or worry about everything he does, and just console him and guide.

Suddenly he's a thousand of different things.

Most of all, he's not the character Takeru is used to. Apparently that only exists when he is in Yamato's thoughts... weird.

At first it hadn't been very extraordinary.

Yamato looked tired. Weak, even. Takeru had seen that before, when Yamato's spirit had dipped just a little lower, barely crossing the line between "okay" and "not okay". Sure it had been shocking the first time, but it had happened often enough for the younger brother to recognize it and not unnecessarily freak.

Here, he would have finished the last distance and approached him, but Yamato's best friend Yagami Taichi was standing there with him, so it was fine. Takeru remained where he stood, observing as he tried to analyze whether he should join them or just leave. Right now, they looked a bit too serious for him to just drop in.

Well, at least his brother did.

Taichi never seemed to get the whole frowning-thing.

Obviously he was trying to cheer him up. Not with the usual clown-tactic however, but with the calmer one he used when he knew that Yamato needed him to understand. That was why Takeru hesitated; they never talked about serious stuff in front of people. He didn't exactly worry about his brother hiding something from him; they shared most things with each other. It was rather the interaction between the two friends that wasn't supposed to be disturbed by someone else.

The two nineteen-year-old males continued to exchange words silently (Takeru was standing too far to actually hear), Taichi listened as Yamato let his heart out, gave some suggestions, and nodded in surrender as the other added more negativism. In more serious conversations like this Taichi didn't seem to persist on cheering him up; he rather listened and let Yamato sort it out himself by talking about it, and simply offered support and company.

The brunet sighed as Takeru's brother continued to look miserable, gazing at the ground with troubled eyes. He then took a step forward, hooking his arms under the hunched over Yamato's frame, and lifted him up to let him rest his taller body against his. Then he pulled Yamato's waist strangely close, and Yamato in turn wrapped his arms around the other's shoulders, burying his face into Taichi's neck.

The last said actions were what sent Takeru beyond the limit of blissful ignorance into heart-jumping shock.

His big brother looked so small in the brunets arms, which was very weird because he wasn't physically smaller than him. But without Taichi there, Yamato would've fallen to the ground.

The fact that it wasn't an x-hug annoyed Takeru; the fact that Yamato's arms were clinging around Taichi's neck while said male's arms were holding that small waist. The fact Yamato's hair was suddenly so long and pretty annoyed him. That he was always so quiet and careful, and sad. That he was burying his face into Taichi neck, probably sobbing quietly. That his eyes were so pretty, and his skin was so fair, and his limbs so long and thin and graceful.

That they were kissing.

Shock returns and replaces his irritation for a few seconds.

Takeru had never considered his brother as anyone's boyfriend or lover. Girls drooled over him, that was obvious, but Yamato always despised and avoided fans like that. He had never blushed around anyone, or glanced a little to long, or stuttered.

Now suddenly, he is someone's. He is loving someone, and not in a brother type of way. Not the way he loves music. Or their childhood memories. Or his so called "friend" over there. A romantic way.

And it's guy.

And Yamato is the fucking girl...

The possibility that Yamagi has topped his brother crosses his mind and Takeru starts to get dizzy. This is too much to take.

Taichi has spotted him, regret written across his eyes, knowing that this will kill Yamato, especially in state that he's in right now. A second later blue eyes meet blue.

All Takeru can think of is that time when he sneaked up to take a sneak peak at the horror movie that Yamato and Taichi were watching. As the monster popped up on the screen Takeru cried out in fear, Yamato had turned his head, already knowing, and stared at him with the same eyes as now.

Takeru's anger runs off as he sees the look on his brother's face. He wants to erase it, convince him that he hasn't seen anything, that nothing is wrong. He absolutely hates that look.

Neither of them can stop the older Ishida from getting the hell away from there, and in just a few seconds only Takeru and Taichi are left.

Looking at the younger boy, Taichi can tell that there's accusation towards him. But he waltzes over casually, grateful that the blond doesn't leave -chasing would be useless.

"I'm sorry you had to see that"

Takeru glares. "Just because you were the leader in the Digi-world doesn't mean you can treat him like some fucking..." he trails off, lacking words. Or perhaps too embarrassed to use them. Thinking is awkward enough.

Taichi holds his gaze. "You know I respect him" he replies critically, making Takeru look away, slightly shameful. But he can't give up to that only.

"Doesn't mean you haven't fucked him" he retorts loudly, not backing down. He stares intently into the brunet's eyes, knowing he can't hide what he's feeling.

He looks caught off guard, but recovers, sighing. "I don't think I'm better than him. We're different, but we're still equal. That there was him letting me share the burden, alright, he's having a hard time right now. Trust me, Yamato's not afraid to punch me if I act like an idiot."

Takeru shifts, suddenly feeling very stupid. Almost like Daisuke.

He cringes at the mere thought.

"It's just... I've never wished he was different. I've always looked up to him and seen him as my hero, even when others say stupid things, I never saw it. Until now."

"We-"

"It's not that he's gay," Takeru protests, shaking his head. "Just... that he lets you take care of him. Looked like he's given up. Yamato has always managed on his own. He's not weak!"

"He's human, Takeru. He's got problems to deal with -everyone does. Sometimes he can't do it on his own, or as fast as he'd like to."

He didn't expect to accept the speech, but when Taichi's finished Takeru has nothing left to say.

"So he's not... " The young teen already regrets the question, but Taichi smiles encouragingly, listening. "... like, the woman then," he manages to mutter.

Taichi looks more disturbed than he had feared he would. "I hate that expression" he exclaims, narrowing his eyes at something above Takeru's head, as though the one inventing said expression was standing there.

"Well, I mean... " Takeru adds, scratching his head miserably, wishing he'd never asked. "Submissive, or whatever. I mean I know I see him as a hero 'cause he's my big brother and everything, but I guess he can be pretty... laid back."

"No."

"No?"

"He's not submissive. And I am not dominant, thank you very much"

"So..."

"We do rock paper scissors."

Takeru stares at him in disbelief. "You do?"

Taichi nods convincingly. "Yep. Or we just take turns, if we feel mature enough."

The young teen chuckles, shaking his head.

"You like my brother," he suddenly reflects, as if finally acknowledging that.

Taichi's eyes widens and he gives an offended snort. "No." Then he grins as the younger teen laughs easily. He hopes the boy won't grow up too fast, or simply stay this way even if he does.

"And Matt likes you...?" Takeru half-asks, finding that a bit weirder.

"He worships me," the brunet assures, smiling as Takeru rolls his eyes, unawarily imitating his sibling.

"I guess that's fine. I mean at least he didn't choose some sleazy jock"

Taichi's smile fades, and he looks at him warily. "You can be even scarier than Matt, you know that?"

Takeru just smiles. He's glad that it is Taichi that Yamato has chosen. If he has to go out with a dude, at least he's picked the right one.

He just hopes that his big brother still kicks ass in rock paper scissors.

#digimon #fanfiction #ishida #takeru #yamato #brothers #siblings #identity #family #relationships #drama #romance #yagami taichi