#pennywise happened but certainly dead

[cleolinda]

I grew up in a haunted house and I didn’t notice

This is not a story about boo ghosts or shadow people. If it were, I would have figured it out, at least.

When I say "I grew up in a haunted house and I didn't notice," you have to understand that there was a lot going on with this house. It's not the house that I've written about currently living in, the one with newspaper and soda cans stuffed where insulation should have been, the one with constant home-repair calamities. No, my childhood home was a crumbling pile of red brick built in the 1920s. Narnia was in the backyard, and the back deck was my ship on the high seas. The house was surrounded by banks of flowers, lilies and irises and roses, and it was full of creepy shit I didn’t even blink at. I loved it.

It didn't look haunted, or even particularly historical. It was almost disappointingly normal—I lived on a street with a house that had a turret, for God's sake. No, it was just old and small. There's a lot of pre-Depression houses getting torn down in these suburbs; my town has been awash in construction for the last 20-30 years as people buy up cheap old houses, raze them, and squeeze mini-mansions onto their tiny lots, all to get their kids into a good school system. It gives me a chill to think of it, but yeah, that might happen to my childhood home someday, small and plain and unassuming as it is. My pirate ship has already been renovated into an extra bedroom, the new owners told us.

When we moved into the house in 1983, though—it had clearly been renovated in the '60s or '70s; the wallpaper was hideous, and the upstairs bathroom was carpeted. Shag-carpeted. The house had closets the size of shoeboxes; my bedroom, the one with the peach wallpaper, didn't even have one. The room down the hall had four, including one cut into the wall, under a slanted ceiling tucked beneath the roof, that looked like you'd stash a witch there when the Salem HOA came by. There was a fan in the attic—well, first of all, the attic was just one more room on that upstairs floor. It was directly across from the (carpeted) bathroom, and that room (lit by one ominous, hanging bulb) was just a short corridor with storage spaces on either side, hidden behind big sliding doors. And the fan at the very end was built into the brick outer wall of the house. Like our house was functionally open to the elements, between the blades of that fan. I have no idea what the fuck anyone was thinking when they built that, and how the fuck anyone kept the wildlife out.

We certainly couldn't. Squirrels lived in the roof and bowled with acorns. It was like listening to a pinball machine at night. I have an abject horror of cockroaches because sometimes an adventurous one would fall off the ceiling in the middle night, onto me, while I was trying to sleep. (Like, try to imagine that—you’re awakened from a dead sleep by a vague, paper-light skittering sensation up and down your arm. When Pennywise comes to me, he will show up as a cockroach.) But wait! There was more! We had herds of crickets in the basement that felt compelled to jump at people. Sometimes there were centipedes! Those were polite enough to only come out at night. In the dark.

By the way, that basement was totally unfinished. I don't mean that it just had exposed beams or concrete walls. I mean that the basement had uneven, mostly shoulder-high masonry walls, and then it was just open on three sides, extending under the rest of the house. Like just dry red Alabama earth and rocks and grainy dust tumbling around in this vast, dark—it wasn't even a crawl space, a child could have stood upright in it. This child? Oh fuck no. And the washer and dryer were down there. I had to creep down there, down a rickety plank staircase, past the staring dark caverns of my own basement, through a low-lying fog of aggressive crickets, go BEHIND THE STAIRCASE, and then do my laundry there. There was also a firewood pile by an old fridge, and only God knew what was under that.

None of this was haunted. All of this was completely normal to me. This isn't even the haunted part.

So let's go back upstairs. The ground floor was lovely, homey, fine except for the time the living room ceiling fell out due to water damage. Upstairs was where it got weird. I've talked about being mildly bullied as an unknowingly autistic child; home was where I felt safe. In my bedroom upstairs, I had all those My Little Ponies and my easel with all my crayon-drawn fantasy maps and all the stories I wrote. It didn't matter if roaches fell on me in the deeps of the night; home, that's where I was happy. So when I was a young kid and I felt like a vampire was following me down the hall at night, I assumed I was just being silly.

I was aware of vampires in the 1980s as, like, the Count on Sesame Street (ah ah aaah), and Count Chocula, and Count Duckula on Nickelodeon, and the Bunnicula books that I loved. As a kid, I wasn't aware of movies like The Lost Boys or Near Dark, or any vampires that weren't broad caricatures of the Bela Lugosi look. I loved Spooky Stuff—I'm from the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark generation—but vampires didn't scare me.

But when I had to get up in the middle of the night to go down the hall to the (carpeted) bathroom, I always had the sensation that something was following me as I was going back to my room. Something Dark. Not terribly tall, maybe not even much taller than me. And somehow, I visualized this deep in my mind as a vampire. Kind of a silly one, you know, the white-tie formal wear and the ribbon medal and the cape. I wasn't desperately scared that a Chocula was behind me, but I knew that I needed to get back to my room quick, and, at all costs, I must never look back. I must never look over my shoulder or else I would See It, something silly massing in the dark—and, brother, Eurydice would have been safe with me. Never stop running, never look back.

And I'm sure all kinds of kids develop little superstitions like this. It's probably a developmental thing, like having an imaginary friend (which I also had at some point). Even as a seven year old, I was thinking, This is silly, I'm just making it up (but not looking back costs nothing. Not looking at monsters is free). And I continued to think this, until I laughingly told my younger sister this at Sunday Family Dinner one night. We were both in our thirties at that point. And my sister started crying. Like just staring at me in wide-eyed horror, her eyes filling with tears. And she told me that when she had a bedroom upstairs, there was Something in there.

I won't belabor the exact setup, but at one point, we got it into our heads that we'd like to switch bedrooms, just for a change. I was 14, and I moved to her ground floor bedroom with the flowered white wallpaper and the big bright windows, and she went upstairs and took my room with the peach wallpaper and the cool slanted roof-ceiling (and no closet).

There were three other rooms on that upper floor (and I promise you this is important):

1) One was a small, windowless room that we used as a playroom, with weird cerulean blue carpet and sky blue wallpaper, one dim light fixture, and a little door in the wall that led to dark nothing. Like, you opened it, and you were confronted by a mass of pipes and machinery and just enough space to edge leftwards in the dark. Towards what? Fuck if I know, I sure as hell wasn't going in there. I think it was supposed to be for access to the HVAC system. I don't know. It was fucked. But when I was a young child, I had cooked for my baby dolls at our plastic play kitchen right next to that door, nbd, because apparently you put me in a creepy situation and I just go, yeah, we live like this now.

(I had not ever felt alone in that playroom, but I had also been too young to articulate that. Of course I wasn’t alone! I was with my dolls!)

2) The next room was the (shag-carpeted) bathroom. It had a big mirror over the sink counter, very typical, facing a vertical mirror that was behind the bathroom door. I've heard two mirrors facing each other can create a portal for the spirits, if you believe in that kind of thing. I once did the "Bloody Mary" thing there and nothing happened, idk.

3) The next room was the bedroom with four closets, where an older family member lived with us, and when she moved out, my sister moved to that room.

?) The fourth room, not really a room, was the dark, narrow attic.

So, Grownup Family Dinner at my current house, a few years ago: my sister told me that Something had lived in the Four Closets Bedroom with her. I'm not sure if she actually said it lived in the little Hide A Witch closet or if it was just kind of... ambient. I don't know what it looked like, or if we're talking about ghosts or Something... Darker, or what. I don't think she's entirely sure herself. She doesn't like to talk about it in detail a whole lot. What I know is that she felt it was there, and she had chosen that room to sleep in as a young teenager, and not a lot of sleep was to be had.

"I never really sensed anything, like… demonic," I said, puzzled. "Just the Chocula that followed me." And my sister was like, ARE YOU LISTENING TO YOURSELF??

"What about Rebecca??" she sputtered.

Oh, yeah: Rebecca. (A name I've changed at my sister's request.) I had a friend as a teenager who liked to mess around with ouija boards (AM I LISTENING TO MYSELF?), and we did a session at her house one time wherein we discovered that the ghost of a girl? young woman? named Rebecca lived (so to speak) at my house, and she had been murdered by her boyfriend. How we arrived at these specifics, I don’t remember, but I had told my sister about it because I thought it was interesting, and also, I was kind of a shit. My friend also decided she had her own ghost named Dusty. It was all one big [citation needed, footage not found], but it was also part of our family lore.

So, many years later, my sister told me that she had long felt—without knowing about the Chocula—that there were two spirits on the upper floor of our childhood home: the dark one, and a younger, lighter one. I sat there at the kitchen table and thought about it.

"You know, I did kind of feel like there was someone up there, when I was a kid," I said. "Sometimes I would go into the attic, and it felt scary, but like there was something there watching that was okay? Like having a lamp on in a dark room, kind of. It’s weird, because it’s just a feeling, I remember it very clearly, but I didn’t really question it or wonder."

I thought a bit more.

"Oh yeah—there was also the time I just really felt compelled to go color in the playroom by myself at midnight, and it kind of felt like someone was there."

My sister stared at me, saucer-eyed, pale. Like I'm not sure I had ever seen anyone "go white" until that moment.

"Yeah, I just woke up and had this idea—I was maybe nine years old? That it would be super cool to do stuff at night when I was supposed to be asleep, so I got a flashlight and went into the playroom—"

"IN THE DARK??"

"Well, yeah. If I had turned on the light, someone would have seen it and told me to go back to bed. So I set this flashlight on the floor and got out the crayons and colored in one of my coloring books a while. Maybe the She-Ra one?"

Thinking back on it now—of course I was sitting right by the scary door. I think we all, you and I, saw that coming.

"And I had the same feeling I had in the attic. Like someone was sitting on the floor across from me, friendly, I guess I would say female, and it was cool. Like, it was chill."

My sister looked like she was about to pass out.

"I don’t really know how I could sense this then but not really say anything about it, or even think about it, until now," I said, shrugging. "I’m probably imagining it."

I’ll throw in here that one of the dolls I had in that room was a Raggedy Ann. Like, just for extra hilarity, Wee Cleo is hanging out, coloring, at midnight, with a ghost and a fuckin’ Annabelle.

So: My sister is adamant that our childhood home was haunted. And apparently I was entirely blasé about it (maybe possessed?), but then, I was dealing with a lot of suburban wildlife. My problems with that house were far more immediate. And crawly. Nor can we prove that the house was haunted—I certainly haven’t looked up any homicide records—and I don’t think that Vibes, In Retrospect, are valid evidence on my part. But I find it interesting that I knew what she was talking about. I find it interesting that I was like, "Yeah, that was chill." And I find it interesting that when I went away to college, and I lived in a dorm suite where sometimes I’d be the only person there while my roommates were out,

I remember noticing that it was the first time I’d ever felt alone in a room.

Who was that imaginary friend I'd had?

--

I asked my sister to read over this, partly because I wanted to see if she’d be willing to describe the Something Dark.

"Oh, I’ll tell you anything you want," she texted back, "but that’s not how it happened."

#part one of two #me for some reason #story time with cleo #tl;dr my childhood home was fucked up and I was hilariously unbothered about it #insects cw #long post #the haunting of jones house #spooky season #halloween everyday #first look on patreon

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.11

Ao3  N.10  N.12

Preview: Eddie studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: What makes us different?

What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong?

Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

Monday 24.05.1993

Monday night could be described with simple words: a mess.

Richie was shaking way too hard to get a firm grip when climbing down, and his eyes were still too watery to make out the exact spots he should have stepped on. As a result, he ended up losing balance and having a bad landing, bending his ankle slightly and falling on his ass in the middle of the Kaspbrak's backyard.

His breathing was off, accelerated and wheezy. Richie wondered if that was any close to what Eddie goes through.

It hurt, it hurt it hurt it hurt.

He grasped at the front of his shirt with one hand and lifted the other up to cover his mouth.

He kissed Eddie.

Slowly, whimpering and hiccupping, he lifted himself off the ground and limped his way to retrieve his bike from the grass, not even bothering to wipe off the dirt from his clothes. Richie couldn't trust himself to ride, so he took rushed steps home, bike by his side. With a swirling, distracted brain, he hoped that no cars would come crashing onto him, for he had no capacity to look out for any incoming danger. By the time he got to his street, his tears had dried, his ankle stopped aching, but his chest remained alerted and alive. A mess.

Luck didn’t seem to be on his side, as if that wasn't already obvious. Richie got home safely, at least, and he was looking forward to… well, maybe to drown in his loud thoughts for the night. Sue himself for crying. Think about the horrible consequences of what he did. Anything, really, rather than what actually happened.

Before he could reach his bedroom door, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder and dragged him into the kitchen, where he was forced to sit at the table, dinner served, with both his parents staring expectantly at him. As if they accomplished something amazing and needed their son’s approval.

Richie’s eyes were, without a doubt, still bloodshot, puffy the least. The shaking was bad, too. He couldn't draw a line between trying to act normal or freaking everyone out.

"Is it Christmas, already? What a lovely family reunion." He licked his lips, they tasted salty.

"Richard." His mom, (Wow, his mom!) glared at him, before laying a hand on top of his. Richie stared down at her skinny fingers on top of his, ringless for once. Seriously, the way he was shaking was preoccupying. He retrieved his hand to himself with the excuse to start eating.

"Bueno appétit." He said through an obviously forced smile.

  The meal was close to be over by now and everything still felt weird, unreal. Their voices were far, but there, the food was tasteless. He couldn't control his own body, moving on its own to grab the fork and wrap around a glass of water.

I kissed Eddie.

He was torn out of his inner battle by a heavy slap against the wooden table. Then a sigh. The water in his cup trembled, and Richie related to it.

"Are you on something, Richie?" His dad's voice stopped him from getting the fork to his lips, took Richie a few seconds to let it sink.

…He thinks you’re drugged.

Slowly, Richie put the fork down and stared at the two foggy figures in front of him. He wanted to scream.

Look at them, looking at you. They think you've lost it, they think you're an addict. They think you're gone, lost. They must love you, that's how it works. They must love you.

Right?

The two figures became less human, the food started to lose its scent, too.

They think you're a freak.

  Eddie pushed you away.

  Richie laughed, ran a hand over his hair, scrapped his chair on the floor while getting up.

He didn't hear his own laughs, he didn't hear the chair, he didn't command his body to get up. He didn't command his mouth, either.

"I really must fucking be!” He exclaimed enthusiastically.

He left the kitchen, then. Didn’t hear any protests, didn’t feel the ground under his feet as he padded his way down the hallway towards the bedroom. The door shut behind him.

Richie heard it close.

-click-

Richie thought back to a few hours ago, when he had woken up and been so sure that the day was a promise of a good one. And despite all the events that just happened to him, to them, despite the way he was feeling right now, at the end of the day, there was one thing he could be sure of.

Eddie kissed him back.

 -

 It’s been nine minutes since Eddie had to sit down for dinner after being kissed. Which shouldn’t be something worth mentioning, or thought of, because people do that all the time. A lot of kissing happens everywhere, all the time.

But not for Eddie, no. But once again, it’s not every day that you push away the person who kissed you because you were hit with an image of… of?

Eddie searched and searched, and nothing came up. But it was probably due to the rollercoaster of emotions hitting the sides of his skull from the inside. Or because he was distracted looking at his mom's face while she ate. It was sort of disturbing, but he’s gotten used to it by now.

Oh, right! A demon clown masked as a rotting hobo who also happened to offer him blowjobs in forgotten dreams. And recurring memories, apparently.

Eddie felt the poor amount of food he managed to eat slowly inch up his throat. He gulped it down with more peas.

There was an image stuck on Eddie’s brain. And it was Richie, the moment he burst into tears after their lips separated. Later, Eddie would learn to connect to that feeling. For now, he feels extremely worried and guilty and sad, because when Richie cried Eddie felt like the world needed to stop until he could prove to him how much he’s worth.

Eddie tried to push these thoughts away, at least during dinner, because he couldn’t afford another confrontation with his mom about anything at all. So he had to look as normal as he could from the outside, which was possibly the hardest thing he ever tried to accomplish while his brain was filled with Richie.

His scent, like the quarry’s water; his warm skin, heated by the sun all day long; his revolted eyes filled with emotions Eddie couldn’t comprehend, yet; his touch, desperate, needy, welcomed; his lips, as full as Eddie as ever seen them, as pretty as Eddie ever thought of them to be; his tears. They weighted more than Eddie could have ever carry. But now he had to, for he was the one who caused them.

It was a stupid assumption, but Eddie was absolutely sure his mom knew about what he did. As if he had the evidence slapped on his face. Maybe he had, actually.

Do people change after kissing for the first time?

He studied her intensively that dinner. Looking at the lines mapping her face and wondering: What makes us different?

What defined you own me? What defined you’re right and I’m wrong?

Nothing defined it. That’s the answer.

You don’t own me. You’re not right. I’m not wrong. (If only he could believe that.)

The way he is shouldn't harm anyone, unless people are consuming hate for every meal. Much like Eddie has been doing since he can remember. Much like he was doing right now.

He stared down at his barely touched plate. As an excuse, he told his mom he ate just before coming home, which she wasn’t happy about.

She feeds you hate, you feed her lies. It goes the other way around too, doesn't it?

Eddie didn't want to answer.

    Tuesday 25.05.1993

  It was very late, Richie needed sleep and he should have been in bed for a long time, by now. But he couldn't.

Yes, it was late, but time had no voice when it came to a swirling mind hit with a wave of inspiration. It was more forced than hit, actually. He needed to get things done as soon as possible, that entitled forcing his eyes to stay open and his hands to work faster than his thoughts could be generated. Which was already pretty fast, believe it.

And inspiration might even be the wrong term, also. Richie didn't have a lot of that, he had the full living experience. That’s what got the words flowing.

 Today was a silent nightmare at school, a poor attempt at pretending nothing had happened between them. Or more like processing what happened quietly to themselves until the right time came around, or until they went insane. Richie was close to crossing that line.

Around this time of the school year, some teachers ended classes a little bit earlier, which made the whole “avoiding one-on-one contact” thing easier.

But Richie was pretty sure everyone knew something was up, anyway. Yesterday they were in the best mood possible, and their friends saw him leaving with Eddie. It wasn't too hard to figure out why both of them looked like they hadn't slept for a year, nor smiled. Even if their giggles had been painting the quarry less than 24 hours ago. (Not that Richie knew if Eddie looked as miserable as he did, neither of them stared at each other once.)

That was the reason, Richie suspected, Bev cornered him after school was over and stopped him from going home to mourn alone.

Richie spent the whole afternoon in her company, walking mindlessly trough the streets of Derry while she tried to get him to talk. He was grateful to have her, really, but he wasn't in the mood to talk about what happened, yet. He simply told her they argued, which was only half of the whole truth. Bev dropped it for the moment, and they talked about other stuff. About her aunt, her house life changes, about stupid things and whatelse. It wasn't until they were sharing a slice of lemon pie from Derry's local diner that she dropped a bomb on him, or something close to that.

“We should play some of your originals next time.”

The suggestion had Richie dropping a fork for the second time in less than two days.

They were, indeed, planning on having a second party this week as well, because, why not? It was a success, and everyone enjoyed themselves.

“Something about relevant people in your life.” Bev specified.

Yup. There it was.

She was hinting at him singing dopey love songs, or something. Maybe she thought that he’d come up with a great way of relieving his deepest sorrows surrounding Eddie through heartfelt songs.

The thing is, Richie didn't want to do that, and even if he did…

Most of his originals were left unfinished, his quick-thinking brain spat out half a song and then decided "Well, that's enough sharing for a day." Also, more importantly, they were all about his insecurities, about himself, about the non-great side of carrying a life as Richie Tozier.

He didn't have it in him to write about anything else.

He never wrote a song about those kinds of feelings, or Eddie. And there’s boundaries, for Christ’s sake. ‘Hey, Eds. You just rejected me and I couldn’t take it, so here’s a song I wrote about you.’ Yeah, sure.

He didn't turn her down, instead, he asked. “Do we have enough time for something like that?"

A long argument and a few lemon bites later, they met in the middle. The party would be put off to Saturday night, and in return Richie would bring them some originals to test out next afternoon. That meant a single day away.

So, when Richie got home today, he had no choice but to go through the few pages filled over the last years with shitty lyrics, trying to find some that he didn’t hate as hard as others. He spent the rest of the day changing some things, making them better and coming up with melodies for the ones he forgot or the ones he didn't like enough. He hadn't look at the clock yet, but he felt the need to rest weighting on him. There wasn't really a point in going to bed if he’d just stare at the blackness of the insides of his eyelids. That’s what happened last night, and he knew it wouldn't be much different this time.

At some point, he wondered if there would be a dinner served table today, but he suspected that yesterday was a once in a lifetime occurrence. (That didn’t go that well, to be fair.)

His hands were smudged from the pencil-written words, a headache was starting to grow form, but he knew he wouldn’t leave this unfinished. Now, he stared at the paper sheets scattered in front of him. A sigh left his tired body, reminding him of the dull throbbing forming in the small of his back.

It’s been one day; Richie tried not to feel too guilty. So far, he was failing.

 -

 It was late, Eddie was in bed trying desperately to fall asleep, but it wasn't working so far. His brain was incapable of shutting off for a minute, always screaming back to himself and indulging in useless lectures and self-advice that he knew he would never act upon.

He tossed aggressively around in his bed, angry at himself and needing a way to push all of the hateful energy out of his body.

It’s been one day. A single, miserably long day. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about it. He tried really hard, but it was there in the back of his mind at any time of the day.

Giving him little nudges in the shoulder: Hey, so… Richie kissed you.

Flicking his forehead: You kissed him back, by the way.

Like shoulders bumping in a hallway: You liked it, don’t deny it.

It was honestly fucking exhausting. The worst one so far had happened while he was trying to focus on the words on the board of his philosophy class.

It felt more like his chair disappeared from under his body: You pushed him away, you dumb fuck. Nice move, jerk.

He felt stupid and awful and guilty for the way Richie was left, confused. Eddie was so goddamn angry with himself.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

Today, there were actual times when he had to sit down and think back to the moment. The reason why he pulled away from Richie’s touch was mostly a complete blur, again. Yet, he knew there was something beyond his usual worries, because one thing he knew for sure was that not even once did it cross his mind how wrong it was to kiss another boy while he was doing it.

Eddie had to grab his hair strongly and really focus on the thing. And even then, the leper’s image and voice were so faded and weak that he couldn’t be sure if it was that that led him to feel burnt, anymore.

It’s been long since the leper encounter. Eddie wouldn’t say he forgot, but he certainly didn’t spend a second thinking about it, anymore. It was scary how quickly it faded from his brain if he wasn't purposely dragging it back. This was a fight against himself. Eddie didn't want to remember, but he couldn't forget. Richie deserved an explanation, and Eddie started to believe that by the time he felt ready to give it to him, he wouldn't remember again. He didn't know if he should be grateful or not. Which was worse? Forgetting or being haunted?

The forgetting itself haunts him, still.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie threw the single sheet covering his body to the feet of the bed, battled with it for a while when it got tangled on his ankle, and got up, defeated. With a locked jaw and a tense neck, he strode up to the mirror standing on top of his dresser, and even with the shitty lighting, he studied his restless reflection. It stared right back at him.

‘What have I done?’ He groaned internally. He fucked it all up…

Eddie tried, in vain, to spit something out, anything. The silence was deafening, a soft buzzing mushing his brain. He had to do this, the first step was this, right here.

He stared at his mouth, but all it did was remind him of  Richie’s.

Go on, do it. Say it.

But nothing came and no words formed. Only pictures and colors and emotions that he couldn’t name or put into words. They didn’t feel nice.

Eddie placed his elbows on the dresser and dropped his face on his hands for a few exasperating seconds before looking up to the mirror again.

He lost count of the minutes that passed, each of those suffocated him more and more until he gave in to his weak knees and had to sit down on the floor. His blurry eyes focused on the dark handles his mom had picked out when she bought him the dresser. They had soft edges, to prevent kids from getting injured. She had said-

He couldn't do this.

Everywhere he looked, there was always something to remind him of the things that could go wrong if he ever accepted who he was.

Especially in that mirror.

   Wednesday 26.05.1993

 "I can't believe how fucking great these are."

For a moment, Richie was confused. The words were definitely something Beverly would say, but it was actually Mike who spoke. In fact, Bev hadn't said anything at all since Richie passed them his drafts filled with awful handwriting.

"Yeah? You think so?" Richie, who was sitting on their famous red couch staring at his two friends leaning against the stage's side, finally looked up to Mike's face expectantly.

"Yeah, man! You have talent, Rich." To that, Richie smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck, not really sure how to react.

He adverted his attention to Bev. From the corner of his eye he saw Mike doing the same. She had a conflicted expression, eyes locked in the papers she was holding.

"You do have talent, Richie." She then moved away from the stage and kneeled down in front of him, putting the papers slowly to the side and hugging Richie around the waist, his knees between their bodies.

"Aw, Marsh. You're getting all sappy for me here?" He held her back, anyway, no one wanted to refuse a hug from their favorite read-head.

Mike chuckled light-heartedly. "Your words moved our girl."

"Shut up." Bev's voice came muffled from Richie's shirt before she detached herself from him and sat down on the left side of couch, instead. She picked up the paper sheets again. "It's not my place to ask this, Rich. But this..." She handed him the top sheet, Richie accepted it and quickly realised which song it was. He cut Bev off before she got the chance to speak.

"I know, it's not like that."

"We love you, Richie."

"I know, it's not like that, I swear." He repeated. "I know how you guys feel about me. This is just…” how I feel about myself. He finished the sentence to himself.

"But what you wrote... it sounds..."

"Yeah, it does." He chuckled poorly. "But it's not about-, at least not just that… it's-" He sighed. "Please, don't take it at heart... I didn't mean to-"

"We know. I just needed to make sure you know how much you mean to us, okay?"

Mike sat at his other side. Richie stared at his knuckles for pure entertainment.

"You do mean a lot to us." Mike said, it was something more in tune with his usual comforting words. It made Richie smile.

"My words moved you, too, uh?” He scratched his wrists mindlessly. “You guys mean a lot to me, too. I’m sorry the song sounds so... harsh?"

"I think it sounds the way it should." Bev put an arm around his shoulders, Mike mimicked her actions from the other side. "It sounds like you feel, or felt, when you wrote it."

Mike rubbed random circles on Richie's shirt. "And we can make it justice, now. Together."

In that moment, Richie thought of saying something. Or everything.

That he couldn't hide the way he felt for Eddie anymore, that he was sick of pretending, and tired. That Eddie drove him crazy when he showed off any signs of possibilities that never had a title. That Richie did something reckless on Monday, something that felt incredibly right but wrong at the same time. That he had been feeling guilty over it because he didn't want to push things further than they should be pushed, and that all he could think of was the need to apologise. That things could have gone differently. That maybe it would have worked out better. That he was going nuts without knowing what to do, if he should even do anything besides waiting.

That he needed to talk.

Instead, he said.

"Shall we start a real practice, my trustful comrades?"

 -

 Spending time with his mom was just as bad as he remembered. The only difference was that when he was younger, Eddie didn’t know why he felt so weird when he spent afternoons in her presence, now he does. He simply hates it. They had already watched three episodes of some unknown baking show, and Sonia was in total bliss that her son was spending his time at home with her, for once. Eddie was so bored that he even pretended to have homework, but even then, his mom begged him to do it next to her, so he’s been doing English exercises that he had already done before. It’s not like he would have gotten any real work done, with her constant comments about the contenders’ clothing choices or physical aspects.

Eddie supposed it was his own fault that he was stuck at home. He put himself there. Instead of choosing to hang with any of his friends, he had actually chosen to come home, not really sure of what he was expecting from that decision.

After the fourth verbal attack to some woman’s lipstick choice, Eddie not so subtly groaned and tossed his head back against the couch. He actually thought it was a nice shade of purple… His mom stared at him from her recliner.

“Sorry, ma. I can’t really understand this part, I think I’ll go to my bedroom for a while to be more focused.”

She started to say something about tutoring classes, and for his own sake, Eddie blocked it all out before kissing her cheek and rushing to the stairs. He thought about kicking his door open but settled for opening it like a regular human being. Instead, he tossed his pencil case straight into the mirror when he passed it, purposely ignoring the possibilities of it breaking before launching himself onto his bed dramatically. He groaned onto the bed covers. Curiosity won him over after a few seconds. Eddie lifted his head and bent his neck just enough to check for any possible damage on the mirror. There wasn’t any, so he let his head fall back on the sheets, now having his left cheek pressed upon them.

He sighed and allowed himself to rest upon the comfortable silence, but his eyes betrayed him when they slowly drifted upwards and settled on one of his pillows.

For a second, a sudden thought of kissing it for practice attacked his mind out of nowhere. Eddie felt himself grow red, quickly feeling stupid and wanting to throw that same pillow on that same mirror for no other reason than because he hated both those items.

“Great, now I hate myself and my stuff.” He mumbled, annoyed.

He turned his body around so that he could be staring at his white ceiling. Unwittingly, Eddie started to relive their confrontation right in front of his eyes, in this exact room. And he couldn’t help it but picture it if things have followed a different path. If he hadn’t pulled away, left running. If he had said something nicer, truthful. If his past hadn’t come to haunt him on the worst possible moment. It would have been so much better, but that’s all there is to it. These things only happen in his head, in his fantasies. But he decided to feed into these helpless wants and kept on imagining how things would have turned out if he kept kissing Richie.

Eddie closed his eyes, for once, he felt relaxed in the dark that it created. It wasn’t long until he felt himself drifting into a well needed nap.

   Thursday 27.05.1993

 "So, how long are we going to pretend nothing's going on?" Stan asked.

All of them were sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria. Bill had just asked them if anyone wanted to come over after school, to which Eddie and Richie quickly jumped in to refuse, speaking at the same time and so fast that the others needed a second to understand what they'd said.

"Sorry, I have plans with my mom."

"Band practice, Big Bill."

After the awkward silence that followed, Ben was kind enough to break the tension.

"Sure, Bill. I'll come."

Then, Beverly and Mike excused themselves with the same reason as Richie's, leaving Stan to give one last answer. That's when he sighed and asked the question that left the air even less breathable.

"What do you mean?" Ben inquired, after zero responses came.

What followed next wasn't directed towards him, but Ben did feel like he was being scolded. Stan had that power.

"I mean are you all kidding me?" Stan snapped, nowhere close to hearing Bill telling him to 'Take it easy, Stan.' "I have no idea what's going on, but it's been three days now and I'm really not a fan of this 'neglecting each other's presence' thing." He looked around the table with obvious annoyance.

"Who's neglecting who, Stan?" Eddie's voice made everyone snap heads towards him, Richie included. He sounded exhausted and indifferent with this topic.

"Oh, I don't know, Eddie. You just told us you had afternoon plans with your mom. Am I supposed to believe that's not an incredible childish excuse?"

Eddie didn't bother to answer, same dead eyes locked firmly with him.

"Just because you and Richie have something up your asses, doesn't mean you can't hang with your other friends, you know? That's us, right here." He motioned one hand around the table, knocking off a juice bottle in the process.

"Stan, that's enough." Beverly cut in. Richie looked down at his lunch.

"I'm only trying to solve things, it's not mature to pretend people don't exist because of a stupid-"

"You have the worst fucking methods for solving things, apparently." Eddie snarled at him. Richie groaned from his seat and buried his face on his hands.

Silence fell around the table again. Richie kept his face hidden for a second before he felt Bev's hand laying on his shoulder. He looked up at her with desperate eyes.

'Smoke?' She mouthed.

"Yes, please." He said out loud, leaving everyone without context. The two of them packed the remaining’s of their food. Beverly pecked Ben's lips and whispered something in his ear before they left through the cafeteria's door, leaving the group in an awkward silence.

After a while, Stan sighed. "I'm sorry, Eddie."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. I don't like to see you fight, that's all."

"No one's fighting." Eddie said, poking his peas with the fork.

Stunned, Stan arched an eyebrow at him. "You're not?"

With a shrug, Eddie tried his best to explain. "No? I don't think so... There wasn't- we just-" He sighed.

"It's okay.” Stan said after the struggling. “You don’t have to tell us.”

Eddie nodded, shoulders slumped. “Thanks. Maybe one day I will…”

 -

 "I kissed him."

Beverly started to choke, Richie didn't know if it was on her own spit or from the cigarette she had been smoking the exact second he blurted that out to her.

"You what, now?" She managed to say through her jagged breaths.

Richie, still in his adrenaline state from the confession, told her again. "I kissed Eddie." Then, he let his shoulders slump defeat.

The moment Bev's lips broke into the hugest grin, Richie grew so embarrassed he turned around from her and kicked the brick wall that belonged to the gym's outside. Beverly was on him in an instant, pushing him away from the wall so that she could face him from the front again, cigarette now stepped on the ground.

"No fucking way." She was beaming at him, eyes all sparkly. "I'm so proud of you, holy shit." Richie, very much red faced, stared at her in disbelief.

"Uh... I don't know how to ask this without sounding insensible but... Are you blind? Deaf? Suffered from possible brain damage?" Her smile slowly started to fall, Richie felt like a jerk. "Bev, my love, guess why we're avoiding each other."

"Gee, thanks, I'm not that stupid." She looked at him with fake annoyance.

"But..." Richie moved his hands aimlessly. "Then why the hell are you proud?"

"Because!" She exclaimed, smile back on her face. "Rich, I'm gonna be honest. I never thought you'd grow balls to do that."

Richie gaped like a fish, his skin somehow feeling more and more hot with every passing second. "Alright, that's valid."

Beverly slapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, tell me the nitty details."

Richie shook his head and switched his weight on his feet, always finding new ways to fidget in place. He closed his eyes then, so as to not see her face when he said. "I basically tackled him... Oh god. Bev, fuck. It was a fucking mess." He sighed and threw his head back to look at the sky. "I cried like a baby..."

Everything was quiet for a moment, Richie didn't dare to look at her. He felt her hands resting on both his shoulders again. It made him relax.

"I'm sorry, Richie. You don't need to tell me, but you can, if that's what you need."

Richie exhaled through his nostrils and moved around her body without looking at her eyes, or he'd grow embarrassed. He sat down on the gravel, feeling the brick digging onto his back.

He sighed, determined. "I left with him on Monday, after we dropped you off at home."

Quietly, Beverly sat down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She stayed silent, a sign for Richie to continue.

"I... I don't know what came over me, but I was so happy. We were all so... so us. You know?" She hummed in agreement. "And, and I felt like, I needed to say something, Bev. I needed, or I would explode, you'd be seeing my guts around Derry for months." She actually laughed at that. Richie smiled despite his troubled emotions. "We argued in his room, as I told you.” A pause.  “I think-” He fell silent for a long time, Bev listened closely to his breathing.

 "I think Eddie knew I was going to do something like that, so he tried to stop me." Richie gulped down the tiny knot in his throat. "That's when I ..." Bev grabbed one of his shaking hands. "And then I cried while we were-" Richie chuckled poorly. "Who the hell cries?"

"Richie, there's nothing wrong with crying." Her voice was soothing.

"Yeah, sure." He laughed. "You wouldn't get offended if someone kissed you and then burst into tears?"

She lifted her head and looked at him unamused. "We're talking Eddie here, dickhead. It's not like you two are strangers." Richie shrugged, unconvinced. His waterline was burning.

“That’s not my point, Bev.” He shook his head and let it fall against the wall. “I shouldn’t have done it when he clearly didn’t want me to.”

“Okay, and how do you know he didn’t?” With a groan, Richie kicked his legs out in front of him in a childish move. Beverly poked his side gently. "Can I ask you something?"

Richie didn’t say anything, so she kept going.

"Eddie kissed you back, didn’t he?” At a loss of words, Richie squealed when he started to feel way too warm again. “See? That proves my-”

“-I know, I know! But I also know what he said to me after and that’s what matters in the end.”

“What matters is that you did something that clearly turned Eddie’s world around.” Richie slumped a little onto the wall. He was feeling a little lost, so he looked at Beverly and waited for an explanation.

“You made him experience something that he doesn’t know how to deal with. I think he needed this push, Rich, he can’t run away from what he feels now.”

“Unless, of course, he never talks to me again.” His tone made it sound like a joke, but Beverly saw right through it.

“Above anything else, Eddie is your best friend. He will come up to you, it might just take him longer.”

Richie didn’t feel the need to say anything else. He just sat there in silence, feeling way lighter now that he finally talked to someone. He looked at her, thankful, and Bev knew it was time to drop it.

Richie only broke the silence after six full minutes.

“Can you give me a stupid cigarette now?”

 It was only hours later, when he was on his way home after band practice with a stomach full of homemade orange cake that Mike's mom had baked so kindly, that Richie got a clearer mindset on how to feel.

Ever since it happened, he had been stuck reliving Monday's night, completely unable to put it out of his mind for a second along with the stress that it brought. But today, for the first time, it faded away for a while. He didn’t know if it was because he opened up to someone, but he suspected that that had helped.

It was a weird explanation, and it confused him, too, but if he had to put it into words... It felt like... like he got to the top of a mountain. The way up there was rough, unpleasant. Now, he waited for the outcome, it wasn't up to him to decide anymore. (That was Eddie's job.) Richie either got to stay at the top, or he'd come tumbling down in an even harsher way than the climb. He'd let his body rest at the base, if that was the case.

It was done, there was no going back. He was waiting, because he did what he could, and now he was in this exquisite dullness until the outcome came slamming onto him.

Dull is good, neutral, he could deal with that. Even if his eyes still held hope and sadness when he biked his way home and had to cross Eddie's street. Yeah, he could deal with that, too. He had to.

 -

 It wasn’t supposed to become a self-destructive routine, but that was the only way Eddie could think to describe this. This, being him standing in front of his bedroom’s mirror trying to do something he wasn’t really sure would even work. He was starting to feel stupid and pointless. But still, it was the third night he stood here, quiet, unspeaking and judging himself in endless, soundless ways.

It's the third night he had to look at the childish knobs, the third night he had to stare at his reflection, and the third night he couldn’t help but search for every minor physical similarity he had with the woman who’s currently sleeping on her old recliner, downstairs. So, to put it simply, Eddie has been having the worst possible nights of his life.

His intentions were for this to be the last one.

For a different approach, Eddie started by looking down at the pale wood of his dresser instead of his own face. It was an easier confrontation. Then, he thought back to that first night when Richie found him asleep on his own desk. On that same night, Richie had said what Eddie was trying to, right now. He simply blurted it out, no hate, no disgust attached… It might have been thrown in on a joke, but it still mattered. Eddie could always see when Richie’s jokes were plain bullshit, or when they brushed reality under his breath.

He remembered so vividly waking up to the sound of the window knocking, his heart rate picking up while he locked the door, the breath of fresh air that entered his lungs when he stepped out onto his own roof.

‘The roof.’ Eddie thought suddenly, his neck straightening. He stared in the mirror, but instead of staring at himself, he looked at his window’s reflection, where the night stood, outside. Eddie gave one last, shaky breath before turning around and going straight to his windowsill. He unlocked it slowly, as little noise as possible, and tried not to shake too badly as he stepped onto the rooftop tiles.

There were always more places to find yourself in besides a reflection, and this was one of those places. Richie taught him, without the mean to, that this roof could be a refuge from all the things that happen inside his home.

He allowed himself to take in the night sky, the night scent and the night’s peace. The moon looked tiny tonight, but Eddie felt big for a change. He locked both knees close to his chest and hugged both legs with intertwined hands. Lastly, he inhaled profoundly, closed his eyes, and started off by inwardly practicing the same speech he has been planning to say out loud.

‘You kissed Richie.’ A gulp.

‘You kissed another boy.’ A grimace.

“That’s fine.” Eddie eyes opened in shock, surprised that it fell out of lips without him trying to.

“You’re okay.” He tests the waters, his voice so weak it couldn’t be heard by anyone who tried. Eddie attempted to clear away the knot in his throat. With his premade speech forgotten, he decided to let his lips figure things out word by word. The whispers, although small, sounded stronger than Eddie as ever felt.

“You need to fix things and, and you’re normal… and you have feelings- so, what? Everyone does, that means you’re normal. You kissed a boy and it was Richie you liked it and that’s normal.” Eddie took a deep, unsteady breath and laid his body backwards so that he could stare at the sky. His hands fell by his hips, whole body tense but brave.

For the next words, however, Eddie did have to think and reform and rephrase for at least a couple of minutes, even though they were just two. And when he spoke them out to the night, they were still so far from feeling casual. Barely audible both by choice and small, inevitable hiccups.

“…You’re gay.” He said in a wheeze. “I’m gay.”

He waited for the moon to turn into something evil, he thought he’d be hit with more horrifying thoughts. But all there was to it was silence and the occasional crickets chirping on the tree next to his house. Eddie felt the smallest of chuckles leaving his mouth. He stood out there for longer than planned, until he could control his breathing again and until he had said those two words a few more times. They didn’t feel more familiar by the end of the night, but Eddie knew they would, with time.

When he brought up his hands to wipe his wet cheeks, he could feel the indents left behind by nails digging on skin.

Finding himself was harder than he expected.

   Friday 28.05.1993

  They had lunch outside today because the sun heating up the surface of their skin felt too good to pass up.

It was weird for Richie that his food, for the last week, could be considered a regular meal. No one had commented on it, but they still asked him if he wanted to eat whatever it was they couldn’t finish. Richie declined, but he didn’t pass up on the half jelly sandwich Ben offered today. It was homemade jam, c’mon.

He stretched one arm over the table to accept it over from Ben, who was sitting on the same bench, but in opposite edges. Richie didn’t do it on purpose, but his eyes automatically travelled to the spot where Eddie was sitting, in front of Ben. He almost dropped the sandwich when he saw that Eddie was already watching him with a fond but small smile.

Sadly, said smile dropped as if Eddie had been caught doing something wrong, but Richie beamed back in his direction, maybe too much teeth, before taking a huge bite out of the bread. He saw Eddie’s eyes light up in the slightest, but the boy still looked down to his boring food.

The conversation around the table was flowing easily, the little argument from yesterday forgotten. Richie ate in silence with his eyes trailed either on the table, or on Stan, because looking at Stan was entertaining. There was always something to be noticing. He couldn't decide if he should chance it to look up in Eddie’s direction again, but there wasn’t a chance to choose. Richie’s eyes moved without his consent and landed on that same spot. Surprisingly, Eddie was still looking at him as if he was searching for answers while eating from the little container he brought filled with cherries.

He must have been lost in thought because it took him a fairly long time to react this second time. Richie stopped chewing when Eddie’s eyes widened slightly. With worry, he watched as Eddie bent himself over the end of the table and turned around to start coughing aggressively onto the patches of grass beneath their feet. He was choking.

Bill, who was sitting by Eddie’s side, gave one heavy slap on his ribs from behind, causing Eddie’s body to hunch forwards and almost fall of the bench.

'Don't laugh. Don't laugh.'

“Fucking hell, Bill.” Eddie cursed under a rough, grating voice while turning back up to the table, all red-faced and massaging a hand on his chest. “No need to kill me, it was just a stupid seed.”

In the midst of all the chatter and checks to see if Eddie was actually okay, Richie was having a hard time not making a joke about popping a cherry out loud. He snickered through his mouthful of bread and peach jam, and Eddie turned his head to look at him with fake offense.

“Don’t you dare laugh at my disgrace.” Eddie tried to throw a cherry in Richie’s direction but, at the same time, he fell on another coughing fit that had him miss the target. The cherry fell on Bev’s lunchbox instead.

Richie barely heard her complaints, too focused on Eddie’s features and laughing. Eventually, everyone calmed down, Eddie could breath normally again, and Richie was left smiling dumbly at the almost finished sandwich.

It didn’t matter to Richie whether he climbed that mountain in vain or not. As long as he could stick around to witness that smile everyday, there was nothing else he could ask for.

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#rooftop #fanfic #me #original #writing #ao3 #losers club #it 2017 #it book #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #stanley uris #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #pennywise happened but certainly dead #updtate

[charliedawn]

What is their reaction when they find out that they may have grown attached to you ?

You know how Jason can be very insecure and self-conscious ? Well. Prepare for a whole new level. He will check himself in the mirror when you're not looking, and if he doesn't like what he is seeing ? He will smash the mirror and go in a corner to sit and move back and forth, to give himself some reassurance. He still remembers what his mother used to tell him.

" Persons are a nuisance, Jason. You don't need them to survive."

But then, why does he feel like he needs you ? He feels conflicted as to what to believe.

Super jumpy ! He will jump almost every time you touch him or lose his grip of the things he is holding, often ending broken and splattered on the floor. He would be as clumsy as Jason and would want you to spend more time with him. However, he would also be scared of you breaking his heart.

" I..I c..care.."

Like many of your patients, Brahms has trouble finding his words. At first, many thought he was mute, like Jason or Michael. This is why hearing him speak to you always means it is important.

" I..I care.."

He wants to say many things, how he cherishes every moment you spend together, how you make his heart race everytime you are near him or how he wants you to be by his side forever..But, he can't. He can just hope that what he feels can be expressed through eye contact. You may not understand what he wants to say, but you still try to understand. You put your hand on his and reply with a compassionate smile.

" I care about you too. You are a very good friend, Brahms.."

Did you just indirectly friendzone him ? Possibly..You walk out and Brahms sighs before sitting on his bed while hugging his doll to comfort him.

" You turn me on."

He will be absolutely frank about it. He will just step up and tell you in front of anyone. He doesn't give a damn if the others hear him as well. Also, creep alert, will watch you sleep. He will sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night and just look at you sleep. He wants to touch you so bad, but he knows that that would wake you up. And he doesn't want that. He will just admire you from afar, even pretend that you may like him back. He would just want to get close to you, to look at you and wonder what you may be dreaming about..hoping that you are dreaming of him.

" Oh my sweet..You look so perfect when you sleep.."

Now..You know how Five is very serious about his relationship with Dolores ? Well, you better be prepared by lots of imaginary fights between the two of them, and even a break-up ! *gasp* Drama. He would be in a very bad mood and would scream and attack everyone that approaches his personal space. He would also smash everything in his room. Like, everything. So much that the other nurses would be too scared of him and ask you to handle it.

" Hey. Are you okay, Five ? Did something happen ?"

He would snort and look up at you with visible frustration.

" You happened. Dolores and I broke up. Not that she was one to share her feelings anyway."

You frown in incomprehension before asking with a small airy laugh.

" I don't understand, what does that have to do with me ?"

Your question seems to trigger a nerve and he suddenly stands up to look at you dead in the eye with anger and, somehow, pain..

" Everything ! You're too nice ! Too forgiving ! Too perfect ! You wiped our past as if it was nothing, goddammit ! We're serial killers, Y/N! We're monsters and you treat us as if we were..as if we were.."

He doesn't get to finish that sentence as he seems on the verge of tears. He jumps on his bed to sit and hide his face behind his knees. You seem to finally understand the problem and sigh before sitting next to Five.

" It's okay to have feelings, Five. You can't hide them forever. I'm sorry if it upsets you but, I don't think you're all that bad. Sure, you kill and even eat people. But, I've seen you change. You are a lot less violent and a few more months ? And I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time."

He looks up at you again with a sort of desperation, very uncharacteristic of Five, before finally asking in a tearful voice.

" What if..What if I don't want to go back ? Out there, I'm just a freak. But, here ? I got.."

He doesn't finish his sentence, but you guess what he is going to say and smile understandingly.

"..Friends ?"

He doesn't answer, he only suddenly hugs you tightly and hides his face in your skirt. You hesitate before slowly petting the top of his head affectionately. The gesture seems to relax him, but he quickly straightens up and wipes his tears away. He then stands up and apologizes.

" I..I'm sorry, it was highly inappropriate of me. I'll..I'll let you work."

Before you could say anything, he runs out of the room and leaves you confused and worried.

Lots of uncontrollable laughter. More than usual. He is very nervous when you're around him and sometimes cries while laughing, showing that he is deeply ashamed of his condition. He is very bipolar and will sometimes act very casually around you, only to break into tears when you leave the room. He will stare at you and turn his gaze away as soon as you would notice.

" Well, would you look at that ? Sir Sh*tty the clown seems to have a little crush on the nice nurse.."

Pennywise would tease him about it while Penny cackles behind him. Arthur glares at them both before either ignoring them or leaving the room.

No. Nope. Certainly not. He will try to hide from you. He knows very well what he is feeling, and also what happens to the people he feels this way towards. He just managed to get rid of his curse, he is not about to risk getting on a murder rampage again ! Every time he would see you, he would pretend to be busy or hide. One time, he even jumped out the window to get away from you. It is very odd since Michael is normally the most chill and calm out of all the patients. But one look at you ? And he becomes a panicking mess. He has to get away. He doesn't want to hurt you like he hurt everyone else close to him, like he hurt his family..

" Me ? Having feelings ? Ah !"

One word: denial. He doesn't want to hear about things like feelings. He saved you ? Bah. It was only because he was bored. He will deny everything, but still follow you and pop up out of nowhere to see what you're doing. He enjoys talking to you, even if he doesn't want to admit it.

" Pennywise..You're staring again."

Penny would gently warn him as his big brother would pretend to not have done such a thing.

" Can't an old clown appreciate to look at nice things sometimes ?"

Penny frowns, not understanding his big brother's words until Freddy intervenes by popping next to him with a huge grin.

" Let it go, kid. Your big bro is just too much of a chicken to go talk to her.."

Pennywise growls in annoyance at Freddy before raising his middle finger at him.

" F*ck off Freddy ! At least I don't watch her sleep like a total perv !"

That would result in a fight that you would have to break. Again..

" Pennywise..I think I'm sick.."

Pennywise would admit some day to Pennywise that would sigh in annoyance.

" Stop saying stupid sh*t. You know very well that we can't be sick."

But, upon seeing the devastated face of his brother, Pennywise sighs loudly before turning towards him to focus his whole attention on him.

" Fiiinnneee...Tell me."

Penny's mood seems to lit up as his brother seems to be willing to listen to him.

" OK, so it concerns the nurse, Y/N. Everytime they are near me, I feel things in my stomach, like a million kids were kicking me in there..Everytime they touch me, I feel as if a part of me in my chest is about to burst and I feel warm, very very warm. And then, I feel very very bad when they talk to anyone else..It's horrible. I want it to stop..Should I eat them ?"

Pennywise stays silent for a while before saying with an unusual straight face.

" Penny.."

He starts, but Penny starts panicking as he sees the sour look on his brother's face.

" Oh ! It's bad, isn't it ?! What is it ?! How long do I have ?!"

Pennywise rolls his eyes dramatically at his brother's exaggerated reaction before cutting him off in his worried questions.

" Shut up, you idiot ! You're not dying. You're just feeling.."things" for them."

Penny stops talking and frowns in confusion, his eyes diverging in deep concentration, as if trying to understand Pennywise's words.

" Things ?! What things ?!"

He finally asks with his eyes wide open in obvious loss and Pennywise face-palms himself before answering with a loud sigh.

" You're falling in love, you dumb f*ck !"

At the word, Penny's face freezes and his smile goes downwards as he realizes that his older brother is right.

" Oh, sh*t.."

He curses and Pennywise frowns, as Penny hates curses.

" Language ! I'm the only one allowed to use curses, remember ?!"

Penny nods before asking in a worried tone.

" How do I get rid of it ? I don't like it.."

Pennywise can't help but feel sorry for Penny, as he knew better than anyone that there was no turning back..

" I'm sorry kid. But if it's really love ? You can't..like I can't.."

Penny's eyes widen at his brother's confession.

" You..You..love her too ?"

Pennywise seems to realize what he just said and groans before walking away. He didn't want anyone to know, even though Penny is his brother. Penny understands the wish of his brother to be left alone and starts walking out in the garden to think over what his older brother said..Could it be ? Could he really be falling in love ?

Bonus : The deal

The Horde is blindfolded and dragged to another room where a man and a woman are waiting for them. At first look, he can already tell that this man is one of the unworthy. The unbroken. The weak..His interest is cut short and he then turns towards the woman sitting next to him. Now, this one was interesting..Her eyes betrayed a much deeper complexity and she had a scar running from her forehead to her left cheek that proved she was worthy.

" You..You are broken. Rejoice.."

The woman smiles, but before she could start talking, her partner does it for her.

" Mister Wendell Crumb, we have a mission for you."

But Kevin only grits his teeths at the man.

" You are impure..I want to kill you.."

The man arks an eyebrow, but ignores his threat.

" Fine. Whatever. But first, I want you to be my spy. We didn't get you out of this prison for nothing, mister Wendell Crumb. We want you to be our little spy in the facility. We want you to find out how a certain miss L/N managed to control the patients outside of the facility. Do that, and you'll be as free as a bird..Do we have a deal ?"

He frowns, they wanted him to spy on a nurse ? She must be quite special for them to go to such lengths, to use him as a spy..Yes, quite the unique prey. The Beast was already impatient and Kevin licks his lips before nodding.

" Fine, but on one condition. When you're finished with her, I get to eat her heart.."

The request seems to take the man aback, but it is the lady that Kevin is looking at. She smiles coldly before nodding in agreement.

" Deal."

Kevin finally smiles widely and can't help the excited giggle that gets out from deep within him. Then, the dark and low voice of the beast makes itself heard as the smile grows almost ferocious as he announces. .

" Let the hunt begin.."

#fandoms #fanfic #imagine #slashers #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #number five x reader #arthur x reader #the joker x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #freddy krueger x reader

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains And: Period Sex

oh that is the perfect gif I totally forgot all about it but oh boy. thanks billy for your service to this blog.

Warnings: Obviously, menstruation, blood, and smut. I’m dealing with a particularly uncomfortable period (for me at least) and just want some e m p a t h y about it.

~~~

Who LOVES it:

Freddy Krueger: ABSO-MOTHER FUCKING-LUTELY. It’s a struggle to keep his hands off you (on a normal day) during your period. He can smell it.

Kieran Wilcox: yes please mommy, he’s waiting.

Luda Mae Hewitt: This is her secret kink.

Michael Myers: B l o o d  p l a y? Any kind of bloodplay, Michael is into it. If you weren’t already bleeding, he would probably make you bleed, with his (Actual) knife.

Mickey Altieri: Bring it. Jesus christ, Mickey thinks its so hot. Getting his cock or his fingers coated in your slick and your blood (Seeing the string consistency between his fingers), seeing you in a total mess from your period and being fucked to oblivion? Oh yes.

Midnight Man: He just likes it. I dunno. I don’t have a logical reason, extension or explanation of my vibes here but I am getting them from him.

Patrick Bateman: Oh my god it is his favourite kind of sex. Yes yes yes. Please please please. He marks your cycle in his calendar, with special notes about flow and mood. Soon enough he’s figured out your whole period every week and knows exactly when the iron is hot enough to strike. Any w h e r e, any t i m e .

Both Pennywise’: Ooooh, watch their eyes glow and their hair get more luscious when you tell them. Their teeth get sharper and the whites of their eyes get whiter- they’re horny as fuck now. Be a good sport and give them a lil taste, won’t you? A smell at least? That, or have them trailing you like lost puppies for the rest of the week, and curling up to/around you as tightly as possible when you’re sleeping.

The Clown / Jeffrey Hawk / Kenneth Chase: Where else could he possibly go on this post, honestly.

The Man (Hush): Yep.  He’s favourite time of month.

Who is like ‘a b s o l u t e l y  n o t’:

Jerry Dandridge: Do I really need to comment? I mean, he can control himself being around you on your period, but you cannot let that blood smell hit the open air. Your controlled, classy vampire bf will disappear in an instant and will be replaced with… well, Evil.

Yeah no thanks:

Debbie Loomis: She’s not vehemently against it, but still… nah? Thanks for the offer tho. And it won’t happen when she’s on her period either, c e r t a I n l y not. Don’t even touch her when she’s on her period, jesus christ.

Jennifer Check: Yeah she just got a new manicure. Over her dead body will you stain her new French tips with your coochie blood. And if she puts her mouth down there, it might excited t o o much if you get what I mean and you will become a real snack.  

Is indifferent towards it:

Bo Sinclair: You’re sure into him durin’ this time o’ month, aren’t you? Eh… whatever. Hop on. He’s happy to help his partner, especially if its in such a gratifying way! I mean he won’t buy you any fucking pads but he will do this and there’s Bo as a boyfriend for you.

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: I mean sure? Blood doesn’t scare him and it is, in fact, a turn on for him of course so sure. Plus, you’re less likely to get pregnant at this time, which is great! Doesn’t see what the big deal is, here. (Although, weirdly, I see past Chucky from Curse to be very much in the next category)

Inkubus: It’s not even a big d e a l, man, its cool. He likes all kinds of sex. Go wild.

Jason Voorhees: Jason is basically ace in the way he conducts himself on a general basis but if it tuned out that he was interested in sex and/or was willing to do it with you, then some blood leaking out of your private parts because of some natural causes is not going to change his mind. Is this not normal??

Jedidiah Sawyer: ???Alright??? He wears a mask made of skin, your natural bodily functions are not going to scare him away. Besides, the knowledge that it could lessen menstrual pain for you is a nice bonus. He’s gotta take care of his family.

Roman Bridger: It’s really not a big deal to him. We’ll just put down a darker sheet, or some plastic. You both need this sometimes (Him for emotional support when he’s stressed, and you of course cuz you’re on your damn period) and a bit of blood is certainly not a deal breaker. Besides, he finds the easy thrusting to be nice and comfortable. Preferred sometimes, actually. Just some nice, lazy, relieving sex with your director boyfriend.

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: A little bit a’ blood aint gonna turn me off, sugar. Don’t you worry bout that.

The Djinn: See Inkubus. Except, our dear Wishmaster is so much more of a tease about this.

Is enthusiastic when they learn that orgasms lessen period pain:

Bubba Sawyer: He doesn’t care about exposure to blood, obviously, and he doesn’t see it as gross at all but he was still concerned about whether that was safe during your… monthly thing… but once he found out that it could help you with cramps he got on board immediately! ^^

Lester Sinclair: Oh boy, well okay then, let’s give this a go then!!

Mayor Buckman: He knows the drill; Boone gets terrible cramps. Don’t worry, he’s got you.

Pamela Voorhees: Oh of course she’ll help you out when you’re hurting ^^

Stuart Lloyd: Well… don’t get him wrong, for sure there is the part where it helps you in a seriously uncomfortable time… but then there is also the fact that he is a lil bit of a secret freak and menstrual care is a good excuse for him. (So he also belongs in the first category ^^)

The Deathslinger / Caleb Quinn: Blood doesn’t bother him, and if it’ll give you a hand with yer monthly problem then you just need to ask him. You’ll be on the bench in the saloon with your thighs spread without a second thought, like asking for a glass of water. (Except of course Caleb’s a lot more hands on about the whole thing of course (; ) He’s happy to help.

The Huntress / Anna: Oh!! Really?? It’ll help? Okay, then, sunflower. Remove your pants. Let’s go !!

Vincent Sinclair: He’s just very supportive and helpful through all areas of your period. He doesn’t understand, but he can still be sympathetic and help the way you say would be good ^^

Is curious and will try:

Billy Loomis: Is really curious and excited to try it. I mean, he likes blood? He likes sex? And this is both those things?? Fun lubricant, yay.

Chop Top Sawyer: And when I say that he’ll try and I REALLY MEAN IT, MAN. Like, go big or go home. He’s going to eat you out at this time and he’ll end up really enjoying it. Buckle up babes, you’ve awoken something buried pretty damn s h a l l o w l y inside him.

Granny Boone: Similar to Chop Top except with him, you had to tell him you were on your period and all so it would be different and all, while with Boone she was the one sniffing it out and *cough* hunting you approaching you about trying it.

Jill Roberts: For the same reasons as Billy. Plus, she wants to be able to say ‘well I did it for you- you have to do it for me.’

Leslie Vernon: I mean, he’ll give anything a shot once. What’s the harm?

Piper Shaw: Same as Jill.

Stu Macher: Super enthusiastic to try!! XDD Just, like, dyed lube- right?

Is c a u t i o u s:

Carrie White: … periods have always been difficult for her… But she’s willing to give it a try as long as you’re willing to return the favour! ^^

Thomas Hewitt: Tell him, if whatever he does hurts you. He is very serious about this. He wants you to feel better, but he doesn’t really know this works and does not want you hurting in his vein attempt at making you feel better. So, please. Tell him how you’re feeling. He’ll get really good at making your cramps and discomfort go away.

They may take some convincing:

Drayton Sawyer: I mean, he’s of course not afraid of some blood but… uh… Well, I mean, he doesn’t really have a big, or even moderate sex drive in the first place so any sex of any kind takes some warming up to. Maybe if the stars aline and you catch him on a good day. Otherwise, he tells you to just suck it up.

#tw: blood #tw: periods #Slashers x Reader #Horror Villains x Reader #Horror Villains and Period Sex #Smut #Drayton Sawyer #Thomas Hewitt #Carrie White #Stu Macher #Piper Shaw #Leslie Vernon #Jill Roberts #Granny Boone #Chop Top Sawyer #Billy Loomis #Vincent Sinclair #Bo Sinclair #Lester Sinclair #Bubba Sawyer #Sheriff Hoyt #Charlie Hewitt #Luda Mae Hewitt #Chucky #Charles Lee Ray #Kieran Wilcox #Roman Bridger #Debbie Loomis #Mickey Altieri #Michael Myers

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

And he said, I hope you know how to swim

A/N: this is for the gift exchange from @itfandomprompts! My giftee is @iheartthoreau who asked for shy skinny dipping lovers and jealous Eddie. I’m sorry it’s out so late, I hope you enjoy it anyway! 

Summary:  The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s bare foot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent. 

warnings: skinny dipping, mentioned of nudity (but nothing graphic)

read on a3o

The atmosphere of six best friends who’ve just moved past the worst stages in their life cackles in Eddie’s brain.

He’s buzzed up, energized beyond all logic by the laughter and loving gestures so carelessly tossed around in their group. Pennywise is dead, and with it the looming threat following each of them around and the teasing unhappiness hinting at what they were missing but not giving any clues as to what.

It’s all over now, and a road full of new opportunities lays ahead of them. Everyone is acting loose, ecstatic with the weight that fell off their shoulders. Eddie’s feeling a tad guilty too, for calling Myra and informing her that way about their upcoming divorce that he’s going to set in motion as soon as he’s had a good night sleep, but he felt so brave after surviving a literal killer clown, that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

A part of him was also frightful that he’d lose his courage, between now and getting home, that he’d look around his house and accept that this was all he was destined for, a mediocre life with a wife he didn’t love and a job that sucked the joy out of all employees. Myra deserved better though, and that’s why Eddie’s guilty eyeing his phone, debating on calling her back. He won’t take back what he said, because he’s relieved to have put it out in the open, but he’s unsure if he should have been more empathetic towards her feelings in all of this. If he should have ended the call after telling her to take care.

Bev notices his wandering eyes from where she seated beside him on the couch, the woman still laughing a stitch, shifting forward and hiding his phone in between seat cushions. Out of sight out of mind so to speak.

‘We’ve got time to worry about it tomorrow Eddie.’ She says, and she’s right. Tomorrow both him and Bev will have to deal with the intricacies of divorce and separating a company and a home. Tonight is reserved for the losers only.

‘Yeah Eds, and here I was assuming that after twenty years we’d have some stuff to catch up on.’

Richie regards him from the floor, legs tossed up upon the couch with his body upside down. His glasses are sliding off, but he’s lazy to fix them, so he looks like even more of a goofball than normal. If Eddie could, if he didn’t feel like his intentions would be even more noticeable if he did, he’d scoot over to Richie, adjusting his glasses and letting his fingers trail his cheek and bask in the skin to skin contact.

‘You never did anything interesting before we went to college, what makes you think you’ve done something interesting after?’ Eddie’s tongue is sharp, a façade he builds to stop speculation about his feelings towards Richie, though the truth is that he is intrigued and he craves to know every small detail about his life outside of Derry.

‘No you guys are not starting this again. I’m sick of your bickering,’ Bill interjects, rolling his eyes at the pair.

‘I reject that big Bill, we’re hilarious, you can’t be sick of us bickering when you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it for the last twenty years. Michael, back me up here buddy.’

‘Sorry Rich, I’m not getting involved in the slightest.’

‘Yeah guys come on, can’t we have one quiet night in?’

‘What so Eddie can just call me boring and I’m supposed to let it slide? Me? I’m the fireworks on the Fourth of July, the highest roller coaster in the park and the whipped cream on strawberries, but I am not boring.’ Richie changes positions, almost accidentally knocking over his beer bottle. He theatrically waves his arms back and forth, trying to animate his words and add conviction.

‘Okay, okay you’re not boring, but don’t overrate yourself either. The most adventurous thing you ever did in high school was skip a class to read a comic book in the school’s bathroom. Not exactly daredevil behavior.’

Bev sips from her whiskey, winking at Richie whose face turns beet red for a reason Eddie can’t decipher. It’s not until Bev conspicuously blows out a gust of air with her lips puckered that Eddie connects the dots.

‘Didn’t you say you ditched because you were smoking with Beverly? Dude did you fucking lie about that? I was worried you’d die and get cancer ever since that day you piece of shit.’

‘No I definitely did smoke. I swear.’

‘You’re not kidding anyone Rich, I vouched for you all those years ago, but I’m not doing it again. Little Richie was a comic book nerd who just pretended to be really cool. We never ever smoked together.’

The losers all holler, clapping their hands together and cheering on the exposure of their foulmouthed friend, debunking all the story Richie apparently made up where he and Be had to sneak out at night to smoke inconspicuously, with the exception of Eddie and Richie. Eddie, because he’s busy glaring at Richie and Richie because he’s busy tapping Bill’s hand away, teasingly disheveling his hair.

Eddie wishes he was brave enough to give these little affections to his friend, especially after witnessing how soothed Richie got when Eddie hugged him after Neibolt, when he had dropped his face into the nape of Eddie’s neck and stayed there, swaying on his feet of exhaustion. It would only make him a good friend, a best friend, but Eddie is still so damn afraid.

He might have had the power to separate from his wife and kill an abstract form of his deepest fears, but Bowers angry yelled words, such as fairy and faggot, swung to his head any time he and Richie graveted closer while walking, haunt him even now.

Touching is off limits the words tell him, so he shows affection the only way he’s ever known towards Richie, by bickering and pulling pigtails.

‘I should have expected that.’ Eddie nods vehemently, laughing as Richie’s mouth drops open in a shocked manner.

‘Are you kidding me? Eddie Spaghetti is the one telling me I’m a loser?’

Eddie flips him off, ignoring Mike’s whispered; ‘he’s got a point’, in favor of levitating his full attention on Richie. The giggling in the room elevates an octave higher.

‘You all laugh’, Richie addresses the entire group, ‘but was I not the one who came up with the idea for the list?’

Abruptly, all sounds snap off, as everyone is snapped back to the past. Even Richie is, at face value, confused about the word he spoke, until the concept and creation of the list is brought to the forefront of everyone’s mind.

‘Holy shit.’

‘Oh my god Mike please tell me you still have it.’

Mike shakes his head with a far-off look. ‘Sorry guys, I don’t know who had it last but I never found it again.’ He’s saddened by it, like he did them all an injustice by not holding on to a flimsy piece of paper.

The List, capital L, was nothing more but a checklist, composed with all the fun and dangerous things the losers all had hopes of doing after graduating high school. Eddie remembers now, the hushed laughter and uncompromisable joy that came with the simple idea of these things, how everyone pitched in and added dare after dare while him and Stan exchanged glances and hoped to god that some things would never be executed.

‘That’s okay Mike, I’m just happy we can all remember making it.’ Ben smiles reassuringly Mike’s way, who smiles back and takes a deep breath.

‘Wait, I think I can recall some of the things we wrote on there. Hold on’, Bev squeezes her eyes shut and snaps her finger in the hope it will get to her faster. ‘Oh’, she exclaims, startling Bill who chokes on his own saliva, ‘we were going to visit Europe, do a high rope parkour, rock climb and some other things I can’t remember right now.’

‘Didn’t we also agree to volunteer in a hospital and go camping in the national forest?’ Ben asks, awaiting confirmation.

‘Yeah we did, Stan was throwing a fit over going camping because of the environment and the dirt, but we were well on our way to convince him.’

‘Wow,’ Richie breathes, chest puffing up and head dropping back into the couch so his face isn’t visible to the rest. ‘I forgot all about that, but come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I did most of those things with Bryan.’

And who the fuck is Bryan? Certainly not Eddie, sweating in fear from the things that were being listed, searching for the most extreme dares he’d seen happen on tv to suggest, doing anything he could to impress Richie. Eddie was terrified of most of the activities on the list, like Bev’s idea to waterski in the ocean, or Mike’s zip lining idea, but he would have done them if it meant he could bask in Richie’s attention, impress Richie to rid himself of scared baby Eddie was so sure he must have been in Richie’s eyes. So who the hell was this Bryan stealing his thunder like that?

‘Who’s Bryan?’ Bev inquires with a smirk, winking at Richie blush ridden face. Eddie’s jealousy rears its ugly head, flaring up and making his head woozy. He simultaneously both considers choking Bev and thanking her for the question.

With Richie’s secret fresh on his mind, the way he’d so shamefully admitted that he was gay and they were the first people he’d ever found the courage to tell, Eddie wondered if Bryan was perhaps someone Richie had been romantically involved with.

Richie would have deserved it, Eddie argues in his mind, to at least for a short period of time have someone love him back as fiercely as he dons it out, but Eddie’s also furious that he stole Richie out from under his nose.

Which is illogical, because even if he and Richie had managed to stay in touch, and Eddie confessed – not much chance there, as Eddie didn’t even tell anyone he was gay when Richie did - there was no guaranty that Richie would’ve reciprocated.

‘No one snoopy’, Richie argues with a jittery leg, ’just some guy I hung out with for a while.’

Bev appears unconvinced, but she’s also respectful towards Richie's decision to not say anything. ‘So which ones did you complete?’

‘I went to Europa senior year of college, smoked a bunch of weed, went zip lining. The normal kind of stuff.’

Zip-lining, or smoking weed for that matter, causes Eddie skin to crawl, not that he’d ever admit it. He hates that that’s not the case for Bryan.

‘Well thanks Rich, none of us ever did anything on the list without the other losers. I guess you didn’t miss us too much.’ It’s not fair, of course it’s not. He can tell by the eagerness to spend time together that Richie was very lonely, and experienced the same aching emptiness where his friends were supposed to be as the rest of them.

The bitter tone of Eddie's speech, and the way Richie’s eyes turn a little dimmer extinguishes the fire of Eddie’s envy. Richie deserves better than him in every way. An apology lies at the tip of his tongue, ready to jump into the open and hopefully aid the wounds before they’re fully developed.

Sensing the impending hurricane of trouble on the horizon Mike is eager to intervene, playing mediator for two forces that are about to collide. ‘Well I mean, we probably wouldn’t have gone through with most of them anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself’, Eddie waves him off, spiteful that Mike has a good point. He would have found a way to undermine their plans and make it so that he could back out without appearing like a meek lamb, for at least half of the activities. If he had known about Bryan’s existence though, he would have done anything. He feels ready now to do anything, to one up him and establish his spot as Richie’s number one.

‘Prove it,’ Bill dares with a lopsided smirk, certain he’s got Eddie beat. He sustains eye contact, reaching for the bag of chips on the table and gnawing on it with the most smug aura Eddie has ever witnessed him having.

‘I would’, Eddie defends fiercely, ‘but we can’t do any of the things in Derry.’

‘Sounds like a cop out to me.’

‘Yeah, sure Big Bill, because you can easily find a zip line here in Derry. The town that refused to spend money on renewing the library back in the eighties is no doubt going to have that installed by now.’

‘What about skinny dipping?’ Ben proposes innocently, having no idea the kind of strain he’s putting Eddie under.

‘That’s a great idea Ben, I forgot we put that one on the list.’ Beverly acknowledges despite Eddie’s frantic head shaking. The room temperature drops down and rises back up steadily, at least according to Eddie. He’s starting to sweat, something he never does and takes pride in – in the office he’s the level headed one, and that’s saying something – and he pulls at his collar to allow some air to ventilate.  

Everything except that. A swim in a dirty lake that was most likely infected was a whole plate of different bacteria, and being naked in front of the man he’s in love with is not something Eddie is particularly fond of. He almost asks for a different thing to do, but that would truly be a cop out, and he both refuses to back down in front of Richie and give Bill the satisfaction of being right.

‘Good luck with that Eds, question before this all goes down, am I allowed to use this in my next bit?’

‘Actually,’ Bev interrupts, ‘I think you should join him too.’

‘Hey I wasn’t the one that said I’d be willing to do anything.’

‘No, but you were the one who added it on the list in the first place. C’mon Richie, It’ll be fun. For us, not for you guys, but we’ll get a good laugh out of it.’

Richie is hesitant, same as Eddie, readjusting his glasses again. Eddie is sure that if he says the word Richie will tell everyone to back down for him. He wouldn’t even make fun of Eddie for it, should Eddie give any indication that he wouldn’t want him too. He thinks back to Bryan, and how he wouldn’t have backed down for such a thing, and how in awe Richie must have been seeing the man abandon all safety precaution and go for it, Eddie’s mind is made up instantly.

‘Let’s do it.’ He says without leaving room for argument, nodding at Richie as he looks to him. He hopes Richie will go with it, but is also confident that of course he will. As kids they followed each other everywhere, and surely that hasn’t changed.

‘Really? I mean yeah – sure I guess. Bring it on.’

-----

The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s barefoot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Eddie’s jumping from one foot to the other, annoyed that dirt is clinging to his skin and branches are piercing his soles, even more aggravated at the idea of cleaning them in infection filled lake water. Bev better keep her end of the promise, and be waiting near the end of the lake with a pair of fresh pressed towels.

Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent.

‘I forgot how high this was.’

It is high up, but they’ve done this jump at least a hundred times before, so Eddie’s not worried about the plunge. He’d assume Richie isn’t either, but the man keeps glances towards the path they took to get up here, uncharacteristically silent.

‘It’s okay if you're too scared to go through with it Eduardo, I won’t tell the others.’ Richie smirks when he notices Eddie’s glance, crossing his arms over his chest.

The movement makes his shoulders bulk, highlighting just how much bigger Richie is compared to Eddie. Eddie’s mouth waters, and he starts to worry about how he’s going to have to get through seeing Richie’s naked shoulders in the flesh.

‘Just get undressed will you? Hurry up.’

‘Why? Eager to see my bare ass?’

‘Yeah, because who doesn’t think jumping naked into a lake they frequented as kids is the epitome of sexiness? No you self-centered idiot, I want to get it over with so I can go back to the Inn and grab a warm shower.’

With one last peek, Eddie moves backwards, standing away from the ledge and begins to unbutton his shirt, before thinking better off it. Richie picks up on his hesitation, shifting backwards too and motioning his head towards the ridge.

‘Do you want me to show you how it’s done?’

‘No,’ Eddie objects, ‘I’ll go first.’

‘Why? I’m not going to stare at your junk while you're jumping in if that’s what you're worried about Eddie. I’m not that kind of gay.’ Rarely does Richie toss aside an opportunity to grant Eddie another humorous nickname, so the use of his real name spooks Eddie just enough that he opens his mouth to apologize without even realizing what he’s apologizing for.

Richie’s facial expression, set in a grimace and squinting his eyes defensively, are a dead give away that Eddie’s words are being taken the wrong way. If only Richie knew that Eddie wanted him to go in first so he could avoid the same temptation Richie thought he was forcing on him.

‘Richie no, that’s not what I meant I-.’ Heartfelt compliments are not something Eddie has had a lot of practice for these last few years, and he’s not doing a good job catching up on them either. Therefore he sighs and hopes that he can find another way to prove to Richie he’d never accuse him of something like that. ‘Whatever, just go first already.’

‘Fine but turn around okay?’

Eddie listens to him, back towards Richie and the jump off, though he doesn’t really understand the request. With Richie comes a lot of flair, and he was more or less been prepared for a joke about how Eddie got to confirm how big his dick is in reality.

He waits and listens carefully for the sounds of clothes being dropped on the ground, and he can’t stop his mind from secretly imagining how Richie looks like without them once he distinguishes it.  Eddie shakes his head, scolding his own mind.

The next few moments are filled with raspy breaths originating from Richie, footstep sounding further away and then closer again in an erratic pattern. He must be scared of the jump. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would ask to jump in at the same time, but since Richie asked Eddie not to turn around, he won’t.

‘If you don’t jump in the next five minutes,’ Eddie teases, the way Richie used to tease him, ‘I’ll push you in.’ A second later Eddie hears Richie’s loud whooping as he plunges down into the dark water.

Eddie spins, the only thing greeting him the dark with very little light clearing up his path, from the moon. He’s having a hard time to even see where the cliff ends, and he can’t disguise Richie in the water at all.

‘I’m coming in’, he yells to the void, in case Richie can’t discern his body in time and needs to move out of the way. He takes off his clothes, goosebumps erupting on his skin, and folds his pants and t-shirt up neatly, touching the ground with his hands to find a dry spot to lay them on. The air is cold, and so Eddie refuses to linger on top any longer than he has to.

He jogs up to the ledge and darts off before his mind can conjure up the thousands of things that can go wrong from swimming in the dark this late at night. His body flies through the air and connects with the water in one swoop, a pit of glee bursting in Eddie’s stomach. Jumping from the quarry equals freedom, a hot summer day and love for all of his friends, but in particular Richie.

Eddie keeps his head underwater until his lungs burn, eyes closed and allowing himself to just feel all the sensations. Then, something tickles the back of his leg, and the peaceful moment is over. He kicks back the surface, away from the spot where he could swear something touched him, and searches around for Richie.

Richie, with his wet black hair clinging to his forehead, strands of it sticking out in every direction, and his droplet covered glasses, roving more of Eddie’s heart each minute they’re near each other. He’s never looked more beautiful, and Eddie has never had to fight the urge to kiss him as much as he does now.

‘See, I told you I wouldn’t stare Eds, I can’t even see anything with all these splatters on my glasses.’

The moon reflects on the water, so that it’s impenetrable, and neither Rich nor Eddie can look down and see their lower body parts.

What Eddie can see is enough anyway, Richie’s shoulders and part of his chest hold Eddie’s attention, and he forgets to respond to Richie’s comment.

His eyes land on a dark bruise, just on the bottom of Richie’s neck, a remnant of their fight with Pennywise earlier that day. Without thinking, without standing still on the consequences of such an action, Eddie swims closer, stretches his arm out, and lingers his fingertips over the bruise. He carefully positions his body to not touch any other body part of Richie’s except for his fingers on his neck.

He makes an inquisitive noise, thumb stroking over the injury in what he hopes to be a calming matter. He physically can’t pull away, entranced with the way he moves and responds to him, trying but failing to get his fill of Richie clenched.

‘Eddie’, Richie whispers, scared to break the silence and the intimate moment. ‘It’ll be fine. And hey, at least he didn’t do anything to my dick.’

‘Yeah, would have been a shame if it were to become even smaller.’

Richie snorts, retaliating the jest with a wave of dirty water aimed at Eddie.

Eddie gasps, spitting out a bit of water that managed to sneak into his mouth. ‘Oh you’re on.’

The two of them chase each other, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were both naked, Eddie would have thrown his entire body weight in the game to push Richie underwater. As it stands, they just splash back and forth until they’re exhausted and the remnants of their laughter dies out, barely enough energy left to stay afloat side by side.

‘Did you have this much fun with Bryan?’ Eddie asks, a bit envious. He hates how he’s still stuck on the Bryan thing, hates that his mind keeps popping images of them doing the exact same thing only to end it with a kiss.

‘What?’

‘With Bryan, the guy you did all that other stuff with?’

‘Oh no, me and Bryan – we were never together like that.’ Back at the hotel room, Eddie figured that that was a ploy to distract Bev, something Richie just said because he couldn’t comfortably admit the real intent of their relationship. But he’s never lied to Eddie, and his eyes, magnified by his glasses, seem so sincere, Eddie has no other option but to believe him. ‘I-I’m- some other guy already has that place all taken up.’

Eddie stupid, oblivious and dense and everything in between. He knows Richie isn’t talking about him, he knows he could never be the guy Richie would hold all hope out for – he also secretly hopes it’s none of the losers -, but he wants to be so bad. Just one time, just one kiss and he’d be sated enough to let go of his feral behavior towards any potential love interest Richie might have. Just one time.

‘Richie’, Eddie starts, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He’s taking a huge risk, by foreseeing a rejection but hoping that Richie won’t drop him as a friend because of this. If Eddie doesn’t do this, he’ll never stop wondering what it feels for their lips to meet. He’ll never get over Richie because he never got to experience any with him.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He risks releasing his lip.

Richie is visibly shocked. ‘What? What the fuck? Eddie is this a joke?’

The joke is, as usual, all on Eddie who regrets ever opening his mouth in the first place. He could try to laugh it off, say that it was a joke, but that would mean that he pretends to make a jest out of something Richie has struggled with for his entire life. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Left with no other options but to further dig his own grave, Eddie decides to be honest. At least that means he gets to keep part of his integrity.

‘No Richie of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m sorry. Look I like you but it’s obviously one sided and I just wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you but it was a stupid request and I shouldn’t have asked you that. Oh god, I never even asked if you were dating someone –‘

‘Eds?’

‘- Fuck can we please forget I said anything so we can still hang out?’

‘Eddie?’

‘What?’

‘Yes. Please kiss me.’

Eddie gapes with his mouth open, struggling for breath and for words. He’s half convinced he misinterpreted  the words, but his tilted head proves otherwise. Eddie doesn’t question it further, counting his lucky start for once, and leaning in to his emotions and Richie, breaching the water to get to him.

Their kiss is surprisingly gentle for the ungovernable lead up prior to it. Richie’s lips taste like lake water, but deeper underneath lies a tang of something distinctively Richie. Eddie can’t wait to devour him whole once he’s cleaned up. Their lips move together in tandem, a perfect harmony that for once neither are willing to break.

They pull back, Richie’s arms circling Eddie’s waist, and he smiles. His smile mixed with the love stricken gleam in his eyes, mysteriously tells Eddie that Richie feels the exact same way he does. His chest caves with happiness.  

‘I like you too, if it wasn’t obvious. A lot more than Bryan.’

‘For the love of God can we never mention that again? It’s embarrassing. No, Hush’, Eddie says urgently, covering Richie’s mouth with his palm when he opens his mouth to conjure up another joke.

‘Fine,’ Richie says while pulling away from Eddie’s hand. ‘How about we talk about something else then? How the fuck are we supposed to get to our clothes?’

#my writing #reddie imagine #reddie fic #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #richie and eddie #adult losers #it chapter two imagine #eddie x richie

[fangirl-imagines]

Too Dark//2019!Richie Tozier x Kaspbrak!Reader

A/N: At the time of writing and posting this I have not seen IT Chapter 2 yet. This is based on the book and the 1990s minseries. But plot spoilers if you don’t know what happens in the second half of IT I guess? This can also be read as Reddie or as Richie Tozier/Reader

Prompt: No one loved Eddie Kaspbrak more than you and Richie Tozier did. After you climb out of the sewers you need each other more than ever. 

It was too dark in the sewers under Derry. It was too dark and the smells too overpowering, the sounds of Richie pleading with Eddie were too loud. It was all too much. It was all too overwhelming, and you just wanted to leave. You just wanted to be home, alone and unhappy maybe, but safe. Content in knowing your brother was also safe in his own home in New York. Instead you dropped to your knees in the sewers beside Richie who was clutching your brother tight in his arms and reached for them desperately. 

“Eds? Eds, come on, we need to get out of here.” You tried to reason, clutching at Eddie’s bloody shirt with your hands and trying to pull him up and away from Richie so that you could get him out of this horrible place. “Eddie come on! Richie, stop crying, he’s okay! You urged, pulling harder on Eddie’s shirt, not allowing yourself to fully recognize that Eddie neither made any sounds or turned to look at you despite how you tugged at him. 

Richie shook his head, clutching Eddie tighter and sobbed openly into the smaller man’s shoulder. 

“He’s okay!” You all but yelled, your voice thick with tears that freely flowed down your face, cutting a track in the grime that covered your cheeks. 

Tossing yourself forward, you wrapped both of your arms around Richie and Eddie, burying your own face in Eddie’s back and were content to stay there, clutching the two most important people in your life until the end of time. Which it most certainly felt like was upon you in that moment. Richie moved one of his hands to search blindly for you. It found your hair and buried itself there, clutching at you with one hand and holding Eddie with the other. Neither of you looked up when the others started shouting your names.

“Guys w-,w-, we got to g-.g-,go!” Bill yelled, pulling on Richie’s shoulder. Richie shrugged him off.

“Ri-,Ri-,Ric-,Richie come on! It’s co-,co-,com-,coming back!’

“Y/N, we have to leave!” Beverly yelled grabbing your arms and trying to pry you off of Eddie’s body but you refused to let go. 

Your baby brother. You couldn’t leave him. You thought that if you ignored them long enough that they might leave you there to die in peace. But Bill kept pulling at Richie, yelling in his ear. 

“We-,We’re al-.all go-,going to di-,di-,di-,die if we don’t get-,get out of here Ri-,Ri-,Ric-,Richie! Y/N ‘ll di-, die t-,t-,t-,too! Ed-,Edd-,Eddie wouldn’t wa-,wan-,want that. Mo-,Mov-,Move Ric-,Richie!”

Richie looked up at Bill, still teary eyed and exhausted but nodded blankly. Turning back to Eddie he looked down into the face of his best friend and took it in for the last time, committing it to memory even though he already knew he could never forget it. He closed his eyes and pursed his lips when he opened them he reluctantly let go of Eddie long enough to shrug off his jacket and wrapped it gently around Eddie’s shoulders and tucked him in tight to it. He pressed his lips to Eddie’s cheek in a messy kiss before forcing himself to climb to his feet. You were still holding Eddie’s waist tightly even with Richie’s jacket wrapped in between the two of you. Richie didn’t say anything to you, just put his arms around your waist and used his leverage to pull you up off the ground. 

“No!” 

You screamed like you were being murdered as Eddie’s body slipped away from you onto the floor of the sewer. You kicked your legs and pulled and pried at Richie’s hands but he was too strong. Richie said nothing as you screamed but he didn’t stop crying either. Ben grabbed your feet to keep you from hurting Richie and the fight seemed to leave you all together. You didn’t care what happened to you anymore, you just felt numb as everyone ran outside, Ben and Richie carrying you down the stairs. 

The warm sunlight hit your face but it felt more like a cruel taunt than a comforting warmth that the sun usually gave you. Your brother was dead, his body in the sewers that had always terrified him so much but the sun still shinned and the world kept turning. You felt sick to your stomach. Gently, Ben let go of your feet and backed away to catch his breath after running for his life and carrying you with him. You looked up at Richie, his eyes were wet, his glasses crooked, and his hair a mess. 

“Why did you do that?” You whispered harshly, “Why did you make me leave him down there?!” You shook your head, you grasped his shirt in your hands and tried to shake him but he didn’t move. “Why did you make me leave him?!” You yelled in his face with a sob. 

Richie just shook his head, pleading with you silently.

“Y/N-“ Mike started but you ignored him.

“It’s too dark! It’s too dark down there! Eddie, you know he hated the dark. I use to tell him there was nothing to be afraid of. But now…You should have left me down there with him.”

There was a loud cracking sound and you all looked up to see the Nesbitt house slowly begin to crack and teeter like it was about to fall in on itself. You let go of Richie’s shirt to cover the gasp coming out of your mouth. 

Eddie. 

Beside you, you saw a flash of yellow and black plaid as Richie rushed forward back towards the collapsing house. Mike and Ben grabbed him first though, holding him back as he begged to be let go. You weren’t the only one who wanted to stay in that house with Eddie. 

Richie was screaming and reaching out as if he could still grab Eddie and pull him back out. You cried harder at the sight, feeling your knees start to give. Beverly grabbed you before you could fall though, wrapping her arms around you and hugging you close. You heard one final crash and didn’t have to look up from Bev’s shoulder to know the house was gone. Even when Beverly whispered, “Don’t look.” In your ear. Slowly the sounds of Richie’s cried died down and there was an ominous silence as everyone stood around the remains of the Nesbitt house.

 You couldn’t help yourself. You looked up and turned your head to take in the remains. You were glad that house was gone. You wanted to burn the remains and dance in the ashes. You wanted to lie down in them an die. You were painfully aware that now there was no going back for Eddie. Your brother really was gone. You had left him in a dark, germ filled, disgusting sewer alone, surrounded by the things he had feared and hated so much. 

You pulled your eyes from the house and over to Richie, still standing by Mike and Ben, staring at the house, taking in what had happened. Richie turned as if he had felt your eyes boring into him. Answering some unspoken question, you shook your head and he pushed past Ben and strode to your side. You opened your arms and let yourself wrap them around Richie. He gripped you tight, bending down to bury his face in your hair. He cried into your hair, holding you flat against him in a crushing grip but you only gripped him tighter. No one said anything. 

The pain the others felt was real but your and Richie’s was something else entirely. You glanced up at the sky where the sun shone down on you all. Pennywise was dead. It was finally over. You looked around at the rest of the losers club to see everyone was glancing at each other thinking the same thing. It was over. You hadn’t won but you had ended it. Maybe you were too selfish because you weren’t sure it was worth it. You turned your head back into Richie’s shirt and closed your eyes. 

It was over.

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier x reader #2019 richie tozier #2019 richie tozier imagine #2019 richie tozier x reader #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak imagine #2019 eddie kaspbrak #2019 eddie kaspbrak imagine #bill hader #bill hader imagine #bill hader x reader #kaspbrak reader #losers club #losers club imagine #it #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it chapter 2 imagine #it chapter two imagine #it chapter 2 spoilers #it chapter two spoilers #it spoilers #it 2019 #it 2019 imagine #reddie #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #mike hanlon

[no-footprints-in-the-snow]

The Pennywise Saga: A Response on Reddit

Corpbiggles

There is something strange about watching a monster - a deep source of fear - dying in front of you. It's impossible to say what the emotion is.

When I was young, there was a bear near my home. He lived just inside the forest line and would sneak into town for food, either dumpsters or pets, and hide back somewhere out in the trees where hunters couldn't seem to get to him. This was in an awkward part of the 90s, in a remote location, so the line between "humanely relocate" and "shoot the damn thing" was blurry and poorly policed. Certainly if there was someone brave enough to kill it, it would be dead, but I remember it was around at least a year or two before someone got it.

I was terrified of this thing. It had killed a few pets and I unfortunately came across the mess a couple times. A pretty unpleasant sight, and it turned every shadow into a stalking beast just waiting to get me. After I watched through a window as it tore up my backyard it became a regular member of my nightmares.

And then an old miserable man who lived at the end of the block got angry, dusted off some kind of old shotgun, sat in his backyard with a baited beartrap waiting. And he shot the hell out of the trapped bear. Grizzlies are big, and this gun was not impressive for the time, so the kill was not clean. Quite a few of us on the block heard the boom and ran down to see what happened with plenty of time to watch it die.

When I watched it wheezing and bleeding on the ground, still stuck in the trap, with a grimacing old man trying to decide if he had another shotgun shell to finish it off somewhere in his pocket, it was the strangest experience of my life. I wanted to feel elated, I just watched a monster get slain and it felt right to cheer, but I wasn't happy at all. I felt sad, but not over "the death of this noble beast blah blah" certainly. It was more like... I was sad and angry with myself. This miserable pile of fur and dull claws wheezing and gasping here on the ground had put me through so much and made me so frightened and yet here it was. Pathetic, miserable, defeated by an unpleasant neighbor. All I could think about was how this thing had defined such a huge portion of my life (at that age) and here it was, worthless, meaningless, pitiful. It didn't take an epic battle or our best and brightest, or even a group of trained professionals. All it took was a drunk people avoided.

Those emotions stuck with me for a long time, and I honestly think that it was a mishmash. I was sad I lost a summer to fear, angry that this "unworthy" creature had so much power over me, happy it died, guilty about being happy over its death...

This long story to say - your monster is dying. And you have seen it, and you know it. You aren't going to feel any one way. You're gonna feel things about her, about you, and probably about the world. And it's okay. It just takes time. * * * * * No-Footprints-in-the-Snow

This made me cry.

Because it's... apt. It's exactly it. She's always been this monster, this... omnipotent presence in my life, this big bad... only to fall. Fall as most things do. Weak, and pathetically. And she's HUMAN. And it's really HARD to see her that way. In spite of everything, she is human, and she isn't infallible. And for some reason, realizing that only NOW, in my mid-thirties, hits with a heavy sadness that I cannot compare to ANY other sadness I have ever felt in my life.

"This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper."

#raised by narcissists #narcissists #narcissist #narc #pennywise #response #Corpbiggles #no-footprints-in-the-snow #mother #the pennywise saga

[l8rhader]

25/35 reddie.

Let's go take two. Sorry anon, I'm writing this on my phone so it's short and tumblr are the first one. This actually... let's call this director's super cut for the everything has changed verse.

The constant drone of the breathing machine, the click of the I.V. and the steady beeping of the heart monitor had all but blurred away in Richie's head. The hospital in Bangor only allowed two at a time and, since he refused to leave his side, the rest of the Losers took turns. At this point, they were more keeping an eye on Richie than Eddie.

Richie added the 21st Sharpie tally mark to Eddie's wrist, contemplating giving him a full sleeve of tattoos. Instead, he held Eddie's right hand between his gently. Bev sat to his right, tracing small circles over his shoulders. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me," Richie coaxed, pressing a kiss to the other man's thumb. "Come on, Eddie. Give me something." He lifted his hand, careful not to disturb any of the wires and tubes. "Eddie, I've never gone this long without hearing your grating, snippy voice." Bev watched him sadly. Three weeks had elapsed since their boss battle with It. In that time, Richie had gone to extremes trying to get Eddie to wake up, even though he understood that it was medically necessary for him to heal. "I'm going to lick your face and I haven't brushed my teeth in..." he paused, realizing he couldn't give an actual number, settling on "a long time. Please." He closed his eyes and rested his head on their entwined hands. "Please, Eddie," he whispered, a prayer to the only entity he'd ever worshiped.

Leaning into him, Bev's voice quivered. She hadn't been surprised in the least when he finally broke down and told each of the Losers the truth about his relationship with Eddie. The minute they met up in the parking lot of Jade Of The Orient, she could tell. If they were hiding it, they obviously had their reasons. "Richie, honey, come on," she cooed, trying to walk back the breakdown she could hear coming. "The doctors said..."

"Look, Bev, I love you," he said, a little shorter than he'd intended, turning to face her sharply, but with no malice, just exhaustion. He slid his glasses up onto his head and closed his eyes. "but please don't go there. I know what they said." They said if he wakes up. They said if the swelling goes down. They said if it had been an inch higher... They said if so many fucking times that Richie thought he would rather fight the next person who said the fucking word to him than listen to another hypothetical situation.

"You can't do this to yourself," Beverly said, combing her fingers through the mess of curls his hair had become. "We got him out. He's safe."

Richie choked out an incredulous laugh. "Safe." That took some nerve. Safe would be their bed, 3200 miles from Derry. Safe requires the person in question to be awake. He couldn't believe her. "You of all people should understand." Watching his friend blink at him, he sighed. "In the deadlights... I saw him die." A sob escaped with his admission, forcing him into another fit of tears. "I saw him die and we left him there. You guys dragged me away and I couldn't fucking do anything." He vaguely registered Bev's arms encircling him, but that was little comfort to Richie. "I came to and he was on top of me and I did everything I could. He still wound up kebabbed. He still..."

"I know," she said, resting her cheek against his head.

"Do you?" he snapped. Bev moved back instinctively and he regretted it immediately. "What if it was..." Watching her shift uncomfortably at the suggestion, he merely grumbled, "forget it." He was so fucking tired. He nodded his glasses back down onto his nose and returned his gaze to Eddie.

She swallowed thickly, thinking the whole situation through. "If it was Ben?" If it was Ben... she thought what would have happened if Pennywise had slit his throat while she and Mike held him. If he'd drowned in the dirt, grasping for her hand. She couldn't have handled it. She couldn't even imagine if they'd been together since they were kids. "It's different. It's new," she admitted, finally agreeing that his reaction wasn't so far fetched, "but I'd be inconsolable.

"Exactly. So stop wasting your breath," he said, unable to bring himself to look at her. She got to go back to the Townhouse, crawl into bed with good ol' Haystack, feel his arms around her, wake him up when she has a nightmare, kiss him, talk to him...

Likewise, Bev couldn't look at Richie. She had no reason to feel guilty, but still... Staring at the too-even rise and fall of Eddie's chest, she shook her head. He wasn't dead. He was there. "Look. Watch the monitor," she instructed, pointing to the jagged lines of his heart rate. "He's alive," she reminded him gently, sliding one of his hands up to Eddie's wrist. "Feel right here. His heartbeat is right here and you're not imagining it. He's not going anywhere." She regained the courage to look at Richie. "They're gonna start weaning him off the meds in the morning, so he should be awake by dinner tomorrow." Richie sniffled unevenly, nodding. "Why don't you come back to the townhouse and get some sleep." She suggested, returning her hand to his shoulders. "Shower. Eat real food. He's gonna need you in good shape when he wakes up."

Blinking out the last of his tears, Richie shook his head, knowing that she was prepared for him to decline, like he had every night. "I haven't slept anywhere but beside him since we were seventeen. I doubt I could even if I wanted to."

"Richie..."

"I'm not leaving," he repeated.

Bev sighed, standing up and straightening her back. "Okay, honey. Okay. Call me before you go to sleep." She leaned across him and kissed Eddie's cheek gently. "Love you, Eds." On her way by, she stopped and wrapped Richie in a tight hug, kissing the top of his head. "Love you, Trashmouth."

He gave a humorless laugh, and reached up to pat her hair. "Love you too."

That night was the slowest one since the first couple, when everything had been touch and go. He called Bev around 12:30 and swore he was going to sleep. He didn't. Instead, he watched cheesy, nostalgic movies on his phone, all Eddie's favorites; Dirty Dancing, then Pretty in Pink. He marked the 22nd tally as Duckie sent Andi off after Blaine, the only part of the movie RIchie couldn't get behind. Still, Eddie had told him he loved him for the first time to the strains of the song from the end of this movie so he could never shut it off. And it had been 22 days without talking to the love of his life. 22 soul sucking days. Eventually, he dozed off about two-thirds of the way through The Outsiders.

All-too-soon, he was awakened by the bustle of shift change and nurses doing their thing and the whole process started over. Around 8 a.m., the morning nurse came in. Richie had hardly noticed, in a sort of daze.

"Mr. Tozier?" she asked, quietly.

Snapping back to reality, he nearly dropped Eddie's hand. "Oh, sorry," he said, shaking the fog from his brain. Eddie really needed to wake up now.

"You're fine," she insisted, bringing a bag of liquid to the stand by the bed and a handful of small bottles. "Just scoot back for me a little, please." She hung the bag and screwed it into Eddie's I.V. line, then affixed the bottles.

Squinting to make out the labels, as though he'd have any idea of their purpose, Richie decided instead to just ask the nurse. "What's that for?"

She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. "To start countering the sedative before we back it off."

Richie took a deep breath. "Okay," he nodded. His heart hammered in his chest. They were actually going to wake him up today.

"Can I get you anything?" the woman asked sweetly.

As though Richie was the one anyone needed to worry about. He shook his head and managed the weakest of smiles. "You're already working on the only thing I could possibly ask you for."

She leaned against the empty sliding table and eyed him carefully. "How about a coffee and a bagel?"

Richie paused. He hadn't eaten since lunch time the day prior, so it wasn't a bad idea. "I'd appreciate it. Thank you," he said, realizing that maybe Bev had been right.

If Richie had thought that night was long, he was in for the most torturously slow day. Nurses in and out. Medicines of all sorts. He didn't know what to do with himself, so he just... stared. Asked questions. Finally, the nurses administered the last of the rounds Eddie would need to wake up and Richie was left alone to his thoughts.

After two episodes of I Love Lucy, he leaned in as close to Eddie as he could. "Do you remember the first time we did this?" he asked, knowing there would be no response. "When you had your tonsils out and I snuck in like a fucking ninja as soon as I saw my beloved Sonia leave?" He gave a bitter laugh, imagining what good ol' Mrs. K would do seeing Eddie laid up like this with that dirty Tozier boy still by his side. "The woman couldn't manage to sleep in the chair for one night." He gave a mischievous smile for the benefit of no one. "But, experienced as I was in the art of finding ways to see my Eds, I sweet talked the nurse into letting me stay." He certainly hadn't done a great deal of sweet talking anyone this time. That had been Mike, plus a good deal of good faith from Bev and Bill. But he'd certainly known how to work adults when he was a kid. "I snuck you in a pint of real ice cream and we played gameboy in bed together and, even though I tried to get you to shut up, you couldn't let me do all the talking and even though it hurt, you still laughed and joked." He took a deep breath, realizing he was rambling. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears once more. "God, and I thought I was in love with you then," he groaned. It was almost hysterical how he still felt like that same clueless teenager. "I don't know what 14-year-old Richie would think of 39-year-old Richie but I hope he'd enjoy knowing that he's still in love with you." He sniffed, giving in to the tears because what else was he supposed to do. He rolled his eyes, adding "He'd probably call me a pussy for all the crying I've done in the last three weeks but that's fine. It's normal. It's whatever," he dismissed darkly, voice thick and nasally. "He's a teenager. What the fuck does he know? Bug eyed little creep," he laughed, pawing the tears from under his glasses. "How to keep the person he loves in one piece. Something that apparently fades with age," he waited for a response again, mainly out of muscle memory. He stood and propped himself awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He took a much more serious, exhausted tone. "I need you to laugh, babe. I need you to wake up and bitch at me for my rumpled shirt and greasy hair and getting snot on you and crying and getting you stabbed in that fucking sewer." He sighed, leaning back a little to just watch him. He could have sworn he saw... he shook his head. That wasn't possible. It was wishful thinking. "Eddie, please," he started, but cut himself when he saw a pair of startled, panicked brown eyes staring up at him, gagging on the respirator. "Holy shit. Hi," he sobbed, stroking his side, momentarily at a loss for what to do. Suddenly, he refocused and remembered the nurse's instructions. Keep him calm and hit the emergency call button immediately. "Okay, stay calm, babe," he said, springing from his seat and hitting the bright red button on the remote for the TV. "We'll get them to take this out." He took Eddie's hand and stroked it, trying to ward off the look of sheer terror in Eddie's face. "Stay calm, okay," he cooed. Hearing footsteps outside the door, Richie called out frantically "Miss Kim!"

"What do you need, baby?" she asked, seemingly startled by the call. When she pulled back the curtain, she flew into action mode. "Oh! Mr. Kaspbrak, welcome back." Eddie choked a little against the machine and Richie felt his chest constrict. "Don't fight the tube, sweetie," she said warmly. "We'll get this out of here. Relax." Eddie locked eyes with Richie, then nodded and finally squeezed his hand. The nurse gave them a little smile, "Cough a couple times for me." Eddie, ever the good patient, did as he was instructed. Miss Kim raised a small hooked tool and pointed it out to the men. "This is gonna suck the fluids out. Okay?" Eddie nodded and coughed again. "I know, I know," she soothed. "Alright, I'm gonna ask you to take a couple of deep breaths, tell you to hold one, then when you push all that air out, I'm going to extract the breathing tube. Okay?" She was talking to Eddie, but for some reason, Richie nodded too, then admonished himself for it. "Alright. In." He did. "Hold." He did. "Out." He did. Miss Kim pulled the tube out and Richie had to try not to wince as he watched the outline of it move up his windpipe. "Attaboy," she said, nodding proudly and patting him on the shoulder as he caught his breath. "It's nice to see you. I'll let your husband have a minute before we continue."

"Hi," Eddie said, voice raspy and quiet.

Richie fought against the urge to fling himself on top of him, instead nearly collapsing onto the bed rail and grasping his hand. "Eddie. Oh my god. You're awake. You're alive. I was so scared. God, I love you. I love you so much. You're here," he babbled, unable to pry his eyes from Eddie's- God, had they always been that beautiful?

"Did we..." Eddie asked, then his eyes darted to the nurse.

Richie smiled broadly, then broke into wrecked sobs. "We did. It's over. Everyone's okay and It's gone. It's not gonna bother us ever again." He leaned his forehead against Eddie's, tears smattering down on him and he couldn't be bothered to care. "We never have to fight It again."

Eddie nodded slowly, taking the minimal information in. It was over. They won. "Will you shut up so I can kiss you?" he asked, wincing.

"If I'd have known that that was all it took to get a kiss out of you, I'd have been quiet as a mouse for the last-" From behind him, he heard Miss Kim laugh and blushed, nodding. "Sorry. I'm shutting up."

Richie leaned forward and let Eddie reach up into his hair, pulling him into a warm kiss that, if Eddie had noticed the taste of stale instant coffee or the slick of unwashed hair or tears still streaming down Richie's face mingling with the ones starting to fall from his own, he'd never mention it. It was, for his money, possibly the best kiss they'd ever shared. When he opened his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. "What the fuck is this?" Eddie asked, laughing at the group of black slashes on his wrist.

Richie laughed, too. He couldn't even begin to explain the scattered mess in his head without Eddie to help balance it out. Instead, he kissed the inside of Eddie's palm, where the 27 year old scar no longer lived and felt himself relax back into the chair. They were free of It.

#reddie #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it #it chapter one #it chapter two #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #losers club #derry maine #what is this canon of which you speak #eddie Kaspbrak is alive and well #bill hader #james ransone #finn wolfhard #jack dylan grazer #it 2017 #it 2019

[lovemesomesurveys]

What may I call you?  Stephanie or Steph.

Where are you right now, exactly?  In my room on my bed.

Over or under 18?  I’m well over 18.

Have you been watching the Stanley Cup play-offs? (GO BRUINS!)  No.

Ever believed your house was/is haunted? If yes, why; what happens? Nah.

The building you live inside; how long ago was it built? I think early 80s.

Ever travel internationally?  I’ve been to Mexico once.

If you could go anywhere RIGHT NOW, where would it be? And why? I don’t want to go anywhere RIGHT NOW. 

Do you fancy someone currently? Tell me about them!  No.

Ever have a big ol' crush on someone you've never met in person? If so, did you ever tell them you did? Well, on celebrities.

What makes you feel luxurious? I don’t feel luxurious.

Do you enjoy drinking scotch as much as I do?  I don’t enjoy drinking scotch at all. Or any alcohol.

What have you done that makes you proud of yourself? Meh.

What makes you envy someone? Someone who seems to have their life together. I know everyone has their struggles and hardships, but there’s people who manage to push through and handle things better. They’re able to function still and are doing something with their life. I envy people who despite their hardships have a strong, positive, can-do attitude. I envy people who are passionate about things and do what they love. I envy talented, creative, and intelligent people. 

For you, is jealousy something that makes you more sad or angry-feeling? Depends.

Do you get the munchies?  Natural munchies sometimes.

Every been to Germany? If so, what part? Nope.

Do you buy newspapers just for the puzzles? No, I don’t buy the newspaper for any reason.

Describe any tattoos or piercings you may have...? I just have my earlobes pierced. 

When's the last time you smacked someone's butt? (Or been smacked :P) I don’t do that.

Do you enjoy making art? If so, what's your style like?  I don’t make art, but I like to color.

Were you a shy child? Very. Now I’m a shy adult.

Ever wanna run away with the circus?  Uh, no.

What is the closest object to your feet right now?  My feet are near the edge of the bed and my bedside table is nearby.

Reach behind you- do you feel anything? What is it?  My pillow.

Is English your second language? No.

Have you ever designed and constructed your own clothing? No.

What's the very last digit in your phone number?  Nah.

Is your house an odd or even number? Odd.

Do you have a favorite superhero? Who? Iron Man, Spiderman, Star Lord, Ant-Man.

What power would you like to receive, if given the option?  >>I don’t know. The power of brain that work good. <<< Ha, yeah that would be nice.

Ever punch someone in the nose?  No. Or at all.

...will you write me a haiku? Nope.

What was the last thing that really delighted you? Hmm.

Do you wear skin-colored clothes?  I have a pair of pantyhose that are like the color of my skin.

Ever eat German cuisine? If so, what'd ya have? No.

Do you have conversations with any animals?  I always talk to my doggo.

Do you have a little sibling? If so, are you protective of her/him?  Yes.

Recommend me a good book? I don’t know what you like.

Can you sleep on your back? (I can't, I feel too vulnerable!)  I can, but I prefer to sleep more on my side.

What's the last special thing you did for someone? (Buy, cook, etc.) Hmm.

Did you cook something today? If so, what was it?  Ramen.

Ever baked ALL day? No.

Can you recognize the smell of death?  Gahhhh, I’ve smelt dead rodents.

Ever known a mortician or a coroner?? (Now you do!) No.

What makes you feel good about yourself? Nothing?

Could you ever be some type of counselor for kids/teens?  No. Funny how that’s actually what I wanted to do for a long time when I was younger.

Do you enjoy getting dressed up for no real reason? No.

What are you afraid of?  A lot of things.

Ever been to a maximum security prison? You, or just visiting?  No.

Do you think mint toothpaste is too minty?  I use a light minty one for sensitive teeth.

How is a raven like a writing desk? I still haven’t figured that one out.

Are you currently eating or drinking something? If so, what? I’m finishing up my Starbucks energy drink. 

Do you own striped socks? What colors are your favorite ones?  No.

Black Metal ist Krieg. Agree or Disagree? >>  I had to Google that and apparently that’s a name of an album of a metal band, but I’m guessing you’re asking if I think black metal “ist krieg”, which for me no it’s not my thing.

Are there any numbers that have significance to you?  The number 8.

Do you know how to read palms or tarot or anything else like that?  I don’t believe in those things.

Do you own any bones or other preserved organic ..things? Unfortunately not. Accepting all bone donations. <<< That made me chuckle for some reason lol. I’m lacking those things as well. Well, I do own the bones in my body...

What do you think about internet piracy?  I can’t say I’ve never partaken... I haven’t in several years, though. 

Do you know anything about Nordic runes?  No.

How do you feel about children?  They can be cute and they can be annoying, ha. 

Whatcha looking forward to right now? Summer being OVER. This triple digit heat wave needs to goooo. We’ve had power outages the past couple times and it will probably happen all this week, too. D:

How do you feel about clowns?  I like Pennywise.

Are any of your friends clown by profession? I’m a clown. I majored in clownery. 

Do you put grated cheese on popcorn?  I’ve never tried that.

Do you thing anyone ever actually gets in trouble for having milkcrates?  What? Why would they get in trouble for that?

Do you tip street performers? (YOU SHOULD.) Not usually. I didn’t ask them to be there, I have no obligation to them. I’ll do it if I feel moved to (and if I happen to have cash, which is the other important variable here). <<< “I didn’t ask them to be there” hahah I love your answers.

What are your virtues/morals?  Ya know, stuff like honesty, being loyal, taking responsibility for your actions, being tolerant of differences, treat others how you wish to be treated, forgiveness, no cheating, respect, don’t commit murder, don’t steal.... stuff like that.

What do you smoke, if anything? I don’t.

Does being an addict make someone a bad person, in your opinion?  No.

Have you ever experienced any type of detox? No.

Ever been institutionalized? ...was it because of just one pepsi?  No. And I don’t get the Pepsi thing?

Tie up, or be tied up?  Neither.

Ever shoot a gun that wasn't a handgun? Rifle, shotgun, etc? No.

Is your mother a really cool lady? Yes, she’s awesome. Everyone loves her.

Ever suddenly find a friend very attractive but had to keep it to yourself?  I’ve liked a few of my guy friends, but I told them.

What time is it right now? 7:35AM.

Last time it's rained? I think back in April. Feels like forever ago. 

Ever been through a deadly natural disaster? No.

What do you do when you lose power?  Ugh, we’ve had that happen the past 2 days during the hottest time of day. It’s been high triple digits and inside my house has been 90 degrees, 92 when the power goes out. D: It’s horrible. I go and get my little battery fan and a wet washcloth and mess around on my phone and/or talk to my family until it comes back on. And complain about how hot it is.

Do you have a boot fetish too?  No.

Have you ever done home-repair stuff? No.

Reason you last used a knife?  I eat my spaghetti with a fork and knife.

Ever tattoo or pierce yourself? What, and how did it turn out?  Nooo. I’d be terrified to get either one done, I certainly couldn’t do it to myself.

Have you ever assisted in a birth? No.

Have you ever had a bad trip?  I’ve had a bad weed trip before and an actual trip.

Do you ever yell at your TV/computer/video games? Ha, yeah. Maybe not yell, but definitely talk back to it or comment out of frustration.

How long do you take in the shower? 30-40ish minutes.

If you could ask someone ONE thing & get 100% honesty, what would you ask? I don’t know.

What's the best thing you've ever found in a thrift/second hand shop? I don’t go thrift shopping.

What's one skilled craft you like to learn? Uhhh.

How do you feel about magicians? It can be pretty cool to watch. Some are really clever.

What do you smell like right now?  I smell my laundry detergent on my clothes. 

Tell me about the last person that made you laugh. He’s intelligent, funny, and cool.

Who was the last person to really make you feel special? It was nice receiving birthday comments from family and various people on social media and the birthday gifts from my family.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[kevintor]

I Watch a Movie I Should Have Seen: Hocus Pocus

I miss doing these entries. Mostly I miss adding movies to my watched list. Obviously, I’ve never seen Hocus Pocus. That’s why we’re here.

What did I know about Hocus Pocus? I knew there were witches and I knew Bette Midler had fun teeth. And she certainly did!

My thoughts:

We open on Salem in the 1600s following the shadow of a flying witch. The music was straight out of the Danny Elfman playbook but I guess they couldn’t get him so they found an equivalent Ray Parker, Jr. to Elfman’s Huey Lewis. (If you don’t know)

Pink smoke comes out of the chimney of the witch house which means someone’s gender reveal party resulted in a girl! Unfortunately they had to sacrifice a different little girl to find out.

The old-timey boy we meet is wearing a shirt that can only be described as billowy. He should take off like a kite when he runs. Yet somehow when he violently tumbles down a forest hill, none of that very excessive fabric gets caught on anything. Is the fabric even there or are we imagining it?

The witches (Sanderson Sisters) use a book made of human skin and a functioning eyeball. I shall call this book “Columbo.”

It’s very nice of them to put a mill wheel next to the witch house for the boy to climb.

Okay, so Bette Midler has lightning fingers like Emperor Palpatine.

I honestly thought the witches were going to be misunderstood and everyone would win at the end but killing a little girl for her youth and turning the boy into an immortal cat really puts a big wrench in the redemption arc chances.

The townspeople stage a hanging. The witches curse the town that they will return much like Pennywise only scarier.

We fast forward to find out that the opening is a story that is told in a Salem high school class where the kids apparently range in age from 14-28.

A new-to-town California boy (Max) doesn’t buy into all the witch lore. No mention on why his first day of school is Halloween. Parents did not plan that move well.

Max is into Allison, the pretty girl in school that leads with her teeth in every conversation. Did Rami Malek pull some his Freddy Mercury from her?

Max rides his bike home from school at super speed. He is either an exceptional mountain biking improviser or he practiced it the day before to be really ready for school. Probably the latter.

On his shortcut through the cemetery, he runs into two kids, Jay and Ice. Jay seems to be all the bad parts of Bill and Ted combined and Ice seems to be 40.

Jay and Ice take Max’s sneakers because that’s what bullies in the early 90s did. It makes pedaling home slower which may be for the best. He rode his bike too quickly.

Max does not like being here in Salem anymore. We learn this as he angrily takes off his hat, backpack, and jacket.

Max comforts himself by awkwardly hugging and cooing to his pillow pretending it’s Allison. His little sister, Dani, catches the awkwardness, gets on the bed, and simulates being Allison which is normal.

The house appears to have an unlimited number of stairs to climb up to get away in frustration.

Max reluctantly takes his sister trick-or-treating. He has the appropriate level of older brother standoffishness.

Jay and Ice stop the sister asking for her candy. Max gives the candy to the bullies and she tells him he should have been a man and fought them. Again one of them is like 40.

Max makes up with her using a pouty face. Like! A! Man!

They find a rich house that they assume will make them bob for apples. This is a bad idea even in non-pandemic times. Never bob for apples at a stranger’s house. No matter how rich they are. That’s how rich people fatten you up to make you easier to hunt.

Max and Dani let themselves inside and start robbing the place of their Raisinets and O Henry bars. Rich people give out terrible candy.

Turns out the rich house belongs to Allison. They are having a party and everyone there is authentically dressed like royals. They did not get any of these costumes at Spirit Halloween.

Dani tells Allison that she can’t wear Allison’s royal dress because she doesn’t have yabbos and proceeds to tell her that Max loves her yabbos. This girl is outrageous. Or rude. It was a fine line in 1993.

Max asks Allison to take them to the Sanderson Sisters’ house. She tells him she’s going to quickly change out of a dress that must have taken her 45 minutes to get into.

The house is no different than it used to be. The spell book is still there. How have Jay and Ice not stolen anything from it?

Immortal Cat attacks Max when he wants to light the “virgin candle” that will bring back the Sanderson sisters. It’s a great sequence where he says the name of the movie (always important), then pulls a Zippo out of his pocket (which all kids who don’t smoke have), and lights the candle.

It starts things. Hair blows a lot. This is why they had Max be a surfer boy from California. For this hair effect.

This movie cares a lot about someone being a virgin. Even Dani knows what a virgin is. Are they covering this in her second grade class? Do the parents know? What does the PTA think?

The candle makes the Sisters return and they try to keep Dani. Bette Midler uses more of her Star Wars lightning fingers but Allison saves the day.

The cat can talk and the chances of me liking this movie just took a huge hit.

Max steals Columbo, the spell book.

The writers of the movie do the right thing by having the Sisters be scared of everything modern like roads and fire trucks. Nice touch.

The Sisters only have tonight, which adds the right amount of stakes, to get the spell book back. I don’t think I could make it if they had a week or so.

The Sisters raise the dead causing a very reluctant zombie (RZ) to chase after the kids. Most zombies love what they do so this is a fun choice.

Immortal Cat gets run over by a bus but lives because he’s immortal. We needed proof because the 300 years of being a cat was not enough.

Garry Marshall plays a guy dressed as the devil which they play for fun as the Sisters worship him but we can’t gloss over that fact that Fake Devil’s wife is played by his real-life sister, Penny Marshall. It’s not disturbing. They’re acting!

Children steal the Sisters’ brooms which probably won’t matter later.

They find a Halloween party that Max’s parents went to. When Max’s dad meets Allison, he kisses her hand. I am going to do the same to whoever my kid brings home one day. “It’s from Hocus Pocus. That movie’s fun. It’s not weird.”

Bette Midler gets to sing a song. That should satisfy the requirements from her contract. The song puts a spell on the partygoers forcing them to dance until they die. Somehow the kids are immune to it. Can they shut off their ears? Are they also magical?

The kids lure the Sisters into the school incinerator and burn them alive. It’s a strong play. The kids celebrate as if there is not 30 minutes left in the movie.

Immortal Cat, in a time of reflection, brings up his sister and Max says “You really miss her, huh?” He has been trapped as a cat after failing to save his sister’s life 300 years earlier. He misses her. Why not “Hey, do you ever wonder what might have happened if you saved her life?”

Without any explanation, the Sisters are fine. They run into Jay and Ice who insult them. The Sisters cage Jay and Ice and make them hang from the witch house ceiling. The bullies are crying. Maybe they aren’t so tough after all. <High Fives No One>

Allison decides to find a spell to uncat Immortal Cat. She opens Columbo causing it to glow. The glow lures Bette Midler and the Sisters to her. Allison fails to notice the glow but learns that salt can keep them safe.

The Sisters steal the book and Dani when Allison only uses the salt to protect herself. She really took care of number one here.

Now Sarah Jessica Parker gets to sing a real creepy song that summons all the children from the town. It really shows you the power of song. Again, Max and Allison must have turned off their hearing for this.

Max and Allison trick the Sisters into thinking sun is coming early by using a car headlight. It works but I don’t understand why. They had the sun 300 years ago. They know what it looks like. “Is that a person in a brown sweat suit and green hat or a tree?”

While the Sisters are scared of the car headlight, Max steals back his sneakers but doesn’t save the bullies. How does he know he won’t need the bullies to be on his side in the future? Has he not seen every other high school movie?

They drive away and Bette Midler brooms after them. We know how fast Max likes to go so it is impressive Bette Midler can keep up.

Reluctant Zombie shows up and Max pulls a knife on him. So Max has a knife and a zippo. He might be a problem.

They take the final showdown to a cemetery which is an odd choice. Why not a miniature golf course or a TCBY. Were they still around in 1993?

Max brings a bat to a magic fight. Allison still has her salt. “Bats and salt: Working together to inconvenience witches since 1881!”

Max sacrifices himself to save Dani. The sun comes up as Bette Midler is sucking the life out of Max. Just when you think it might be a better sun-impersonating headlight, Bette Midler turns into a statue and explodes. Definitely the sun.

Immortal Cat dies so he can be with his sister. Billowy shirt ghost appears to say thanks with a kiss on Dani’s cheek (so normal) before he runs off with his ghost sister for eternity.

They did it! They saved Salem! Quite a first day for Max..

The movie was fine. I hate talking animals unless they are cartoons so that didn’t help. And why did they care so much about virgins? A friend told me that “virgin” meant “pure of heart.” Well then they should have said “pure of heart.” And if I can suggest, between Max’s predilection for weapons and Allison’s selfishness with the salt, I don’t think they should stop being “pure of heart” with each other. They aren’t a good couple. Going through a traumatic thing like killing summoned witches from the Pilgrim days causes feelings that can’t last.

#i watch a movie i should have seen #hocus pocus #bette midler #scary #halloween #movies #90s movies #sarah jessica parker #kathy najimy #sanderson sisters #funny #comedy #Movie Reviews

[alstanfordart]

Come Into My Lights

A Robert Gray origin story I wrote  a few months back. Has some fairly disturbing content in it, so read with caution.

At the start of Autumn, in the chilly, foggy early hours of the morning, the circus arrived to sleepy Derry. The colorful painted wooden wagons and elephants parading along Witcham Street drew the children of the town out of their homes to smile, gawk and laugh while still in their pajamas.

The performers clamored about the town, exploring, or posing for photographers as set-up began, including the biggest draw of all; the big top tent being erected by young laborers. Decked out in overalls with smudged cheeks, they traveled with the circus and during performances often did humdrum chores, such as tending to the animals and the handling of props the various performers used during their acts. The laborers, while not paid well, certainly ate well, with three hearty meals a day. The opportunity for travel was also desirable for many young men and women.

The wagons were sitting in a circle around Bailey Park, in the center is one emblazoned with 'Pennywise The Dancing Clown.'

Otherwise known as Robert Gray, formerly Gustafsson. He'd picked up his stage name while performing in London with an English clown George Rowley, known as 'Sad Jacques,' who uttered the saying, "Penny wise and pound foolish" in response to the lavish spending he'd witnessed while in the city. Robert found the saying delightful and adopted it as a stage name. Before, he simply was known as 'The Dancing Clown.'

Robert was born in Södermalm, the only son of Anna and Sven, both from familes of dancers, musicians and actors. His father had been known sinply as "The Sångare," and had moved the family to England upon landing work at King's Theater. His actress mother made regular appearances on the Royal Theatre stage.

The family's home life was often filled with drama that matched that depicted in his mother's plays; his father had at least three different mistresses, each having bore him a child. Robert had never acknowledged or spoke with any of them. His father was also a strict disciplinarian, often beating Robert mercilessly for something as trivial as not finishing all of his vegetables.

His father, who had a taste for the macabre, also spent a fair amount of time consuming magazines and books filled with horrifying tales of people being buried alive. As a result, this caused him to request that his teenage son promise to behead him upon death for fear of premature burial. When the time came, Robert did as asked and upon the death of his mother a few years later, set out on his own, mostly finding work in Italy, Denmark and Sweden.

It was in London where Robert met his charismatic wife Agnes, also known by her stage name Elvira, who was a trapeze artist famed throughout Europe as the "Daughter Of The Air." Her performances often took her up fifty to sixty feet from the ground, without using any net or other safety measures. The audiences adored her and she was often the subject of magazine news articles.

Born in Stockholm, she was of Danish ancestry and had come from a family of trapeze artists, 'The Flying Jensens' and had been performing since she was a toddler, with her father balancing her on his hand during his opening act.

Robert had been taken with her hourglass figure, and long light brown hair which was well past her waist. She'd been drawn to his height and striking eyes, the blue-green color reminding her of the sea. Even finding his slight buck teeth appealing. They had eloped when they were touring with the French circus director Didier Gautier in Cirque Du Nord

Their seven year old daughter Emma was a dark-haired morose child who was born in Austria while the couple were touring with Circus Renz.

When America came calling, they landed on Ellis Island and they promptly changed the family name from Gustafsson to the more easily pronounced Gray and eventually were hired by P.T Barnum upon hearing of the couple's fame throughout Europe.

America, however, wasn't all it was advertised to be, and Agnes and Robert were becoming increasingly weary with life on the road. Overworked and exhausted, at this point their young daughter was their priority and settling down was maybe what was best for her. A stable home. School. And, most of all, friends. The girl was isolated, and apart from a stuffed lion she called 'Fred' given to her by the lion tamer Isaac Van Der Berg, she had no real companions. She often spent long hours sitting in Agnes' wagon printed with 'The Legendary Elvira,' reading or playing marbles while the couple did their shows.

Derry seemed like the perfect place to settle down permanently. They had acquired enough savings to live comfortably.

Upon their exploration of the town, Robert, Agnes and Emma happened upon 29 Neibolt Street and a lovely two-story mansion, somewhat rundown-looking, encircled by patches of half-dead grass and sunflowers that looked like tiny suns sprouting around the yard. Upon talking with the locals they discover that the home is for sale and was owned by one of the wealthiest families in Derry, the Muellers.

In fact, according to the local residents, the place hadn't been lived in for many years. The last known occupants, the Vance family, had moved out around thirty years prior. There were whispers that the place was haunted-rumors both Robert and Agnes immediately dismissed.

But not so much Emma. Standing outside the wrought iron gates, she gawks up at the circular attic window at the very top, goosebumps breaking out along her skin. The window almost resembles the eye of a cyclops, watching her closely. She takes a step backwards.

"No, I don't want to go in here." she mumbles, dropping her head down, holding Fred tight to her plaid dress, prying her fingers from her mother's. The house had a strange atmosphere, like it would come alive and gobble her up if she set one foot inside.

Like some kind of monster from a fairytale.

"It's just a house, my love. Nothing to harm you," Agnes lovingly reassures. "Nothing to be afraid of."

Robert gives his daughter a gentle rub along her shoulders, removing his cigar from his lips to give her a comforting smile. "We're just going to have a look around, okay? Nothing to fear."

She's never lived in a house before. It's all a little foreign to her. She'll adjust.

But there's something about this house. Something drawing Robert to it. It certainly wasn't the most attractive and the work going into it would be time-consuming. But there was a charm about it. It had potential to be their dream home.

Robert leads his family in, with Emma returning her hand to her mother's protective grip. Once inside, they stand gazing about the living room, admiring the woodwork; the staircase and wooden beams, evidence of fine craftsmanship. The furniture was still here, as if the former owners had left in a hurry. The fireplace inlaid with 'Good Cheer, Good Friends,' and a piano sits beneath the window, sunrays coating along its white and black keys, the dust particles floating through the air twinkle in the warm light.

"The price they're asking for this place is a bargain, given how it includes the furniture and everything," Robert says as he approaches the stairwell. "Seems too good to be true."

"The furniture will have to be replaced. Look at it," Agnes runs a white gloved hand along the blanket of dust along the wooden frame of a parlor chair. "It's filthy! We can't possibly use it."

"No, just a little dirty. Just needs some sprucing up a bit. Just a little bit of love." Robert grins like a kid, his round cheeks turning up as he bounds up the stairwell.

Agnes follows, with Emma at her heels, clinging to her, her large brown irises searching along the walls, waiting to see if something emerges, or moves out of anywhere. A pair of massive hands with hairy fingers reaching out for her, like a troll from the Scandinavian folk tales the children back home told around a camp fire. The eerie sensation that this house was somehow alive was rustling within her. Every nook and cranny was just seeping with this discomfort.

Robert opens a door to a bedroom where two of the windows have been shattered.

No matter. Easily replaced.

Agnes enters behind him, leaving Emma out in the hall. As she stands, a whispered voice touches her eardrums.

Emma.

Startled, the girl spins around. That voice was neither male no female. That was not either of her parents calling her name. Although it seems like it was speaking to her through her mind. A cursory glance into the bedroom shows her parents are preoccupied with discussions of renovations.

Emma.

She stares down the hall towards the kitchen as the door opens ajar and just inside there's a miniature ball of light, doing a little dance mid-air. It looked no bigger than one of her marbles. It reminded her of the fairy stories her mother told her. Describing the little sprites as having an otherworldy glow.

It couldn't be though, could it?

Without hesitation she runs to the kitchen as it disappears behind the doorway. She stands watching, holding Fred tighter to her as the little glowing ball skips through the air to the open door of the basement, casting its luster along the darkness. As she steps closer, she feels a pull, a force, beckoning her further in. Like a pair of large invisible hands guiding her along by her shoulders.

She had to go down there.

As she enters, standing atop the steps leading down into the murkiness, she is met with a bone-chilling cold, the clammy decayed odor of the basement air meets her nostrils, causing her to cough. She charily begins to descend the stairwell, in direction of the light ball as it highlights each step, creaking loudly under her tiny feet as she reaches the bottom.

There, just a few feet from her, in a weak beam of sunlight from a nearby window, is an ancient stone well. The little ball of light hovering just above it, circling the opening. The well is partly destroyed, a rusted pulley dangles just above. With Fred still tight in her arms, she stares at it, almost mesmerized. Gradually, she starts to come closer. As she does, something moves just along the broken stones.

A pair of luminescent yellow-orange hands rise from within and cup the tiny light ball, followed by the head of a woman with her hair pinned back, her entire face illumined in that same bright color that resembled an amber gemstone. She rises up out of the well, still holding the tiny bead of light, wings sprouting out from her back. She lands on her feet with a dainty ballet-dancer like movement, wearing the same style of lace-up slippers and dress her mother wore when she performed.

Emma stares, her mouth agape.

A real fairy. An actual real-life fairy.

The fairy gestures for her to draw near. "Come." she says in a delicate feminine voice that sounds like an angel, or the most delicate porcelain bell chiming.

Emma heeds, inching closer, in utter awe of what she was seeing. The fairy sticks her hand out, wiggling her slender fingers. "Come with me, child."

Emma swallows, still feeling the embers of fear smoldering, although much of it had dampened. But a fluttery anxious feeling was still present. "Come where?" she inquires.

"Come and you'll float. I promise. Don't you want to have wings?" the fairy replies, turning her shoulders slightly to display hers. "Come and you will float too."

Emma is about to take her hand, when she sees the fairy's features up close. Her eyes are two empty black sockets. At this, Emma pulls back, an unnerving feeling starting to shiver through her.

"Um, that's okay. I-I think I need to go upstairs now," she says as she starts to back away, gaze not wavering from the strange sight. "I need to leave now."

The beaming visage the fairy was displaying now falters, her tiny mouth curling downwards into an exaggerated pout. "Now Emma, that's not very polite. Come and let me take you into my lights. You won't grow old there. You'll remain the same forever." she says grinning. Although friendly, there's enough hint of malice beneath it to cause Emma's fear to skyrocket, coupling it with a burst of panic.

No, this isn't normal. Fairies aren't real.

Then, out of the corner of her vision, she spots something moving beside the fairy, something black. Possibly a rat or a mouse

A closer inspection shows it is neither, but some sort of...thing.The closest she could describe it as is a shadow, only solid. It danced along the edge until another appeared. And another. And another. Until what looked like a writhing bundle of obsidian tentacles begin to rise up from the well. Followed by veins of orange light creeping up along the grooves of the stones, pulsing and flickering.

"Come Emma. Come into my lights." the fairy intones as ebony webs begins to snake out of her eyes, cocooning around her head and neck, slithering down her thin frame.

The pulley above the well begins to swing as the monstrosity starts to lift out and towards Emma, now taking on the appearance of thick inky tar, the fairy vanishing within. The powerful scent of raw sewage fills the musty air as the orange light brightens the well as if there were a fiery lava pit deep below, painting its smoldering gleam along the stones.

The hairy phantom tentacles start to crawl towards Emma, the fear now escalating, almost making her numb with fright. A scream is wedged in her throat, she works her jaw, trying to utter a sound of alarm, her nails digging into Fred's soft fur.

"Emma!"

Agnes' voice jolts the little girl out of her stupor and she shrieks, whirling around to dash up the stairs, the slimy tentacles nipping at her ankles. As she reaches the top, her mother appears in the doorway. Emma almost knocks her down as she wraps her arms around her waist.

"My goodness, what-" Agnes begins, patting her daughter's trembling back.

"Down there! There's something there!" she stammers, turning and jabbing her finger downwards.

Only there's nothing there. Nothing at all. No sign of the strange yellow-orange light, that menacing fairy, or the black tentacles. The pulley now immobile. The horrid smell of sewage replaced with the mildewy scent of the basement.

As if nothing had even been there at all.

"There was something there..." Emma breathes, tightening her small arms around her mother. Agnes glances in the direction of the well. The whole basement was going to take some serious work, something she may not be up for. But Robert's enthusiasm was contagious.

"There was something coming out...and I thought I saw-"

No I did see. There was a fairy, but you wouldn't believe that.

"It's alright dear. That young man was only joking, I'm sure. Those ghost stories are just make-believe. Not anything real."

They'd spoken to a local youth who had informed them it was "the haunted house" in earshot of Emma, and it clearly had influenced her into 'seeing' something.

"What's the matter?" Robert appears beside Agnes, gazing down at his shaken daughter. "What is it?"

"That." Agnes, still holding Emma to her arms, gestures at the well. Robert smirks.

"That won't be a problem," he says. "We can take care of that."

"Mhm." Agnes arches her brows as she peers down at the unsightly area. It seems like more trouble than it's worth. But if he is convinced they could do it...

"Come on, I want to go see the owners, see if we can get this going." he announces as he gently maneuvers his wife and daughter away from the basement door. He takes one last glimpse as he shuts it.

Inside, just above the opening of the well, three tiny orange lights appear, hovering in a circular motion.

After the trip to the Muellers, and despite the fact that the snooty family looked down on circus performers, the house on Neibolt was now officially the new Gray residence.

Robert, inspired by the architecture of the churches they'd seen throughout Europe, went out and immediately bought a pair of stained glass windows from a local artist, painted with bright scenes of the circus. Once installed, they filled the room with rays of yellow, orange, blue and turquoise.

This was to be Emma's room, but the perceptive child was still frightened. Frightened and perplexed. Why did nobody live here? Why did the Mueller family not reside here? What of the family that did live here before? Cleaned up, it made for a lovely home. So, why was it just sitting here unattended to? Her young mind could not make sense of the questions her parents seemed unconcerned with.

No doubt, it was connected to whatever that was in the basement.

Snuggling Fred, she stares at the newly-installed windows, the design almost resembling a pair of wicked eyes grinning at her. The image of that fairy comes on. She shudders as the sound of the fairy's voice still plays in her mind.

Come into my lights.

In their new bedroom, Agnes was laying out her mother's large old quilt along the bed, featuring a scene of men herding cattle, women fetching water from a stark blue river and boys building haystacks. At the foot of the bed sat a large cedar chest, inset with the initials R.G, where Robert kept his clown costume, made of fine off-white silk from Lyon, and his make-up supplies.

As he and Agnes prepare to perform, Robert, or rather Pennywise, stands looking at the full-length mirror. Adjusting the thick ruffle around his neck, he grins, his trademark red stripes thick along his cheeks, his lazy left eye slightly askew. As he stares, something rather curious happens. The kerosene lamp just behind him on the nightstand flickers, the tiny flame within breaking apart into three smaller flames, forming circles.

Seeing this odd movement in the reflection, Robert turns to look as the flame returns to normal. He approaches, taking the lamp in his large gloved hands, staring intently at the light as a small, barely-audible voice arises from its warmth.

Robert.

Dazed, he watches as the flame begins to break apart again, separating into the three tiny balls of orange-yellow as they begin to rotate. Robert's corneas begin to mirror their glow, the voice still speaking to him, whispering, before-

"Robert?"

Agnes is now beside him, her thin fingers caressing the puffy material of his shoulder.

"You okay?" she whispers, bringing her pink lips to his and planting a quick kiss.

"Fine," he replies as he places the kerosene lamp back down. "I'm fine."

Over the next few days, they perform a show in the afternoon and again at night, with Agnes doing her signature one-arm plange act, enthralling the audience who marveled at her grace and elegance. When the time came for Robert to do his dancing clown act, the children all squealed with delight as he did his gags, slapstick comedy and dance moves where he engaged the children in the front rows. Adopting a slight lisp as part of his performance, he coaxed one little girl from the front to stand before him as he presented her with a large silver dollar from behind her ear. The girl looks positively enchanted.

The show concludes with the two African elephants, Sylvia and Thump performing and the lions Ivan and Maurice, jumping through hoops of fire.

Afterwards, the children all gathered around Pennywise to ask for an autograph or a special trick just for them, usually with him presenting them with candy or a small toy. One girl in particular, a redheaded child with a round freckled face hangs behind the other children, waiting for them to clear away, before she approaches the clown.

"Those kids do love you. They just flock right to you, don't they mister?" she says, smiling, displaying a minor gap between her two front teeth. Robert gazes down and chuckles.

"Kids love clowns. They bring happiness and joy. As P.T says; 'clowns and elephants are the pegs on which the circus is hung.' Did you like the elephants?"

"Oh, I did, but the you were the best part. The children all loved you." the little girl replies, fingering one of her braids.

"Well thank you. Now if you excuse me, I got to get going. My little girl is waiting." Robert gives a little wave as he walks towards his wagon where Agnes is waiting with Emma, smiling back at the girl, who returns the wave enthusiastically.

Agnes wraps her arms around his neck as he reaches her. "You were fantastic as always...um... who were you talking to just now?" she queries as Emma steps out the door of the wagon, looking relieved to see her father.

Of course this meant they'd be going back to that house.

To Neibolt.

"That little redheaded girl, she really loved my performance. She just thought the elephants were okay," he grins proudly as he pulls Agnes in for an affectionate hug. "You know, I'm gonna miss this. The crowds."

Agnes simply smiles weakly as she peers over his shoulder, her brows knotting together as she studies the area where she'd seen him engaged in a conversation outside the tent exit all by himself with nobody there but a wooden barrel.

Over the next few days, Robert starts to undergo a drastic personality change. His normally cheery upbeat demeanor became more somber, his words curt. He was short with both Agnes and Emma. His eyes underlined by dark half crescents. While he performed, he still saw that little redheaded girl in the bleachers, smiling and cheering. But it was on the second to last night that the circus would be in town that he saw something that made his blood run like ice rivers through his veins, his heart palpitate.

Tucked away in the back of the bleachers, standing with the girl,was Sven. Looking as he did the last Robert saw him. The shock sends Robert tumbling from a large ball on which he was balancing. The crowd responds with a chorus of gasps as Robert stands and shouts a phrase in Swedish that was incomprehensible to the spectator's ears.

Later that night, Agnes is woken up by the sound of the piano, the same sharp note over and over again. Groggily running her hand along Robert's side of the bed, feeling nothing but the cold sheets. Heading downstairs, she sees him sitting at the piano, hunched over, his right index stabbing at one single key repeatedly. He flinches as her fingers come up to brush along his back.

"Another nightmare?" she quietly asks, moving to sit alongside him on the small bench, tucking her blue silk nightgown around her knees.

"I keep thinking of him. Since we've been here. He's been on my mind. I don't know why." he replies, still poking at the key. Agnes reaches and grabs his hand in hers. He keeps his face down, obscured from the light of the kerosene lamp that sits atop the piano.

"Your father's gone. He's not here-"

"But he is. I saw him. Saw him in the bleachers tonight."

"What? How could-"

"He was here, Aggy, I saw him. And when I woke up just now. He was standing in the corner of the room staring at me," Robert pauses, before continuing under his breath. "I know it was him. He didn't have a head."

A much more ghastly image of Sven had appeared in the far corner of the bedroom, gripping his head by the scalp, blood dripping from the bloody stump of his neck, grinning maniacally.

Agnes rests her forehead upon Robert's shoulder, wrapping her arm around to massage his shoulder blades. She'd grown accustomed to his past occasionally showing its ugly head, as disturbing as it was, but this was merely a phase.

He then violently shakes her arm off.

"Get your ass back to bed. Stop bothering me." he sneers.

She pauses and stumbles up, her visage mixed with both surprise and hurt, even though this attitude has been present since they'd arrived.

"Robert, please just let me-"

"Just leave me alone!" he shouts as he smashes his fists against the piano keys. Agnes continues to back away as Emma, woken by her parents voices, appears at the bottom of the stairs with Fred in her arms, nuzzling him against her cheek.

"Mommy?" she says as Agnes rushes to her, guiding her back up the stairs.

"Come on, get back to bed." Agnes orders as Emma glances over her shoulder at her father, who has resumed his one-note playing as the flame of the lamp takes on the form of three rotating spheres.

Near him, a thick black mass hovers along the wall.

The last night of the circus was their largest crowd yet, with it nearly doubled from the last few days, most likely people from out of town or drifters who'd received the free tickets they'd given out. Both the crew and the performers were relieved, as things had not been right the moment they'd come to this town. Technical difficulties, the people getting into arguments in the bleachers. The animals, especially the lions, seemed agitated, pacing back and forth in their cages. Isaac was doing everything her could to keep the beasts calm and collected. Not an easy task with the roaring sounds of a raucous crowd.

Agnes stood on her platform, nearing the roof of the tent, the last night she would do so. Then the house on Neibolt would be their permanent home. The circus life left behind. Certainly a positive thing given the bad turn Robert was taking. She gazes down at Robert as Pennywise. He put on his clown face and performed his act with the gags and humor, but privately, he was different. Some shadow had overtaken him. Something she knew wasn't quite right.

Something to do with this town. That she felt. The people, the atmosphere. It was...unsettling. For reasons she couldn't comprehend. Perhaps settling down here wasn't the right decision.

Inhaling a deep breath, Agnes swings down from the platform, about to perform her final act when a loud 'snap' echos throughout the tent as the swivel that was holding the rope shatters. The audience gasps and screams in alarm as Agnes plummets to the ground.

Robert runs to her lifeless body laying in the center of the ring, cradling her in his arms, touching her cheek, feeling her heartbeat slowing.

"No, no...why?" he whimpers, before he turns his head up at the ceiling. "Why did you do this?!" he cries as the Ringmaster Norman Claude and the laborers watching from the sidelines dash over to aid.

Just outside, Ivan and Maurice are pacing impatiently in their metal cages. An invisible force opens the latch of each, the two lions pouncing out as Isaac shouts, taken by surprise by their sudden escape. The two large cats attack him, tearing out his throat before turning their sights to the circus entrance, the chaotic sounds of the people drawing them in.

Nearby, a kerosene lamp atop a crate that a few laborers had been using tips over, the flame crawling towards the flap of the entrance.

Inside, the lions attack. Anyone and anything in their path. Tearing at clothing and flesh alike, the people screaming in confusion only fuels their bloodthirsty rampage. Outside in Agnes' wagon, Emma sits, hugging Fred to her as she sees through the small window the tent becoming engulfed in flames. The frantic spectators all knock each other down as they try to excape both the blaze and the lions.

Inside, Robert remains holding Agnes in his arms as the top of the tent starts to collapse as the fire engulfs it.

Emma stays sitting in the wagon, weeping as she hears the ensuing chaos, too frightened to move. Just as she decides to move to open the door, it bursts open, with her father standing before her.

Oddly calm.

"Daddy!" Emma runs into his arms, noting for one brief moment how cold his torso felt as she snakes her arms around him.

"Where's mommy?" Emma queries, tears cutting down her pink cheeks as she gazes up at her stone-faced father as he leads her away from the inferno, the lions now outside the burning tent, still attacking those that managed to escape from inside.

"Daddy, we can't leave mommy."

Robert halts, turning his head slowly to look down at his daughter. Emma stares back, eyes damp and red. There is a strange emptiness within his irises. She feels a chill travel along her spine as her heart drops to her stomach as they continue to stare at each other.

"Where's my daddy?" she asks in such a low intone that the words are barely even a whisper. She works her hand loose from his, still maintaining eye contact.

Robert only smiles calmly, derisively, his pupils taking on an orange glow that matches the fire burning against the night sky. His mouth then opens, revealing three tiny balls of orange light.

"Come into my lights, Emma."

Emma's eyes cloud over as her stuffed lion drops from her fingers.

It's only a few weeks later that the horror of the fire is forgotten. The death toll is said to be in the hundreds, however, the exact number is unknown.

Decades later, while reading about the great circus fire of 1881, Mike Hanlon comes across a black and white photo of a tall clown, standing before a wagon, painted along its sides is 'Pennywise The Dancing Clown.'

Beside him is a little brunette girl, holding a stuffed lion, a bright smile across her face.

#pennywise #fanfiction #Robert Gray #no smut #might get creeped out though

[fuckyeah-bevywise]

hey i think that yo misspelled a word when yo defending the ship bevwise you loo at children and think any apporites thoughts at all

I’m going to rise from the dead to answer this ask because honestly I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a legit criticism of spelling or a pitiful attempt at anon hate. Either way, I’m getting a laugh out of the fact that you were so bothered that you had to send an ask to a blog that’s been inactive for months, only for that ask that’s riddled with spelling errors itself.

If a spelling mistake was a serious concern of yours, I will only say that I have reread my response to the asks in question and I don’t see a spelling error? I am not responsible for what people send me, nor is it my job to fix their spelling. I also am in no way accountable for what their thoughts on the subject are, and it’s not my place to dictate how they enjoy the ship. 

If this was an attempt to send me anon hate, this is the only one I will answer, because again, this has such poor spelling itself that I can’t tell if it is or not.

But because I’m bored I’ll add this; to repeat, I am not responsible for what other people send me and it’s not my job to dictate how they enjoy the ship. I can only control the content I produce, and my blog celebrates their dynamic in varying forms. The term ‘ship’ is short for relationship, and a relationship between two or more people can mean many things. It can refer to friendship or  the relationship between enemies who hate each other, too. Not everything is about romance and sex.

tl;dr version: don’t confuse the fictional relationship between an ageless monster and a forty year old woman with pedophilia, a platonic friend/protector as a sexual predator, nor the enjoyment of a showdown between good and evil as something immoral.

In my own works on this blog, Beverly only has a sexual relationship with Pennywise/Bob Gray as adult, barring one brief scene at the beginning of an AU fic where Beverly was also a Deadlight creature and neither could control their instincts, which was interrupted before anything explicit happened, and all actual sexual content, once again, takes place while Beverly is an adult. In fact, that fic never actually has Beverly and Pennywise engage in intercourse with one another in any way but implication, and with Beverly as a fully grown woman when it happens.

All of my work with Beverly as a child is intended to be platonic. 

My reblogs are a little more up in the air, I guess? Most of the fanart I reblogged are of the two of them doing nothing more than hanging out, so I don’t see how that translates to anything but platonic. Going back through my blog, there’s only a few that I see where the situation can be interpreted as sexual, but there’s 3 important things to be aware of:

1) All pics in question can also be interpreted as Pennywise being a creepy villain because It is her enemy, which is also a relationship my blog celebrates, even if my written works tend to focus more on friends (child) or lovers (adult).2. Literally every picture on this blog was made or reblogged before the cast for IT chapter 2 was announced. I was really delighted to find out my dream fancast for adult Bev was going to be official, but no one knew for sure what Bev was going to look like as an adult and some people interpreted her looking similar to how she appeared as a child, so its entirely possible that she is meant to be an adult in the fanart. 3. Keeping with that, any fan works  made or submitted to me with Beverly as a child were also made before casting was announced, which means that any edits and videos with canon material only had her child self available to use, in which case I either view them as platonic or as enemies and there’s nothing wrong with enjoying the dynamic of a villain and a hero(ine) just as it is. 

I can’t say for sure what the artists who’s works I added to this blog had in mind, but I certainly reblogged them with one of these in mind

#Anonymous

[andaleduardo]

Rooftop N.10

Ao3   N.9   N.11

Preview: But there’s little Eddie could have done to avoid actions that weren’t his. Richie is free to act, and feel, and say. And Eddie is free to trap himself up in self-hate if it means being protected from everyone else's cruel opinions.

Monday 24.05.1993

 Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

Every drop of blood left Eddie’s face.

“Talk?” He asked, suddenly dizzy. He wasn’t even surprised when his voice broke. Eddie also wasn’t really looking forward to whatever Richie opened his mouth to say right then, so he cut him off before he even had the chance to answer. “Sure, okay.” He shrugged. And Richie’s mouth successfully closed.

After that, Eddie turned his face around and pretended that things weren’t even slightly uncomfortable. The rest of the ride went by utter silent. And maybe the reason Eddie was gripping the side of the truck was so that he could bend over if his need to vomit actually ended up in the worst way.

 Fuck.

He isn’t dumb. Eddie had a feeling that, regardless of what Richie intends to say, their friendship will take a hit to the core. Both their hearts, too. The worst part, he dares to think, is that this is his fault. (Well, if he’s going to be honest, it’s both their fault.)

But there’s little Eddie could have done to avoid actions that weren’t his. Richie is free to act, and feel, and say. And Eddie is free to trap himself up in self-hate if it means being protected from everyone else's cruel opinions. He’d do anything. Eddie would back off, put a break on his stupid urges and feelings, if needed. He would get down on both knees and beg time to turn back.

 ‘I’ll be good! I’ll be good! I promise I’ll stop, and I’ll stay away and I’ll be a better person. But please, don’t make me-’

Anything, to prevent the damage altogether. Anything. Because if there’s one thing that haunts Eddie on a daily basis, it’s having to confront his true desires…

…is having to admit that those people’s words mirror who he is. Is having to accept that when his mom casually speaks about those people with disgust, she is also talking about him. When they have dinner, when they’re coming back from church, or when they’re watching movies and she comments on certain actors she believes are… well… just like her son, after all.

But maybe he’s just reading into things the wrong way. There’s a chance that this ‘talk’ is about some stupid meaningless thing. Sure… He’ll hold on to that thought.

By his side, Richie kept his face buried in his arms, but Eddie didn’t want to think about what that meant. He didn’t want to think about anything involving Richie, either his words or actions, at all.

And deep down, Richie was questioning his own sanity. Why did he say that out loud? What had gone through his head in that moment? Seriously, why the fuck did he think, even for a second, that suggesting this would have been a good idea? He doesn’t know.

The only thing he was sure off, in that moment, was Eddie’s reaction to his words. He had looked scared and upset, and Richie caused it. Everything’s fucked up because, as usual, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Hell … What is he supposed to do now?! Maybe he could…

 ‘Hey, so, I’m head over heels for you. Yeah, there’s that. Maybe we could kiss for the next five hours or something?’

Fucking ridiculous. But it’s not like he has a lot of time to think through his options.

There was a hard slap on the rear window that made both of them jump in their seats. They must have been distracted, (with enough reasons to…) because Richie just noticed that the truck had been parked by the sidewalk on Eddie’s street for the past 30 or so seconds.

Awkwardly, they helped each other take down their bikes. After saying their goodbyes and ignoring the smirks thrown their way for leaving together, which Richie would have been very eager for in other circumstances, they stood in the middle of the road watching the vehicle disappear at the end of the street.

They had been dropped off with a safe distance from Eddie’s house, so they had a short walk ahead of them. With the backpack hanging from one shoulder and both hands to guide his bike by his right side, ever so slowly, Eddie started to walk. Richie’s feet seemed to be glued to the ground for a second, but luckily, he managed to move slightly behind.

In the ten seconds that followed, he had gained courage to open his mouth twice, or more, but not enough to speak. There was no script, and he was lost. A punch to the face, it’s what he fucking deserves.

Just man up! He thinks. Grow some fucking balls, Richie. There was a tiny chance this could go smoothly…

“Fuck this.”

He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but the words seemed to echo in the empty street. Before Eddie could react, Richie grabbed his hand and turned him around less gently than intended. In the process of it, he had to let go of his bike and it dropped on the ground with a painful metallic scrape.

For a second, Eddie was quiet, stiff, startled, you name it. He struggled to turn around without stumbling over his own bike, but at the sight of a bright red Richie, he forgot all about it and let his right hand slip away from the handle. It fell on the asphalt behind him. Somehow, they were trapped closed together by their own bikes.

Eddie’s eyes were large, and he lowered his focus point to Richie’s shoulder blades. Not here. He thought. Don’t do this here, Richie, you dumbass.

“Look at me, Eds.” Richie begged, voice just a little strained.

Eddie shook his head, breathing growing harsher and eyelids fluttering, trying to fight back the tears pooling in his waterline. He looked terrified. That’s how he felt, too. This all seemed a little too familiar, too much like that night outside of Mike’s barn.

Oh, how he regrets, now. That night, all the other times, everything before, in between or after… Wishes nothing had ever slipped between them and take them to this point. The no turning back point.

Richie squeezed his hand, feeling useless and guilty. It felt like there was a chestnut clogging up his throat when he opened up his mouth and nothing came out besides a squeezed whine. He didn’t plan this, he didn’t mean to do this under a darkening sky, completely out of nowhere. But now it was too late to call it a joke, wasn’t it?

Eddie’s hand felt completely limp in Richie’s hold. Painfully, Richie tried to swallow down the knot in his throat, and for a moment he could feel a painful heartbeat raging on his left temple. He had to bring his free hand up to his mouth.

“I think I might puke.” The words were mostly muted by his palm.

This revelation seemed to make Eddie break out of his frozen state. He squeezed Richie’s hand back, finally giving a sign of life.

“Are you serious?” His words were shaking. “Richie, I swear, if you ruin my second pair of shoes-”

That worked like a charm.

Out of nowhere, Richie started to giggle, maybe from nerves, maybe relieved that the tension was broke. He looked at Eddie fondly. The boy’s eyes were still shiny with tears, but his pale face was starting to grow some color.

“What’s so funny? Are you fucking with me?” Eddie spoke apprehensively. He took his hand away from Richie’s, breaking the contact. The action caused Richie’s smile to falter, but he was quick to recompose himself.

“No, not a joke. M’not fucking around.” His fingers took a longer time to stop inching towards Eddie’s wrist. “I’m trying.”

After a deep sigh in the lingering silence, Eddie started to scratch his own arm while looking around the street apprehensively.

‘Great.’ Richie thought, heartbroken. ‘This is going just great.’

“No one’s around.” He tried to soothe Eddie. It wasn’t working, the boy gave no signs of listening, instead looking behind Richie’s back for any signs of a watcher. With a heavy sign, Richie took a step back and considered the option of pretending he had never said anything and just leave.

“I’m sorry, I-” Eddie’s eyes trailed everywhere, but they never once met Richie’s. “We should, maybe, talk inside?” It wasn’t meant to sound like a question, but it did come off that way. A very desperate, tired question.

That was when Richie’s heart kind of stopped. He was really starting to like the idea of going home, now. There are a million questions he wants to ask. About Sonia. About privacy. About how he’s about to fucking die if his words get stopped from being said one more time. In the end, he offered a simple smile and a shrug while bending down to get his bike off the ground.

“Might wanna change the sandals, Eds. Don’t want your mom to freak out.” He straightened his back as his shoulders shook with an ironic laugh.

 Wait until she spies on us or bangs the door open to find me sitting in your bed like a good boy.

Ironic, alright.

Eddie took the advice and sat on the sidewalk to change into his sneakers once again. They were still wet, would probably be for days, but maybe she wouldn’t notice the change in color. And if he took them out as soon as he passed the door…

For his own sake, Eddie kept thinking about his mom while they silently made their way to his front yard, which wasn’t really a yard, just dead grass at this point. They stopped at a safe distance from the front porch. Richie was mumbling things under his breath when Eddie turned around to stare at him with uncertainty.

Richie was a mere second away from saying:

‘You know what, Eds? It’s getting darker and I think I’m going now. Get back to my pops since he’s doing good today. This was just to mess with ‘ya’.

Maybe he could even lock Eddie’s head under his armpit and mess up his hair like he used to do every day in middle school. That habit ended once Eddie claimed he’d get a hole in his skull if Richie kept it up, then Richie did it again and one of his knuckles was smudged pink.

It had terrified Richie, then, but Eddie seemed to be fine until he saw the evidence on Richie’s hand. After that, yeah, he had screamed and punched him, and Richie was mean enough to start shaking with laughter. He just couldn’t help it, the look on his face-

“I’ll meet you up in a moment.” Eddie announced before heading off to drop his bike closer to the house and get inside. Richie was left standing there with a stupid smile brought up by the memory.

A little lost, he kept staring at the back of Eddie’s head until the front door opened. That made him jolt awake and rush to go around the house and stand beneath his usual spot.

It took him a while to gather enough courage to climb inside.

-

When Eddie stepped inside, the first thing he did was to get his shoes off once again. He grimaced when he noticed that now his socks were stained wet, but he had a feeling his mom would be concerned about other things, because once he rounded the kitchen’s door frame, he laid eyes on the clock hanging from the wall. It was already seven.

“Hey mom.” He greeted her and tried to play it cool, walked into the kitchen to give her a kiss on the cheek. She seemed surprised. “Sorry I’m so late, what are you making?” Trying to keep the questions from coming, he put his attention on to the pots in the stove. “Smells good.”

Her face was strained, she wanted to complain, Eddie noticed. But he saw the moment she dropped it, with much self-control, and returned to her task of pouring salt in the rice. “Just chicken and rice, Eddie. For dinner.”

He nodded, switched his body weight to the other leg, and contemplated leaving her in the kitchen to go upstairs. But then he thought about Richie sitting in his bed, waiting for him. And Eddie couldn’t do it, he had to stall and buy some time, somehow.

“Do you need any help?”

Sonia’s working hands stopped for a second before she recomposed herself. “No need. Just tell me about your day, what took up your time, dear?”

So, that’s exactly what Eddie did. He sat by the kitchen table, damp socks on the cold tile, and filled her in on his day, lie by lie. And oh, how guilt consumed him. He was lying to his mom, feeding her with sweet talk. Lying to himself, by running away from things. And soon he’d probably be lying to Richie’s face, no matter which path the night took.

How did it come to this? Eddie couldn’t answer. But soon enough he was feeling like the worst person in the world. He blanked out from the conversation, a deadpan stare fixed on his mom’s large back, until he waited so long to answer one of her questions that she actually turned around. Her questioning eyes broke him off the internal monologue, and he quickly jumped to his feet and said he was going to hang around his room until she called him for dinner.

Sonia didn’t complain, and Eddie would have taken his sweet time to feel surprised if he wasn’t so nervous. He dragged his socked feet stair by stair, backpack straps loose around one wrist, and the pair of shoes hanging by the shoelaces on the other.

He was left staring at his closed bedroom door before making a last minute decision and heading off towards the bathroom, instead. As the professional liar he concluded to be just now, he told himself he needed to put the sunscreen back in its place, and stayed locked up for some extra ten minutes, instead.

-

It was funny, Richie supposed. Here he was, pacing the small floor area of Eddie’s room. A little over ten hours ago he had been here, doing the exact same thing. Pacing. And his heart had been the same, then, too. Racing.

Except that now the circumstances were way, way different.

After a bit of waiting that felt infernal, Richie could hear the faint sound of the bathroom’s faucet running. So that meant Eddie was also in the same place as he had been this morning.

See? Funny, he supposed. But he didn’t feel like laughing.

No, he felt like doing many things. None of them involved any sort of fun. He wanted to shout, maybe curse, jump the walls to waste some energy. Richie wanted to run away, but at the same time he couldn't, neither he wanted. He supposed, that’s we does best these days, assuming things.

The truth was, deep inside, Richie wanted more than ever for this to go the right way, but he knew that that wasn't the most likely outcome. Something ought to go wrong even if the day had been so perfect.

Deep inside he wanted Eddie to walk through that door, the one he’s staring at, terrified, and he wanted to hug the shit out of that boy. Pull him close against his chest and tell him how much he feels, how much more he could feel, how much he needs to have him, how much he wants to kiss him, how much he wants many things more, everything he’s allowed to.

And deep inside, Richie also knew that none of that would happen.

Most likely, a lot of things would have to change. The things he wants and already has. Like sleepovers and friendly hugs. And a good friend of many years. A friendship between two boys who want the same things but have different ways of dealing with that.

But it's not like Richie knows that, yet.

He had to entertain himself somehow while Eddie didn’t come. He settled by pacing around the room some more, feeling his heart racing sickly against his chest some more, as well as going through Eddie’s desk, and shelves, and boxes, and discarded clothes (not that there were many) and the stupid shelves again, because he saw the collection of stupid comics they both read together growing up. Richie did this because he could. Because he knew Eddie didn’t mind. And honestly, if he's wasn’t busy doing this he would have been hiding underneath the bed and wondering if, that way, he could escape the reality of his nightmare.

He was about to flip open one of the comic books, the one he remembers being Eddie's favorite, when the doorknob turned, and he felt his heart stop.

Not racing, not hurting, not about to break his ribcage in half as if it expected some kind of garden to grow out of it. Out of his broken chest. No, this time his heart felt calm, beating yet peaceful, because everything that has ever happened has come to this. And this was the moment Richie realized how tired he truly felt. The moment Eddie walked through that door, looking somewhat disheveled, was also the moment Richie saw his life for the past years flashing before his eyes. But not in a bad way, not in the way people say it happens when you die. It felt more like being born. coming to this world again. Simply realizing how much he felt, suffered, and lied for so long. How much he hid himself from the world, from his parents, from his friends, from Eddie, who was a friend but could be so much more, and from himself.

He wasn't ashamed of what he felt, he was almost proud. Because out of everyone Richie has ever known, Eddie was the best person to have fallen for. And what else could he feel besides grateful? It wasn’t about the cheesy love and what comes with it. It was about doing something he needed, and Richie was finally able to put the fear of rejection behind and accept whatever came to him. Good or bad. He was certain that, at least, peace would flow through his body for spilling out the truth.

Even if it meant being pushed away. Even if it meant many worse things he didn’t want to think about.

“Hey.” He said, low in the badly illuminated room. “How’s your mom?”

“Richie, please.” Eddie warned before gently closing the door behind himself, dropping his stuff on the ground and taking some uncertain steps towards nowhere in specific.

“Sorry.” Richie, who was still close to the shelf, put the comic book back in its place and turned around from the wall to face Eddie, who was now leaning against the dresser. Too familiar. “It was a genuine question.”

“Oh, okay.” Eddie started to play with his fingers. “She’s been good, calm for now.”

The boys stood in silence while Richie kept fidgeting in place, just shifting his weight from one leg to the other until accepting the awkwardness that was inevitably going to stick around.

There was a dry chuckle coming from the other side of the room that made him look up to look at a crossed-arm Eddie, visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” With a shrug, Richie moved to sit on the foot of the bed, leaving them facing each other. “I was the one who wanted to talk.”

Eddie asked, quietly. “So… Will you?” He wished the answer was no.

Richie took a big gulf of air and stared at the floor near Eddie’s feet. “I don’t know how to say it.” Then he rubbed his palm over his knuckles harshly and placed both feet on a part of the bed-frame that was exposed, bending his knees to get more comfortable. “Look, Eds-”

“You don’t need to say anything.” Almost too quickly, Eddie interrupted, wishing that it didn’t sound as desperate as he felt.

Richie furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and stared up at Eddie instead. “Yeah, but that’s… that’s kind of the point, you know? I wanted to talk…”

As if it was the most natural action, Eddie rolled his eyes and sighed. It made Richie’s stomach turn in an unpleasant way. “Richie, listen-”

“No, Eds. You listen.” He was kind of aggressive about it, to the point where Richie thought Eddie would reprehend to be quiet. But Eddie must have lost his sanity, then, because he practically screeched back.

“I don’t fucking want to.” And maybe it was just Richie feeling overall vulnerable at the moment, but he could only hear venom in it. Usually, he could see when Eddie was being cruel on purpose, as if he wanted to get away with being mean. Richie is familiar with it, with Eddie being unkind just because that’s how he learned to deal with things. But Richie was always able to see past that and catch the true emotions behind Eddie’s façade. This time, however, he sensed the hatred, nothing else, and as much as he wanted to believe there was more to it than that, maybe masking, or fear, Richie couldn’t help but think that he was a truly detestable person, and that, now, Eddie wanted nothing more than to see him gone.

This whole realization took him some time. Richie gaped, and stared, and bit his lips to prevent his jaw from shaking. “Was it… was it something I did?” Eddie’s face softened. “Did I say something?” Richie sounded broken.

As if he couldn’t take it anymore, Eddie buried his face in his hands and shook his head at the same time. “No.” He whined just before dragging his hands through his face and letting them drop. “I’m sorry, Rich. Fuck, I am.”

“Well then, what’s going on?” Richie asked with exasperation at this point. The adrenaline rushing through his body at the moment had him getting up again and walking slightly closer.

Suddenly looking rigid again, Eddie squared up his shoulders and locked eyes with Richie. “I should be the one asking you that.” He was calmer, but serious. “You throw a fucking bomb at me and now you’re stalling and-”

“So, do you want to hear me or not?” Richie asked, genuinely confused.

“God, no.” Eddie couldn’t have helped it. It just slipped off his lips before he had the chance to encourage Richie on.

With a dry chuckle, Richie threw his hands in the air. “Not a good fucking clue, Eds. You don’t want to hear me, but you want me to spit things out. Where does that leave me?” Richie had to tone his voice down in order to say the words out in a harsher way. God only knows how much he feels like shouting right now. He’s not mad with anyone, he’s just tired and disoriented and frustrated.

“I don’t know, okay?” Eddie opens his mouth three times before finding the right words. “You’re right, I don’t want to hear any of it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About what?” God, Richie is going crazy.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb on me, Rich.” Eddie snarled.

“Okay, so. You don’t want to talk about that, what do we do, then? Keep on this stupid chicken game?” Richie took another step further before freezing in the middle of the second one. He should not have said that.

Eddie looked everywhere else but at him. “Well at least that settles it, then.”

Richie can’t quite speak, so he just stares hopelessly and dumbly while his throat squeezes out questioning whimpers. Eddie seemed to catch on.

“Just a stupid chicken game, right?” He shrugged before detaching his body from the dresser and rounding Richie’s body to go open the closet. Richie watched him, helpless, while it seemed like he was choosing out a pyjama set. Richie had a feeling he was only doing it to look busy and nonchalant, but his thoughts were pushed away when Eddie started speaking again. “How about this: you win, Rich. Now you don’t have to worry about me throwing another move at you.”

Okay, well, fuck. He was not expecting that. He’s a little lost. “Is that what you think I want, you dumbass?”

Eddie’s hands kind of stopped mid action. He turned around, taken aback. “Now you’re insulting me??”

If you had asked him, with some time in advance for prior thinking, Eddie would have told you that the moment would have been at least gentler. More conscious, because, honestly, he didn’t see it coming. Maybe less aggressive. And he would have been used to the feeling of Richie’s breathing hitting his skin. But instead, he didn’t even have time to breathe beforehand. Eddie was sure that Richie was about to knock him out with a punch or a push, and he even squared up and got ready to embrace the impact. Because what else would he think at the sight of a visibly shaking Richie, red faced, red necked, advancing at him at full speed with both hands turned into fists in front of him?

It certainly wasn’t that those fists would grasp his shoulders and pull him forward. It certainly wasn’t that Eddie would be subconsciously okay with it and allow Richie to throw himself at him with such abandon that they’d end up knocking chins and shoulders and foreheads and suddenly, lips and teeth.

It would be considered the most awful kiss for anyone else. If it even could be called a kiss. Eddie had his eyes open, as well as his mouth, that was parted from talking and harsh breathing. He had been ready to be pushed straight into the closet door, but instead he was embraced in the most agitated, needy, desperate and violent grip that was overflowing with love and affection. Eddie only grasped the loving part of it in the last second, after Richie’s lips caught his upper lip only, and after Eddie’s teeth rubbed against Richie’s closed mouth.

It did feel like love. And it looked like it. Eddie had been left cross-eyed to stare at Richie’s fluttering eyelids. He could almost taste the nerves through their barely touching mouths. It was totally off-centred, sloppy, unplanned and unexpected. It didn’t last more than two seconds. It was enough to blank Eddie’s mind.

Richie sort of pulled away and tried to get closer at the same time. He kept his eyes closed, kept gripping Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie kept studying this weird boy in front of him while finally having a taste of what it was like to have Richie’s puffs of air hitting his mouth and nose.

It was intoxicating.

And then Richie started crying, Eddie could see the beginnings of a panic attack creep up on him.

He would have, later, blame it on his empty mind, slightly dozed off from the surprise factor of this whole thing, but he did what he thought was best in that moment. Carefully, Eddie inched his right hand up. Brushed his fingers over the pale skin on Richie’s arm, over the fabric of the shirt, then the collar. Caused a goose bump to break on the surface of Richie’s neck from the way Eddie gently scrapped his nails there, which almost made him giggle. And then he settled his hand on the back of Richie’s head and pulled him forward at the same time as he tilted his own head to the right to try and do his best at this whole kissing thing that had been a mystery to him up until 10 seconds ago.

Richie must have been too surprised to keep crying, because they kissed, and kissed, and got lost in themselves for longer than Eddie should have allowed. But as the big fool he is, Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off of Richie, and Richie just kept on deepening the kiss to point Eddie never imaged he would ever get to experience in his life. It was different than what he expected it to be, kissing, that is. Lips on lips, the way that felt, how hot it is (in terms of temperature). It was very warm and wetter than what he would have liked, it was overwhelming and intrusive. His lungs felt empty, probably were, because he couldn’t breathe enough air in between the milliseconds where they’d part only to collide again in a different angle.

Richie’s hands were everywhere, kept changing from the back of Eddie’s neck to sides of his face only to travel backwards again, and lower, lower, lower. Until they settled on the small of his back, close to his hips, and Richie just kept applying pressure to somehow bring them closer, as if he could make them merge into one. Eddie wasn’t against it.

Until he was.

Until a long lost thought, old and supposedly forgotten, crept up his spine and filled his empty brain with it. After that, there was only one thing Eddie could think about.

 I’ll blow you for a quarter, Eds.

It felt like burning deep within his chest, so much that it drove him crazy enough to push Richie away. He watched for a moment as Richie stumbled backwards, confused, hurt, scared.

 I’ll do it for a dime…

I . . . I don’t have a dime. His brain shouted back.

He tried to fight back the images of rottenness and sickness while sobbing out an apology. “I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry Richie.” He hiccupped and took both hands to cover his mouth while shaking. “I’m not- I can’t. I can’t be this way.” His voice was hoarse, abused.

The words hang in the air, left them both stoned in place, just staring at each other in silence while they tried to catch their breaths. Eddie expected Richie to cry, if he was being honest, but he just stood there, out of breath and looking sort of dead.

 Come back here, kid!

Another thought of death chasing Eddie up had him squeeze his hands harder against his mouth.

Then Richie shrugged, stared at the window, and mumbled out weak words, almost as if he was regretting what he hadn’t yet said, but would anyway. “I think you need help, Eddie.”

Eddie inhaled sharply, feeling deeply ashamed.

 I’ll blow you for free…

“Not anyone else’s help…” Richie added. He sounded small, ridiculed. They locked eyes one last time. “Find yourself, alright?”  

Before Richie could move to leave, Eddie bolted out of the room. The words kept echoing in his skull for the next twelve minutes he spent forcing himself to throw up, locked away in the bathroom to put off having to leave and face the woman who was probably the main reason everything around him felt damaged.

He stared, helplessly, at his own reflection, his true self. Washed out face,

liar,

faded lips,

coward,

and purplish veins lining the thin skin of his eyelids.

 Find yourself, alright?

  He would.

rooftop taglist:   @richietoaster   @rainydayriots   @reddieloves    @thetrashmouthclub   @lemonboi03 @noodleboyshane    @pillsandglasses   @studpuffin      @dandelion-stan     @reddiesetrichie     @squishynonbinarytwink      @itschunky      @burymestanding     @duderrific    @its-rye @salty-kaspbrak  @youtubequeens   @reddieseggrolls   @addimagination   @pastelstozier @sleepysirenprincess @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh @eds-trashmouth

perma taglist:  @constantreaderfool   @mrs-vh  @eds-trashmouth @girasol-eddie

#reddie #rooftop #fanfic #ao3 #writing #me #original #fanfiction #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #losers club #it2017 #itbook #itmovie #beverly marsh #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stanley uris #pennywise happened but certainly dead

[charliedawn]

The Joke's on Us part 4

Warning : possessive behavior.

A dark shadow floats on top you and gently caresses your face.

" Soon..We'll be reunited, old friend."

Penny gasps, recognizing that shadow from the deep confines of his memories..Maturin had mentioned him when they were still friends.

" Shardik.."

At the mention of his name, the shadow quickly turns towards Penny whose breath stops. Shardik's smile widens and he floats on top of Penny to stare at him straight in the eyes.

" Ah..You must be one of the creatures Maturin created. A shame, I really thought you would be more..impressive ?"

Penny only snarls at him before responding with a threat.

" What were you doing ? I swear that if you touch her..I'll kill you."

The entity, far from being intimidated, only laughs loudly at Penny's menace which seems to amuse him more than anything.

" Really ? And how will you do that without your powers, Penny ? Don't forget that I am as powerful as you were and as old as Maturin. Funny, the old turtle really thought you and Pennywise could stop me when he is gone. Imagine how much he was disappointed when he realized that your hatred towards humanity was blinding you. He never got you those powers to use them against humans, or children..He wanted you to protect them. But, now that the old turtle is dead and you two are too weak to stop me. I'll be able to rule over that planet. I'll suck upon its energy until there is nothing left. I'll even start with you little charming town. Derry, is it ?"

Penny glares up at him, but had to admit that he can't protect you like this. Now that he is only human, he is happy, happier than he's ever been..but..The shadow chuckles evilly in the shell of his ear.

" That planet has been without order for much too long..It passed its life expectancy hundreds of years ago..But don't worry, as soon as I will have ate her, Maturin's powers will be in me and I will make sure to bring an end to humanity.."

Penny growls at the mention of you being eaten by Shardik and tries to jump on him with a roar.

" Don't you dare touch her !"

However, he suddenly wakes up, covered in sweat and sees that you are the one who woke him up. Your eyebrows are tensed in obvious worry and, without any words, Penny wraps his arms around you. He had felt fear before..but not like that..never like that..His heart is racing against his ribcage and he is holding onto you like it is the last time.

" P..Penny ? Are you alright ?"

Your question makes him open his eyes and come back to reality. You are running your hand gently on top of his head, smoothing his hair in the process to calm him down. He finally steps back and looks at Pennywise that had woken up as well. The both of them had felt it..He was coming back. You look at the both of them with a confused expression and finally ask, tired by the secrecy of both men.

" That's it. What's going on ? Why do you look so grave all of a sudden ?!"

Penny doesn't answer, he only stands up and gets out of the room without another word. You turn towards Pennywise, hoping for some kind of explanation. He doesn't peep either and only returns to the sofa that had become his bed for the time being. However, you don't let it go and sit in front of him with a determined look on your face.

" Now, you're going to tell me what's going on."

You didn't mean to make it sound like an order, but you couldn't just let them fend for themselves anymore. Pennywise finally turns towards you and sighs loudly before telling you what this was all about.

" Penny and I always had a very deep connection with Maturin, we could feel his presence and so could he. However, Maturin is not the only entity out there. The world has at least 12 entities guarding it. One of them being Shardik..Shardik is one of the twelve guardians of Beams that hold up The Dark Tower. It is a cyborg bear that stands over forty feet tall and one ugly unkillable bastard with more energy than millions of suns. He was pissed to know that I killed his brother and wanted to come and exterminate this planet on which lives his brother's murderer..But like many, he was scared of us. But now that we lost our powers ? He's coming, and with you being the turtle's successor ? We will all die for sure."

You lean against the back of your chair and sigh loudly. You only are a painting teacher..Of course he would crush you. But, that didn't mean you had to give up.

" Well, aren't you the optimist ?! Why don't you show me how to fight instead of complaining ?!"

He ignores you and only turns his back to you as he pretends to fall asleep again. You stand up and suddenly throws his blanket off. That get a reaction and you can hear a growl from him as he stands up to face you menacingly.

" Why ?! You want to know why ?! Because of this !"

He suddenly takes you by the shoulder and digs his thumb in your wounded flesh. You whine in pain and Pennywise immediately retracts his hand.

" Do you really think that you'll ever be able to vanquish Shardik the bear with a human body ?! He would squish you in an instant! Learn how to heal yourself, then we'll talk about your fighting skills.."

You glare at him: deep inside, you know he is right, but that doesn't make it any less frustrating. You humph at him before leaving the room to join your bedroom, but then, you hear someone crying upstairs. You follow the sound and find Penny, sitting on the floor and leaning against one of the corridor's wall. He looks up at you when he hears you approaching and you crouch by his side with a reassuring smile.

" Hey..We're going to be okay..Alright ?"

You try to comfort him, but he only sobs.

" What if..What if you can't beat him ? What if the only solution is for us to get back into who we were ?"

You sigh, knowing that if there were to be no other solution, you would have to break your promise..You would have to hurt them, one way or another.

" I guess I'll have to change you back. I know that I prefer you to have the choice but..If there are no other solution, I'll have to break my promise. I can't let you die. Not when I know I could have avoided it.."

You sit next to him and you both stay quiet for a moment, lost in your thoughts until Penny looks at you with his eyes full of uncertainty.

" And what if I don't want to get back to what I was ? What if I want to stay human ?"

You can't help but smile and tears start to build up in your eyes..Why couldn't the universe leave them alone ? You are so close to them finally accepting their new forms..

" Then, I'll guess it'll be my job to be sure that you don't have to."

He smiles back and before you know it, you are both holding hands. You don't try to get it out, even though you know that at any moment, Penny could come back to his old ways. You're not scared of him, you aren't even sure if you ever really were ? You don't even notice that Pennywise had climbed up the stairs and is now looking at the both of you from afar with a slight frown. He only turns away and waits when he is safe in is bed to grunt.

" What does she find in him..?"

Unaware that his eyes glow a slight orange in the dark for a second.

The next day, you decide that it's grocery shopping time. However, the two clowns are still sound asleep and you take the opportunity to get out alone. Once in the street, you take a breath of fresh air and start walking towards the shop, wondering what you should buy for the two men. You enter the shop and start looking around. You are lost in your thoughts and don't see another person coming in your direction. You suddenly collide with said person and look up to see a man with blue eyes and a nice smile.

" I'm sorry. I didn't see you there."

He extends his hand towards you and you take it with a grateful smile.

" No. It's me. I should have looked where I was going."

His smile widens as you shake his hand. He introduces himself.

" I'm Dan. I don't really know my way around here. I'm the new teacher from down the block."

You smiles politely and introduce yourself as well.

" I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you. I'm the Art teacher of the neighborhood."

His eyes seem to light up at the mention of you being an Art teacher.

" Really ?! You're the Art teacher ? My cousin never stops talking about you. Tom ?"

You seem to remember last time and wince at the memory. Seems like Tom hadn't said anything about the incident..You try your best to keep your composure and automatically feel that you need to make amends somehow.

" Do you want..Do you want a coffee ?"

He smiles again and nods.

" Sure ! Lead the way."

You take your groceries and pay them before getting out. You end up in a small coffee shop and both take what you want before sitting outside.

" I'm sorry. You must think it's weird that I never came before. I just moved in from the States so..Tom isn't even aware that I'm back yet."

Oh. Well, you still hoped that Tom hadn't talked to anyone about what had happened. You smile and shake you head.

" Not at all. Tom is a very nice boy and I always like to meet the families of my students. It helps to understand them better. Although, it's the first time I actually invite a member for a coffee."

" I should be honored then."

He takes a sip of his coffee before winking playfully at you. You blush and let a small chuckle.

" To tell you the truth..Tom and I have been quite distant since our older brother died. I do sometimes feel guilty for leaving him, but.."

You see that he is concerned and put you hand on his compassionately.

" I'm sorry..It must have hurt."

You had heard about Tom losing a brother, he did have a period when he could only draw dark things. Horrible things. It must have been a shock for everyone in his family. Dan smiles gratefully at you before answering.

" Don't worry. It's been a year now. I'm stronger than this."

You smile sadly at him, but then feel two very familiar shadows looming over you from behind. A hand grabs your shoulder and squeezes it in silent warning.

" Hi Y/N. Who is this ?"

Penny..And Pennywise is certainly not far behind. Dan stands up and stretches his hand towards them with a bright smile.

" Oh ! Sorry ! My name is Dan, I'm the brother of one of Y/N's students. And you are ?"

You are about to answer when Pennywise does it for you. He takes his hand and smiles forcefully.

" Pleasure. My name is Robert, and this is Bob. We're her roommates. Unfortunately, she seems to have forgotten about us this morning. You should have woke us up, Y/N. We would have helped you with the groceries."

He may sound calm, but you know better: the way he pronounces the last word makes you understand that he is pissed. Even Dan seems to understand as he retracts his hand and addresses you one last smile.

" Well..I should go. It was nice to meet you, Y/N."

However, he still writes something on a piece of paper and hands it to you.

"Here is my number, just in case."

He then gives one last nod in acknowledgement to the two men before turning and walking away. You have cold sweat running down your back as you can feel the murderous glares of the two clowns behind you.

" Let's go. Shall we ?"

Penny finally ask, more like commands as he grabs you harshly by the arm and drags you towards the house. You just have the time to get your bags. As soon as you are home, you run towards the kitchen and pretend to be busy with putting the grocery items on the shelves and in the fridge.

" W..What do you want for..?"

You don't have the time to finish your sentence as Pennywise suddenly comes behind you and wraps his arms around you.

" Now, princess..You're going to turn around and face us. We're not angry. We just want to talk."

"..Just want to talk..?"

You repeat with a broken voice, making sure that you heard right. Pennywise only nods slowly and you gulp loudly before turning around with your eyes closed tight.

" Come on, darling..You know that we want to see your eyes..Come on."

You tentatively open one eye, then the other in shock. They are not angry..They are very mad. You see that their eyes have changed colors and their skins are white..the same white than a few weeks ago. Suddenly, Penny takes you by the throat and pins you to the fridge while Pennywise presses his nose again your throat. He then inhales deeply and growls perceptibly.

" Looks like your little stunt hurt us more than we thought..I'm smelling your fear, sweetheart. And it smells delicious..One more minute, and we would have surely taken our true appearances back."

You don't understand. You hadn't hurt them, so why are they taking their clown forms back ?! Why are they angry even ?! You try to breathe, but Penny's mouth is against yours in a second..You open your eyes wide 'Everything makes sense now. They are jealous. Pain..They're in pain. You whimper when he bites your bottom lip. But, you don't open your mouth and he groans.

" You are going to open that mouth, sweet thing..Or I'm not sure you'll have a mouth to close at the end of the day.."

You open your eyes wide and tears are falling down your face. You don't have a choice but to open your mouth. But before he could do much, Pennywise gets a hold of him and throws him away from you.

" What the heck, Penny ?! When I said we were supposed to talk, I didn't mean by putting your tongue in her mouth ! Jeez ! Get a hold of yourself, kid !"

For a moment, shame and guilt seem to take a hold of Penny and he shakily stands back. He seems confused himself..Why did he do that ? Pennywise is taken aback by the clown's kiss..Where the heck did he even learn that from ?! Pennywise then returns to you, curled into a little ball on the floor and his heart tightens..Sh*t. They got carried away..Again. He sighs loudly and takes back his human form. Penny also loses his white skin and his yellow eyes. He wants to approach you but, you cry out.

" Don't touch me !"

Penny freezes and tries to nuzzle your neck as an apology, but you frown and push him back.

" No, Penny ! I'm angry ! You didn't have the right ! I didn't want you to be my first kiss ! I wanted someone who loved me !"

He looks up to Pennywise for help, but the older clown just shrugs. He has no idea of what to do..Truth is, he doesn't even know what all the problem is with "first kiss". He knows that a girl had to remain pure in order to marry when he was still alive..But he thought that rule had been abandoned long ago ? However, you seem very upset and Penny doesn't like it when you cry. He tries to think of a solution, of anything to make you forget what happened..He wants to get out the music box, but in your rage, you grab it and smash it against the wall. To your horror, you realize too late what you've done and Penny roars before pouncing on you, his teeths bare and ready to chomp on you. Pennywise tries to make him get off you, but he is too weak and Penny doesn't have any problem pushing him aside. However, Pennywise falls and knocks his head against a nearby table. You can see blood, and so does Penny. Penny quickly gets back to his human form and shakes Pennywise to wake him up.

" Pennywise ! What's going on ?!"

Pennywise only groans in pain when Penny shakes him again. You instantly come by his side and automatically feel the sweat covering his arms and forehead. You then see a strange mark on his neck and blood starts getting out from his nose, eyes and ears. You quickly unbutton his shirt and gasp in horror.

" Oh my God.."

He was covered by black sports that seemed to spread all over him like a..a disease.

" P..Pennywise. Did you have the..?"

" The black plague ?"

He guesses and you nod. He sighs and finally nods.

" Yes. It was not as bad as my family though.."

You bite your lower lip..By how fast it was spreading, he had a few hours at best. The disease seemed to have survived with him. You are about to call the ambulance when Pennywise stops you.

" Don't..Don't call the hospital. Those bastards won't know what to do..They're not prepared. Plus, they could get infected."

You sigh before remembering that..

" Pennywise..You bit me."

Your voice is shaking as you wonder if you will have it too..? Pennywyse's eyes widen and he curses.

" Sh*t. I have no idea.."

You have trouble breathing and put your hands in your pockets as you pace back and force, wondering what you should do ? You suddenly feel something inside your palm and quickly get it out to look at it. Sam's number..Inviting him could maybe break the deal and make them return to what they were ? Save them ? You shiver at the thought. Yes..But at what price ? You look back at Pennywise, his eyes are closed and his breathing very bad..You don't have a choice. You call him. It doesn't take you long to have him on the other side of the line.

" Hello ?"

" Sam ? Hey ! Could you come over ?"

You emphasize on his name, which make both of the clowns groan loudly in disapproval. However, they know what you're trying to do and don't try to stop you.

" Yeah ! Sure! I'll be right here !"

You force yourself to smile, still wanting to sound excited as to see him. However, the clowns seem to slowly change and growl loudly in the background. You hang off and look at them with a small sad smile.

" You know that it's the only way..Please, don't make this even more complicated than it really is."

Both clowns seem to understand your sacrifice and Pennywise slowly takes your hand with, for the first time in forever, tears in his eyes.

" Thank you, sweetheart."

You only nod and then, ask Penny to move him upstairs, as for Dan not to see him. He reluctantly agrees and helps you move the man upstairs. You then ask Penny to go hide in the basement. You prepare yourself and it doesn't take long for the doorbell to ring. You take a big breath before opening the door and letting Dan in. He looks around and finally smiles at you.

" Hi. So, what did you want to talk about ?"

You bite your lip and start thinking of a good reason for his presence.

" I..I just thought that it's been a long time since I've last had company and I wanted to see you again.."

He smiles and nods before sitting down on the couch. You gulp loudly before sitting beside him and looking at everything but him. He seems to catch on your nervousness and gently runs his hand on your back to soothe you.

" Hey, if you're not ready, I understand. I can wait and.."

" No !"

You hadn't meant to sound so desperate, but Pennywise was dying and you didn't know how to save him but to hurt him the only way you could. You take Dan by the collar and suddenly kiss him on the lips. He seems surprised at first, but reciprocates soon enough. You open your eyes and see that his are closed, he is actually enjoying the kiss. You smile. Maybe it wasn't so bad ? Penny and Pennywise would go down to the sewers and you would get to have a normal life back. However, you should have known that things wouldn't be so simple. Dan starts to be more persistent and slowly slides his hand up your thigh.

" No, Dan, wait.."

But he doesn't wait and only deepens the kiss to shut you up. Suddenly, someone pushes you apart harshly and you see Penny that took back his original form. He glares at Dan and growls menacingly before taking you in his arms and running in the basement. When he stops, you call him, nervous and scared that he would hurt you.

" Penny ?"

You ask, afraid that something had gone wrong..But, Penny only smiles with his multiple rows of very sharp teeths before answering you in his familiar high-pitched singing voice.

" ~I'm back.."

You smile in relief, but Penny suddenly takes you by the throat and you only have the time to look at him with widened eyes.

" Don't look at me like that..We wouldn't want Shardik to come and get you.."

When you fall into complete darkness, you barely hear Penny adding something in the shell of your ear.

" Don't worry. When all of this is over, we'll make sure to remind you who you truly belong to..You've been playing with us for too long, pet. With no humanity to abide by, there will be nothing to hold me back.."

Whereas upstairs, Pennywise enters the room transformed as you and takes Dan by the neck to kiss him harshly. However, when Dan opens his eyes, Pennywise is standing before him with a large grin.

" Surprise, shawty ! Not the person you were expecting, huh ? What ? Never kissed a clown before ? Remember that when the girl says no, it means no."

And then, without a warning, Pennywise sinks his teethes into Dan's shoulder. However, he doesn't scream. Pennywise feels something acid in his mouth and quickly steps back with a sour growl.

" You aren't human.."

Dan only chuckles before sitting on the couch in a nonchalant manner. His skin quickly turning to a pale shade of white and his eyes brighten almost mischievously.

" Man..Didn't think it would take you this long to figure it out.."

#fandoms #fanfic #imagine #pennywise 1990 #pennywise 1990 x y/n x pennywise 2017 #pennywise 2017 #pennywise x reader

[notalone91]

All’s Well That Ends Well (To End Up With You)

Richie Tozier x Eddie Kasbrak (It: Chapter 2)

Richie and Eddie face their fears and, this time, Pennywise really doesn’t have anything to do with it.

tw: canon character death, momentary suicide contemplation, R for language.

a/n: Who let me have a new movie to be obsessed with?  Fun Fact: I’ve had a lowkey crush on Bill Hader for a long time (like since EARLY in the SNL years...) and it sort of ebbs and flows and... uh... right now it’s HIGH FUCKING TIDE.  You know what that means!  Time to make the pretty man’s character cry!!!

"Next time, we pick regular scary," Richie yelled as they ran down the tunnels toward the cavernous space where the rest of the Losers were still- hopefully- fighting Pennywise.

Eddie gasped for breath, wishing for a moment that he hadn't just set his inhaler on fire. "Next time?!" he squawked, shoving him lightly, not wanting to even entertain the thought of having to do this again. In his mind, maybe, in twenty-seven more years, he'd be able to shake off the guilt of what had just happened upstairs. Sure, he was afraid. That's all well and good. Most of the time, fear keeps you on your toes. Fear gets moles checked. Fear's tire pressure is checked regularly and the spare is in perfect condition. Fear turns the NFC setting off before walking away from the register. Fear becomes a risk analyst because what else does it do. Fear is safe and ready and aware. Until you're battling a monster for whom fear is a teenage boy in a microwave snack commercial. Then, fear is a liability. It's a weapon you've forged but never get to wield.  Fear is what gets you killed.  "There had better not be a fucking next time.  If there's a next time, we're all dead."

"Stop saying that, man," Richie said, tugging his still skittish friend into a small branch-off from their path. He struggled to pull his arm away and get back to the rest of their group but was fairly easily restrained. If there was one thing that his newfound memories had instilled in Richie, it was that their best shot at this shithead was together. "You weren't-"

"I was! I was going to let you die!" As he said them, the impact of his words hit Eddie like a ton of bricks. The shock and hurt on Richie's face was payment in kind. He folded his arms and took a step back, looking at the ground. "I froze. It had you and I couldn't..." He trailed off. His memory hadn't come back as clearly as the others yet. He wasn't sure what a lot of what was coming back to him meant. Soft touches, shared glances, hushed whispers mixed with the normal smacks and eye rolls and jokes about his mother. The only thing that was clear about it was the knot that developed in his stomach whenever he looked at Richie. There was something there. And not the bonds of escaping death. He certainly didn't get this feeling when he looked at Bill or Bev. This was different. Watching it set its sights on Richie, he felt himself completely detach from reality.  "I couldn't..."

Richie absentmindedly dug his fingers into his elbow.  “What, Eds? You were scared! This whole thing is nuts!”  He turned and started to pace, adjusting his glasses every time they began to slip.  “I am pretty sure if we hadn't all done this before, we'd have shit our pants and got the fuck out of dodge. You were stabbed in the face, for fuck's sake.”  His movements began to calm and he stared at him, gauze covering the too-fresh wound on his cheek.

“Yeah. And then what?”  Eddie spat, staring at his feet and cradling himself tighter.  “I'd be the guy who watched the only person he's ever loved get torn apart by some fucking spider version of...”  Just like in the movies, he could almost hear the record scratch to a stop and the glass shatter.  He had not meant to say that.  He was married.  His life was in New York and Richie’s was in L.A. and what difference did it make if he’d loved him when he was twelve?  His heart raced, betraying his panic, but all he could manage was a whispered  “Fuck.”

The tunnel grew eerily silent.  The two men stared at each other, willing the other to speak.  Richie couldn’t believe it.  

Over the years, he’d grown used to being alone.  Sometime since returning to Derry, he’d realized he’d been leaving room for Eddie to come back into his life.  He’d always look for someone’s reaction to his jokes, even alone.  Part of why he never wrote his own material was because no one on his team got them.  His assistants tried.  They really tried.  Time, now, made it all so clear.  He’d spent the last twenty-seven years trying to replace him.  Even moments before, his fears had manifested themselves as a closet.  How typical.  An aging queer literally terrified of a fucking closet.  Nothing had changed.  He’d let himself repress that whole aspect of himself because what difference did it make, truly, if Eddie wasn’t by his side?

He blinked back a few tears, finally finding his voice, breathless though it may have been.  “You loved me?”  

Eddie spluttered a few times but he couldn’t make himself clarify what he’d said.  Truthfully, it hadn’t required any clarification.  It was out there in the open and he’d said it and, terrified though he was he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it.  If only it hadn’t been while standing ankle-deep in grey water and feet away from a physical manifestation of their deepest, darkest fears.  He simply snapped his mouth shut and silently pleaded for him to drop it.

“Eds?” Richie asked again, taking a step closer to him.  He reached his hand out and rested it gently on Eddie’s arm. 

As though scalded, he retracted his arm and turned away, shouting, “We don't have time for this!”  He could feel the flush of his cheeks and praised whatever God was looking over this godless place for the light not quite reaching them.

Having exactly none of his aversions this time, Richie chased after him.  “God damn it, Eddie! We could both die down here and if it's my last chance to hear you say it, I want to hear it!”  He clasped his hands around Eddie’s arms and shook him lightly.  “Just fucking say it!”  Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, beginning to fall freely.  “I need to hear you say it!” he begged.

Eddie shrugged him off and backed away, the familiar fear rising up in his throat.  “Hear what? 36 hours ago, neither of us remembered who the other was!”

“Fuck! Do I have to say it first?” Richie conceded, backing himself against the wall for support.  “I love you.”  His words were more of a shout than he’d have liked.  They echoed around the cave, trying to make up for lost time.  The power of his voice shocked them both a little.  Richie wrapped his arms around his middle and stared at his feet, unable to look him in the eye.  “I've loved you since we were kids.  I've loved you since before I was old enough to actually know what that meant. Jesus,” he sighed, resting his head against the wall, “for the past 27 years, there's been this stupid void that I could never fill.”  He finally managed to bring his eyes to Eddie.  He took a step toward him and reached out to swat his arm.  “It was you, fucker.”  He gave a bittersweet smile and shook his head, almost unable to believe how long it had taken him.  “You and your stupid hypochondria and your answers for everything and your neverending...”  When his eyes met Eddie’s, he startled himself.  Eddie’s expression didn’t come across as pleased or anything even remotely positive.  All Richie could see was fear and immediately, he began berating himself for even mentioning it.  He sucked in his lips and threw his hands up in defeat.  “You know what? Forget it. We all will soon enough anyway.”

A pressure built in his chest as he watched the moment begin to slip away, and this time, it wasn’t an asthma attack.  “No!” Eddie whimpered, moving toward him and catching his hands, pulling him in closer.  “I won't forget.”  He brought the taller man’s hands to rest around his neck and cupped his jaw, realizing for the first time how much lighter his eyes had gotten over the years.  “Not this time,” he assured, leaning up to bridge the gap between them with a deep kiss that should have happened years earlier.  

Richie nearly fell backward at the sudden force.  He let his hands weave into his neatly coiffed hair and disheveled it in a way he’d wanted to for ages.  He’d forgotten so much but now... Now, he was sure he’d remember this forever, not that he planned on having to.  There’d be time.  So much time.  But for the time being, this would have to wait.  When he reopened his eyes and took him in, he realized something off.  “Were you on your tippy-toes, Eds?” he asked, laughing gently.

With an abrupt sigh, Eddie rolled his eyes and gave him a light shove.  “Oh, shut up,” he laughed, pulling him in again by the edges of his shirt and kissed him once more.  He smiled against his lips, despite himself, and muttered “Asshole.”

“I mean, it's cute,” Richie said, straightening up and letting his hands fall to the small of his back, “you have to reach for your prize.”  He puffed out his shoulders dramatically like he was some sort of amalgamation of Prince Charming and Superman all wrapped into one.

“Fuck you,” he said, pushing off of him and starting to, with newfound confidence, walk back to where the rest of the Losers were fighting a much more tactile set of fears.  “And don’t call me ‘Eds,’“ he called over his shoulder.

Richie let his gaze linger on Eddie a little longer than he’d ever done so intentionally, willing his memory to cling to every last inch of him.  Then, he started walking slowly behind him.  His stomach formed a tight knot as his mind settled on what they were about to do.

Before they reached the mouth of the tunnel, Eddie paused for a moment, letting Richie pass him.  “Hey, wait,” he called.  Despite the chill coursing over him, he realized there was something he hadn’t really said.

“What?” Richie asked, turning back to face him.

Eddie reached his hand for him and laced their fingers together, marveling at how right it felt.  “I love you, too.”  He smiled up at Richie and wrapped his free arm up around his neck, breathing him in.  Richie pressed his cheek against the top of his head.  Neither wanted to admit the overwhelming dread they were holding in.  At least dread wasn’t fear.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie heard a voice in the back of his mind.  It was Eddie, when they were young.  They were standing in the middle of the road in front of the house at 29 Neibolt Street two weeks before Georgie disappeared.  Bill had insisted on a hybrid game of Truth or Dare and Ding Dong Ditch, bored of their normal antics.  Stanley had already had his turn, having to ditch from the charred house on Harris Avenue.  He sat leaning against the handlebars of his bike and watched smugly as Eddie made his way up the path.  He got about halfway to the door and froze, staring at an upstairs window.  “This is fucking insane! I'm not staying here another minute.”  He turned around and hopped back on his bike, sending a booming “Fuck you guys!” over his shoulder.

“Hey, Eddie, wait up!” Richie called to him and sped off in pursuit, laughing a little at his friend.  After all, it was just a house.  

It was just a house.

It was just a house that led to the center of Derry’s sewer system.  It was just a house that was possessed by an evil shape-shifting clown.  It was just a house where they kept having ridiculous near-death experiences.  It was just a house where Pennywise had nearly taken Richie with the deadlights just moments prior.  It was just a house where Eddie had mustered up his courage and freed him from the grasp of it.  It was just a house where the fucking clown had impaled Eddie, spraying his blood all over Richie.

“Richie,” Eddie groaned, falling onto his side with a thud.

Clamoring to be next to him, not even noticing the amount of blood that had been spilled onto him, he started trying to put pressure on the gaping wound in the center of his chest.  “Ed!”  He scooted closer, taking the man in his arms, shaking, trying desperately not to make things worse.

A shaky breath carried out his name.  “Richie...”  His hands searched to grasp onto his shirt.  He clung to Richie, as though it would keep him.  

Tears fell quickly from Richie’s stunned eyes.  “Eds, it’s okay.  I’m here.  I’ve got you,” he said.  He appraised the wound for a moment and looked up at his friends for a moment, pleading for one of them to say it wasn’t that bad; that everything would be fine.  “You’re alright.  We’re gonna get you out of here.”  He stared at the pooling blood under his hands and ignored it.

That was the key, wasn’t it?  If he believed that Eddie would be okay, he would be.  If he ignored it, it was simply a trick.  It was one of Pennywise’s mind games.  It was nothing.  They’d get him out of here.  They had to.

“I got him, Richie.  I- I got him,” he stammered, as a drop of blood began to form at the corner of his mouth.  

Richie smiled, trying his best not to let his expression show even a trace of the panic that was building in his chest.  There was nothing any of them could do for him, at least not down here.  “You did, Eds.  You got him good.”  

Every breath Eddie took seemed to be more shallow and more pained than the last.  They had to get him out of here.  Richie placed his hand on Eddie’s cheek fondly, forcing him to stay focused on him with an encouraging nod.  “Now, let’s get you moving.”  

Eddie groaned with effort but couldn’t do much to get himself off the ground.  Richie slid himself under his arm and moved to act as a crutch.  “Bill, help me out here.”  Their friend stared at them, unmoved, paralyzed by the shock of how everything had unfolded.  He held a little tighter to a sobbing Bev but didn’t so much as acknowledge that he was being called for.  Richie shook his head and looked up at the next person.  “Ben?”  No response but a pitiful shake of his head.  Richie couldn’t understand why no one would help him.  He shot a pleading stare at Mike who steeled his jaw and pawed at his eyes.  He turned back to him and let his hands linger a little too long, a little too gently.  “Alright, Eds, on the count of three,” he said and leaned down to let him grip tightly around his neck.

“Don’t call me Eds, fuckface,” he whispered.  Richie gave a soft laugh and dug his hands into the back of Eddie’s shirt.  

Eddie knew, deep down, that he wasn’t going to make it out of this cave, but he wouldn’t let Richie think he was giving up.  In reality, he just wanted him to hold him until he was gone.  He supposed he would take what he could.  He wrapped his arms around him in as much of a hug as he could.  Eddie pressed his face into Richie’s neck and took a deep breath.  He nodded and made a soft noise that Richie took to mean “I’m ready.”

Richie took a deep breath and said, as confidently as he could, “Alright.  One... Two...”

From behind him, a shrill voice teased along “One... Two...”

Pennywise.  It was still alive.  He could vaguely hear his friends screaming as the clown sprung to life “Shit," he hissed, trying desperately to wrench him from the ground so they could make their getaway.

“Shit is right, Richie," the old clown sing-songed. "You want all your little friends to find out what you’re hiding?" He twitched his fingers toward the pair and then continued to extend until they were nearly touching Richie.  He stumbled back, maneuvering Eddie just out of the clown’s reach and scrambled in front of him.  "What’s that behind your back?  The boyfriend you’ll never get to have?”

Regaining his focus on the moment, Richie stood and chased the elongated fingers to the hand to which they belonged.  “Listen here you fucking pile of antique used colostomy bags,” he yelled, “there is nothing you can say to me that will make me think you’re anything but an intergalactic crybaby!”  As he landed the last word of the sentence, the clown began to take the form of a giant baby.  

As the group’s insults grew, the being shrunk and they realized the power of their words.  The smaller they could make him, the more likely it was that they’d win.  They believed they could and they did.  When they’d finally turned the little shit into the tiniest thing they could, Eddie and Bill reached in together and tore out his shriveled, still-beating heart.  One by one, the Losers hands joined together and they crushed the core of It’s being until finally, they’d won.  

Richie turned back to face Eddie and tell him they’d done it; that Pennywise was gone forever.  It hadn’t all been for nothing.  He went to call out his name, but the word stuck in his throat at the sight of his vacant, unfocused stare and still chest.  Richie ran the few steps to his side and slammed to his knees, putting pressure on the wound that had stopped bleeding.  He grasped desperately at Eddie’s shirt, his face, his hair, he shook him a little, trying to rouse him.  Even as Bev kneeled behind him, trying to make him see reason, his hearing swirled to nothing.  All he could focus on was the pattern of his own breathing, his own heartbeat, and the search for any sign of that on Eddie.  Tears made his vision swim.  Once more, he thought to himself that they should have split right away.

Just like that, he was in The Derry Townhouse with Eddie, safe and fleeing to anywhere that Pennywise wasn’t.  Richie peeked his head out of his room into the hallway and let his voice carry across into his friend’s room.  “You got everything?” he asked.  Ever since Mike had made his reasons for bringing them all back to this place they hadn’t even remembered existed until the day before, the group had been in panic mode.  They were all scrambling to head back to the lives they’d made for themselves in Anywhere But Derry.  For whatever reason, he and Eddie had clung to one another, even then.  They were remembering being close.  There was tension between them.  Something unspoken, maybe even when they were kids.  

“I think so,” Eddie called back to him amidst the whir of zippers and the thudding of luggage.  

“Alright,” he called, heading down the stairs with his duffel and laptop slung over his shoulders, spinning the keys to his rental car in his hand.  “Autobots, roll out!”

Eddie took one last lap of his room to make sure he had everything.  He patted down his pockets and made a mental check.  “Keys?  No keys, took a cab, leaving with Richie,” a curious smile tugged at his mouth as he said the name.  He paused, stricken by the reaction but he didn’t take the time to analyze that.  “Wallet, phone, inhaler, bags...”  He took a deep breath and gathered his belongings.  For just the slightest of moments, he stopped and acknowledged the rushing of his blood away from his stomach accompanied by a spike of adrenaline.  Butterflies.  His fight or flight mode was on high and that was the only reason for it.  There was nothing else that could possibly be making him panic.  Unless he was, as he suspected, sensitive to gluten and it wasn’t nerves but too much Chinese food.

“Rápido, Eduardo. Ándale, ándale!” Richie called, knocking on the downstairs wall and pulling him from his mental quicksand.

Forcing himself from the memory, Richie broke into sobs, burying his face into Eddie’s chest.  As the rest of his friends fought to pull him to his feet, he begged to take him with them; not to leave him down in the sewers in the dark.  As soon as he thought he’d convinced them, the chamber began to shudder and crumble.  Richie found himself glued to the spot.  He couldn’t leave him.  He couldn’t.  They were supposed to leave together.  He’d just admitted that he loved him.  After all these years, he was supposed to have a chance to finally see... no.  No, if this was where Eddie was going to stay, this was where Richie was going to stay, too.  And he would have, too, if the other four hadn’t banded together to force him to move.  They ran along the tunnels and up out of the cistern into the house on Neibolt and through the doors just in time for the entire building to collapse in on itself, vanishing into the ground and sealing Eddie in with the source of generations of suffering.  As the house began to cave, so, too, did Richie’s will to go on.  He lunged to go back in but was restrained by Ben and Mike until his body gave way.  He strained and scratched and kicked until he couldn’t find the strength to do it anymore.  He dropped to the ground and screamed Eddie’s name until his throat was raw.  It was no use.  He was gone.  It was over.  

Eventually, the Losers managed to get themselves together enough to walk to the quarry and clean themselves off.  As the group waded in the cool water, Richie focused on the blood all over him- had it really been so much?  How could he have thought, even for a moment, that a person could survive all of that?  As he focused on his glasses, he turned to make a snide remark about the germs to Eddie and realized, once more, that the blood was his.  He wouldn’t be able to hear the quip.  The survivors merged in on each other, clinging together for strength.  

A few days later, Richie made one more stop on the way out of Derry.  He put the mustang in park and eased out onto the little covered bridge over the creek in the woods.  He strode along the barricade, looking at years of graffitied carvings, each a testament to a love that had encountered Derry’s unique brand of torture.  He wondered how many of the couples were still together; if any of them had been torn apart by Pennywise.  

Finally, he stopped and gave a bittersweet smile as he saw what he was looking for.  A jagged R + E.  Small, vague, but there nevertheless.  27 years later and his innocent pining had left an impact.  Of course, it had.  Love always leaves an impact, whether you’re 12 or pushing 40.  

“I was gonna let you die!” echoed Eddie’s voice in Richie’s head for the millionth time since the tunnels.  It had become almost a taunt.

“You should have,” Richie whispered, lowering to his knees and resting his head on the railing.  “You should have let me die. We all still fucking remember and you're not here.”  The memories weren’t fading.  Last time, as soon as they’d gotten out, things got fuzzy.  By the time they made their blood pact, he could hardly remember the specifics of what had happened.  This time, though... This time, he could still remember every moment.  Every single one.  Specifically, though, the warmth of Eddie’s kiss and the blank stare he wore in death haunted his every thought since.  “If you were gonna die, you should have let me die, too, he said.

Richie took his old pocket knife out of his pocket and flipped it open, considering it for a moment.   He tested the tip against his hand and watched as blood beaded at the tip.  It would be so easy, he thought, to just drag the blade against his wrists and throw himself into the water.  Then, he could be with Eddie again.  Closing his eyes, he blinked out a few hot tears, then covered his face in his hands.  As much as he didn’t want to live life in a world where Eddie wasn’t, he could just imagine the look on his face if, after everything they’d gone through, he appeared in the afterlife having put himself there.  He wiped the tears from his eyes and refocused on what he’d come all the way out here to do.

Retracing the letters, he deepened the markings, ensuring that, on some level, they’d be able to stay together for posterity.  The set of freshly carved initials in weathered old wood was not a fair proxy for the love they’d never had the chance to share, but at least it was out there as proof that, no matter what happened from that moment forward, that Richie Tozier loved Eddie Kaspbrak.  

#reddie #adult richie #adult eddie #richie tozier #eddie kasbrak #it #it chap 2 #stephen king's it #my hand slipped #this hurted

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Meet me in the past part 6

A/N: This is part six to: ‘meet me in the past’. There’s like one more chapter after this one. So yeah, I hope enjoy! Please let me know what you think!

Summary: After Stanley Uris takes his own life, his daughter goes to find the recipients of his letters and ends up in Derry. After an encounter with IT, she ends up traveling back into the past, meeting the younger version of her dad and his friends.

warnings: cursing 

tagging; @artlovingbre​ @cocastyle​ @l0ve-0f-my-life 

‘Oh my god, oh my god, I don’t even want to know what that is,’ Emily mumbles as she shoot upright. The plastic red toy continue to flow beside her, while she jumps backwards into the ditchwater.  It’s disgusting, and she wants nothing more but to go somewhere dry, but when she looked around, there was nowhere to go. She was in a deep pool of disgusting water, surrounded by children toys, and a shiver runs through her entire body. She guessed she was in the sewer, as it certainly smelled like it, she had never been in a sewer though, and she had hoped she never would have too.

The last thing she remembered was that Pennywise was behind her, and she had tried but failed miserably to run. The thought off Pennywise is what finally got her to scramble up, looking around frantically before deciding to follow one of the tunnels, regardless of where she would end up. If IT placed her in there, he would definitely come to look for her in the same place he left her, so Emily’s best bet was to try and find another way out.

The water had soaked her clothes, and she was freezing. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and began to trudge in the direction of which she hoped was an exit. She looked around, but beside the massive amount of children toys, she couldn’t see anything.  

She saw a stream of light coming from the direction she was walking. Speeding up, she ran towards it, but her hope was roughly taken from her, once she realized that the stream of light was coming from a crack of the sewers, not an exit. She sighed, but she didn’t give herself to think about things rationally for a second. Instead she kept walking, determined to get off here.

She wondered if her friends were looking for her. She thought off Eddie, who had to go to hospital and she couldn’t help but feel a little relief, at least that meant he wasn’t putting himself in more danger. Her mind wondered to Stan, and she abruptly paused. Would Stan come looking for her? Would he even notice she was missing?

Not wanting to worry about it anymore, Emily decided to focus on finding a way out. The Stan that had yelled at her wasn’t her dad, her dad would never have yelled at her like that. Besides, she had to admit to herself that her story did sound crazy to an outsider. Especially to her father, who always had to see things before he believed them.

She didn’t know what she was hoping for, for the losers to come and help her, or for them to stay safe. She wanted to be home right about now. He wanted to drink hot chocolate with her mom, and she wanted to see her friends again, she was done with this damn clown and with this godforsaken town, she was starting to realize why her dad never talked about his childhood.

Most of all, she was terrified, she didn’t want to die in a sewer where no one would find her. She didn’t want her mother to wonder where she was for the rest of her life. Emily started crying, she didn’t understand why this was happening to her.

A thunk pulled her out of her thoughts. She hastily whipped her tears away, straightening up, and putting on a brave face. If IT was going to kill her, he was not getting the satisfaction of seeing her broken before he did.

Instead of IT showing up, Emily heard the agitated voice of Eddie Kaspbrak echoing through the sewer. ‘Don’t push me fucking asshole, it’s your fault I’m here. If my cast gets wet I swear to god. Do you know what my mom will do when she finds out I ran from the hospital? She’ll kill me’, his high pitched voice shouted.

‘Calm your tits okay, after we spend the night together I’ll make her forget all about it’, Richie teased, though there was a certain softness in his voice reserved only for Eddie.

Eddie sounded like he would argue again, but before he could, Ben spotted Emily. ‘Emily’, he screamed out before running over to her.

Emily let out a sigh of relief, her arms wrapping around Ben tightly. The other losers soon followed, a chorus of ‘are you okay’ could be heard from the group. Emily nodded, before slightly pulling back. ‘How did you guys know IT took me’, she asked, her voice shaking, she was so glad that the losers had come to help her.

‘Stan told us IT told him’, Bev muttered, which caused Emily’s attention to turn on Stan. Stan who wasn’t part of the group hug, instead he stood on the side, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Which honestly was fair. It was then that Emily noticed the red lines across his face, it was bleeding, and it looked like it hurted.

‘Oh my god are you okay?’ Emily said worriedly, her joints pointing downward. Stan shrugged, but there were tears in his eyes, and he had a far off look. Emily looked at him first a second, she wanted to do something to help, but anything she did would no doubt just make everything worse. She watched as Eddie gave Stan a tight hug. Emily’s eyes were pulled towards Eddie’s cast with the word loser written on it, and she winced. Stan continued to look at her, seemingly looking her up and down, but he didn’t say anything. ‘I’m sorry’, Emily whispered, shrinking back as she and Stan made eye contact. She didn’t elaborate why she was sorry, but everyone knew. Stan opened his mouth, but Emily interjected. ‘Thank you for saving me though, I owe you’.  

Stan continued to stare, but after a few seconds, he too opened his mouth; ‘You’re my friend, no matter how crazy you are, I can’t let a friend get hurt’. Bev seemed proud of him, but Stan turned around before anything else could be said.

He came for her. She had called him a coward, but he had still chosen to come here and try to help her, even if he thought she was crazy. She was wrong, her dad wasn’t a coward, he was a human being that made mistakes from time to time, but her father had always loved her no matter what mistakes she made, so it was only fair she did the same for him.

‘Hey, where’s Bill?’ Eddie spoke up suddenly. The losers all looked around frantically, but nobody could spot him.

‘Come on, we’ve got to find him’, Richie decided. The group went back from where they came, and Emily followed. Stan looked horrified, his face pale white, but he didn’t complain as he  kept walking.

Shuffling behind the group. He started to quietly weep the further the losers went on, and Mike walked back before throwing his arm around Stan’s shoulder, pressing him closer. They walked for a long time, before finally coming across another open space, where an entire mountain of toys were stacked on top of each other. ‘Guys’, Eddie muttered, shock showing in his face. He was looking up, and Emily followed suit, a gasp leaving her lips. As she looked up, she saw children floating in the air, they appeared dead. Emily wondered if these were all the kids that Pennywise had taken, there appeared to be hundreds of them.

Emily couldn’t help but cower back in fear, she didn’t want to end up like them. ‘Bill’, Bev called out, the first to recover from the shock, as she trudged forward to find Bill. Emily squeezed her hands in tight fist, hoping it would ground

Her, but it didn’t help a bit. Still, she followed Bev, determined to not let IT win, she was not going to let fear take over. A small sob sounded behind them, and when Emily turned back, she noticed that Stan was crying, his shoulders shaking as sobs bubbled out of them. ‘We’ll catch up’, she told the other losers confidently, though she wasn’t feeling like that in the slightest. The other losers nodded, though Bev looked apprehensive. Emily ducked her head down, trying to make eye contact with Stan, whose head was dropped to his chest.

‘You’re okay’, Emily started off. ‘Look I know that you’re terrified, but I know you. You came, you came to help me, a person you think you’ve only known for about 2 weeks. You’re a good person Stan. I know you’re scared, so am I, but you can do this. I know you can’, Emily smiled, even though her heart was hammering out of her chest. Stan looked up, his face unreadable. He took a deep breath, nodding slightly. Emily smoked again, happy that she had made a slight difference. She turned back around to go after the others, but stopped again once Stan placed a hand on her shoulder, and turned her around.

He tentatively pulled Emily in a hug, and after getting over her shock, Emily hugged him back. ‘Look I’, Stan hesitated before he continued, ‘I don’t know if even believe any of this, but I.. I. Look all I want say that if you were family than, I definitely wouldn’t mind that’, he finally forced out. He sounded uncomfortable, but it was genuine all the same. Emily felt a warm feeling spread through her. Laughing she hugged Stan closer for a second before letting him go and saying, ‘okay, come on, Bill needs us. Friends are family, if you want them to be.’

Stan froze, his eyes widening a fraction. ‘Where did you hear that?’ He asked, watching as Emily shrugged. ‘You told me that, why?’ She asked confused. ‘It’s just what my father says to me, you know what, never mind.’ Stan mumbled, but he didn’t elaborate, so Emily chose not to respond either.

They caught up with the group pretty quickly, Emily grabbing Bev’s hand as she got close again, both because she was afraid, but also to thank Bev for helping her out. Your eyes landed on Bill however, who stood facing backwards, talking to a little boy in yellow raincoat.

‘But y-y-y-ou’re not G-g-georgie’, he said determent, and then he pulled the trigger, causing the little boy to fall backwards into the greywater, unmoving, with a gaping hole in his head. Emily gasped, gripping Bev’s hand tightly.

‘It’s IT’, Bev murmured, but it was quite for so long that Emily had started to get serious doubts about that. For a second she was worried that Bill had actually killed his little brother, and she couldn’t even begin to phantom how much grieve that would bring to Bill, it would be Pennywise’s ultimate revenge. Thankfully however, Georgie’s body suddenly started violently thrashing, A scream tearing it’s way out of his body. Two pompoms suddenly appeared on his shoes, A clown suit taking over the yellow slicker Georgie had been wearing. All the losers including Bill stepped backwards subconsciously, creating more space between them and IT.  

The short arms and legs of Georgie shut out, instead the body of Pennywise shot out. IT’s body stood up, without moving it’s legs, like it was a marionette.

‘Kill IT Bill , kill it’, Eddie screamed, the others soon following. Emily gulped, before too yelling at Bill to shoot him again. She let go of Bev’s hand, looking around for a weapon to defend herself, in case she would need it, but she came up empty handed.

Before she could scream at Bill once again, she heard Mike whisper; ‘it’s not loaded.’ She stopped dead in her tracks, her wide eyes on Bill who seemed to have become more brave from his friends encouragements, as he pressed the bolt pistol against IT’s head.

‘It’s not loaded’, Mike called out, but when he did, Bill had already pressed the trigger. It didn’t seem to matter however, as IT’s head shot back, it’s head crumbling in on itself, dropping backwards. IT roared, shaking his head while he brought his head back up, the gap closing again, like Bill had done nothing to hurt him in the first place.

He shot forward, swiping his claws at the losers, but ultimately still going after Bill, who was right in front of him. Bill fell backwards, quickly crawling back, using the bolt pistol to stop Pennywise’s mouth from closing in on him.

‘Bill watch out’, Richie cried, though it did little to help him. Pennywise continued to gnaw at Bill, and he looked seconds away from actually doing it before Bev intervened.

‘Leave him alone’, she screeched, grabbing an iron rod and running forward. IT stopped his attempts to eat Bill instead stopping the rod midair. When Bev froze in fear, Mike ran forward only to be tossed across the room as if he was nothing but a feather. Emily too ran forward, lodging herself around IT’s legs while Ben and Stan attempted to grab his arms.

 IT was much stronger than all of them combined, even with Richie jumping on his back, and soon, Emily had no choice but to let go if his legs, instead falling to the floor like she was a ragdoll. Richie helped her up, and when she recovered from her landing, she saw that IT had his arm around Bill’s neck, keeping him incapacitated.

‘Let him go’, Bev begged, but judging from the evil smirk on Pennywise’s lips, Emily could tell he would never do so.

‘No, I’ll take him, I’ll take all of you. And I’ll feast on your flesh as I feel on your fear. Or’, IT sang, his finger swaying back and forth, ‘you’ll leave us be. I’ll take him, only him, and you will all live to grow and thrive and lead happy lives, until old age takes you back to the weeds.’  

‘L-leave’, Bill begged, ‘I’m the one who dragged you all into this. I’m s-s-s-s-orry. Go’

‘S-s-s-sorry’, IT teased Bill.

‘Guys, we can’t’, Bev said, looking around for backup. Emily couldn’t help but stare on, this had already happened, and considering Bill was one of the adults that was in the restaurant, she was pretty sure how this would end up.

Richie got off the ground, not taking his eyes of IT or Bill for a second. ‘I told you Bill, I fucking told you. I don’t want to die. It’s your fault’ Richie began pacing up and down. ‘You punched me in the face, You made me walk through shitty water, you brought me to a fucking crackhead house, and now’, Richie trailed off, grabbing a baseball bate off the pile of toys, ‘I’m gonna have to kill this fucking clown.’

A nervous smile made its way onto Emily’s face, as she watched Richie leap forward. ‘Welcome to the losers club asshole.’ IT tossed Bill to the side, and the fight begun. As Richie swung the bat at IT, Mike tried attacking him too. IT’s mouth opened, and black burned arms reached out, grabbing Mike’s weapon with an iron grip. Seemingly lost in the need to help his friends, Stan swooped down, using a wooden plank to set Mike free. Pennywise turned his attention on him, the painted who he was so terrified of making an appearance.

Stan wasn’t having it, hitting IT again with the same force as before. Emily tried helping too, though IT saw her coming and held out on of his hands, grabbing Emily by the neck and slamming her down without any effort.

Emily’s ear rung, and she must have passed out for a minute, cause when she came too, she was in an upright position. She was seeing stars for a minute before finally focusing on the entire losers club, watching IT recede into a tunnel. Stan handed Bill the baseball bat, but before Bill could think to use it, Pennywise muttered a ‘fear’, before slipping down, gone for it’s 27 year rest.

The losers all took a deep breath, before Stan seemed to remember Emily. He ran to her, grabbing her shirt to pull her up some more, checking to see if something was wrong with her. There was. A pounding headache prohibited Emily from feeling any type of enjoyment from defeating pennywise, instead she focused all she could on not passing out again. ‘Hey dad, if you remember this in like 27 years, I think you owe me a puppy don’t you?’

Stan let out a wet laugh, ‘sure’, though he still didn’t seem 100% on board with the idea. A bright light seemed to shine in front of Emily, though none of the other losers saw it, or if they did, they didn’t mention it. Emily was reminded of the restaurant, where she had seen the same light before waking up in the alleyway in the past, maybe this time she was going back to the future.

She was alright with that, she had missed her mom, and she spend more time with her dad then she could have hoped, now it was time to go back to her time, and live her life, no matter how much she would miss her father. Despite the bright light forcing Emily’s eyes closed, she still snapped them open. She clinged to the cuff of stans shirt. ‘Don’t’, she rasped, ‘If by some miracle you remember this in the future, don’t do it. I love you, even if you don’t go back, just stay with me and mom.’ There was more she wanted to say, but the light seemed to grow brighter, and before she could, she fell unconscious again.

#My writing #stanley uris imagine #stanley uris x daughter #stan x reader #beverly march imagine #eddie imagine #eddie kaspbrack #richie tozier imagine #bill denbrough imagines #mike hanlon imagine #ben hanscom #IT #it imagines #it chapter two imagine #x daughter #this is shit