#WHY WAS THERE PALM READING IN A BAR MITZVAH

[starryaugust]

Spoilers to Agatha all Along ep6

I feel like the fact theu acknowledged the fact Billy is jewish makes his casting even worst.

They actually went ahead and wrote a bar mitzvah scene just to cast a non jewish actor.

[watchnrant]

Agatha All Along Episode 6: Easter Eggs & References

Tower Reversed

Lilia’s Tarot Readings Are Weaving a Magical Web

Alright, folks, if you’ve been keeping track, Lilia’s tarot card game in Agatha All Along is officially on another level. In Episode 6, while doing a reading at William’s bar mitzvah, she drops “The Tower Reversed.” Now, if you’ve been paying attention to the tarot cards scattered throughout the series—and the promo cards (yes, they did that)—you know there’s more to it than a casual reading.

“The Tower” card? That blue crown we saw Teen rocking at the end of Episode 5? Yep, same one. And we’ve already seen the High Priestess tying back to Jennifer Kale in Episode 2 and the Knight of Wands matching up with Alice Wu-Gulliver in Episode 5.

So, what’s up with the Tower reversed? Well, it’s all about dodging disaster or going through a huge personal transformation—totally fitting for where things are heading in this magical chaos. Trust me, if Lilia’s pulling cards, it’s a sign things are about to go down (or maybe up?).

Early Argento Vibes

A Nod to the Master of Horror

So, in Episode 6 of Agatha All Along, we catch William complimenting Lilia’s palm reading tent, calling it “very early Argento.” Horror buffs, you know the deal—this is a clear shoutout to Dario Argento, the horror maestro behind classics like Deep Red, Tenebrae, and Phenomena. Argento’s influence is all about eerie atmospheres and vibrant, unsettling visuals, and it looks like Agatha All Along is taking a page straight out of his spooky playbook.

Split Souls

Lilia’s Crystal Ball Teases William’s Dual Identity with a Sneaky Tarot Twist

When Lilia tells William his lifeline is broken in two, take a good look at her crystal ball. You’ll catch a glimpse of William as Billy, rocking his now iconic hoodie and sweater. That’s a nod to his future goth teen look as Billy Maximoff! What’s even cooler? The reflection is upside down, with the Tower and Wheel of Fortune cards inverted behind him. Those tarot reversals are no accident—they’re setting up some major life-altering moments for William. Lilia’s reading hints that his lifeline is split, describing it as “a new you,” but we know it’s a sign of something much bigger—William’s fate as someone who’s destined to hold two souls in one body, creating his dual identity.

Teen’s Sigil

Lilia’s Crafty Magic at Work

Alright, Agatha All Along fans, Episode 6 just dropped a major witchy bomb—Lilia is the one who cast Teen’s sigil, hiding William’s true identity from every witch out there, including herself. This little spellwork went down right before Billy Maximoff’s spirit took over William’s empty body. So, if you’re wondering why Wanda couldn’t track down her kid in Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, this is your answer: the sigil was already in place long before Billy inhabited that body. Lilia’s magic game is seriously next-level, and it’s all part of the tangled web we’re unraveling.

Radio Echoes

A Throwback to WandaVision’s First Episode

As the Hex is shrinking and William is traveling home from his bar mitzvah with his parents at the beginning of Agatha All Along episode 6, they can hear both Vision and Wanda's voices on the radio. Likewise, the dialogue is specifically from the very first episode of WandaVision and its I Love Lucy/Dick Van Dyke Show homage. This aligns with the broadcasts that were picked up by SWORD agents outside the Hex, as was discovered by Darcy Lewis and Agent Jimmy Woo.

Alice Wu-Gulliver’s Fate Flip

From Eastview Cop to Agatha’s Victim

In Agatha All Along, we get some juicy flashbacks that show William Kaplan was already connected to every witch in Agatha’s new coven long before the magic hit the fan. During his bar mitzvah, he got a hand reading from Lilia Calderu, and he was apparently a loyal subscriber to Jennifer Kale’s YouTube channel—where magic meets skincare (because who doesn’t love a good mystical exfoliant?). But here’s the twist: Alice Wu-Gulliver, who later becomes one of Agatha’s coven members, was actually the cop on the scene when William’s accident happened, working for the Eastview PD.

And just when you think you’ve seen it all, the show flips the script. In Episode 5, Alice tries to cast out Evanora Harkness’s ghost from Agatha’s body, sacrificing herself in the process. Agatha, being the power-hungry witch she is, siphons all of Alice’s magic and life force, leaving her for dead. It’s a full-circle moment: Alice witnesses William’s last breath, and years later, Billy Maximoff, reborn in William’s body, ends up watching Alice’s tragic end. It’s a fate-twisting, time-bending move that shows the witchy web Agatha’s been spinning all along.

Whispers of Billy and Tommy

William Encounters Familiar Voices

Right after William's heart stops beating after the car crash, Billy and Tommy Maximoff's voices can be heard telling each other goodnight right before they disappear as Wanda brought down the Hex in WandaVision. However, Billy was able to find William's body as the closest empty vessel to inhabit, resulting in the split life that was foretold by Lilia at the bar mitzvah. However, there's hasn't been any indication as to what might have happened to Tommy's soul, revealed to be Billy's reason for walking down the Witches' Road.

Billy’s New Identity Unlocked

A Classic Wiccan Origin Twist in the MCU

Alright, MCU fans, they did it. When Billy wakes up in the hospital in Agatha All Along, he looks down and spots a medical bracelet with the last name “Kaplan.” That’s right—the show is borrowing straight from the comics, confirming that Billy Maximoff’s spirit has found its new home in the body of Billy Kaplan, just like in the original Marvel lore. And those familiar faces? William’s Jewish parents, Jeff and Rebecca Kaplan, are a perfect match for their comic book counterparts.

William’s Wall of Wonders

Hidden Gems of Magic and Adventure

As Billy explores William’s room, it’s like a trip down the ultimate retro rabbit hole. The walls are covered with posters from magic-infused and adventure-packed classics like Alice in Wonderland, The Wizard of Oz, The Black Cauldron, and Bedknobs and Broomsticks. There’s even a poster for The Goonies—only, it’s oddly titled The Goofballs. Clearly, William had a thing for the magical and mysterious. And judging by his magic-themed bar mitzvah, he was all in on the fantasy vibes. Fast forward three years, and Billy’s transformed the room to reflect his Hex obsession and deep dive into witchcraft lore.

The Westview Conspiracy

Billy Unveils What Really Happened with the Hex

When Billy shows his boyfriend Eddie his deep dive into the Hex, Eddie drops some serious intel: the Westview incident was officially explained away as an “Avengers training exercise gone wrong.” But Billy’s no rookie—he’s figured out the real story. Thanks to his research and a sharp eye for runes hidden within the Hex, Billy’s convinced that magic—not a superhero blunder—is behind the entire event. Talk about peeling back the layers of a cover-up!

Guess Who’s Back? It’s Ralph!

Westview’s Ultimate Insider Spills the Tea

In a shady parking garage meetup, Billy’s mystery Reddit contact is revealed, and—surprise—it’s Evan Peters’ Ralph Bohner. You remember him—the guy from WandaVision who got duped into being fake Pietro and Agatha’s puppet husband. Now, he’s left Westview behind, still haunted by the mind games he endured during the Hex. And with this new alliance, it’s clear he’s ready to spill some secrets.

What Really Happened to Sparky?

The Chilling Backstory You Didn’t See Coming

Brace yourselves—Ralph Bohner drops a bombshell about Sparky, the beloved dog from WandaVision. Remember when Agatha claimed she killed Sparky? Turns out, she forced Ralph to do the dirty work, making him poison the poor pup. It’s a gut-punch revelation that takes Agatha’s villainy to the next level. As if hexing an entire town wasn’t enough, she also made Ralph, under her control, hurt the most innocent of creatures.

The Soundtrack of the Witches’ Road

Lorna Wu’s Magic Tune Takes Center Stage

In Agatha All Along Episode 6, as Billy digs into the mysteries surrounding the Hex and Agatha Harkness, Lorna Wu’s rendition of the “Witches’ Road Ballad” plays in the background. We first heard it performed in reverse during Episode 4 when Lorna’s daughter Alice and the rest of the coven sang it. But now, for the first time, we’re hearing the actual rock ballad as it was meant to be played. It’s eerie, it’s epic, and it’s the perfect witchy vibe for the MCU’s spookiest storyline yet.

Billy’s Deep Dive Begins

333 Clues & a Hex of a Search

When Billy kicks off his search into Agatha Harkness, he types “Agatha Harkness Ancient Witch” into Looky and, surprise surprise, he gets exactly 333 partial results. And, if you’ve been paying attention, that 3:33 clock time from Episode 1’s interrogation scene suddenly clicks into place—definitely no coincidence there!

Among the search results, Billy stumbles upon The Macabre Wiki, an encyclopedia “created by two blood witches from Salem” that covers all things that go bump in the night. There’s also a Witchy Resource page that casually drops some intel about ancient witches and warlocks being “not well documented traditionally” (big shocker, right?) and hints that these mystical types have good reasons for keeping their secrets.

But here’s the real kicker—Billy finds an entry on how witches can choose their age and appearance, stopping their aging at will to stay looking thirty-something for centuries. Talk about defying time!

Finally, he hits up Dreadit and finds threads speculating on the Salem Witch Trials (SWT for short). One user points out that there are actual reports of witches surviving drowning and burning. Looks like Agatha’s ancient game of hide and seek is about to unravel, and Billy’s just getting started.

Agatha’s Dark Digital Footprint

From Salem to Jolene—The Witch Is Everywhere

As Billy dives deep into Agatha Harkness’s past, he uncovers some serious historical tea. He stumbles upon threads in the DreadIt forum—an underground community where users like “witchygirlblack” and “4thlevelwarlock” speculate about witches surviving the Salem Witch Trials. One post even mentions Evanora Harkness’s coven and hints that some of the young children escaped. When user “SamSamwitch” drops an image of Agatha Harkness, Billy follows the trail using Looky image search. What he finds is wild.

The search leads him to the Bellecross Daily Tribune, revealing that Agatha was listed as a missing resident after the Hindenburg disaster. But that’s not all—Billy finds a 1972 surveillance photo on a site claiming to show Dolly Parton with the “real Jolene.” Yep, someone’s suggesting Agatha was the homewrecker behind that iconic song, stirring up trouble with Dolly’s husband.

Digging deeper, Billy lands on Brujapedia, the self-proclaimed “Encyclopedia of Witches.” The site lays it all out—Agatha’s been spotted throughout history, from The Titanic to Nashville, Tennessee, in 1973. And the kicker? She’s got some seriously dark credentials: murdering her coven, possessing succubus powers, and being the only known survivor of the Witches’ Road.

As Billy reads on, Lorna’s Ballad starts playing, and he realizes he’s just scratched the surface of Agatha’s long, twisted legacy. This witch’s been weaving her chaos for centuries, and it’s all right there for anyone willing to follow the digital breadcrumbs.

Agatha’s Fashion Swipe

Ralph’s Family Reunion Just Got Weird

In Agatha All Along Episode 1, when we revisit the interrogation scene through Billy’s eyes, we finally get the full picture of Agatha’s antics. Turns out, while she was under the spell thinking she was a detective, she was rocking a “Bohner Family Reunion” shirt the entire time. Looks like Agatha’s not above a little wardrobe theft—especially when it involves messing with Ralph’s life even more.

[faeruy]

Agatha All Along - Episode 6 "Familiar By Thy Side"

The Tower Reversed - Our first explicit mention of a Reverse reading, this one's triggered as Lilia reads Billy Kaplan's palm during his Bar Mitzvah. As I've said in past tarot posts, I'm an amateur, so I could be misinterpreting/missing things in my analysis. I do my best.

LET'S F'ING GO.

So starting with the obvious. The Tower is a notoriously scary card, and Reversed readings are often thought to be more negative, but it's not true in this case. The Tower Reversed is mostly about a personal transformation, a HUGE one. Like the upright reading, upheaval and change is a huge part of it, but Reverse is mostly internal. Billy Kaplan is about to become something more; he becomes Billy Maximoff. The upheaval in his life is so great, he doesn't really know WHO he is. Tower Reversed can also indicate an existential crisis, which is Billy in spades.

The thing about ANY reading of the Tower, is that the change is inevitable. There will be upheaval, whether one likes it or not, but the Reversed reading suggests that disaster can be avoided. In this case, Billy Kaplan is going to die in a car crash, Billy Maximoff is going to be unmade, but true disaster is avoided when the two events happen simultaneously. Neither of them is truly gone-gone. There's a reason both Billy Kaplan and Billy Maximoff are names protected by the sigil.

The thing that's clear to me is while Lilia was spooked by what she read in his palm at first, the Tower Reversed (and whatever else his palm said) was enough to tell her that he was going to survive in some fashion and would need protection from people like her. (Or Agatha, or Wanda even; who knows?) I hope we get to see what she sees when we get to her trial.

The thing I also want to talk about, is why she specified Reversed, when Upright could just as easily applied to the situation at hand. After all, Billy Kaplan didn't cause the car accident that killed him, Wanda was the one who undid the spell that had brought Billy Maximoff into existence in the first place. So one could definitely argue that those fall under more of an Upright reading; destruction, chaos, upheaval. Especially given Wanda's magic was explicitly labeled as Chaos Magic. I think its because the writers of the show are trying to tell us something; that the death and destruction that make up HOW Billy came to be is far less important than WHO he is; which is simply a boy becoming a man, and trying to figure out who he is and what he wants in the world. The whole Billy Kaplan/Billy Maximoff thing is a metaphor for a coming-of-age, and calling out the Tower Reversed is as much of a tell as setting the whole thing the day of his Bar Mitzvah.

One last note; I'm so pleased that The Tower came into play again, after it showed up in a promo poster which has Lilia holding the card Upright. My guess is that it's there to indicate a couple of things; 1)Lilia's the Divination Witch (and Tarot's a big part of that), 2)We can expect some form of chaos and destruction, 3)Definitely a nod to the fake "Coven of Chaos" Title. But I think the poster was a nod to the usage in episode 6, and the connection Lilia has to Billy, only with a slight misdirect by having it Upright instead of Reversed. And while I think that probably has more to do with readability and clarity than anything else, I wonder if some of that was to throw people off the track. IMO Tower Upright invites a pretty shallow, general take when thrown onto something like a Marvel promo poster. Tower Reversed, because it indicates that someone making these posters knows more than the bare minimum about Tarot and is using it to plant clues about the show, invites a LOT more speculation.

This post went a lot longer than I thought, but I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you want to check out my analysis of the Tarot cards from past episodes:

Episodes 1-3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 7 part 1

[sgm616]

AGATHA ALL ALONG-

EPISODE 6

Somewhat spoilers ahead.

Well we find out who teen is. I was half right half wrong about his identity. His physical body was someone else, William Kaplan, but his soul is Billy Maximoff.

(I will continue to call Billy/William as teen as it will get confusing to explain my thoughts on this episode)

I was so shocked that teen was originally William Kaplan. And how during his bar mitzvah, Lilia was the one who put the sigil on him. And when she read his palm and told him his fate was the reason whole she put the spell on him.

I honestly believe it was Rio. Don’t ask why because I have no idea why I thought it was her.

We also got to hear Wanda through the radio. I was somewhat shocked and freaking out because it has been to long since we seen Wanda.

After the car accident when teen yelled Tommy’s name my heart was like “aww his (Billy) first thing he calls out was his brother” then it was like “What the fuck?! How did Billy managed to possessed William?”

Found out how Teen knew The Ballad of the Witches Road and how he knew where to find Agatha.

We got to see Ralph Bohner again! His Reddit username 😂😂

We also got to see Alice again! but this time she in a cop uniform and was on her way to Westview. God I miss her!

Got to see teen’s point of view for episode 1&2

I was honestly surprised teen’s reason of wanting to be on the witches road is to bring Tommy back. Now I’ll be honest, the only reason I didn’t think about Tommy was that once the hex was gone both twins would be gone for good. My theory was that Billy was from another universe and was here to bring back his mom because his universe he couldn’t bring back his mom. This would have been a somewhat good reason to bring back Wanda.

Teen is definitely just like his mother. For example *cough**cough* Emo kid *cough**cough*

How the hell did Agatha survive and is Lilia and Jen still alive? If yes how come they didn’t escape like Agatha did?

And where’s Rio?!!!!

[ramrodd]

19. Belief and Doubt (6:60 – 7:9, 3/26/2023)

COMMENTARY:

The Holy Spirit gave Jesus the sing that His time had come in John 11 by the method of the doubling of Martha and Mary's salutation upon His arrival which led to the  chiasmatic moment of the Bible as a epic in John 11:35 "Jesus Wept". Everything in the narrative of the Bible comes down to that moment and, from that moment on, the narrative begins to expand into history.

The Holy Spirit cannon enter into History, directly, but, like Jesus, he as agency over the Spirit of God and is able to influence the here and now through its presence. In this case, the Holy Spirit caused Martha and Mary to utter the same phrase to Jesus "Lord, f you had been here, my brother would not have died" (John 11:23; John 11:32). I've had this experience of "doubling" with the Holy Spirit myself and it is ratified in Genesis 41:32 KJV. And Jesus knew exactly what the message was. Which is why He wept.

In terms of the interconnection of The Gospel of Mark with the Gospel of John (Mark) it is important to recognize that the Holy Spirit employs the same method, in coordination with Jesus, with the rooster crowing twice resulting in Peter weeping in Mark 14: 72. And immediately the rooster crowed a second time. Then Peter remembered the word that Jesus had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows twice, you will deny Me three times.” And he broke down and wept. The combination of the two weeping sequences in the two gospels are like cosmic quotation marks or parentheses employed by the Holy Spirit to intertwine the two narratives as if by a common author. The Holy Spirit does things like this all the way through scripture.

The narratives of Mark and John converge with Mark 6 and John 4,.5. & 6 and they converge again with Mark 11 and John 11.  The Triumphal Entry happens on the early afternoon of Palm Sunday and the arising of Lazarus happens in the late afternoon of Palm Sunday and the Holy Spirit wants to make sure that pilgrims like us recognize the convergence of events, ol, these 2000 years later. ' The Holy Spirit uses "doubling" quite a bit in the textual numerology, for example, the 12 years of the woman's hemorrhage in Mark 5 and the 12 year old daughter of Jairus. Jesus was a virgin when He died and did not have carnal knowledge of women until the Holy Spirit caused  the discharge of the Spirit of God to heal the woman, which informed Jesus of everything He needed to know to make the Samaritan Woman pregnant in John 4 in the same manner as Mary, His mother. The numerological meaning of 12 in that case is subordinate to the figure 12 itself in the textual numerology. It's a sign.

Another example you pointed out was the 28 years of the wandering in the wilderness in the Torah and the 38 years of self-pity of the crippled man at the Porch of Bethesda.

Now, the Holy Spirit plays all over the mundane numerology of the Bible,, the numbers of chapters and verses. I just noticed that Martha's salutation is verse 23 and Mary's salutation is 32, which is another example of the doubling of the Holy Spirit that alerted Jesus.

I was pleased to hear how  you have described the way that the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of John fit together chronologically. The Gospel of Mark begins at the baptism of Jesus between the Passover of 27, when John Mark is 12 years old and preparing for his Bar Mitzvah, and Penta cot 27. Jesus walks down to Jericho after Passover to be Baptized and to begin His minitry, spends 40 days in meditation and then walks back up to Jerusalem for the reading of the Law. Everything from then until the end of Mark 3 is outside the purview of John Mark, who reconnects with Jesus in John 2 at the wedding at Cana. John Mark's birthday is before Tabernacle, when he turns 13 and we know from John 3 that John the Baptist is still at large for the Passover of 28. His arrest occurs sometime afterwards and is the proximate cause of the sermon from the boat in Mark 4 and the events of Mark 4 and 5 are out of the purview of John Mark.

Joh Mark turns 14 just before Tabernacle 29 and he joins Jesus and the Disciples in John 4, 5, 6 that converges with Mark 6 and expands the events until just before the Passover 29, whereupon Mark 7 could occur in Galilee, but probably occurs in Jerusalem at Pentecost 29 and the reading of the Laws. John 7 begins after John Mark's 15th birthday with Tabernacle 30, It is my interpretation that John Mark is the "rich young ruler" of both the Gospel of Mark and the Gospel of John and that the encounter is precisely located at Hanukah 30, which John Mark wants to enlist in the Jesus mission, but is discouraged by Jesus, who knows he is still sleeping with a teddy bear. John Mark is the naked young man of the Gospel of Mark and the eye witness to the Passion of Jesus in Gethsemane,

Joh Mark is not the author of the Gopsel of Mark, but becomes it's publisher in Alexandria as well as an editor, contributor and character in the narrative. He is the author of The Gospel of John, at the insistence of Papias, although he probably begins to compose his Gospel when he is a companion of Paul in Rome.

The Gospel fo John is probably the strongest argument supporting Peterism. The 7th Seal was broken with the ratification of the 19th Amendment.  

This is where Hegel comes in handy. Hegel rejected Calvinism, because Martin Luther wasn't Calvinist and the TULIP doctrine as conveying the popish seeds of the Inquisition except for "irresistible Grace" which is the pivot point he shares with Kant's transcend self0-interest of the Categorical Imperative. Both Kant and Hegel conceived of the relationship of Man to God as that of the Sunflower to the sun.

Which is my personal experience of The One. Calvinism and election violates Free Will and Jesus's Second Commandment, "Lover your neighbor as yourself" is the Atheist Clause of the Shema that obviates any rationalization for burning Michael Servetus at the stake.

Just for the record, the growing influence of Pro-Life Chaplains in the military is the source of the culture of sexual assault and the rate of suicides by combat veterans. Calvinism is a deliberately insurgent doctrine and is the proximate cause of the English Civil War. George Washington was a Deist as a legacy of the Church of England's antipathy of "religious enthusiasm" of the Charismatic Protestants.  

The military has a serious problem with the legacy of Campus Crusade for Christ eroding the good order and discipline of the military community, especially the Air Force, with its academy right in the heart of the evangelical Jesus Freaks of the 60s.

[bailey-writes]

So You Want Your OC to be Jewish

So you’re writing a story and you want to make a Jewish character—great! I’m here to help. I always want more Jewish representation but I want good Jewish representation, so this is my attempt to make a guide to making a Jewish character. What are my credentials? I’m Jewish and have been my whole life. Obligatory disclaimer that this is by no means comprehensive, I don’t know everything, all Jews are different, and this is based on my experiences as an American Jew so I have no idea, what, if any, of this applies to non-American Jews. 

If there’s anything you want me to make a post going more into detail about or if there’s anything I didn’t mention but you want to know please ask me! I hope this is helpful :) Warning, this is long.

Jew PSA

If you are Jewish you can use the word Jew(s), e.g. “She’s dating a Jew.” If you are not Jewish you cannot use the word Jew(s). This is not up for debate. Non-Jews calling us Jews has a negative connotation at best. Don’t do it and don’t have your characters do it.

Basics, Plus My Random Thoughts that Didn’t Fit Anywhere Else

A confusing enduring issue is, what is Judaism? It’s a religion, but some Jews aren’t religious; is it a race? A nationality? A culture? A heritage? The only constant is that we are seen as “other.” There’s a lot of debate, which makes it confusing to be Jewish and as such it’s common for Jews to struggle with their Jewish Identity. However many people agree that Jews are an ethnoreligious group, aka Judaism is a religion and an ethnicity.

Temple/Synagogue/Shul = Jewish place of worship. Shul is usually used for Orthodox synagogues.

Keeping kosher = following Jewish dietary rules: meat and dairy can’t be eaten together and you can’t eat pork or shellfish. Fish and eggs are pareve (aka neutral) and can be eaten with meat or dairy (but again not both at the same time.) When eating meat it has to be kosher meat (e.g. kosher Jews are allowed to eat chicken, but not all chicken is kosher. I know it’s kinda confusing I’m sorry.) Kosher products in stores will have symbols on them to identify them as kosher. If someone is kosher they’ll probably have separate sets of utensils/plates/cookware/etc. for meat and dairy

Shabbat/Shabbos/Sabbath = holy day of the week, day of rest, lasts from sundown Friday to sundown Saturday. Depending on observance Jews might have Shabbat dinner, attend Shabbat services, or observe the day of rest in its entirety (making them shomer Shabbat)

Someone who is shomer Shabbat will refrain from any of the prohibited activities. These can easily be looked up but include: working, writing, handling money, cooking, and using technology.

Bat/Bar/B’nai Mitvzah = tradition where a Jewish boy/girl becomes a man/woman. Celebrated at 13-years-old for boys, 12- or 13-years-old for girls. Girls have Bat Mitzvahs (bat means daughter in Hebrew), boys have Bar Mitzvahs (bar means son in Hebrew) and twins or two or more people having one together have a B’nai Mitzvah. They will study for this for months and then help lead services and, depending on observance level, read from the Torah. The ceremony is often attended by family and friends and followed with a celebration of sorts (in America usually this means a brunch and/or party.)

Goy/gentile = non-Jew. These words are not slurs, they are literally just words. Plural of goy is goyim and is a Yiddish word, plural of gentile is gentiles.

Jewish holidays follow the Hebrew calendar, meaning that according to the current solar/Gregorian calendar the dates of our holidays are different each year.

Jewish law recognizes matrilineal inheritance. This means that Jewish law states your mother has to be Jewish for you to be Jewish. This is because of reasons from biblical times that I can explain if you wanna come ask, but as you can imagine is a bit outdated. While Orthodox Jews might embrace this idea and only consider someone Jewish if their mom is Jewish, many Jews are more flexible on the idea (and yes, this does cause tension between Orthodox Jews and other Jews at times.)

Judaism =/= Christianity

Some people think Judaism is just Christianity without Jesus (some people don’t even realize we don’t believe in/celebrate Jesus so newsflash, we don’t) and that’s just wrong. Yes both religions share the Old Testament, so they also share some history and beliefs, but the entire ideologies of the religions are different. In brief, they are similar in some ways but are not the same.

What seems to me to be the biggest difference is that Christianity (from what I understand) has a heavy focus on sins, more specifically repenting for/gaining forgiveness for your sins. In Christianity you are born tainted by original sin. In Judaism we believe everyone is born pure and free from sin and everyone is made in God’s image. Judaism has some concept of sin, but doesn’t focus on them and instead focuses on performing Mitzvot (plural, singular form is mitzvah. Direct translation is “commandment” but basically means good deed or act of kindness. It also relates to the commandments, so following the commandments is also performing mitzvot.) Examples of mitzvot include anything from saying a prayer or lighting Shabbat candles to helping a stranger or donating to charity (called tzedakah). One of the main tenets of Judaism is tikkun olam, which directly translates to “repair the world” and means exactly what it says on the tin. Instead of focusing on being forgiven for doing bad Judaism focuses on doing good. The only day we focus on past wrongdoings is Yom Kippur, one of our most holy holidays, discussed below.

Holidays

Rosh Hashanah – The Jewish New Year, occurs around September and lasts for two days, though Reform Jews often only celebrate the first day. Day of happiness and joy, celebrated by eating sweet things for a “sweet new year” (often apples dipped in honey) and circular challah to represent the end of one year and beginning of another. Also celebrated with services and blowing the shofar (rams horn.) Some spend the day in prayer and/or silent meditation. Possible greetings: chag sameach (happy holiday; can be said on almost any holiday), Shana Tovah, or happy new year (which is what Shana Tovah means, some people just say it in English.)

Yom Kippur – Day of Atonement. Occurs ten days after the start of Rosh Hashanah. One of if not the most solemn day for Jews, but also the most holy. The day is spent reflecting on yourself and any past wrongdoings and atoning. The day (sundown the night before to sundown the day of) is spent fasting, a physical way of atoning. We do this in hopes of being “written in the Book of Life” and starting the year with a clean slate. The shofar is blown at the end of the holiday. Most Jews will end the fast with a grand meal with family and friends. Most common greeting is “have an easy fast,” but happy new year is still appropriate.

Sukkot – Celebrates the harvest, occurs on the fifth day after Yom Kippur and lasts seven days. Celebrated by building a temporary hut outdoors called a sukkah and having meals inside it, as well as shaking palm fronds tied together (called a lulav) and holding a citrus called an etrog. Very fun and festive holiday. Possible greetings include chag sameach or Happy Sukkot.

Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah – Some Jews (mostly Reform Jews and Jews living in Israel) combine both holidays into one day while some celebrate them as two separate days. Either way they occur immediately after Sukkot. Shemini Atzeret is similar but separate from Sukkot and features a prayer for rain; Sukkot is not mentioned in prayers and the lulav isn’t shaken but you do eat in the sukkah. Simchat Torah celebrates finishing reading the Torah, which we will then begin again the next day. It’s a festive holiday with dancing and fun. Some Temples will roll the entire Torah out and the children will run under it. Appropriate greeting for both would be chag sameach.

Rosh Hashanah through Simchat Torah are referred to as the High Holidays.

Chanukah – We all know about Chanukah, celebrating the reclaiming of the Second Temple and the miracle of the oil lasting eight days. The most represented Jewish Holiday there is. Unfortunately it’s one of the least significant holidays for us. Occurs around November or December and lasts eight days and nights. Celebrated by lighting candles in the Menorah each night with a prayer and kids usually get gifts each night. Also celebrated with spinning tops called dreidels, fried foods like doughnuts (sufganiyot in Hebrew; usually the jelly filled ones) and potato pancakes called latkes. Greetings: happy Chanukah or chag sameach.

Tu B’Shevat – Birthday of the trees, basically Jewish Arbor Day. Minor but fun holiday, sometimes celebrated by planting trees. Occurs around January or February.

Purim – Celebrates how Queen Esther of Persia defeated Haman and saved her people, the Jews. Occurs in Spring. Festive holiday traditionally celebrated by dressing in costumes, eating sweets, and giving tzedakah (it’s also technically commanded you get drunk so woohoo!) Whenever Haman’s name is mentioned you make a lot of noise, booing and using noisemakers called groggers. Greetings: happy Purim, chag Purim, or chag sameach.

Passover/Pesach – Celebrates the Jews being freed from slavery in Egypt. Occurs in Spring and lasts eight days. The first two nights (some only celebrate the first night) are celebrated with seder, a ritual meal with certain foods, practices, prayers, and readings from a book called the Haggadah and often attended by family and friends. Most famous prayer/song of the holiday is the four questions, which ask why that night is different from all other nights and is traditionally sung by the youngest child at the seder. The entire holiday is spent not eating certain foods, mostly grain or flour (the food restrictions are complicated and differ based on denomination so look it up or ask a Jew.) We eat a lot of matzah during Pesach, which is like a cracker kinda. I personally hate it but some people actually like it. Greetings: happy Passover, chag pesach, or chag sameach.

Tisha B’Av – Anniversary of the destruction of the Temple. Occurs in Summer. Very sad, solemn day. Some celebrate by fasting from sunrise to sunset. Not the most widely celebrated holiday. Some also commemorate the Holocaust (also called the Shoah) on this day as it was the destruction of a figurative temple.

Denominations

There are a bunch of denominations in Judaism, we’ll go into it briefly.

Religious denominations:

Reform/Reformed: This is the least religiously observant level. Often Reform Jews don’t keep kosher or observe Shabbat, their services on Shabbat will use instruments. Reform Jews probably attend services for the high holidays at the very least and probably had a Bat/Bar Mitzvah. Might say they consider themselves more culturally Jewish. Their Temple/Synagogue will be the most “liberal”—aka have more female/diverse Rabbis and a more diverse congregation. I’m Reform and my Temple’s lead Rabbi is a woman and we used to have a Rabbi who’s a queer single mother.

Conservative: More religiously observant and more generally traditional. Might keep kosher or observe Shabbat, but not necessarily. Services likely won’t use instruments (not supposed to play instruments on Shabbat). Most likely had a Bat/Bar Mitzvah, but girls might not read from the Torah, though this depends on the congregation. They do allow female Rabbis, but in my experience it’s less common.

Modern Orthodox: Very religiously observant but also embrace modern society. Will keep kosher and observe Shabbat. Men will wear kippot (singular=kippah) and tzitzit under their shirts. Women will cover their hair (if they’re married), most likely with a wig, and wear modest clothing (only wear skirts that are at least past their knees and long sleeves). Emphasis on continued study of Torah/Talmud. Parents will likely have jobs. Might have larger families (aka more children) but might not. Services will be segregated by gender, girls won’t read from the Torah publicly, and female Rabbis are very rare. Children will most likely attend a religious school. Will attend shul services every Shabbat and for holidays.

note: there are some people who fall somewhere between modern Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox, or between any two denominations really. as you can imagine people don’t all practice the exact same way.

Ultra-Orthodox: Very religiously observant and not necessarily modern. Will keep kosher and observe Shabbat. Men will wear kippot or other head coverings and tzitzit under their shirts, and are also often seen wearing suits. Women will cover their hair (if they’re married) with a wig or scarf and wear modest clothing (only wear skirts that are at least past their knees and long sleeves). Emphasis on continued study of Torah/Talmud. Men might have jobs but might instead focus on Jewish studies, while women most often focus on housework and child-rearing. Don’t believe in contraception (but this is kinda nuanced and depends). Will often have very large families because having children is a commandment and helps continue the Jewish people. Might be shomer negiah which means not touching members of the opposite sex aside from their spouse and some close family members. Services will be segregated by gender, girls won’t read from the Torah publicly, and there won’t be female Rabbis. Children will attend a religious school. Will attend shul services every Shabbat and for holidays.

Ethnic denominations (the different denominations do have some differences in practices and such but tbh I don’t know much about that so this is just the basics):

Ashkenazi: Jews that originate from Central/Eastern Europe. Yiddish, a combination of Hebrew and German, originated from and was spoken by Ashkenazim and while it’s a dying language it’s spoken among many Orthodox Jews and many Jews of all levels know/speak some Yiddish words and phrases. Majority of Jews worldwide are Ashkenazi.

Sephardi/Sephardic: Jews that originate from the Iberian Peninsula, North Africa, and southeastern Europe. Ladino, a combination of Old Spanish and Hebrew, originated from and was spoken by Sephardim. It is also a dying language but is still spoken by some Sephardim. After Ashkenazi most of the world’s Jews are Sephardic.

Mizrahi: Jews that originate from the Middle East and North Africa.

Ethiopian Jews: Community of Jews that lived in Ethiopia for over 1,000 years, though most have immigrated to Israel by now.

Stereotypes/Tropes/Controversies/Etc.

There are so many Jewish stereotypes and shit and I ask you to please be mindful of them. Stereotypes do exist for a reason, so some people will fit stereotypes. This means your character might fit one or two; don’t make them fit all of them. Please. Stereotypes to keep in mind (and steer away from) include:

All Jews are rich.

All Jews are greedy.

All Jews are cheap/frugal.

All Jews are [insert job here]. We’ll go into this more below.

All Jews hate Christians/Muslims/etc.

All Jews are white. 

First of all Ethiopian and Mizrahi Jews exist, many Sephardi are Hispanic, and today with intermarriage and everything this just isn’t true.

All Jews have the same physical features: large and/or hooked nose, beady eyes, droopy eyelids, red hair (this is an old stereotype I didn’t really know existed), curly hair.

Many Jews do have somewhat large noses and curly hair. I’m not saying you can’t give these features to your characters, but I am saying to be careful and don’t go overboard. And don’t give all of your Jewish characters these features. As a side note, it is common at least among American Jews that girls get nose jobs. Not all, but some.

Jews are secretly world elite/control the world/are lizard people/new world order/ any of this stuff. 

STAY AWAY FROM. DO NOT DO THIS OR ANYTHING LIKE THIS. If you have a character that’s part lizard, do not make them Jewish. If you have a character that’s part of a secret group that controls the entire world, do not make them Jewish.

Jews have horns. If you have characters with horns please don’t make them Jewish.

Jews killed Jesus.

The blood libel. Ew. No.

The blood libel is an antisemitic accusation/idea/concept that back in the day Jews would murder Christian children to use their blood in religious rituals and sometimes even for consumption (did I mention gross?) Not only did this just not happen, but it’s actually against Jewish law to murder, sacrifice, or consume blood. Yes these accusations really happened and it became a main reason for persecution of Jews. And some people still believe this shit.

Jews caused The Plague.

The reason this conspiracy exists is because many Jews didn’t get The Plague and the goyim thought that meant it was because the Jews caused it/cursed them. The real reason Jews didn’t get it is because ritual hand-washing and good hygiene kept them from getting it. Sorry that we bathe.

Jewish mother stereotype.

Ok, listen. I know stereotypes are mostly a bad thing but I have to admit the Jewish mother stereotype is not far off. Jewish moms do tend to be chatty and a little nagging, are often very involved in their children’s lives, and they are often trying to feed everyone (although they don’t all cook, my mom hates cooking.) They also tend to be big worriers, mostly worrying about their family/loved ones. They also tend to know everyone somehow. A twenty minute trip to the grocery store can turn into an hour or two long trip because she’ll chat with all the people she runs into.

Jewish-American Princess (JAP) ((I know calling Japanese people Japs is offensive. Jews will call girls JAPs, but with a completely different meaning. If that’s still offensive I am sorry, but just know it happens.))

This is the stereotype that portrays Jewish girls/women as spoiled brats basically. They will be pampered and materialistic. Do these girls exist? Definitely. I still recommend steering away from this stereotype.

Names

Listen. Listen. There are some names that Jews just won’t have. I won’t speak in definites because there are always exceptions but you’ll rarely find a Jew named Trinity or Grace or Faith or any form of Chris/Christopher/Christina etc. Biblical names from the Old Testament? Absolutely Jews will have those names they’re actually very common.

I’m in a Jewish Sorority. My pledge class of ~70 girls had five Rebeccas and four Sarahs. Surprisingly only one Rachel though.

When it comes to last names I have two thoughts that might seem contradictory but hear me out: a) give your Jewish OC’s Jewish surnames, b) don’t give your Jewish OC’s the most Jewish surname to ever exist.

By this I mean I would much rather see a character named Sarah Cohen or Aaron Levine than Rachel Smith. Just that little bit of recognition makes a happy exclamation point appear over my head, plus it can be a good way to hint to readers that your OC is Jewish.

On the other hand, please don’t use the most stereotypical Jewish names you’ve ever heard. If you have five Jewish OCs and one of them is Isaac Goldstein then fine. If Isaac Goldstein is your only Jewish OC I might get a little peeved. There are tons of common Jewish surnames that are recognizable and easy to look up, so don’t revert to the first three that come to mind. Maybe it’s just me, but I find it yucky, for lack of a better word.

Jobs

We all know there are certain jobs that are stereotypical for Jews to have. We’re talking lawyer, dentist, doctor, banker type stuff. To an extent these stereotypes exist for a reason, many Jews go into those careers. Do not make these the only careers your Jewish OCs have. Stereotypes might have reasoning behind them but it doesn’t mean they aren’t harmful. If you have multiple Jewish OCs some of them can have these careers, but not all of them. I do know a lot of Jewish lawyers, dentists, and doctors. I also know accountants, people involved in businesses (“mom, what does Brad do?” “he’s a businessman” sometimes there just aren’t more specific words), people involved in real estate. I don’t actually know any bankers personally, and with money and stuff being one of the most common and harmful Jewish stereotypes I would suggest steering away from that.

These are common fields for Jews, but Jews can have literally any job. Please feel free to get creative. And if you have more than one Jewish OC you can think about making one of them a Rabbi, but DON’T do this if they’re the only Jewish OC. Please.

Yiddish

So I mentioned Yiddish earlier. Like I already said, it’s not a very widely used language anymore but there are some words and phrases that are still used by a lot of Jews (in America at least.) Here’s a list that is absolutely not comprehensive:

Oy vey = oh no

Shvitzing = sweating (but not just a little bit. Shvitzing is like SWEATING)

Kvetch/kvetching = whine/whining or complain/complaining

Mazel tov = congratulations; this is the same in Yiddish and Hebrew

Chutzpah = nerve or gall (e.g. “He’s got a lot of chutzpah for breaking up over text like that”)

Kismet = fate; I just learned this is Yiddish

Bubbe and Zayde = grandma and grandpa

Schelp/schlepping = drag/dragging, can also mean carry or move (e.g. “I had to schlep the bag all around town” doesn’t mean they literally dragged it)

Schmutz = dirt or something dirty (e.g. “you have schmutz on your face”)

Schmatta = literally means rag but can be used to refer to ratty blankets or clothes

Plotz = collapse (usually used in the sense of “I’m so tired I might plotz” or “she’s gonna be so excited she’s gonna plotz”)

Schmuck/shmendrick = both mean more or less the same, a jerk or obnoxious person

Shtick = gimmick, routine, or act (can be used like (“I don’t like that comedian’s shtick” or “he always makes himself the center of attention it’s his shtick”)

Spiel = long speech, story, or rant

There’s so many more so look them up and think about using them, but don’t overdo it. A Jewish person isn’t gonna use a Yiddish word in every sentence (or even every day or every few days.)

Israel

In my community at least it’s very common that by the time your college-aged that you’ll have been to Israel at least once.

Israel is a controversial topic within the Jewish community and in the world. It’s sensitive and complex. I really, really suggest not getting into it. Just don’t bring it up because no matter what you say someone will be unhappy. Just don’t do it.

Ashkenazi Disorders

Ashkenazi Jews have some sucky genes (I’m Ashkenazi so I can say this, you cannot.) These sucky genes cause certain disorders to be more prevalent for us. Children only get the disorder if both parents are carriers of the disorder, so Jews usually get genetic testing done before having children. If both parents are carriers the risk of the child getting the disorder is high, so parents might reconsider or have some indecisiveness/fear. Some of these are:

Tay-Sachs

Cystic Fibrosis

Canavan Disease

Familial Dysautonomia

Gaucher Disease

Spinal Muscular Atrophy  

Fanconi Anemia

Mucolipidosis IV

Niemann-Pick Disease

Torsion Dystonia

Bloom Syndrome

Ashkenazi Jews also have a high prevalence of the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes, which increase the risk of breast and ovarian cancer in women and increase the risk of breast and prostate cancer in men.

Crohn’s Disease, Ulcerative Colitis, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and Lactose Intolerance are also very prevalent

In a dorm of like 40 Jews, six of them had Crohn’s.

Ways to Show Your OC is Jewish

Wears Jewish jewelry, e.g. Star of David (also called Jewish Star and Magen David), Chai symbol (means life), jewelry with Sh’ma prayer, or hamsa (but beware this symbol is used outside of Judaism).

Mentions their temple, their Rabbi, having a Bat/Bar Mitzvah, going to Hebrew School, Shabbat, or a holiday coming up.

Have someone ask them a question about Judaism.

Have someone notice they have a mezuzah on their door. 

Most Jews will have a mezuzah on the doorframe of the front door of their house/apartment, but they could even have one for their dorm room or whatever. It’s traditional to kiss your hand then touch the mezuzah when walking through the door, but most Jews don’t do this every time, at least not most Reform or Conservative Jews.

Have them call out antisemitism if you’re feeling spicy

The end! I hope this helped and if you have any questions my ask box is always open!

[babbushka]

I am SO sorry if requests are closed, I wasn’t sure! I just wanted to request hearing about the first time Mob Boss Kylo held hands with his honey. I’m so soft for him!

1.5k cw: Jewish!reader, kylo & reader as teenagers (childhood best friends to eventual lovers when they grow up but just friends as of right now lol) fluff, mild angst (the mortifying ordeal of being a teenager and going through puberty)

His palms are sweating, because of course they are. It’s your bat mitzvah, and he wants nothing more than to ask you to dance, but dammit, you’re too pretty and it’s making him sweat and why the fuck would you want to dance with a guy with sweaty hands? So he stalks around the outskirts of the ballroom, watching and lurking like a creep as your school friends take turns twirling you around, your laugh bursting out of your mouth, your braces glinting in the sunlight from the way that you’re grinning so wide.

Good, he thinks, Kylo wants you to be happy. He’s gone through a great deal of bullshit to make sure that you’re happy but…but dammit he wishes he were the one making you smile that like. Catching Uncle Luke’s eye for a moment, Kylo ducks his head and blushes, because Uncle Luke raises a brow and nods his head in your direction, and shit there go his palms again.

Why was this so mortifying? He’s your bodyguard, he’s spent more time with you than anyone. You were the closest thing to a best friend to him, if he allowed himself to think about it like that. So why was he shaking in his fucking dress shoes, rubbing his hands against his nice pressed trousers? He’s ready to bolt, ready to call the whole damn thing off – when he feels a hand on his arm.

“Everything okay?” You ask him, startling him so much that he nearly bumps over an entire display of pretty champagne glasses. The tips of his ears that poke out from under his yarmulke go bright red as he rights himself, but your eyes are only sparkling with laughter. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“Yes – I mean no – I mean.” He stumbles, not yet used to his long limbs, his growth spurt finally hit and hitting hard. Kylo clears his throat and speaks in his newly deepened voice, “Everything’s okay.”

You don’t buy it for one second, he can tell. You’re a walking talking lie detector, have been ever since your family started asking you to sit in on meetings a few years ago. Unlike the unlucky schmucks that you interrogate though, you don’t have an interest in pressing the issue with Kylo.

“Do you like my dress?” You ask instead, giving a showy spin, the tulle skirt flowing and making you look like the princess everyone in the tri-state area knew you were. There was even a tiara poised on your head, and Kylo can only think of how correct that image is, thinks how you should be wearing one every day. You spin again and smile, “I know you were there when we picked it out but, does it still look okay?”

“You look…” He tries not to be weird, tries not to be gross, he’s a couple years older than you, you’re like a sister to him – no wait, that wasn’t right, he can’t stand his fucking sister. He doesn’t know what you are. But he doesn’t want to weird you out so he winces as he lamely replies, “Great.”

“Thanks.” You laugh at his awkward compliment, and dammit the tips of his ears are burning. He wishes he could grow his hair out one day to hide them, especially when you go serious all of a sudden and demand to know, “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” Kylo lies, and you raise a brow, your arms crossing over your chest, catching him in it. He tries to cover, “I’m just, uh, keeping a lookout. You know. For danger.”

Kylo winces again, because the idea that you could possibly be in danger tonight is absolutely comical. The entire underground crime world has shown up for your bat mitzvah, some coming from Jersey, others from Philly, and some even all the way from Chicago. There were more guards and guys with guns in the ballroom than there were at the Pentagon tonight, and you both know it.

“Are you having fun?” Kylo asks, scratching the back of his neck, wishing he had some soda or something to drink. His own bar mitzvah wasn’t even this stressful for fuck’s sake.

“Not really.” You shrug one shoulder, and all of Kylo’s attention panics, zeroing in.

“What? Why not?” He stands up straighter, squares his shoulder, wondering what could be the problem, kicking himself for being so caught up in his complicated feelings to not notice that something had gone wrong.

“My favorite boy hasn’t asked me to dance all night. No matter how hard I keep hoping that he will.”

“Who? I swear to god I’ll find him (Y/N) – ” Kylo’s vision goes red, and he bares his crooked teeth just a little, hands balling into fists as his short fuse flares, but you’re laughing.

And then, miraculously, somehow, your hand is in his.

His anger melts away instantly, replaced by something he can’t name. He doesn’t know what this feeling is, but it’s terrifying, it’s sickening. Is he going to throw up? He can’t tell – why is his heart beating so fast?

“Kylo you’re such an idiot.” You throw a smile over your shoulder at him, leading him by the hand to the dance floor, where a soft and sweet slow song has begun to play.

He can’t get over it, the feeling of your hand in his. You didn’t even cringe when it almost slips out of your grip from how clammy it’s become, and Kylo thinks maybe there was danger, and he was killed in the crossfire, because with all the lights so bright and the air cloudy with cigarette smoke, he’s pretty sure this must be Heaven.

But it’s very real, because you’re looking at him expectantly, and he realizes he has to move his feet. Dancing. Shit. He didn’t…if he’s honest with himself he didn’t think he’d get this far. He didn’t really realize that he doesn’t know how to dance, and now everyone is watching – he can see Uncle Luke grinning behind his big grey beard off to the side – and he has to move his feet. Sensing his distress, you lead the dance, and that should be humiliating, but you haven’t pulled your hand away from his yet, and he’s still so floored that he’s even here to care.

“I’m your favorite?” He asks, trying to process that monumental statement.

“Duh.” You roll your eyes fondly at him, and Kylo has to clench his jaw tight or else he’ll say something stupid, something that’ll ruin everything.

When he calms down enough, and more people join the dance floor, Kylo’s buried dancing lessons come back to the forefront of his brain, and he takes the lead once again. With a pleased sigh, you tuck yourself close to him, resting your head on his chest. He’s too tall now for you to lean it against his shoulder, but that’s okay, you’re happy just the same.

“Thank you for being here with me.” You whisper to him, gently enough so that only Kylo can hear, “I know…I know Snoke is keeping you busy.”

“Hey,” Kylo frowns at the bitterness in your voice when you mention is name, and unthinkingly, Kylo pinches your chin between your fingers and tips your face up. Your gaze has clouded with something dark at the thought of his boss, and Kylo can’t have that, so he assures you, “You’re my number one priority. Always. Snoke couldn’t keep me busy enough to miss something like this.”

You’re not so sure you’re satisfied with that answer, he can tell in the way your eyes swim, but eventually you sigh, tucking yourself back underneath his chin, asking, “When do you go away again?”

“Not for two more weeks.” Kylo hopes that’ll be enough time for you to not feel sad. It’s your birthday, he doesn’t want you to feel sad, it goes against everything he works for.

“Do you think we could go up to the Catskills?” You whisper, like it’s a secret, like you don’t go up to the Catskills for a couple weeks every so often.

“Whatever you want.” Kylo nods, and you’re appeased then, and he takes advantage of that by spinning you and dipping you, reveling in the way you clutch to him with a laugh as your stomach swoops from being nearly upside down.

And then, it strikes him that one day, maybe, maybe if he’s lucky, one day when you’re older, maybe you’ll be in love, and maybe you’ll marry him, and maybe he’ll get to dance with you like this, have your hand in his like this. That’s lightyears away, he knows, anything could happen between now and then, he knows.

But it’s enough to have this moment, however brief it may be, with his best friend, and for the first time all evening, he’s not petrified. Not when you’re smiling at him, your favorite boy.

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

Taggin some Kylo lovin' friends! No pressure to read, I know that this isn't everyone's jam! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @lovinghufflepuffgirl @hswritingrecs @han68000 @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @glassbxttless @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea

[har-rison-s]

heaven: 17

never let her go

request/plot: Stan x Reader where they were together back in Derry and kind of forgot about each other after moving away but they always had a void in their lives. And then when Stan is just about to do it after Mikes call his phone rings and it’s you and you’re crying after just getting off the phone with Mike to come to Derry. You both end up going back and seeing each other at the restaurant and you guys just catch up after all these years that passed and old feelings come back.

A/N: Well hell to the low to you guys! I've missed being on here, and I'm so fucking glad that I'm back to writing and I actually have nothing else to do, really, except write. Oh, and fight for justice online, get to packing and moving and go to work. But other than that, I'm free as of right now. I came back to the document for this fic, and turns out I have material enough to post 2 whole chapters in a row. So, let's go. I'm glad you're all still here and I welcome every new-comer with hugs and kisses! So, happy quarantine reading and stay safe! Don't you ever forget - #BlackLivesMatter!

A/N: Also, quick note: if you're uncomfortable with me posting another chapter of Heaven or posting any writings at all, please don't hesitate to let me know. Writing, especially during times like these, and when I don't get any positive income from the real world or social media, writing is what helps me, and I think reading fics means you dive into another world, sometimes a better world, and you can live another life in them and feel better; I also know writing has helped some people fall asleep. That's why I'm posting. Again, if that makes you uncomfortable/you think I'm injust with posting, please let me know!

warnings: shorter than usual, water, over-thinking (lots)

word count: 2.2k

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A/N: Where are my more gifs and pics of Andy Bean rights huh??

gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me!

Oh, is clean water good. Clean, warm, soapy water. Better than sex, she even dares to think. She smiles to herself at the thought. Stanley looks at her, a soft question in his eyes. Not the sex she has with him. She shakes her head, and then rests it against his wet chest. The shower’s water streams down onto them, warm and welcoming, warm and soothing, warm and healing. It collects their hair into dark, thick locks. The shower’s floor shines with water that is now filthy from all the dirt on their bodies. 

Bill collected all their dirty clothing and went to wash it in the hotel’s washing machines. He’d get to shower the last, but he didn’t mind. All of them using water at once wouldn’t be useful, either, but that he’ll leave it to their concern. Mike offered to use his washing machine at the Library, but since he lives quite far from the Derry Inn, they all decided to pass this suggestion.

Y/N’s palms are flat against Stanley’s bare back. It’s littered with birthmarks all over, Y/N discovers when she feels small, almost unnoticeable bumps under her fingers. Stanley, instead, opens the shampoo bottle the hotel offers and squeezes half of it out into his hand. He then runs his shampoo-y hands into Y/N’s hair, against her scalp. She hums. Stanley moves the shampoo into her hair, massaging circles into her scalp. She smiles softly at the gesture.

He does the same to his own hair, and Y/N chuckles at how weird he looks with his hair slicked back. “Reminds me of your Bar Mitzvah hair.” She says and Stanley gives her an airy chuckle in response. He remembers his mom’s effort and frustration into gelling his unbending acorn curls down neatly to his head.

“That was horrible.”

“No, no, that was a statement.” She corrects him and they both laugh. Her arms around him, hands on his back and his arms around her waist, hands interlocked to keep her intact in his embrace, they look up dreamily at each other. The water frustrates their eyes a small bit, making them blink more than usual.

Gazing into each other’s eyes transmits more emotions between them than they could muster to say in the same amount of time. Words really are hard to find to say all that Stanley could say to Y/N, about how much she means to him, about how he can’t breathe without her, how he needs her, how he wants to cherish her and love her for the rest of his life, and how he wishes they never parted. He also wants to say a big thank you for giving his strength, courage and self-belief back simply by talking, by being with him. He could not have gotten into this shower-bathtub, for example, without her help, without her words. Let alone Derry or Neibolt House.

Y/N would like to tell Stanley how grateful she is for his love, and that it is he who loves her. She would want to let him know that he’s the most important person in her life, that he means the most to her, and that she’d do anything to turn back time and relive her—their both’s—life differently, together. Happy.

How happy, how much more happier they’d be if things had turned out differently. And she wants to tell him how grateful she is for him to be here, right now, as well as tell him how privileged she is to love him, and to have him love her back, how privileged it is to hold his hand and look into his eyes.

But to not waste any emotional and physical material, they suffice with a simple—

“I love you.” She tells him in a quiet whisper. It almost drowns with the water in the dark drain of the sewer pipes. She leans up to kiss his lips. She can taste the coffee he drank earlier still, and the water. She smiles, and she kisses him again. And again. She chases his lips with hers, her hands pushing against him slowly, not at once, but slowly, begging. She kisses him, and she almost melts.

Stanley moves her rogue hair strands out of her face, and holds her cheek while looking into her eyes. His orbs move back and forth only the slightest. A corner of his lips raises ever so slightly. “I love you.” He assures her and kisses her again. He then kisses her forehead and pulls her into an embrace against his chest. Even his chest hairs have flattened down from the water, she can barely feel them against her cheek. She closes her eyes, and so does Stanley.

Something about the way he holds her, something about the way he shuts his eyes when he does. Thoughts of what is to come creep into his mind now, despite how badly he wants them not to. What if this is the last time I have her to myself? Selfish to think of her like that, but… She’s the most beautiful angel I’ve met in my life. I want to spend my entire life with her, I want to give her what I did not for the twenty years spent apart. What if, when I go back home, my mind will be changed about her? What if we’ll forget each other again, like last time?

But what if you don’t go home, Stanley? Maybe go to her home, or go home with her. Not your home, but one that would belong to you both. And Patty? What of her? Do I not call her or visit her? Do I just leave her in the dark? I can’t do that to her. After all we’ve been through, after loving one another for so long… After being married, and happily at that, after her trusting me so much…

Do you still love Patty as you did before Mike called you? As you did when she helped you pack clothes and essentials for this trip? How will you tell her you’ve met the love of your life, the love of your childhood again and made love to her in another city, another state? Another place, or void, completely foreign and strange to Patty and her whole life, and how she knows life in general? It will break her. Would it be better if you didn’t tell her at all? No, no, I can’t leave her wondering in the dark.

What if you love them both? What do you do then? Marry Y/N and live together as three married people? That’s complete craziness, Stanley. You can’t do that. But if I can’t choose… If I can’t choose between the two women I love most, what do I do then? Leave them both and live alone? Or should I choose? Which option would be better for everyone involved? Do I choose to be selfish and choose Y/N or Patty for the rest of my life? That’s only fair to me, and I can’t stand by that. But…

Stanley can’t live without Y/N. Maybe it’s just what he thinks now because he’s met her again, but then again—there wouldn’t be these feelings if there wasn’t an old cause for them, old roots grow out of something, not nothing. And they do have roots. Childhood. High school. Before college. The first year of college. Then it faded away… But these feelings are still here, they’re still real, present and true. They’re as intense as before, if not more. It is beyond love and belonging and craving, it is far more than they as mortal humans can understand, can know that they feel. He can only give her the tip of the iceberg that is his whole love, emotions and feelings for him. He can only do so much with his human mind and body.

But Patty… He loves Patty so much. They’ve been married for more than ten years, and found solace in each other. They loved each other even when they could not get children, they loved each other when they’ve woken up to a sour day, they loved each other even when they drive each other nuts (which is rare in their earthly, calm marriage). What fun have they had in these happy, peaceful years… Stanley would not trade it for the world. Ah, then and there, maybe. But here and now...

He doesn’t know. He can’t decide.

But somehow… The marriage ring that lays in the drawer of this hotel room’s nightstand, it feels like an anchor. And it feels old, as well, as strange as it sounds. Old, as if Stanley had lived in a past life with that ring and the person who carries the other ring, the rigs a promise to be man and wife until death do them part.

But it’s not death that will do them part. The happy, peaceful years he lived with Patty were simply years and time that fed on forgetfulness of crucial things such as childhood, and friends, and dreams that little kid Stanley Uris wanted to achieve in life. They were years of tunnel vision, of ignorance, but not his own. His self-consciousness’ ignorance caused by the magical curse IT laid upon Stanley and his friends once they left the town of Derry.

It’s best to think about it on the flight home, not now, about choosing the best option. Shower, heal and spend time with her. Heal together. You’re both still here, so right now you might as well use it selfishly, while you have that. Stanley opens his eyes and looks down at Y/N. The water runs in his eyes a few times. She moves back to look back at him, feeling a slight change in his position. She blinks, because the water gets into her eyes, as well, but she smiles. Stanley does as well, and then he reaches behind her to turn off the shower stream.

Naturally, they both shiver out of loss of warm water, but then hurry out of the bath-shower to wrap themselves in towels. Stanley helps Y/N not fall over on the slippery surface, what with having as many fears as she does. It’s a bath, after all, and he feels they’ll always frighten him a little bit from now on.

They both reach for the towels hanging on the heating pipes, and Y/N hums at the contact with her towel. It’s better than nice, and it’s better than perfect. She feels like falling asleep in this towel. Surprisingly soft for hotel towels.

They dry their hair out as much as they can with single towels, and then wrap the towels around their bodies. Non-verbally, maybe telepathically, they decide to wash their teeth. Stanley uses his own toothbrush and paste, but Y/N uses the tools their hotel provides—in the rush to catch the first flight to Maine she forgot to pack her tooth essentials. How silly and unhygienic of her, you might think. Not in her situation, not this time. Tooth cleaning essentials were really the smallest and most unimportant thing then.

Nor Stanley, nor Y/N speak much. There’s silence between them, tense but peaceful. So many questions nag at both their minds, so many questions they want to ask each other, mostly many uncomfortable questions. Answers to them would be too painful, too frustrating and hard to deal with, in general. Hence the questions are not asked. Many things they’d like to say to each other, but neither of them want to make this a book or movie scene, understand, with confrontation and dramatics. They just… They just really want to be here. They want to live and breathe and move without any complications or heavy-weighing anchors.

Y/N steals a shirt from Stanley, he’s already used it in this trip, and he had folded it to pack into his bag. He snatched his hand after her, but she’d already pulled the shirt over her head and naked breasts and stomach, too late for him to get it back. He looks at her, defeated, and she gives him the tip of her tongue sticking out between her lips. Now he can’t help but smile at her, she never fails to make him smile. With her simple enchanting grace and comedic mannerisms. Sometimes Stanley thinks her funnier than Richie Tozier himself.

Stanley now straightens up in his other button-up and underwear and watches her gracefully waltzing back into the bathroom, only in his shirt and her knickers. He can see wet spots on the shirt’s shoulders and over the breasts and back from her free-falling wet hair strands.

How magnificent is she. Arms like feather wings, legs like intertwining ribbons that dance so easily to their own beat. Hair of a color that reminds him of sunny summer and spring days, as well as dark winter afternoons, autumn mornings. Hands with the pads of cotton, cheeks plump and full of color like bright red roses. Her weight almost non-existent, so light and bird-like she carries herself. Her eyes of eternal kindness, the smile of a thousand little suns. And when you add all that together, it seems unreal, doesn’t it? She does. A fantasy only staying for a few moments until it swims away, to someplace else, to someone else. Stanley sighs.

He cannot let this fantasy go. He cannot let her go.

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[charlotte-sloane-writes]

1 - A Wicked Little Thing

It’s finally here! Chapter 1 of this Zatanna Zatara x John Constantine fic has killed me for nearly a year. If you love it as much as I do, please reblog and comment. If you want to be added to the tags then send me a message, reblog, comment, just let me know! The chapter is under the cut, the taglist at the very end. Much love, Charlie.

“Anna,” Buddy called over to the young woman dressed in yesterday’s work uniform.

“Hm?” Anna turned her head and brushed out the earbud nestled to the side of her head, flicking a few strands of her black hair behind her to size up her boss who decided whatever he was about to say was more important than ‘We Will Rock You’ on its 3rd consecutive play.

Buddy recentered his balance on one hip and tilted his chin up, an unkempt not-quite salt-and-pepper eyebrow raised as he asked, “That thing ever run out of battery?”

“Trust me, Buddy, you’d know if it did.” Anna flashed him a saccharine smile and shoved the earbud back into her brain, moving on to the next room that needed cleaning, her cleaning cart’s loose wheel squeaking for mercy unheard over Anna’s playlist. 

Buddy scoffed behind her back, another attempt to connect with the twenty-something-year-old failed rather spectacularly on his end. He shoved the tickets to the local college’s ‘Battle of the Bands’ show back into his pocket and whistled to make himself feel like the exchange was done in total nonchalance with zero premeditation. Lifting his ‘Lagheur’ watch to his chest, he noticed the ticking needles of the ripoff luxury watch in a slight delay, taking maybe a half time longer than an actual second. Buddy once saw a movie where this happened to show time slowing down. He couldn’t place the actual scene anywhere, but it seemed funny enough to him that the science fiction promises of his childhood were echoed through the cheap realities of his adulthood. 

“Regina,” Buddy threw over his shoulder an aging rainjacket, once clear now yellowing around folds and stitches. Regina at the counter, a recent retiree with all the looks to take to Boca Raton but none of the self-awareness to stop working looked up at her boss from the dusty concierge seat. 

“Boss?”

“I’m out for a smoke, I’ll be back in ten. Anyone calls for me, take a message.”

“Sure, sure, if anyone calls.” Regina looked down at the answering machine behind her counter, fixing her coke-bottle glasses back up on the ridge of her boney nose. It was new twenty years ago when she last checked in at the hotel, sleepy and dazed children in tow, asking where their mother was. She’d never seen the light even flicker on that machine. 

Buddy walked across the populated lounge, tourists, and locals alike crowding the hotel to get out of the rain and have a drink. Some of them might get rooms by the look of it, though none seemed too eager to book one. Unlit cigarette stuck between his teeth, Buddy pulled his cap up over his head and walked out onto the back terrace. On stiller nights, the courtyard was a beautiful display of soft city nature and twinkling lights. Hopefully, he thought to himself, Anna will have remembered to cover up the sound system speakers hidden in some of the bushes. He wasn’t ready to shell out another grand to replace them. 

The lighter Buddy took out from his jacket pocket should’ve been replaced a week and a half ago. Swishing lighter fluid gradually making a crack in the plastic casing just a little wider didn’t bode well for Buddy’s innate flammability. The wrong swipe of a finger while lighting his cigarette opened up his thumb and Buddy- as he took the first draw of his cigarette- watched blood prick up from the fat pad of his digit, little globes of red sprouting along a visceral ley line down to the crux of the first joint. He’ll have to remind himself to throw this lighter out and get a new one when he gets the chance again. 

“You know,” He spoke to himself, more than aware he was alone on the creaky back patio “this place used to be the gem of Palo Alto, before Jobs and Wozniak, Amazon and Google. This place...I sound like my great grandfather. How did that happen?” Buddy scoffed and took a step forward, leaning against a beam at the top of the small stairs giving way to the waterlogged marsh of a luncheon garden. Before he could even take notice, the roaring gutter above his head flipped on itself, bringing forth a cascade of rainwater and grime down onto Buddy’s head. He didn’t even have it in him to curse. He just shook his head, bit the inside of his lip raw and flicked his dead cigarette into the rain.

__________

John Constantine wasn’t often seen in the kitchen for actual food, an old tome tucked under his arm with blue lettering of an ancient language only slightly obscured by the wrinkled sleeve of his dress shirt.

“Woah, careful, Johnny. You need help?” A young and dashing mop of black hair named Behrad Tomaz bounded into the kitchen with open arms.

John slightly wavered, eyes darting around as his cheeks reddened. He cleared his throat “I’m fine-,”

“-Dude,” Behrad took the wine bottle Constantine had been balancing on a multi-sectioned plate of what looked like saltine crackers, a hard-boiled egg, some fresh smelling garnishes, a small cup of applesauce, a mug of brothy soup with something bobbing in it, and a jar with pieces of fish floating around it. “I’m impressed you got this far with all this stuff.” Behrad looked at the wine label, wanting to discern a year but couldn’t read the letters on the label. He shook it off, blaming his dyslexia for the mess of shapes on the label “You heading to your room with this stuff?”

“Yeah.” John nodded, quieter than usual as he gave Behrad the gefilte fish jar and placed the plastic cup he had taken upside down on to the neck of the wine bottle.

“This stuff looks good.” Behrad looked over at John’s plate as they walked down the austere corridors of the Waverider, immune to the shock of the odd clicks and clangs.

“You don’t have to lie.” John scoffed a laugh, biting his top lip.

“Is it for a spell?” “Not really.”

“Munchies?” John turned to face Behrad, those innocent puppy dog eyes peering over John’s exclusively hard stare. “Thanks for helping me, mate. Cheers.” He managed to balance everything back into his arms and moved into his room, locking the door behind him.

Behrad stood there, perhaps a little too perplexed for his own good “Have a good time!” He called out, making his way back to the kitchen.

Sara Lance wasn’t expecting to have to get into John Constantine’s business again, but the idea of the mage acting shifty didn’t sit very well with The Captain. “What was that?” She asked Behrad, intercepting him before he reached the kitchen.

“What was what?” Behrad shrugged, crossing his arms with a dopey smile “I was just helping John get his food to his room.” “Uh huh.” Sara’s light blue eyes narrowed, nodding along with Behrad “What was he carrying?”

“I don’t know. Some fish, crackers, wine. Had this old book under his arm. You know John, can’t read if it’s not totally silent. He must’ve gotten hungry.”

“Yeah.” Sara nodded, the truth dawning on her with a small, easy smile “Okay, let’s make sure to leave him alone today. He’s clearly got something important to do.”

John took his time lighting every candle he had in his room, turning the lights off and letting the little flickering flames set just the right reverential mood he was feeling. There was stirring between his ribs. He got the feeling every time he took out the Haggadah. Opening the musty book brought back memories, ones he kept reenacting every Pessach. As beautiful as the book was, ancient binding and intricate hand-printed text, it would never replace the one he found when he was twelve in his father’s attic. He remembered climbing up the cobwebbed ladder, his older sister whispering a word of caution behind him. Cheryl never really understood it, why he climbed that ladder. She never understood why he would intentionally lock himself up there for hours among the beetles and dead pigeons. Among that pestilence and dust was a box marked ‘Mary Anne - Beth-Tikvah, LON’ in big block letters. When John’s father, a big burly man whose accent was the only thing thicker than his eyebrows, found him wearing his great uncle’s kippah with the edges clumsily touching his brow while he read his mother’s old ‘Elementary Hebrew’ workbook, tracing the lines of his mother’s juvenile scripture, Thomas left welts on the young boy’s thighs that didn’t abate until the next month. 

Thomas had thought he’d burned everything in that box that very day. He didn’t suspect or know to look for a pocketbook the size of a theater playbook, with flimsy blue binding and doubled text in every page. One side in English, the other in Hebrew. The one thing John managed to keep from that little book was the page-marker. A picture of his mother at her younger brother’s Bar Mitzvah. She looked to be about 16 years-old with boundless ringlets in her hair and a face-splitting grin. John felt it in his throat every time he looked down at that picture. He’d sob repeatedly, from the chest out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He’d bang his fists, palm-upwards, towards his head as he let the remorse of a stolen childhood shudder his lungs with a force only a soul in desperate need of rest could offer. 

“Hi, mum.” John now whispered, taking the bookmark out of his over-compensatory Haggadah, letting it rest against two candlestick pillars. “Thought I’d read to you out loud this time.” His voice felt raw and crackling on his tongue like those lungs on anti-smoking adverts. “Happy Passover.”

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[paradisobound]

It’s Time to Begin

Summary: Dan and Phil went through hell and back when they were teenagers to fight against the evil clown. However, when they get called back to Derry, they know that the fight is just beginning again with whatever it is. But old feelings begin to get rehashed and they decide to confess something to the other before they head towards the fight for their lives. 

Phan IT Part 2!Au 

Word Count: 3.9k 

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of violence, homophobia, emetophobia, alcohol, death (not MCD) and general horror movie elements 

Written for the @phandomreversebang for the art by softphiily and beta work by @flymetomanchester! 

**Read on Ao3**

A/N: I purposely left the ending as hopeful because if you've seen the movie, then you know the ending and it's extremely sad. So i left the ending ambiguous because I want people to not read this and feel sad but read this and feel hopeful for the end!

When Dan got the call that was about returning to Derry, he vomited. It wasn’t that he was feeling queasy before then, but it was because he knew what the call meant.

The call had come in from Joshua. All he said was the words, “Come back to Derry” and the words had filled Dan’s head with dread.

He was due to go into his comedy show that afternoon, but the words rattled around in his head and he failed to say anything. People booed him, and he laughed because he tried to make the best of it.

He left the stage without announcing so and vomited in the bin on stage right just behind the curtain. He prayed that the microphone on his shirt was turned off and no one could hear him.

It had been so long since he’s thought about Derry, so long since he’s left there. He was convinced that he never wanted to think of the name of that town again, and he had been successful up until this point.

Joshua had told him to take a flight to Maine but Dan was all the way in Los Angeles and was reluctant to do so. He could drag feet, pretend he didn’t actually hear the words, and move on with his life.

But that wouldn’t be fair.

Oh, yes, why wouldn’t it be fair? Dan remembered the blood pact that they had made on the other side of the Stone bridge that one afternoon all those years ago. At the thought, his hand itches and he instinctively itches his palm, raking his fingernails over the slightly raised scar.

He can’t go back. No, there is no way that he could. Too many memories. Too much trauma. Too much everything. If he goes back, that literally only means one thing: it’s back.

Dan doesn’t even want to think about it. He doesn’t want to think about any of it. He doesn’t want to think about Derry, about his former friends, and especially about what they experienced the summer when they were 14.

No, Dan refuses.

He rubs the bridge of his nose between his fingers as he managers rushes a cold bottle of water to him and he takes the damp plastic and shoves it to the nose of his neck and holds it there.

He stands up a bit straighter and makes a beeline past his manager for the table of food and drinks in the back. He grabs the first bottle of wine that he sees, some white bottle that says it’s a Moscato, and he unscrews the cap and begins to drink it down.

Alcohol is going to be the only thing that can numb his feelings tonight.

***

It all started in Derry, back in 1991.

He was a young nerdy boy who just wanted to spend his summer playing the shitty arcade games at his local theater. He’d gotten pretty good at Pac-Man and Donkey Kong that summer, setting multiple high scores just to show off to all of the weebs around him that he was the best.

But when school came around that fall, things began to change a bit more. Namely, his friend group. He’d begun to hang out with Robbie and Steven.

Robbie had a bit of a stutter, but Dan didn’t mind. He likes to pick on Robbie, and sometimes Robbie took it well, and sometimes he didn’t.

Steven was quiet, kept to himself. He was Jewish and while Dan himself wasn’t any religion, he still decided to go with his new friend occasionally to temple to see what it was all about. As they grew up, Dan was willing to always help Steven with his studies for his bar mitzvah.

And then there was Jenna and Bradley. But Dan didn’t know them as well as he knew the others. Yeah, they all hung out, but he still knew the others better.

But it was Phil who Dan liked the most. He was a little bit of a hypochondriac—well, maybe a little bit isn't the correct way to phrase that. Phil panicked a lot about anything. His mom had him conditioned to believe everything and anything was a germ and it was a miracle to Dan that Phil even lasted this long in a public school without having an actual freak out.

But there was always something about Phil that Dan never forgot. Not even all these years later, as Dan is sitting in his car in the parking lot of the studio for his show, fighting back tears as he struggles to breathe.

His phone continues to vibrate on the seat next to him, texts from Joshua rushing in asking him to come back to Derry, that Derry needs their group there to save everything.

Dan knows what is waiting for them, and he’s not sure he wants to ever face it. He had faced it once when they were kids, trying to stop the monster from hurting any other children like they had hurt Robbie’s little brother.

For many years, Dan has tried to act brave because he tried to forget about everything that had happened to them. And really, he had pretty much done that until today's text and all of the memories came flooding back.

He starts his car, turns on the radio as loud as it will go as it blasts Radiohead out of its speakers. The couple in the car next to his turn their heads and he sings alone, trying to forget and drown out the buzzing of his phone on the passenger seat.

No...he won’t go back to Derry.

He can’t go back.

***

Despite Dan’s best efforts, he finds himself in the small town he grew up in, driving past the old arcade where he held all of his records and he sees posters still tacked on the outside from the ‘90s, the last time it had ever been open. Dan’s gut aches a bit more but he’s gotten sick way too much over the last 3 days to still have anything in his stomach.

Dan books an overnight stay in the only bed and breakfast in all of Derry. He books only for one night because he has no intention of actually staying. Part of him hopes that this is all a sick joke to get all of the Losers group to meet up again but he knows deep down that’s not gonna be the case.

After all, it had been a long time since the first ordeal happened.

Dan’s not even sure if he wants to see any of his old friends. It seems like so much has happened since they left and he can’t even decipher if he wants to try and make up for lost time. Maybe the only person he would like to reconnect with is Phil, see how he’s doing, how his health is doing.

Dan laughs to himself as he sits on the edge of the bed with the key to the room in his hand. Phil...good ole’ hypochondriac Phil. Dan does miss him, miss the way he used to freak out over just touching a handrail on a staircase and immediately start dousing his body in hand sanitizer.

He hasn’t heard from Phil in years. The last time he did, he heard Phil got married. And while that’s great for him, Dan can’t help but feel the punch in his gut over the fact that Phil got married.

Mostly because Dan is still harboring a crush on him after all these years. So many years of repressed homophobic language and words. He’s not out to anyone he knows. He’s not even out to his friends back in Hollywood. The only person he is out to is himself.

Dan drops the key out of his grasp and he jumps at the clatter it makes on the hardwood floor in the way too silent room. Part of him wishes he had gotten the nerve to come out to Phil before they all left for college--which Dan dropped out of anyway. They hadn’t even said that much before they all left for their own lives. Dan just gave Phil a quick hug goodbye at graduation and gave them all a promise he’d keep in touch and then they were all gone.

A knock sounds through his door and his shoulders jump as he stands up from the bed and walks over to the door. He opens it slowly and a bit of glee jumps into his chest as he sees Jenna standing there, her strawberry blonde hair tucked behind her ear.

“Hey, Dan!” She says, a voice wavering a bit with tiredness but her eyes still bright green. “Long time no see.”

Dan nods and lets out a laugh. It’s been so long that he’s seen her that it feels a bit unreal to see her now as 30 year old than her teenage self, “You look really good!”

A loud laugh escapes her lips and she waves him off, “Stop lying.”

Dan’s really not but he laughs along. She invites herself into his room and they find themselves talking about their life from the last however many years that they haven’t had contact.

Dan learns that Jenna is going to be filing for divorce from her abusive husband soon and Dan wishes her well in that. He tells Jenna about how he has an upcoming comedy tour beginning in a few months and she jokes that she’s going to buy tickets for one of his shows in New York City.

It feels nice to catch up, but in the end, they both still sit in silence because they deep down know the real reasons why they are here right now. Jenna begins to shake a bit and Dan feels sick again but they both just smile at each other and then Jenna tells him that the others are here too. So they walk downstairs together.

It’s like a mini-reunion but upon seeing everyone standing there, he quickly realizes that they’re missing someone. Steven isn’t here. Dan looked around to make sure he wasn’t just missing him.

“Where is Steven?” Jenna asks before anyone can say anything. She folds her arms over her chest, standing next to Dan.

Robbie stands up and Dan sees the pain behind his eyes, “Steven...Steven passed away. I got an unfortunate call from his wife.”

Everyone opens and closes their mouths and Dan particularly feels the wave crash over him. Did that fucker get to Steven first? How is that even possible? Steven didn’t live around here.

“I know you guys all have questions,” Joshua says, “And I’m sure that you already have some of the answers for them too.”

Dan nods along with the others. Joshua reaches down his side and opens the messenger bag on his shoulder, pulling out a notebook. As he does this, Dan turns his head and looks at Phil for the first time since he came downstairs.

Phil looks so much different. He’s wearing a pair of glasses and his black hair is pushed back into a quiff. His body has also filled out a lot more, more muscle and more definition. And if Dan wasn’t totally in love with him when they were teenagers, he definitely is now. He still is looking at Phil when he looks down at his hand and sees that Phil’s left hand is missing a ring.

His heart stutters for a moment.

“...So you all will need to go out and get that piece to put in our sacrifice to kill it.”

Dan wasn’t listening to much of what Joshua had told all of them. But he was listening now.

“So…” Bradley asks, sitting his hips against the bar behind him. “You’re asking us all to disperse on our own to relieve our teenage trauma just to find that missing piece.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not doing that,” The voice is Phil’s. He’s stood up straighter, his body a bit more rigid. “I can’t do that.”

“How do we even know where to look?” Dan speaks up. “This town is basically vacated. None of the locations we knew as teens are still going to be here.”

“Well, you have to try,” Joshua speaks up. “Or else we’re all going to end up like Steven.”

An uncomfortable silence lingers in the air and Dan swallows back the tension in his throat. He doesn’t want to do this. This seems like such a ridiculous idea and he really wants no part of it.

“If we all don’t get our objects,” Robbie says, speaking up again, “It’s not going to work.”

“So when do we need to have these found by?” Jenna asks, uncrossing her arms from her chest.

“We should all meet here by 6 tonight,” Joshua responds, “So we can make sure everyone has their object. We’ll also need to find Steven’s.”

“How are we going to find Steven’s?” Dan asks. “There isn’t…”

“We’ll find it,” Robbie speaks up, “We--we have to.”

The stutter in Robbie’s speech brings him back to the days of his youth when Robbie had a really bad speech impediment and Dan used to pick on him about it. Of course, he regrets all of that now, but he can’t take back what he did in the past.

“Okay, let’s break up then,” Bradley says, smoothing his hand over his face.

“I’m still not going to do this,” Phil says, standing his ground. “This isn’t worth it.”

“So everyone dying is?” Joshua asks, his voice serious. “If you don’t go and find your object, we’re all going to die. There is no question about it.”

No one else says anymore. Joshua and Robbie both leave and Bradley, Phil, and Jenna are left standing there. Jenna leaves eventually too and Dan stands there with Phil. He takes one last look at Phil before he leaves and he tries to ignore that he can clearly see Phil is crying. If he stays for a second longer, he’ll start to cry as well.

***

Dan doesn’t even know where to start. He gets into his car in the parking lot of the bed and breakfast and turns on the engine. He’s not sure where he wants to go, where he should go. He supposes he can just drive around because there has to be a sign somewhere.

He ends up on the main street and he finds himself parked in front of the old arcade. He remembers this arcade so clearly. It wasn’t really an arcade, it was a movie theater with some games in the front.

But Dan treated it like an arcade. He spent many afternoons here during the school year and during the summer. He particularly loved the Donkey Kong machine and as he opens his car door, he wonders if the machine is still here.

He gets up and walks towards the front of the dilapidated building and looks at the way the broken glass glistens in the sunlight behind him. The doors are completely broken open and when he looks down at the floor just beyond them, he can see many pieces of glass.

Maybe this wasn’t the best idea for him to come here.

But then he sees it in the distance, the donkey kong game that he used to play every single summer. He laughs to himself and braves the glass as he walks inside and goes over to the dust and cobweb-covered machine.

It probably doesn’t even work still, but he wants to try it out anyway. He pulls the sleeve of his jacket down over his hands and he quickly wipes the screen off and presses some buttons. The machine suddenly boots up and he laughs at the luck. He moves the joystick to the high scores and he feels a hit of nostalgia as he sees that his initials still hold all of the top ten spots.

He kind of wants to see if he can beat his old score. Just for the hell of it. But when he presses all of the buttons, it says he needs to insert one token and he knows that those must be long gone. But he starts to look for them anyway.

He looks beside the machine and on the floor and he looks inside the coin flaps of the machines in case any were left there and never picked up again. He kicks over a few pieces of glass, trying to be careful but still eager to find a token. He suddenly finds one and picks it up, looking it over in the sunlight.

It’s the classic gold token he remembers so much, having to pay a quarter for every token back in the day and his mom only giving him $2 at a time. He used to blow through all of that to play every game for as long as possible but sometimes that didn’t happen and he’d waste his token.

Especially when the bullies started to come more and more frequently. He remembers so vividly one day in particular. It was the summer after everything had happened with it. He came to the arcade every single day to get his mind off from the horrors he experienced and he quickly became a target.

He was called a nerd for a while. Weeb became more and more of an insult. But when the words stopped working, next came the punches and Dan became accustomed to them. They started calling him a ‘fag’ or a ‘homo’ and those were what stung the most.

He would always run to try and avoid them. Normally he ended up in the park across the street because he knew that’s where he could get away from them since the bullies didn’t dare to touch him while he was in front of everyone else.

Dan falls back to the present and looks down at the token in his hand. This has to be the object he needs to give to Joshua. He felt such a strong emotion from it just by picking it up in his hand.

He walks back out of the arcade and sucks in a breath as he sees a red balloon pass by him and continue down the street.

***

Dan winds up in the park by himself, twisting the token in the pocket of his jacket. It’s so empty around here now. It’s like no one even lives here anymore but really who can blame them? After all the horrific shit that happened, he’s surprised anyone stayed at all.

He’s sitting on the bench when he hears footsteps come up to him and he sees Phil standing in front of him, his own hands in his pocket as the cool spring breeze blew through, “Did you find your object?”

Dan nods and pulls out the token from his pocket, “Arcade token.”

Phil nods and takes a seat beside him, “I found mine too. My inhaler.”

“You used to rely on that all of the time,” Dan says with a chuckle. “I remember you wouldn’t go anywhere without it.”

“Did you know I didn’t even need this?” Phil asks, pulling it out of his pocket. “I was told a few years back that I didn’t even have asthma.”

“So what were you even using that for?” Dan asks because surely that’s not healthy.

“Nothing,” Phil says with a laugh. “I was just listening to what my mom told me.”

Dan just nodded and sat there,  silence between them.

“How is your wife doing?” Dan asks because he’s trying to just make polite conversation.

“Oh, we’re not together anymore,” Phil says. “We settled our divorce over a year ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dan says biting his lip.

Phil just shrugs, “She reminded me too much of my mom.”

Dan let out a snort and Phil did too.

“Oh gosh.”

“Plus I just realized something about myself that...well, that made it so it was hard to fully be in love with her.”

Dan bites his lip and tries to not get his hopes up by what Phil means. Of course, Dan would love for his crush to be reciprocated after all of these years but he knows that that won’t ever happen.

“What about you?” Phil asks. “Never did hear much about you once you left.”

“Oh, I never really had any relationships,” Dan says at first. “I put so much focus on my comedy career and it’s finally starting to pay off. I have a big tour coming in the next few months.”

Phil smiles at him, “That’s awesome to hear.”

The wind bustles around them and the sky begins to darken as the night rolls in. Dan didn’t realize he had been out for so long. It feels like only an hour or so has passed.

“Hey, Dan,” Phil says, his voice wavering a bit, “Can I tell you something?”

Dan swallows back his feelings and nods, “Of course you can.”

Phil sucks his lips into a tight line and then opens them as he says, “It’s just...if I die here, I want someone to know this about me so I didn’t live my entire life a lie.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m gay.”

Dan fights back the smile that plays on his lips at Phil’s confession because as soon as the words sink in, Dan feels his tears well up in his eyes as well.  After all, he feels the exact same way. If he dies within the next few days, no one is going to know his secret either.

“Phil, I’m gay too,” Dan says.

Phil turns to him and forces a smile on his lips as a stray tear makes its way down his cheek and Dan fights back the tears that want to spill down his as well. He takes a few deep breaths.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Phil chuckles out with a watery laugh.

Dan just nods and chuckles as well, “You’re the only person who knows.”

“You too, for me,” Phil says. “I haven’t told anyone else yet.”

The sun sets a bit lower and Dan feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Just as he grabbed at his, Phil grabbed at his own as well and sighed.

“It’s from Joshua,” Phil answers. “They all have their objects and are at the hotel so we should go too.”

“So this is really happening then?” Dan says, his voice wavering more. “We’re really going to finally kill this thing then?”

Phil nods, “I guess so.”

They stand up from the bench and make their way back to the main street. They round the corner towards the arcade and Dan sees his car is still sitting there. A single red balloon is floating next to the driver’s side window.

Dan takes a deep breath and he looks at Phil next to him as he takes one as well. As they walk towards the car, their hands brush for a second and Dan fights back the tears as he realizes that this may be the last time he can have a conversation like this with Phil.

Because they may not be alive after tonight.

Dan just prays to whatever God that is above that they can finally finish this battle tonight, kill the thing that’s been torturing them, and make it out alive. Because he wants to be able to see Phil on the other side.

And as Phil looks at him too, and their hands suddenly intertwine without either of them initiating it, Dan realizes there is nothing he wants more than to get revenge and move on with his life.

It’s time.

[thirteen-beaxhes]

So here’s part 2 of your gift @stephadoodles! The Tyrus half! Hope you like it!

(Fic under the read more)

“Okay, we get it, you’re a couple,” Cyrus groaned, rolling his eyes as Buffy and Andi stopped their little compliment battle to look at Cyrus. Buffy tossed a baby tater at him while Andi just laughed softly, holding Buffy’s hand on the table.

“We can’t help it, Cy,” Andi said, shaking her head slightly. “But we just got together!”

“Yeah! How can you expect me to stay away from this angel and not remind her how much I am fond of her,” Buffy added, as Andi leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. An action that elicited another groan from Cyrus as he buried his head in his hands.

“Whoever was responsible for this, could they turn on their location? I just wanna talk,” Cyrus said through his palms. Andi laughed at that, but something caught her eye from behind him and she smiled sneakily.

“Well, you’re lucky cuz they just walked into the Spoon,” she said, and Cyrus turned around to see who it was and immediately whipped his head back forward.

“Hey guys,” TJ said as he slid into the seat beside Cyrus. Buffy just sipped her milkshake, desperately trying to hide her smile, while Andi just raised her eyebrows cheekily at Cyrus.

“Hey TJ,” Cyrus said, cursing himself as he felt his cheeks go red. TJ smiled at him, immediately stealing one of Cyrus’ baby taters and popping it in his mouth.

“Hey Underdog,” he said happily, then looked over across at Buffy and Andi, noticing the lack of space between them and their hushed conversation. “So, they finally got together huh?”

“Yup,” Cyrus said, popping the ‘p’. “I’m gonna kill you for that by the way,” he said, turning to TJ.

TJ pouted innocently, looking at Cyrus with the puppy dog eyes that Cyrus hated himself for being so fond of. "Aw, why is that Underdog?"

"Because now I'm the one who has to third wheel around them! I don't think I could survive."

"Well, then you could, not, third wheel."

"Oh, yeah I don't really have any other friends, Teej, that wouldn't work," Cyrus said, rolling his eyes as he took a sip of his milkshake. But he looked back at TJ, who was looking at his very curiously, an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?"

"That's not what I meant, Cy."

Cyrus narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What did you mean then?"

TJ opened his mouth, about to say something, but then he glanced down, shaking his head slightly. "Never mind," He mumbled, popping another baby tater into his mouth.

And conversation moved swiftly on, but Cyrus was still left, wondering in confusion.

What the hell did TJ mean?

*

"You should tell him," Buffy said, as she sat on the bench, packing up her things.

"What?" TJ asked, high giving the team members who passed by, looking back at Buffy.

Buffy just looked up with raised eyebrows, and TJ sighed.

"I know, I know I just, I haven't decided how," He said, looking at his shoes.

Buffy sighed, getting up and placing a reassuring hand on TJ's shoulder. "Well, if you need help, I'm right here. I can no longer handle your endless pining after him."

TJ laughed quietly, playfully shoving Buffy in the shoulder as they both grabbed their gym bags and walked away from the basketball court in the park. But soon, as they fell into step, TJ was deep in thought. And finally it struck him. He knew what to do.

“Hey Buffy,” TJ said, turning to look at her.

“Yeah?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“About helping out...”

*

“Andi, why are you doing this?” Cyrus groaned, as Andi pushed him out of his room and down the stairs, forcing him out of his house as she cheerily waved at his parents.

She just laughed, linking her arm with his and walked down the sidewalk. The sun had set a while back, and stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, like glitter on navy blue velvet. “Do I need a reason to want to take my best friend to my house?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me? So I’m not supposed to ask why you call me randomly to your house, but you can?”

“Glad to see you’re understanding.”

Andi rolled her eyes, punching Cyrus in the shoulder as they made their way down Andi’s street.. But suddenly, she stopped and turned slowly towards Cyrus.

“I need to cover your eyes,” she said slowly, and Cyrus immediately started shaking his head vehemently.

“Okay, I knew it, you’re about to sell me for off-the-market art supplies. I always knew this day would come,” Cyrus said, dropping dramatically to the ground on his knees. Andi laughed maniacally, pulling Cyrus up by the elbow.

“Mwahahaha, good luck Cyrus, this is the end!” she said,and the two of them collapsed into laughter. Andi wiped a tear from her eye, before she smiled at Cyrus. “Okay, but I’m serious. Come here,” she said, holding out an eye mask. Cyrus just sighed and let her put on the eye mask.

Now being led by blind (hehe) trust in Andi alone, Cyrus just let himself be led forward. He tried asking why on earth was this surprise so elaborate, but Andi just shushed him the entire time. Eventually, she led him to a bench, where he felt his way and sat down, pulling off the blindfold after 5 minutes.

Andi was nowhere to be seen. When his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he noticed that he was sitting on the bench near the swings. The swings he and TJ frequented.

Could it be?

No, no way.

“Hey Underdog.”

Cyrus turned to his left, smiling slightly as he saw TJ walk up to him, laughing softly as he noticed TJ wearing the blue hoodie from his bar mitzvah, with his face plastered on it.

“I cannot believe you kept that.”

“What, this?’ TJ said, looking down at the hoodie. “It’s one of my favourite ones,” he smiled, sitting down beside Cyrus. He was holding a packet, wrapped up in brown paper and tied with a string. And attached to it was a note.

Cyrus raised his eyebrows. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the package.

“Here, open it,” TJ said with a nervous smile, holding it out to Cyrus. Cyrus took it, gingerly untying the string and tearing open the paper. And in it, was a copy of ‘Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe’, and he laughed.

“But I’ve already read this,” Cyrus said, smiling sadly.

“I’m sure you haven’t read this version,” TJ said, his voice quiet as he bit his lip nervously.

Cyrus furrowed his eyebrows, opening the book to the title page, and he gasped.

There, just under the title, in green pen, were the words, ‘I like you, Cyrus Goodman. And you’re the most important person to me’.

“What’s this?” Cyrus asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“It’s true,” TJ said with a teary smile. “I like you, Underdog. A lot.”

Cyrus smiled, letting out a small laugh, unable to do anything other than hold the book like it was a delicate vase. TJ looked down, wiping his nose.

“You and I have had a lot of ups and downs, and a lot of it has been my fault. And I just know, that I’m gonna mess up again, how much ever I try not to. So, I wanted to give you something that you could look at, you could hold, to remind you that no matter what happens, you mean so much to me. And I like you. Even if you don’t feel the same, I just needed to say it.”

“Teej,” Cyrus whispered, looking down at the book and then back up at TJ. He didn’t need anything more to lean in and kiss TJ, capturing his lips in his own. It made sense that it was the best way he could express how he was feeling.

As they pulled away, Cyrus bumped his nose against TJ’s. “I like you too, TJ Kippen. More than you could ever imagine.”

 ~~~~~~

I really hoped you liked your gifts! And thank you to @swingsetboys for organising this exchange!

- Smriti

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

The Space Between Us (Chapter 7)

Summary: After the events of Costume Day, Cyrus asks T.J. for space. How will T.J. handle this distance between them?

A/N: This is the last chapter! I’ll be posting the Epilogue tomorrow and after that, I’ll be gone on vacation for a while. 

Thank you so much everyone for being so supportive and reading this story!

“The rumors… about the gay kid in our grade… is it you?”

Cyrus felt himself swallowing the lump in his throat as the pit of unease in his stomach grew with each passing second.

Why did it feel so easy just blurting it out and casually confirming for people he barely knew? But, when it came to those close and important to him, he was tongue-tied?

Of course, he knew why. It was the fact that they were so important to him and he couldn’t bear to lose them. Their opinion mattered the most.

If they didn’t accept him…

If T.J. couldn’t accept him…

The blonde was still watching him, closely. Almost, anticipatory. Cyrus wondered what was going on in his head.

He turned away, dreading his friend’s reaction. “Y-Yes,” he managed, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat. “The rumor is about me. It’s true.” He swallowed again. “I’m gay, T.J.”

He heard T.J. take a breath. Risking a look, Cyrus peeked at him from the corner of his eye.

“Oh,” was all the blonde said.

Cyrus’ heart dropped to his stomach.

The silence that hung above their heads was suddenly too loud. Cyrus’ fingers clutched at the fabric of his pants, his own nails digging into his knee. The empty space between them felt like an ocean all of a sudden.

T.J.’s hands were in fists, knuckles white at how tight he curled them. “Did Buffy know?” he asked in a whisper.

Cyrus swallowed. “She was the first to know.”

“Andi?”

“I told her at my Bar Mitzvah.”

“And... what about Jonah?”

His fingers drummed a rhythm against his knee. “During Bubbe Rose’s Shiva. Before you arrived.”

T.J. closed his eyes. “So, all of them knew. But, you didn’t tell me.”

“It… wasn’t the right time. I wanted to tell you. But…There was too much going on and I…” Cyrus took a deep breath. “I guess I was afraid of how you might react. Not everyone is accepting, you know.”

The blonde opened his eyes and turned to him. “Is that what you think I would do? That I wouldn’t accept you?”

Cyrus swallowed again. “T.J., you left me hanging during Costume Day because Kira implied that it was wrong for two boys to have matching costumes. What am I supposed to think after that?”

His words seemed to strike a chord.

T.J.’s jaw clenched and he looked away again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know. And I forgive you. And, now, you know the truth. What happens next?”

“I…” T.J. unclenched his fists, wiping his palms on his jeans before settling them on bench’s surface on either side of him. “I just want you back. I miss you.”

Cyrus’ heart clenched.

“Everything that happened at Costume Day was one huge mistake. I was… a coward. I just wanted to protect myself but in the process, I hurt you. And that’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. You’re too important to me. But… as usual… I messed up. I ruined everything. And… I don’t know how to bounce back from this.” He turned back to look at Cyrus, his face full of sorrow. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I also don’t want to lose you. Cyrus, I… I…”

He paused, biting his lip.

“What is it?” Cyrus prodded, gently.

T.J. looked away and murmured something under his breath.

The brunette furrowed his brows. “Sorry, I didn’t get that.”

“I… I like you…”

Cyrus chuckled. “I like you too. You’re one of my best friends.”

At that response, T.J. suddenly looked pained. His knuckles gripped the bench underneath them, tightly. “No… Not like that… I mean, you’re one of my best friends too. But, Cyrus…” He flashed him a brief look. “I like you…”

After saying those words, he looked down at his shoes again.

It took a beat or two for the words to truly sink in and make sense. But, when Cyrus finally realized what the blonde meant, the blood rushed to his cheeks and his heartbeat began to quicken.

“O-Oh.”

What a lame response.

T.J. chuckled. “Yeah.”

Cyrus swallowed. “You like me?”

“Mmhmm.”

He twiddled his fingers. “Really?”

“Yeah.” T.J.’s small grin then fell and he looked distressed once more. He still couldn’t look at Cyrus. “I… I don’t really know if I’m gay or what,” he admitted, softly. “I’m still so confused and… and I guess Kira figured it out, somehow. Or had a hunch, I don’t know. She told me she didn’t know but I don’t know if I believe her.” He huffed. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. Everything already happened and there’s no way for me to take back what I did. But, I know one thing is true.”

Cyrus waited with bated breath, his heart absolutely refusing to calm down. Was he getting a panic attack? No, it wasn’t anything like that. But, he was definitely nervous.

T.J. finally looked at him, his pretty green eyes meeting Cyrus’ own, and the brunette could see the soft adoration and affection in those irises.

“I like you a lot, Cyrus,” he confessed again. “Since the moment I met you, I knew that you were someone I wanted in my life.” He bit his lip. “But… I’m honestly just… so confused about everything. About what I feel for you. And… it’s kind of… scaring me.”

Cyrus’ heart ached in his chest. He knew how that felt. He knew exactly what T.J. was going through. And he had no idea. He suddenly felt like a horrible friend for not noticing that T.J. was suffering too. Unlike Cyrus, who had Buffy and Andi and Jonah, T.J. didn’t have anyone to turn to.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

Without thinking about it, he reached out and placed a hand over T.J.’s. The blonde flinched in surprise. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, Cyrus moved to pull his hand away.

T.J. didn’t let him, grasping his fingers tightly.

The action made the brunette blush but he shook away the thoughts. T.J. needed a friend right then.

He needed Cyrus.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, gently smiling at the other boy. “And I know how you feel. I was there once. And it took time to really get comfortable with who I am. So, you don’t have to rush, T.J. You don’t need to come out now or even label yourself. Just… be you. You’re no different.”

He echoed Buffy’s words from a long time ago and they were truer than ever.

T.J. flashed him a small smile before it was, once again, replaced by an anxious frown.

“I’m scared, Cyrus,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Cyrus held his hand tighter. “I know you are. But, I’m here now. I accept you, T.J., no matter what.”

“I’m sorry. After everything Kira said...”

“There will always be people like Kira.” Cyrus held his tongue from saying anything more than that. “But there are also people like Andi and Buffy. People who will love you and accept you – all of you.”

“I’m scared of what I’m feeling for you,” T.J. admitted, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Not because I’m ashamed of you. But because I don’t want to hurt you like I did back then.”

“I know, I know,” was all Cyrus could say.

His own heart refused to settle, still filled with both elation and confusion at the revelation of T.J.’s feelings.

“I’m still figuring out what I feel for you,” the blonde continued, oblivious to Cyrus’ own inner turmoil about his own feelings. “But, I don’t want to be away from you.”

“I don’t want to be away from you either,” Cyrus confessed. He was done running away. “I missed you.”

Finally, T.J. smiled, gazing at him in the way that he always did, the gaze that always made Cyrus’ heart skip a beat and his knees go weak (good thing he was sitting down).

“I missed you too,” the other boy replied.

Cyrus looked down at their still entwined hands. He knew he had to let go at some point, but he didn’t want to yet. He wiggled his fingers a little to loosen his grip but didn’t completely release the hand.

“I’m still figuring things out too,” he admitted, subtly playing with the fingers in his grasp. Then, he looked up at T.J., hoping his blush wasn’t too obvious (he could feel the heat in his cheeks). “We can figure things out together, if you want.”

T.J.’s smile widened. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

He liked him. Cyrus liked him. So much. And T.J. liked him back.

“I…” his voice got stuck in his throat, the words refusing to come out.

“Hmm?” T.J. questioned, head tilted cutely to the side.

Cyrus swallowed. “Um… we can talk about boys now!” was what he ended up with.

He wanted to smack himself on the head but to his surprise, T.J. chuckled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Like… uh… which Hemsworth brother do you think is dreamy?”

“Definitely Chris,” the blonde immediately answered.

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at that. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time T.J. had thought about it. He was suddenly oddly jealous of Thor. Was it the blonde locks?! The defining muscles?! The accent?!

He snorted. “No way! Liam is a total dreamboat!”

T.J. chuckled again, still smiling sweetly at him.

“So… this space between us…” he said, making Cyrus pause. “Do you think we can close it now?”

Returning the smile, the brunette nodded. “Consider it closed.”

Both boys leaned back against the bench, both clearly had the weight they were carrying lifted from their shoulders. The gap between them was almost non-existent now. Cyrus didn’t know if it was him who moved closer or if it was T.J.

In the end, he realized that it didn’t really matter.

They’ve made up and, in the process, have come to know more about each other.

“So… you’re really out?” T.J. asked, a hint of hesitance in his voice.

Cyrus nodded. “Yeah. I just figured that it was time, you know? I don’t really want to hide such a significant part of who I am.”

“And…are you happy?”

“Yeah.” Cyrus smiled. “I am.”

T.J. hummed. “Cool. I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

T.J. squeezed his hand.

Neither of them let go until they had to part.

……...........

Weeks passed. Things went back to normal. Or, as normal as they could for 8th grade.

Cyrus tried to ignore the flip-flopping in his stomach. His nerves were trying to get the best of him, but he refused to let it. He thought long and hard about this and he was finally ready to take this important step.

Andi and Buffy sidled up on either side of him.

“Nervous?” Buffy whispered in his ear.

Cyrus swallowed. “N-No…”

“It’s okay,” Andi tried to reassure him. “You got this. Just go up to him and-.”

“Ask him out. Yeah, it’s no big deal. He already likes me, so he’ll say ‘yes’, right? Unless his mind changed sometime in the last couple of weeks and he doesn’t like me anymore so I’ll probably make a fool of myself-.”

“Cyrus!” the two girls hissed.

Cyrus swallowed again. “Sorry. Yeah. I got this. I got this.”

He started forlornly across the hall at T.J., who was just swapping his books at his locker and minding his own business.

It had been weeks since Cyrus came out to the rest of the school. Weeks since T.J. confessed his feelings for him and admitted his confusion about his sexuality. Weeks since Cyrus started playing with the idea of possibly asking his blonde friend out on a date. And mere days since he finally made the decision to do exactly that and, thus, mentally and emotionally preparing himself.

At his locker, T.J. checked his reflection on his phone, fixing an out of place strand of blonde hair in the process. He looked so cute.

Cyrus’ nerves multiplied tenfold. “Maybe I’ll wait a few more days…”

He let out a squeak when Andi and Buffy pushed him towards the blonde boy’s direction.

The sound caught T.J.’s ear and he turned around. Instantly, he beamed at the sight of Cyrus, stumbling towards him.

“Hey, Underdog!” he greeted.

Cyrus lifted a hand to wave. “H-Hey…” he managed as he walked closer. His palms felt sweaty and he subtly tried to wipe them on his jeans. “What’s up?”

T.J. shrugged. “Nothing much. About to head to History.”

“Cool, cool… I have Math next.”

“Gross.” T.J. exaggeratedly shuddered and wrinkled his nose before laughing. “Wanna walk with me?”

“Yes!” Cyrus inwardly cringed at how eager he sounded.

“Great! Lemme just grab one last thing.”

As T.J. turned back to his locker, Cyrus twisted his head around. He sent Andi and Buffy a desperate look but they simply waved their hands, encouragingly.

“You got this!” Andi mouthed.

Swallowing again, he nodded in thanks before turning back right on time, just as T.J. was closing his locker.

“I’m ready,” he announced.

“Can I ask you something?” Cyrus blurted out before he could change his mind.

“Sure.”

“Um… Uh… So…” His hands tightened around the strap of his book bag. “Andi is having a party this weekend and… uh… do you… maybe… wanna go?”

“Oh, sure! Sounds like fun!” T.J. grinned.

Cyrus forced his voice out. “A-As m-my… d-date?”

T.J.’s mouth fell open. He blinked once. Twice.

“Really?” he said.

Was that hesitation? Cyrus wasn’t feeling so confident anymore.

“I… Yeah… I mean, I guess you don’t have to come as my date, you’re still invited as a guest of course. I just thought it would be nice to go together, you know? Cause you said you… l-like me… Y-You still like me, right? Or n-not? I mean…”

He was silenced by T.J.’s hand taking one of his. Cyrus slowly let go of his book bag.

The blonde’s smile was up to his ears. “Yes,” he said, sounding eager. “I still like you. A lot. And I’d love to go as your date, Cyrus.”

“Wait… Really?”

“Really.” T.J. rubbed his thumb over his hand. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Cyrus finally managed a smile back, his heart fluttering. “I’m glad. That you’re happy, I mean. And that you said ‘yes’. And that you still like me.”

T.J. chuckled. “I don’t think I’m going to stop liking you any time soon.” He squeezed Cyrus’ hand. “So… should we start heading to class?”

“Oh. Yes! Yes, let’s go.”

Without letting go of his hand, T.J. began to walk with Cyrus falling into step beside him.

He could hear Andi and Buffy’s little squeals of excitement, prompting a blush to bloom on his cheeks.

People were staring but it wasn’t like it was the first time they held hands in front of everyone. They did it a lot now. Almost everyday. On their way to class. On their way to lunch. On their way home from school. They just held hands.

Cyrus found that T.J. really liked holding hands. Specifically, T.J. liked holding Cyrus’ hand. And Cyrus really liked holding his hand too.

The other boy’s hand was a little bigger than his but they fit like a perfect puzzle and, sure, sometimes he was nervous that his palms were sweaty but T.J. never seemed to mind.

It was such a couple thing, but Cyrus had no idea if they were a couple. He never even got to confess his own feelings.

However, right at that moment, with T.J. cutely swinging their entwined hands between them as he enthusiastically talked about the documentary his history class was watching, Cyrus figured there was a time for that.

For right now, he just wanted to enjoy this.

Tag list:

@tjskipping

@crookshanks03

@tarahateslife

@shiploversworld646

@secretlytellingsomeoneyoursecret

[bluieeeee]

You Stole Her

“That’s because you’re here if you want to know” Jonah snaps out with quite possibly the most emotion Cyrus had ever seen from him. Jonah quickly moves toward the stairs as Cyrus asks, now worried, “what is it?” “Ask him!” He says whipping around to point at TJ before storming up the stairs and out the door. Cyrus turns on TJ who looks as confused as Cyrus feels “what did you do?”

TJ asks Jonah what he did wrong and it leads to secrets coming out. Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973295

TJ was looking down at his phone smiling to himself as he thought back to the events of his time at the park. Cyrus had left not long before, moments later texting TJ that he unblocked him(Which TJ had to teasingly act offended about) which led to exchanging more insults back and forth.

He didn’t notice the girl walking towards him until it was too late, they bumped shoulders causing his phone to fall from his hands onto the grass. “I’m so sorry” He started as he leaned down to grab his phone, luckily unmarked by the fall. When he straightened up the girl made a fist and circled her chest. For a moment TJ was confused before it clicked.

“Oh!” TJ racked his brain for a moment trying to remember the minimal sign language he learned in grade school. He semi-awkwardly places a hand in a thumbs up position on top of his other flattened hand and brings it toward himself before repeating the motion she had done. “My fault, I’m sorry,” he says as he signs it.

She looks surprised for a moment before pointing to TJ, tapping the side of her forehead with a bent hand, and spinning two fingers around one another, “You know sign?” TJ understood it as.

TJ smiled and held up his hand pinching his fingers close together, “a little.” He pushed a hand out towards her before stacking his middle and pointer fingers of both hands and moving the top ones up and down them.

The girl looked confused and moves her hands forward and to the sides in front of her. TJ repeats the motion of moving his fingers. When the girls confused expression does not change he pulls out his phone and types the question “What’s your name?”

The girl laughs and mouths “Oh” before spelling out L-I-B-B-Y with her hands in front of her. She pulls her own phone out of her pocket then and types before showing TJ the screen that reads “You asked my weight lol”

TJ mouth opens as he realizes and does the sign for ‘I’m sorry’ again. Apparently, TJ just can’t get enough of apologizing today, he thinks to himself. She smiles and shakes her head indicating it’s okay before doing the same as TJ had but bouncing the top set of fingers on the bottom instead of moving them up and down, TJ takes note of this as something to remember in the future.

T-J he signs as he says it and is momentarily thankful for his short and easy name.

A little while away Jonah and Andi sit at a bench “So?” Jonah says to her. “Did she say anything about me?” he asks eagerly.

Andi shrugged and looked off to the side, “We mostly talked about crafting.” which wasn't entirely a lie, they did mostly talk about crafting… and how boring Jonah can be.

Jonah gives her an exasperated look “Worst wingman ever,” he says causing her to laugh. He has no idea, Andi thought guiltily. Jonah looked over to the path looking for Libby, Andi guessed. “Are they friends?” he asked, causing Andi to follow his gaze to where Libby stood laughing with… TJ?

Andi scrunched her eyebrows together, “I hope not,” she said, still holding a grudge against him for the gun.

Cyrus had not been expecting to have Jonah over that day but when he texted the group chat sadly that morning announcing that Libby had broken up with him Cyrus offered to hang out as a distraction, so that is how Cyrus was playing Ping-Pong against Jonah in his basement on a random Sunday afternoon.

It hadn’t been until around three in the afternoon when Cyrus received a message from TJ asking if they were still alright to hang out at The Spoon a half hour later. Cyrus had completely forgotten that at the swings the day prior he had made plans to continue catching up the next day over Baby Taters and milkshakes.

‘I totally forgot! I have Jonah over.’ he sent, feeling guilty before having an idea. ‘Want to just come over here instead?’ he added.

‘Sure, when?’

‘Now is fine. We’re in the basement’ Cyrus types out before putting down his phone and meeting eyes with Jonah, ready to hit the ball to start another round.

Cyrus forgot to let Jonah know that TJ was on his way until he heard the door to his basement close. As the door clicked Jonah hit the ball a bit to low, giving Cyrus another point. “Three, Zero!” Cyrus says, “it’s a massacre!”

TJ is now down the stairs and next to Cyrus, putting his hand out for a high five which they pull to bump shoulders. When Cyrus looks back to Jonah though he looks, disappointed? Upset? Cyrus could never read his expressions but he knew this wasn’t a good one.

“I just remembered,” he says nodding a bit too quick, “I’m supposed to be somewhere.”

“Are you upset that I’m winning?” Cyrus asks gleefully. It’s rare that he wins, gotta bask in the glory of it.

“Ooh, I think he is upset!” TJ teases along with Cyrus. Cyrus looks to him smiling before Jonah makes them both look at him when he speaks.

“That’s because you’re here if you want to know” Jonah snaps out with quite possibly the most emotion Cyrus had ever seen from him.

Jonah quickly moves toward the stairs as Cyrus asks, now worried, “what is it?”

“Ask him!” He says whipping around to point at TJ before storming up the stairs and out the door.

Cyrus turns on TJ who looks as confused as Cyrus feels “what did you do?”

TJ shakes his head slightly, “nothing! I don’t know.”

“Well, clearly you did something.”

“If I did, I don’t remember it!”

“Then go ask him!” Cyrus says gesturing toward the stairs. TJ sighs dramatically before walking up the stairs quickly.

Jonah is just getting out the door when TJ gets to the top of the stairs and calls after him, rushing to catch up. Once outside TJ sees Jonah walking hurriedly down the street, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders drawn up. Even from this distance, TJ can tell Jonah is upset and tense.

Jonah hadn’t seemed to realized he was being followed so closely behind and was walking at a slower pace, not normal but not as close to running as before. TJ managed to catch up to him about half a block away from Cyrus’s house.

“Jonah!” TJ said as he grabbed Jonah's shoulder causing the other boy to spin around and move away from the touch.

“What do you want?” Jonah asked with an edge to his voice. TJ had never really imagined that Jonah’s voice could sound so angry. He had only ever really heard Jonah’s voice in a light happy tone, other than the one time he had been gasping, asking for help at Cyrus’s Bar mitzvah months prior.

“I want to know what I did wrong this time,” TJ said. Usually, in the past few months everytime someone had been angry at him he at least knew what he did wrong. But this time there was this nagging anxiety that came along with not knowing what was going on or what he did.

“Like you don’t already know,” Jonah said, not harsh but not his regular tone either. TJ’s eyebrows went up and he shook his head conveying I really don’t know. “Libby.”

TJ was even more confused than before. Of course, he remembered the sweet girl from the day prior at the park, but what did that have to do with Jonah? “What about Libby?” TJ asked, sounding as confused as he felt.

“You stole her from me!” Jonah yelled.

“What?” TJ said.

“I saw the two of you talking and laughing yesterday,” Jonah explained, his words coming out quick. “And then she broke up with me the day after. You made her.”

TJ heard the patter of footsteps behind him, Cyrus he guessed. “Why would I do that?” TJ questioned.

“Because you like her?” Jonah said, sounding more like an obvious question than a statement.

“What? I--” TJ said. He, much louder than intended, burst out with “Dude, I don’t even like girls!”

TJ realized what he had said just as he said it. It felt strange saying it so outwardly and loudly, to Jonah Beck of all people at that. It hadn’t even really been a secret. Reed and Lester knew at least, and some boys from the basketball team, but they had figured it out for themselves when the realized the way he talked about and smiled about a certain muffin loving friend of his. But this felt like a bigger statement than that. Maybe this was what “Coming out” was usually like. TJ didn’t really know.

“TJ..” he heard a shocked and soft voice come from behind him, which was when he remembered the patter of feet he had heard moments before. TJ turned from a confused looking Jonah and looked at Cyrus, he was a few feet behind him. His mouth was slightly agape from the surprise but otherwise looked normal. After collecting his senses he gave TJ a reassuring smile that TJ returned before looking back to Jonah.

“What do you mean you don't like girls?” Jonah asked, clearly oblivious. TJ resisted the urge to press a palm to his own forehead.

“Boys.” He said. After noticing that was not a complete sentence he added: “I like boys.”

“Oh!” Jonah exclaimed as it clicked in place. “Oh. Oh okay… so you… don’t like Libby?” He sounded relieved.

“No,” TJ said through a laugh. “But clearly you really do. So maybe you should go talk to her instead of making assumptions on why she broke it off.” TJ suggested.

“I-- Yeah. I’m gonna--” Jonah stumbled. “I’ll do that.” He started to turn and talk away before turning back to TJ to say: “Thanks for the advice. And uh, Thanks for telling me, man.”

TJ smiled at him and nodded as a goodbye before they both turned away. Jonah to head home or to wherever Libby was, TJ to face Cyrus.

Cyrus had a smile on his face “I can’t believe he ditched us for his girlfriend,” He said still smiling up at TJ.

“Ex-girlfriend.” TJ and Cyrus started walking back toward the house side by side. “And who’s fault is that?” Cyrus teased.

“Not mine!” TJ put his hands up as if in surrender. “I’m innocent for once.”

Cyrus laughed and it was music to TJ’s ears. They continued walking back to the house as though nothing had happened, as if TJ hadn’t just loudly proclaimed his sexuality right in front of him and TJ felt a great gratefulness for the other boy. That Cyrus seemed to somehow know that all TJ wanted right now was that reassuring smile and normality. That he didn’t try to force TJ to talk about his feelings.

It was a relief.

[donutpwns]

Stanuary - Love

When his father had demanded Stan come with him, he'd expected the worst. The feeling of dread had grown when he'd forbid Ford from coming with them, pointing his brother to the stairs. He'd exchanged looks with his brother and knew they were both thinking the same thing: what had Stan done now? The thought followed him to his father's car, anxiety cranked up when an old shoebox was placed in his lap.

His grades were in the toilet as usual, barely passing thanks to copying Ford's homework. He'd stolen a few candy bars from the local store but he was sure no one had seen him. He'd long since broken his last pair of glasses so it couldn't be that and it wasn't like he could really break his braces, not for lack of effort on Crampelter's part though. Maybe old man Samson had finally figured out that he'd been filching tools and stuff to fix the boat from his beat down old hardware store? Oh Moses, was that it?

His fingers tighten on the edges of the shoebox as they drive to park in a sandy parking lot on the beach; he can count the steps to where the Stan O War is sunk into the sand. Oh god, it was finally going to happen. Their dad was going to destroy their boat and they'd never get out of here. Shit, why had he stolen those tools? Shit shit shit.

“Stanley, there's a reason I brought you here.” His dad's deadpan voice cuts through his thoughts. He grips the steering wheel, the sunbaked leather giving out a muffled creak. “You're fourteen now and it's time you start acting like a man. That's why we're here.” And with that he's getting out of the car.

Stan gets out too, hugging the shoebox to his chest; whatever is in it feels heavy. “Is this about my bar mitzvah again?” He knows his dad was mad about the Groucho glasses but he'd still passed. Technically. And with very little cheating, thank you very much; just the occasional look at Ford who'd been mouthing the words. “I told Rabbi Bachman I was sorry.”

He can see a muscle twitch in his dad's cheek. “No. Give me the box.” He opens it once it's in his hands and sets it on the hood of the car. “This stays under the counter at all times; it's not a toy for you to show off to your little friends, you hear me?”

Stan doesn't have friends to show things off to, aside from Ford of course. But he doesn't correct him, especially when he finally sees what's sitting in the bottom of the box. It looks like a pistol from the westerns Ma likes to watch with a box of bullets next to it. Stan swallows, something heavy and wriggling climbing up the back of his throat. “Dad?”

His father picks the gun up and puts it in Stan's hands like it's just something one does. “My dad taught me how to shoot when I was your age and I taught Sherman how when he was your age. Now it's your turn to learn.” He taps the chamber, “We’re not leaving here until you are a decent shot.”

It's heavy and the metal is cold, it nearly slips in his sweat-slick hands. Stan doesn't like the weight of it; all he can picture is the way the cowboys fell from their horses with a bang and a puff of smoke. He knows they got up when the filming stopped but in the movies they’re dead. “Sh-shouldn't Ford be here too then?” Maybe he can postpone this forever. At the moment he can't think of anything he wants less than to be shooting a gun alone with his dad.

“This isn't about Ford. Your brother is brilliant but he can't even throw a punch, Stan. He's better off focusing on something important he can actually do. This is a man's weapon.” He grabs the back of Stan's neck with one hand and scoops up the box of bullets with the other. He guides them just a fair distance from where the parking lot ends and points to a mostly broken wooden fence that is supposed to mark the end of the asphalt and the start of the sand, though the sand has long blown past it. “Aim for the middle post and pull the trigger.”

It takes effort to not let the gun shake as he steps up, carefully aiming the gun towards said post. There’s a bump at the end of the barrel, is that what he’s supposed to aim with? He guesses so and lines it up with the top of the post. The trigger is firmer than he imagined it would be and it seems to fight him when he pulls it.

There’s no puff of smoke but there’s definitely a bang, so much louder than Stan was expecting and it nearly makes him drop the gun when it jerks in his grip. He fumbles and hugs it to his chest on habit. “Shit!” he yells.

He flinches when his father’s palm finds the back of his head with an audible smack.

His dad grunts, “Aim again and don’t drop it this time.”

He hates the weight of the gun in his hand and his ears are ringing slightly from the bang. “Dad, I don’t—”

“Do what I said, Stanley. We’re not leaving until you hit that post.” He says it with the finality he always uses to threaten them and Stan knows that he’ll be standing here until dawn if he doesn’t do what he’s told.

BANG

Miss.

BANG

Miss.

BANG

He clips the very top of the post three to the left of the middle with that one and lets his hands fall in front of him. The ringing in his ears is louder and his hand is starting to ache a bit from how the trigger resists being pulled. Frustration is bubbling up to fight the unease of the whole situation. “Dad, c’mon, do I have to do this?”

His father has taken an unimpressed stance with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his youngest fail to make a single shot. “Yes. Aim again.”

“Dad, I don’t want to do this.” He tries with a huff.

“Aim again, Stanley. That’s an order.”

Stan grits his teeth and tightens his hold on the gun if just so he doesn’t throw it like he wants to. Instead he lifts it back up once more and tries to aim to the right since his one hit was so far to the left. He pulls the trigger and this one hits two to the left, a little further down but still not the target. He takes another shot and hits that same post, the wood splintering and cracking from the second bullet.

His dad lets out a bland sort of noise and extends the box of bullets to Stan. “Reload and do it again.”

“What’s the point? Just add this as another thing I’m bad at!” he tries to shove the box back to his dad. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to learn how to shoot. “I don’t like it and I’m not gonna get it so let’s just go home!” it feels like he keeps getting called on to give an answer he doesn’t have just so the rest of the class can snicker at him.

“Stanley, I gave you an order.” There’s a dangerous tone creeping into his father’s voice.

Stan’s face burns, heat digging into his cheeks and the back of his neck. “Why are you even doing this? Who cares if I know how to shoot? I’m not even allowed in the shop half the time so what does it matter if there’s a gun in there?”

There's a hesitation, an awkward stretch of silence where Stan is almost entirely sure he’s going to get his hide tanned, and then his father reaches a hand towards him and he clenches his eyes shut for the blow. Instead his father’s hand closes on Stan's shoulder. “Listen, Stanley. You're...hell, you're a screw-up.” He looks up but his dad is impossible to read, though he at least doesn’t seem angry. “Most of the time it seems like all you can do is lie and leech off those around you. The direction you're going, you're not going to make anything of yourself.”

The words are nothing new but they still dig in, little barbs that drag Stan's shoulders down. “Thanks, Dad.” He bites out as his only defense. He can't punch those words away, not like what people say about Ford. “I’m a good-for-nothing, I know.”

“Let me finish.” The hand on his shoulder cuffs him on the side of the head. “You're not good at much but you are good at fighting and I know you care about this family. No matter what, you’re still a Pines. That's what this gun is for: protecting our family. So that's why you have to learn this. So I can trust you to keep your mother and brother safe if I'm not around. You understand that?”

His gaze goes back down to the gun in his hand then to the splintered post then back to his father. The idea of actually shooting anyone twists his stomach but the knot eases just a bit if he adds his ma or Ford to the equation. “Dad, I can just use my boxing—”

His dad holds up a hand. “Sometimes you can’t fix things with a punch or a pretty word, Stanley. Sherman is out of the house and I’m getting older. Ford’s smart but he’s not a fighter.” he takes the gun from Stan’s hands, effortlessly popping the barrel out and slotting bullets into the chambers. He spins the barrel and puts it back in place with a snap of his wrist. It’s held out to Stan then, his father frowning. “Can I trust you to be a Pines man and protect them? Because if not then there’s no point in you coming back home with me.”

Stan stares at the gun for a long moment before nodding. “Okay. Yeah. You can trust me, Dad.” He takes the gun and takes aim once more. He’ll get some knuckledusters, like the gangsters in the movies. He’ll get better at lying. He knows he can protect everyone with that but if he has to, he can shoot. If his dad trusts him to be the protector, Stan can do that. He never wants a gun to be the answer but he’ll do it. For Ma, for Ford, for Dad.

BANG

Miss.

“Aim again.”

[delightfullygrace]

Connor Murphy

Dear Evan Hansen • ESFP • In the Grip

"An ESFP in a rut will revert to their introverted intuition. This normally happy-go-lucky type will turn their vision to the future and may get lost imagining negative courses of action that could develop. They may become crippled by self-doubt and adopt a cynical viewpoint toward others. This normally warm and enthusiastic type is apt to developing a ‘short fuse’ while operating from their inferior function and may lash out at others – imagining a sinister ‘hidden meaning’ behind everything others say and do."

- Heidi Priebe

Symptoms of the Grip in an ESFP:

• Jumping to conclusions

• Believing the worst in people's intentions

• Emotional outbursts

• Feeling lost within themselves; hopeless; alone

• Sensitive to what others say/do to them

I.E.

Jared: "Hey, Connor. I’m loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic."

Connor turns and glares at Jared, who is unphased by this. Evan is clearly uncomfortable.

Jared: "Calm down, bud. It was a joke."

Connor: (deadpan) "Yeah no, it was funny. I’m laughing. Can’t you tell? Am I not laughing hard enough for you?"

Jared: (walking away, shaking his head) "God, you’re such a freak."

Connor now turns his attention to Evan who is forced into eye-contact. There is no one else in the hall (that we can see). Evan doesn’t know what to do, so he laughs.

Connor: "What are you laughing at?"

Evan: (freezing up) "What?"

Connor: "Stop f***ing laughing at me!"

Evan: (his palms becoming sweaty) "I’m not."

Connor: "You think I’m a freak?"

Connor steps towards Evan.

Evan: "No, I don’t-"

Connor: "I’m not the freak!"

Connor is in Evan’s face.

Evan: "But I wasn’t-"

Connor: "You’re the f***ing freak!"

Connor shoves Evan into the lockers and storms off.

- Script

Connor: "Is this yours? I found it at the printer. 'Dear Evan Hansen?' That’s your name, right?"

Evan: "Oh, that’s just a stupid, it’s a paper I had to write for an, um...assignment."

Connor: “'Because there’s Zoe.' ...This is about my sister."

Evan: "No, no, no..."

Connor: "You knew I would find this."

Evan: "What?"

Connor: "You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this, and you printed it out, so that I would find it."

Evan: "Why/ would I do that?"

Connor: "/So I would read some creepy **** that you wrote about my sister and freak out, right? And then you can tell everyone that I’m crazy, right?"

Evan: "No, wait. I don’t even...what?"

Connor: (furious) "F*** you!"

Connor charges past Evan, leaving him calling after him

- Script

Trying to Escape the Grip:

"To break out of a rut, the ESFP needs to engage their extroverted sensing. They will need a new situation, adventure or group of people to help them remember that they think best on their feet, when directly engaged with the world around them. This type requires a great deal of external stimulation to feel healthy and happy – they are the most themselves when they are constantly engaged with new people and projects."

- Heidi Priebe

I.E.

Connor realizes he has an opportunity to talk to someone and walks over to the printers

Connor: "So, uh, what happened to your arm?"

Evan: "Oh, I um. I fell out of a tree."

Connor: (laughing) "You fell out of a tree?"

Evan nods and Connor sits down next to him. He is holding a paper in his hand.

Connor: (still laughing) "Well, if that isn’t the saddest f***ing thing I’ve ever heard."

Evan: (faking a laugh) "I know."

Connor: (pointing to Evan’s cast) "No one’s signed your cast?"

Evan: "Nope."

Connor: "I will."

Evan: "Oh, you don’t have to…"

Connor: "Ya got a Sharpie?"

Evan reluctantly hands over his sharpie. Connor grabs Evan’s arm roughly, Evan winces. Close-up on Evan’s cast as Connor writes his name in massive letters across it. Evan isn’t too happy about this. He stands up.

Evan: "Oh. Great. Thanks."

Connor: "Now we can both pretend that we have friends."

Evan: "Heh, sure."

- Script

Se-Te Loop:

"An ESFP in an Se-Te loop becomes overly concerned with 'doing' all of the time, unable to let themselves stop to take a break. They become forceful, aggressive, insistent upon taking action whether or not it hurts those around them or fulfills their inner sense of duty. They dismiss their necessary stage of stopping to reflect on whether their choices are in line with their values, instead shutting off this voice and focusing on outward manifestations of logic and planning."

- @infj-mbti

Symptoms of a Loop:

• Aggressive Behavior

• Giving In to Impulses

• Disregarding Others

• Ignoring their Moral-Compass (Fi)

I.E.

"Just because Connor isn’t here, trying to punch through my door, screaming at the top of his lungs that he’s going to kill me for no reason—that doesn’t mean that, all of a sudden, we’re the f***ing Brady Bunch."

-Zoe Murphy

Personal Thoughts:

I think Connor is an ESFP who tried to reach out to others, but when no one reached back, just sunk deeper into the grip. I think for awhile growing up (prior to the events in the play), he might've been in a loop.

From Cynthia, we learn that he got clothes to go Bar Mitzvahs (but was never invited to any). I'm sure that the idea of going was exciting to him and he enjoyed looking for an outfit, even if he played it off. From his mom's positive testimony of him in Requiem and throughout the rest of the play, I feel like he did have a connection with her. I don't think that her view of him is only there because she's his mom - I think they genuinely had an understanding, even if they got frustrated with each other sometimes. He probably just put up walls with her - walls that she patiently waited for him to take down, but never did.

Larry "gave him the world," but he gave his own world, not a world that Connor wanted. He didn't meet his son where he was. I'm sure he wanted to hang out with his dad and connect with him, but maybe he wasn't into baseball (or skiing or whatever else his dad pushed him to do). Larry decided, even when Connor was still there, that he wasn't worth investing in because he wouldn't listen anyways. The connection was dead because his dad didn't seek to break down his walls. He saw them and assumed that's all there was.

Zoe saw him as a villain, and for good reason. From what we learn of his time with her, he treated her terribly. He pushed her away. He threatened her. He scared her. Of course she didn't seek him out, why would she? She was forced to protect herself from the monster beating on her door every night. How could she break down his walls when she was building up her own?

Jared joked about him looking like a school shooter and called him a freak, and probably never considered actually trying to befriend him.

Evan was terrified of him. *Though, I would like to point out that Connor probably never got to sign someone's cast before - Evan was probably the first. They could've had a genuine connection after that had Connor listened to Evan explain the letter rather than jumping to conclusions and storming off.

The script says, "Some people [in the school halllway] point at him and snicker. Unlike Evan, Connor makes deliberate eye-contact with these students, making them uncomfortable."

He was hurt. He was alone. He could seek out new experiences and new people all he wanted, but if no one else was receptive, then he would never be satisfied. He wanted a connection with someone, anyone, to pull him out of the grip, but at the end of the day, he felt completely isolated.

But he wasn't, and you're not. If you're feeling stuck or isolated, anxious or depressed, please let a friend/family member know or check out this link and call one of the numbers. Seriously. You were created for a purpose. Your existence matters. You matter, just as you are. Please don't forget that, and get yourself the help that you need!!

Also, even if you don't have clinical depression, you should still reach out to those around you. Sometimes, we all need someone. Don't justify not getting yourself the help you need just because others have it worse. My brother does that all the time. It's not selfish to need support. Reach out. It's okay.

Additionally:

By the time we come to meet Connor, he is so deep in this rut that in order to have a relationship with anyone, he would need someone to seek him out fiercely and intentionally - to toss a rope into the hole Connor was in and pull him out. He needed a friend who would call him out and tell him he needed to calm down, but also someone who would support and encourage him. More than anything, he just needed someone who was willing to try and wasn't going to give up on him.

If you see someone who needs that too, please, be that person for them. Even if you have problems of your own - it doesn't matter. Two horses can pull 3 times the amount than one can alone. You can bear each others' burdens and walk together. It makes it a lot easier. It'll be difficult to step out of your comfort zone and reach out to someone else, but I promise you, it's the most worthwhile experience in the world.

[thxrquill]

Stanley Uris hated Richie Tozier. He hated him. Every little thing about him.

He hated how his stupid curly hair fell into his face. He hated how his coke bottle glasses amplified his warm brown eyes. He hated his perfect lips that framed a mouth which never stopped talking.

But most of all, Stan hated how loving Richie was.

He hated how he would drape him self all over everyone, an arm around shoulders, feet resting on a lap. He hated how he would freely throw out crude insults and follow them up with affectionate smiles. He hated his overwhelmingly kind soul.

So really, Stanley Uris didn’t hate Richie Tozier. Stanley Uris loved Richie Tozier.

But Richie Tozier didn’t love him back.

It isn’t like Richie knew about Stan’s crush, but then again, it isn’t like Stan made it obvious. He couldn’t do that to Richie. He couldn’t do that to Eddie. It would tear the Losers apart. 

Stan remembered the day they met. It was late September and they were at nursery. They had never really spoken before. Stan was usually alone, as most of the other kids didn’t understand his need for things to be a certain way. Richie tried making friends, but no one really knew how to deal with his hyperactivity and constantly running mouth. They happened to sit at the same table. Stan was colouring, all his crayons lined up in rainbow order. Richie was sat still and silent for once, sad at his futile attempts of making friends.

“You’re quiet.” Stan had spoken up. Richie looked up at him, an expression of confusion lingering on his features. “You’re never quiet. Are you okay?”

Stan could remember the way Richie had sighed, resting his elbow on the table and placing his cheek in the palm of his hand. “Nobody wants to be my friend.” Richie had said, voice almost a whisper.

“I’ll be your friend if you like.” Stan had replied. Richie’s face immediately lit up. 

“Really?!” Richie near-yelled, voice filled with excitement. Stan just nodded, handing Richie a piece of paper and a crayon. 

Richie started asking about Stan’s Kippah, back to his usual talkative self. 

They were inseparable from that day forward.

That is, until Pennywise happened. 

It all happened so fast that Stan could only remember snippets. But at the same time, he felt like he could never forget. He could quite clearly remember the day that he nearly lost 3 of his best friends to 29 Neibolt Street and that godforsaken clown. He remembered how Richie had clung to Eddie, trying to get him to look him in the eyes, as the clown stalked towards them, claws raised. He remembered how Eddie’s mom had forbidden him from seeing them after she blamed them for the boy’s broken arm. He remembered how he and Mike had to restrain Richie after Bill had punched him in the face. 

He remembered his Bar Mitzvah. He remembered how he had invited all of his friends but only one bothered to show up. Eddie’s mom had refused to let the boy leave his house. Mike couldn’t get away from the farm, his grandfather needed him to work. Ben’s invite had been intercepted by Henry Bowers and what was left of his gang. Beverly’s dad had an even tighter hold on her. And Bill, he refused to be in the same room as Richie. Of course, the only two reasons Stan new of were Bill and Eddie’s, he figured the rest of the gang had forgotten about it. Richie was the only one to show. He stayed quiet the entire time, and didn’t fidget once. Though he did throw a reassuring thumbs up to Stan, every once in a while, as he read from the Torah. 

That was the day he realised he was a little bit in love with Richie Tozier. 

He could also remember the day the Losers climbed down that well. He remembered how one moment he was with his friends, and the next, he was alone, with nobody in sight. He could remember the feeling of the Flute Lady biting down on his face, the way her teeth sunk into his flesh. He could remember the way his friends clung onto him after, assuring him that they never left him. He could see Richie willing himself not to cry.

After they had defeated Pennywise, and Beverly had moved to live in Portland with her aunt, Stan started to see Richie act differently. He hadn’t completely changed. But the other Loser’s didn’t seem to notice. Stan, having known Richie the longest, could tell when he was acting differently. He could see Richie staring longingly at Eddie, their touches lingering, their smiles loving and warm. Richie still constantly made crude jokes about Eddie’s mom, but he always followed them up with a sincere apology. Stan decided to ask Richie what was up, he had his suspicions, but he wanted confirmation that he was right.

He asked Richie after school one day when they were 15. They were waiting by the bike rack for the other Losers. “Richie, can I ask you something?”

“Sure Stan the Man, what’s up?” Richie said with a smile. 

“Do you like Eddie?”

“I’m not sure what you mean Staniel..?”

“Do you like him? As in more than a friend?” The smile fell from Richie’s face.

“So what if I did?” Richie said defensively.

“It’s not a problem or anything! I just wanted to know.”

Richie blushed. “Yeah, I think I do.”

“Oh,” Stan looked down at his shoes, fighting back tears. “Well, umm, you should ask him out. I’m pretty sure he likes you back.”

“Really?!” Richie grinned in excitement. “Thanks, Stan the Man! You’re the best!”

At the moment, the rest of the Losers walked over, and Richie slung his arm round Eddie’s shoulders. Stan made up an excuse before climbing on his bike and racing away.

Stan found himself jealous of Eddie. He told himself constantly that he didn’t have the right to jealousy, as he had convinced Richie to ask Eddie out. It had been two years, and Richie and Eddie had been dating that whole time. Stan often found himself wishing for them to fight and break up, but he knew that was wrong, he should be happy for his friends. 

But he just couldn’t be happy around them.

Stan would always be staring at the way Richie wrapped his arm around Eddie’s waist, or rested his chin on Eddie’s head. And he wished it was him. He saw the way Richie’s entire face would light up when Eddie made him laugh. He wished it was him making Richie laugh. He saw the way Richie whispered into Eddie’s ear, making him giggle and blush. He wished Richie was whispering into his ear. He noticed the day Richie and Eddie showed up at school together, Eddie smirking, and hickeys poking out of Richie’s collar. He wished he had left those. 

It all became too much sometimes, and Stan blew off plans with the Losers when Richie and Eddie were involved. The problem however, was that Bill had noticed.

“Stan, can I talk to you for a sec?” 

“Sure, Bill, what’s up?”

“What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re acting different.” Then it seemed to click in Bill’s brain. “You like Richie.”

“What? No, I really don’t” This conversation was starting to remind Stan of the one he’d had with Richie two years ago.

“It’s okay, I get it.” Stan looked at him with a confused expression. “Really, I do.”

Stan gasped. “Eddie?” Bill nodded. Stan walked forwards and pulled Bill into a hug. They pulled away after a few moments. “I guess we’re just two unlucky idiots, aren’t we.” Bill just laughed.

Over the next few months Bill and Stan spent more time alone with each other. They talked about the cute things their unrequited crushes did, and watched cheesy films. They had, admittedly, grown closer, but not quite as close as they’d have liked. They kissed once, to see if they felt anything. They didn’t, so they just stayed friends, and continued pining.

Until Stan was confronted by Richie.

“Stan?” Richie asked him one night. He had climbed through Stan’s window, after a particularly bad fight with his parents. Why Stan’s window? Because Eddie was out of town. Stan resented Richie slightly for that, it was like a blow to his heart. 

“Yeah?” Stan replied, mid sip of water, book resting open on his lap. 

“Are you and Bill dating?” Stan nearly spat out hit water.

“What? No! No, definitely not!”

“Oh, okay.” Richie paused, fiddling with his hands. “Then is there something wrong?” 

Stan sighed, closing his book. “No, Richie, there’s nothing wrong.”

“Are you sure? Because I feel like I’ve done something. You never talk to me any more Stanny.”

Stan stared down at his lap. “I promise I’m okay.” Stan couldn’t stop the way his voice broke on the last word.

“You’re lying. Stan, please, just tell me the truth.” Richie sat next to Stan on the bed. 

Tears were rolling down Stan’s cheeks. “I can’t tell you.”

Richie wrapped his arm around Stan’s shoulder. “Why not?” His voice was almost a whisper.

“Because you’ll hate me.” It was then that Stan decided to look Richie in the eyes.

“Stanley Uris, I could never hate you.” He paused. “Please.” Stan stood up and moved over to the window, looking out into the night.

“I’m jealous.”

“Of what?”

“Eddie.”

“Eddie? Why are you jealous of Eddie?”

Stan sighed. “Because Eddie has you.” He turned to look at Richie, tears glistening on his cheeks.

“Oh, I get it.” Richie seemed to sigh in relief. “You think I’m spending too much time with him and not enough time with you, my best friend!”

“No, Richie! That’s not it!” Stan shouted. Richie looked taken aback by the volume of Stan’s voice.

“Then what?” 

“I’m in love with you! Okay? I’ve been in love with you since we were thirteen fucking years old. That’s it. That’s whats wrong.”

Richie was silent. For what felt like the first time in all his seventeen years of life. Then, Stan broke down, full out sobbing.

“Oh, Stan,” Richie sighed. “I’m sorry but you kno-”

“Yeah, I know. You love Eddie. Richie, of course I know that! I convinced you to ask him out for God’s sake. I know that you don’t love me back, and that you never will. And, I guess, that’s okay. I’ve had loads of time to deal with this, I’ll get over it. The thing is, I don’t want to lose you, yet I can’t be in the same room as you without feeling like my heart is going to explode out of my chest.” 

Richie was crying now, silent tears falling down his cheeks.

“I think its best for both of us if we don’t hang out with each other anymore.” Stan choked out, looking anywhere but Richie, who was desperately trying to catch his eye. 

“Stan, no.”

“Please, just leave, Richie.” Stan moved away from the window, and with reluctance Richie climbed out, giving one last look to Stan. As soon as he heard the window shut, Stan rushed to the phone, calling Bill as tears drenched his cheeks once more. 

About ten minutes later, Bill was climbing through his window and pulling Stan into his arms.

Oh, how much easier would it be if Stanley Uris loved Bill Denbrough instead of Richie Tozier..?

Ahhhhhhhhhh this was depressing as fuck to write. 

I might extend it into a longer fic but idk yet...

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