#because realizing it might’ve been because they think that the ed makes them an angel???

[axolot-of-ideas]

im so tired man

i cant handle this

[prettyboybarzal]

Dancing with Our Hands Tied (2)

Pairing: Pierre Luc Dubois x Reader

A/N: Hello, angels!!! Here is part two... As always, let me know what you think! Part three is almost done and will be out next Sunday at 8pm. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter

“You’re practically jail bait for these men, do you understand?”

“I’m 21, not 18,” Sadie protested. It was 9 p.m. on a Friday night and you were standing outside Josh’s apartment dressed for a night out. You were reading her the riot act, knowing damn well that it was probably going in one ear and out the other.

“21 is young enough,” you argued. She rolled her eyes as you continued. “If you can’t find me while we’re out, look for Josh. Or Seth. Or Boone.”

“YN, everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I really hope so.”

The entire week leading up to Sadie’s arrival was stressful to say the least. You had to childproof your entire life just to have a problem free weekend with her, and that included childproofing the boys too.

Because Josh had met Sadie plenty of times before, he was more than happy to have everyone over his house for pre-drinks. It took a weight off your shoulders because being in an enclosed space with your closest friends meant it would be easier to keep tabs on how much alcohol she was consuming. And the more people she met before hitting the club meant there were more people keeping an eye out for her, and you need all eyes on her. 

Well, almost all of them. You could do without Pierre’s.

Josh’s apartment was already loud when you arrived, which came as no surprise considering about half the Blue Jackets were inside. When you entered, Sadie gazed around at his apartment like a kid in a candy story.

“This is where Josh lives?”

“This is what a cushy job gets you in Columbus.”

“Why didn’t Mom and Dad force us to become athletes?”

You ventured into the living room and were greeted by an assortment of hoots and hollers. Josh swept Sadie up in a big hug before introducing her to the rest of the boys and some girlfriends in a pretty general introduction. Seth slipped a beer into your hand with a knowing smile that screamed, “I got you. Stop stressing.”

Pierre wasn’t there and you were naive enough to think he might’ve passed on a night out, but then the front door swung open and he was sauntering in with a rack of beers in his hand. Sadie’s eyes cut to yours as he made his rounds to say hello.

When he reached her, he came up short. He narrowed his eyes as he studied the all too familiar facial features.

“You’re YN’s sister,” he spoke. “I’m assuming you already hate me.”

“More or less.”

“I’ll have fun trying to prove you wrong tonight then.”

He stepped away from her and said hello to the remaining few before completely ignoring you and slipping into the kitchen to put his beers in the fridge.

---

The executive decision was made to leave Josh’s apartment around 9:30 p.m., so while you ran off to the bathroom to get ready to go, Sadie flitted off to the kitchen for one final drink. Pierre did the same. When he entered, she was standing in front of the liquor, studying each bottle.

She didn’t even spare him a glance, having clocked him through her peripheral vision and deciding not to engage. He opened the fridge and reached in to receive a new bottle.

“You go to Ohio State, right?” he asked after popping the cap off.

She looked uncertain of him when he asked, but responded, “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re in the,” he paused, thinking for a moment about her class placement, “third year?”

“Yep.”

“How do you like it?” he asked, cocking his hip against the counter. He watched as Sadie poured herself another drink. She sipped it for taste, then added a little more Vodka. “I always got a little jealous of my friends who got to go to school.”

“It’s great,” she answered. “But I don’t think you’re missing out. If you make anything close to what Josh does, I should be jealous of you.” He chuckled softly, lifting the mouth of the bottle to his lips for a swig. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do to my sister?”

He placed the bottle on the counter beside him, fingers swiping along the condensation settling against the label.

“I didn’t make the best first impression and she never gave me the chance to right that wrong,” he answered honestly. “It’s all good, though. I don’t need her to like me.”

Sadie caught the uneasy shift of his eyes from hers to the bottle beside him and decided that he had a shit poker face. 

“She’s a tough cookie sometimes,” she murmured. He nodded in agreement, eyebrows nearly raised to his hairline. 

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that,” he huffed, shaking his head to himself and taking another sip of beer. 

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t like me the first five years I was alive, so don’t worry, maybe you’ll win her over,” Sadie shrugged, giving Pierre a knowing look that he tried to ignore. If he was going to go around spilling secrets to anyone the last person he would choose was your little sister.

“Crazier things have happened, right?”

“Sure,” she said softly. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment like she was trying to decipher what he wasn’t saying. Pierre felt uncomfortable under her gaze, lifting his beer bottle to her and slipping out of the kitchen before she could make him sweat anymore than she already had. 

---

As soon as you walked into the club, you threw an arm over Sadie’s shoulder and led her to the bar. Josh and Pierre followed a few steps behind you as the rest of the group left to grab a table. Sadie’s eyes lit up as she studied every bit of the place you all frequented, overjoyed to finally be a part of your Columbus crew.

Sadie propped herself up onto one of the barstools at the bar and you stood beside her to wave down the bartender at the other end. Behind you, Josh and Pierre waited, deep in conversation about something to do with the team.

The bartender was quick to attend to your needs, dropping your drinks off swiftly before moving on to the next group of patrons.

You were busy surveying the land for potential suitors for the evening, not exactly sure if you wanted to end up in Charlie’s bed again or not. For some reason you were finding it hard to take interest in any of the men mingling around the bar with Pierre’s cologne overwhelming your senses as he stood just a few feet behind you. 

Sadie seemed to have no interest in the men that were hanging around the bar, which made you feel better at first. That is, until you realized she was eyeing up Pierre and then shifting her gaze back to you. She was up to something, that was never a good sign. 

“His name matches his face,” Sadie spoke after glancing at Pierre over your shoulder.

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s fucking hot!” she exclaimed. Her voice carried and while you choked on your drink in front of her, Pierre choked on his own in front of Josh.

“You heard that?” Josh asked him with an amused smile. He nodded slowly, desperately trying to push her words out of his mind. “YN’s blood is probably boiling.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to be castrated by the end of the night.”

“It was nice knowing you, buddy,” Josh teased. 

As you and Sadie stepped away from the bar, Josh grabbed your sister and pulled her into his side. Left in their wake, Pierre fell into step with you. 

“You talk about me to your little sister?”

“Only to tell her how insufferable you are,” you informed him. He grinned, like he always did, like he was one step ahead of you. “Whatever she said to you, don’t believe. She’s a liar.”

“So, she was lying when she said I’m fucking hot?”

You turned to face him, standing tall even though he was basically a foot taller than you. You raised your voice just enough to beat out the music, growling, “If you try anything with my sister, I will literally--” 

“Holy shit, I’m kidding,” he said gruffly, an exasperated sigh attached to the end of the sentence. He shook his head, mumbling as he brushed past you on the way back to the booth. “I don’t want your little sister, YN.”

---

Two hours later, Pierre was wandering the bar in search of someone new to occupy his time. He’d been with a group of co-eds for a bit, one of which he’d slept with once before, but they’d decided to leave for another bar. And though he’d been invited, he decided to stick with his real friends.

It had to be somewhere around midnight when he slipped past the bar and noticed Sadie at the end without any of her appointed babysitters and immediately felt worry bubbling up in his stomach. She was the youngest in the bar and seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and even though you told him to stay away, the creeps eyeing her down from the other side gave him bad vibes.

So, he stepped up beside her and leaned against the bar with a smile. 

“Bonjour!”

“Hey, Sadie,” he greeted her. She hiccuped. “You good?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she slurred. “I’m getting another Tequila shot.”

“Do you need one?” he asked. His tone of voice was teasing, but the concern was clear on his face. When she turned to look at him, he saw how strikingly similar she looked to you. It was probably the glare on her face that did it.

“I want one,” she repeated. “And you’re going to take one with me.”

“Well, okay.”

Pierre had seen this one too many times before. He knew this shot was going to be the end to her night, but it didn’t matter how hard he tried to stop her, it wasn’t going to work. The bartender brought the liquor over and after some convincing on Sadie’s part, he poured a shot for himself as well.

The tequila went down easy for the two men, but the look on Sadie’s face told Pierre that she also knew that shot was going to be her night’s death sentence.

“You look pale.”

“Let’s go sit,” she murmured, grabbing his wrist and pulling him with her towards the booth with the rest of the group. Seth caught Pierre’s frantic eyes as they approached.

“She’s going to be sick,” he whispered as soon as they were standing beside each other. They both looked up at Sadie who’d taken up residence at the end of the table, knuckles white from from clutching the top. “Where’s YN?”

“I have no clue,” Seth answered. “The bathroom maybe.”

Just as Pierre started to look around the bar, hoping to find you in the crowd, Sadie lurched slightly. 

“I need to get her out of here,” he said. “If she throws up here, YN would never want to come back and she loves this place.”

“Do you want me to just take her?”

It was a good question and Pierre stopped to think for a moment about the answer. Seth could take Sadie off his hands and he could go about his night normally, or he could prove to you that he wasn’t the asshole you painted him out to be. For whatever reason, he chose the latter.

“No, I got her,” he said. “Let YN know what’s going on, would you?”

---

You returned to the table not even fifteen minutes later, already pissed off because of how long the bathroom line was. Needless to say, Seth letting you know that Pierre had taken Sadie back to your place was not what you wanted to hear. 

“You let her leave this bar with Pierre?”

His fingers danced nervously along the beer bottle in his hand. The 6’ 4” defenseman was utterly terrified of your wrath, and had you not been so pissed off, you would’ve thrived in the feeling. “I know you hate him, but he was just trying to help out.”

“Help out?” you repeated. “You think Pierre would do something out of the kindness of his own heart for me, Jonesy?” He nodded a bit sheepishly. “You’re delusional.”

With that, you snatched your purse off the table and stormed out of the bar in pursuit of your apartment. The walk was only about ten minutes long and, quite frankly, you didn’t give a shit that you were walking through the city at night in a short little dress. You were a woman on a mission and anyone that crossed your path with the wrong intention was going to get your wrath, and it seemed that everyone knew that because you weren’t bothered once. 

You threw your door open once it was unlocked and the decorations on the wall rattled as the door hit the wall beside it. Pierre, who’d been standing outside the bathroom door, jumped out of his skin at the sound. He righted himself and stood tall as you entered the hallway unsure of what type of reaction he was going to receive from you. 

You hardly looked at him as you barked, “Where is she?”

“Puking.”

He leaned forward and pushed the bathroom door open a bit wider, revealing Sadie with her head on the toilet seat. You huffed as you entered and kicked the door closed in his face before slumping down beside her.

“Sadie, what the fuck?”

“I suck.”

“How much did you have to drink?” you asked, hand rubbing comforting circles on her back. 

“I was trying to keep up with your friends,” she murmured before gagging into the toilet again.

“You know that they’re all well above six feet and weigh like two hundred more pounds than you, right?” you stated. She nodded and groaned pathetically. “You should’ve known better.”

She didn’t offer a response to your chastising and instead sat up to look at you and said, “I thought I wasn’t going to like him.”

You raised your eyebrows at her.

“Pierre?”

“Yeah. He’s actually a really nice guy,” she grumbled, dropping her head back into her hand that was propped up on the toilet. “Held my hair back for me.”

With an eye roll and a grunt, you stood to leave her to fend for herself.

“Wait,” she called as soon as your hand was on the door knob. “Can you tell Pierre that I’m sorry I ruined his night?”

“Sure.”

“Be nice to him.”

“No promises,” you grunted, pulling the door open to kick the hockey player out of your house.

---

Pierre was uncomfortable in your apartment. Before you arrived, he was too worried about Sadie to even think about the fact that he was in the middle of your personal space. But now, as you sat with her in the other room and he stood in the living room lurking, he knew he didn’t belong.

There were books decorating your coffee table and plants hanging from the ceiling above him. The television stand was cluttered with picture frames of your family and friends from home. His eyes caught on a photo strip from a Blue Jackets event. Josh’s arm was slung over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist, both of you clearly hammered and smiling like two idiots who’d been sitting at the open bar all night. 

Although he couldn’t remember much of that night, thanks to the date he was entertaining, he did remember one thing. He remembered the dress you wore. 

It was this dark blue, almost navy dress, and there was a slit up your leg to your thigh that he kept finding himself gazing at. For the first time since he met you, he thought about what it would be like to feel your body against his, to slide his hand up and between your thighs in the middle of a team event just because he could. 

When he got home later that night after dropping his date at home, he jumped beneath a cold stream of water in the shower. He was desperate to clear his mind of every dirty thought that included you. In the end, the only thing that could clear it was release and he ended up jerking off in the shower despite himself.

“I could’ve used a text. I was worried sick.” 

You snuck up on him, leaving him with no time to pretend like he hadn’t been staring at you in each of your photos.

“I would’ve texted you but, in completely unsurprising news, I don’t have your number,” he said defensively. 

It wasn’t like he was expecting you to grovel at his feet for making sure your sister didn’t vomit in the middle of your favorite club, but he would’ve appreciated a little less attitude or a simple ‘thank you’. 

“Her phone was dead, too, and she started throwing up in a bush, so I was a little more concerned about holding her hair back than calling you right away.”

Your mouth snapped shut.

“Anyway, you’re welcome.”

Your mother would kill you if she saw you now. You didn’t even say thank you. 

But, before your mouth could catch up to the thanks at the tip of your tongue, Pierre was pulling the apartment door open and disappearing down the hall. Not even a parting glance was sent your way.

[deafwestnewsies]

stop and stare

The Losers must keep living after the summer of ‘58. Living and breathing the air that was stolen from the victims of that horrible monster. 

richie x eddie, bill x stan

read it also on my ao3 and ff.net!

This town is colder now, I think it's sick of us

It's time to make our move, I'm shakin' off the rust

There were whispers now. Whispers that Eddie just couldn’t seem to shake. 

As he walked through the pharmacy aisles, searching for the bandaids with the little prong things on the end that wouldn’t fall off when he moved his elbows, he heard the first whispers. “That little Kaspbrak boy. Over there. So tragic, what he did to his mother.” Eddie’s back stiffened at the other woman’s titters as the pair of old ladies walked away from the cough syrups. Not even knowing who they were, he glared at their backs until they strolled into the next aisle. Swiping whatever bandages were in front of him and stowing them in his front pocket, Eddie stormed out of the store and into the alley behind it. 

Bill’s expectant gaze met him first as he held out his hand. Eddie put the box of gauze down and stood near the wall, almost leaning, but not willing to risk the germ exposure. Everyone watched with bated breath as Bill’s steady hands cleaned out the gash in Mike’s arm and began dressing the wound. His strong hiss of pain made Eddie jump and cover his eyes, making him feel four years old again. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, covering his face from the scene and murmuring It’ll be okay, Eds. He’ll be okay. Not having the willpower to correct the boy on the juvenile nickname, Eddie relaxed slightly into Richie’s chest and tried not to wince at the wimpers coming from Mike.  

Henry Bowers might’ve been gone, but that did not mean there were other gruesome bullies waiting anxiously to take his place. Bullies who were just as mean (because when there wasn’t a maniac clown to deal with, there were tenth graders) and just as vicious (because Derry was cruel that way) and just as armed. This time it meant waiting for Mike on the path he always took into town with a barrage of insults and a serrated blade. When he retold the tale later, clutching his bleeding arm and staining his work boots, Mike said that they called him names that even Mike wasn’t really allowed to say, that they had heard he was one of the crazy kids who claimed they were attacked by a demon. If you want something to be scared of, boy, we’ll give it to you. Ain’t no monster under your bed. They had whispered it, right before slashing his arm wide open. 

That was the latest town gossip, and the whispers that seemed to invade every moment of Eddie’s waking life. A group of seven kids emerged from the decaying house on Neibolt street, bloody yet victorious, when eight had entered. They would tell anyone who would listen that they fought off a killer clown, the same that had killed Betty Ripsom and ripped off Georgie’s arm and left him for dead. Instead of believing the children, everyone made snide remarks about the poor Bowers, both father and son dying under mysterious and inexplicable circumstances. Of course, the initial blame was handed directly to the Loser’s Club, but as the investigation went on they found that the blood on their clothes belonged only to each other and the fingerprints on the knife used to kill Detective Bowers didn’t have a match. They still spent a night in jail. One cold, dark night with only one another to keep warm. 

So no, it wasn’t a surprise when Mike came staggering up to the Aladdin, where they had all planned to meet. Each of them had been attacked at different times, some getting it worse than others, (people liked to pick on the color of Mike’s skin, the way Eddie blushed when he walked into the boy’s locker room, Ben’s size. The list could go on.) and every time, they banded together and stood as a united front. There would always be a small voice in the back of their minds, however. The same that played in Eddie’s as he clung to Richie, trying to be strong for Mike’s sake. Maybe this town is as sick of us as we are of them. 

I've got my heart set on anywhere but here

I'm staring down myself, counting up the years

Richie began making the plans absentmindedly, mostly as a way of escape during boring classes and sleepless nights. As soon as he turned eighteen, he would turn on his heels and run from Derry, run from all of the monsters who lived here, run from the clown and his parents and everyone who had ever called him useless. He didn’t quite know where he would run to, but the maps in his mind always led somewhere bright, where it didn’t rain quite as often and he could wear his shorts during the winter time. 

At sixteen, he realized that his daydreams could all be tracked with some scraps of paper, red yarn, and a bulletin board, so he began doing exactly that. Behind a poster on his wall, Richie began sketching out the Great American Roadtrip (Richie Tozier Edition). First, he would work on making sure the truck he had inherited was reliable enough to drive across the country. 

He began working part time in the town’s auto shop, picking up spare pieces wherever he could and making some half-hearted tips. The only reason Mr. Kurtz, the head mechanic, had hired the boy was that for the most part, he lived oblivious to any town gossip. All of Richie’s coworkers avoided him like the plague and tried to whisper warnings to Kurtz when he first began the job. Staring curiously at the gangly boy who kept his head down and did all of his work in a prompt fashion, the man waved all of the rumors away. “Leave the boy be,” he’d respond. “Ain’t nothing wrong with a tale to tell.” 

With a decent engine and enough money to make it wherever he was planning on going, Richie began looking for work that he could do while he was out there. He wasn’t half bad at the whole mechanic thing, and once he was nearing eighteen he began to consider it very seriously. Richie, ever the trashmouth, could still make whole crowds hysterical with a well-timed joke and a fake voice or two, but he didn’t dare tell anyone that he almost wished he could do that for a living. Maybe that was why he finally settled on Los Angeles, a place that people would speak of in hushed voices and stars in their eyes. It was seemingly perfect, except for one minor detail. 

It was dirty. Not that that bothered Richie, of course, he once had a record of not showering for three weeks and two days. No, this would bother someone else, someone who had always been in the back of his mind, someone who Richie just couldn’t imagine living without so he put him on this metaphorical trip, right alongside him. Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier had done everything together since the beginning of time, and now Richie was going to ask him to do one more thing that would change their life completely. So Richie set off to do the final thing on his checklist: Ask Eddie to throw his entire life away and be reckless, for the first time in his tiny, asthmatic life. 

The knock on the Kaspbrak’s door seemed too loud, too forceful, and he winced when Sonya, Eddie’s evil hag of a mother, answered the door. “Hey-y-y-y, Mrs. K. Eddie ‘round?” Her frown was enough to tell him exactly where Eddie was (down at the Barrens) and how she felt about it. (She hated it.) “See ya later Sonya!” Richie shouted as he turned and began running in the right direction. Her grumbling was lost on deaf ears as he could only hear the wind whistling through his hair and the sun beating down. 

By the time he arrived, Richie was sweaty and completely out of breath. He wasn’t sure why he had run, maybe it was just the feeling in his chest that if he didn’t ask Eddie right now he’d explode. So when he saw Eddie peacefully reading a book on top of a blanket and slathered in sunscreen, Richie also couldn’t explain the way his heart fell into his feet. 

“Richie?” Eddie called, book sliding to the floor. He smiled so warmly at Richie that he had to remind himself to move his feet, lift them off the ground, one by one. 

He settled on the ground next to him. “Hey Eds. I’ve got somethi-” 

“Don’t call me Eds.” 

The sentence that Eddie had said before, maybe a thousand times over, made Richie’s throat ache with familiarity. Suddenly he felt twelve again, with glasses too big for his face and feelings that he would never be allowed to talk about with anyone. “Eds. Please listen to me.” Eddie made a displeased noise, but leaned his chin in his hands and gazed up at Richie with wide, expectant eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” He began, nervously pushing at the bridge of his glasses. “That I can’t stay here. Derry, I mean. There’s just too much shit to remember and now that we’re older and everyone still manages to hate us- and I hate them, I think. I don’t wanna ever spend another moment here if I don’t have to. So uh, I’m leaving. Four days, to be exact.” 

Eddie’s eyes kept widening, kept growing at a pace that was almost worrisome. “Four days?” He whispered. “Four days and you leave me? How could you, Rich! We swore we would never-” 

“I want you to come with me.” Richie cut his rambling off. 

“No. Absolutely not.” Eddie said it with an air of finality that made Richie almost unwilling to fight back. 

“Eds…” He almost whispered. 

They were so close, their noses only inches apart and staggered breathing intertwining. Eddie turned away suddenly, looking at a spot that was somewhere over the creek. “Don’t call me Eds. I’m not moving away with you, Tozier. My whole life is here. My college is here. My mom is here. It’s selfish of you to even think I’d go.” 

He felt his heart splinter into a million pieces. “Okay.” Richie said dumbly. “Thank you for giving me my answer.” Eddie’s sniff filled the air, and Richie realized he wasn’t the only one on the brink of tears. “Eddie?” The smaller boy’s head turned slightly, still not making full eye contact. “Please tell me one more thing. Did you ever… did you ever-” He cut himself off before he let his trashmouth be the death of him again. The insinuation was enough. Eddie understood. 

It was a bold move, but one Richie had to make before he left for good. 

Eddie’s eyes swept over the creek one last time as a perfect tear rolled down his cheek. “No,” he whispered softly. “I don’t think I did.” 

Richie left four days early on the Great American Roadtrip (Richie Tozier Edition). He was set on anywhere but here, but he left his heart in a diddly little town in Maine, on a creekbed. 

Steady hands just take the wheel

Every glance is killing me

His knuckles were turning white with force as he gripped the leather steering wheel, trying desperately not to crash the car. The nerves of driving back into his hometown were practically choking him, ghosts of the past reaching down into his throat and cutting off all circulation until he had to pull over to the side of the road. Gulps of air came flooding in as Ben stared at his surroundings. 

It was a bright, sunny day, unusual for the middle of April, and he was parked right underneath a cheery sign that read Welcome to Derry! The irony was enough to make him laugh, but it escaped as more of a wheeze, and Ben hit his head on the steering wheel. Truth be told, he really couldn’t pinpoint the reason he was so nervous to be back in Derry. Life was halfway terrible when he was a kid, but that was because of childhood bullies that would sneer awful remarks at him on the playground. Surely they had all grown up, right? No one would call him fatso or loser when he walked past the shops in town, even though the storekeepers were the same as his middle school tormentors. Ben knew that he could walk through town and name the baker, the town drunk, the new ninth grade science teacher, because no one left Derry. No one left, no one came. 

Benjamin Hanscom was what most would call an anomaly, because he got to escape the fate of a childhood growing up in Derry. Ben, a beautiful redhead named Beverly, (January embers, Ben thought in the back of his mind. What did that mean?) and someone he could only remember as Richie the Trashmouth. These were the kids who actually made it out of the small town. There was a postcard tucked under his bed in a box of junk addressed to a house in Connecticut. Ben had moved there was he was fifteen, four years after- Ben couldn’t quite remember what that was after. Four years after something important happened. Something that made receiving the postcard fill his stomach with dread. 

December 12th, 1965

Ben! We’ve missed you! Wish you would write more, Stan thinks you’re pulling a Bev on us and never looking back. I told him that you’d never forget about your old panty waists back in Derry. Stan says hi, by the way. Yes. Hello Ben. Miss you. So do Eddie and Mike. And that’s what I’m writing to you about! Guess who made it out! The trashmouth himself! Richie upped and left for California two days ago without telling any of us. For some reason I can’t find it in me to be mad at him because I’m so damn proud he made it out. Eddie’s real bummed though. Only speaks when he needs to and always leaves early. But it’s fine though. Richie’s like you and Bev, he’ll really make it now! Maybe he’ll go the rest of his life without seeing It. Sorry, not a funny joke. Stan’s laughing a little bit, though. And that means it was probably not a great joke. We miss you, Ben. Please try to write. We sent you some stuff to inspire your inevitable poems of your life and times here in the shithole. 

Losers forever, 

Bill Denbrough

Ben pulled the box from his backseat now, the strange urge that had him bring it with him now telling him to rifle through. A small, leather bound notebook with the title Derry’s Unofficial History by Mike Hanlon. There was nothing else written, just an ominous page written by a boy he didn’t remember. A green bouncy ball. Handful of arcade tokens. A bridge built with toothpicks. One bottle cap off of a cheap brand of vodka. Shoelaces tied into a noose. A book of town history. Finally, another postcard, splattered in something red, smelled vaguely cherry-like, and written in handwriting Ben would never be able to recognize. 

Your hair is winter fire. 

January embers, 

My heart burns there too. 

(Really takes ya back, huh Ben?) 

Back to what, though? Ben had read this poem a million times over and still, nothing ever rang a bell. It was like having a kernel of popcorn stuck in your gums or a phantom rock in your shoe. Always in the back of his mind and never seeing the light of day. 

Giving the poem one last glance and then tossing the box to the side, Ben slowly started the car again. He drove past the sign and into the main center of town, just a row of damp store fronts with sad, dull signs advertising the different sales. All of a sudden Ben couldn’t quite remember what he was here to accomplish, why he had left his comfortable life to visit the place he grew up. Nostalgia wasn’t the answer since there was nothing to reminisce about, just a handful of vague emotions that left him feeling uneasy. 

Thinking he should just turn around and go home, Ben began to pull a U-turn when he saw a man standing on the corner of the street. He had a vendors cart with him, but there was no description as to what he was selling, just a bunch of red balloons tied to the handle. Ben couldn’t quite see his face since the balloons swaying in the nonexistent breeze covered him up. As he turned around and drove back up the street, he glanced in his rearview mirror once more. The balloons were gone. The man locked eyes with Ben and leered, for just a second, long enough to make his blood run cold. His smile was terribly wide, lips stretching over his teeth in an inhumane way and pulling the flesh to be shiny and tight. Black holes stood where eyes normally did. Big orange puff balls suddenly decorated the man’s apron. When Ben whipped around in his seat to get a better look, there was nothing left. Just a single red balloon, floating up, up, up. 

Time to make one last appeal

For the life I live

No one said a single word. If they even tried, Stan shut them down. “Shut up.” He’d say, even if Richie began thinking of a joke. There was no room for laughter in a holding cell. 

They had been arrested and Stan was trying to figure out a way of telling his father without being murdered before he was bar mitzvah-ed. Well, more murdered than the crazy fucking killer clown had tried to accomplish before Richie clobbered him over the head with a baseball bat and they all just started screaming and throwing things and at some point Stan definitley ran him through with an iron rod. But that was nothing compared to Mr. Uris and a good reason to yell. No, the true horror awaited him when he got home tonight. He could already see his mustache trembling with anger, the red creeping up the sides of his neck. 

Stan took a deep breath and clenched his fists, feeling the crescent of his nails bite into the soft skin on his palms. This was momentary distraction from the monster headache he currently had, courtesy of the painting lady. A shudder ran through him as he thought about the woman who wasn’t truly a woman, just an evil twist of a face that had skittered at him, like a cockroach. 

“Guys?” He called out, the panic settling in. “Guys, where’d you go?” No response. The quiet hung in the air, heavy, only penetrated by random drops of water. Stan swept the flashlight around, trying to figure out which pothole he had just emerged from, when a piercing giggle erupted out of nowhere. “Hello?!” His voice more frantic, more desperate for Richie to just be fucking with him in a bad moment, for Bev to start breaking out in her normal peals of laughter and reveal that she had been okay this whole time. The laughter was more of an echo this time, sending chills down his spine. It was an echo… but it was closer. Closer. Closer. 

Behind him!

Like the sound of his mother’s drumming nails when she was irritated with him, the lady in the painting flew at him. Stan jerked backward only to hit the wall, knocking the wind out of him, rendering him useless for a second. That was all she needed. Her smile widened as rows of teeth, dank and dripping with gray water, flashed in the quickly dimming beam of his flashlight. He screamed, screamed with terror and hope that Bill would come flying out to save the day, but her jaws stretched and suddenly he could only feel unimaginable pain. Her teeth bit into his skin and he had given up screaming, and now was writhing around, which made her clench down harder on the sides of his face. Stan was giving into the darkness that crept into the sides of his vision when a loud clang rang through the sewers and he heard a bewildered “What the fuck is that thing?” 

The woman leeched off into the darkness before Stan could register what had happened, and suddenly there was a crowd of people surrounding him. Stan! Stan, are you okay? Stan please say something! S-S-S-Stan! Stan’s eyes flew open at the sound of Bill’s voice and he immediately began screaming again. “You left me!” He scrambled backward and hit the wall again. “You all left me and you swore you wouldn’t!” Hot tears ran into the wounds, causing them to sting. When did he start crying? Still pushing back at them, accusing them of things beyond their control, Stan began growing hysterical. “You left me! You left me! You

‘ve left me no choice, laddies.” Mr. Nell said, causing Stan to jump back into the present. “I hafta call your parents ta come getcha in the mornin’.” Nobody but Richie was bold enough to groan at this statement, and he only did after the policeman was out of sight. Stan knew he was in for it once he got home. He might’ve almost died three hours ago, but he was definitely never going to see his twelfth birthday. 

Leaning his head against the wall, Stan tried to close his eyes and ignore the pounding in his head. Some shuffling noises were made as Eddie curled into Richie, buried himself in the fabric of his t-shirt and Richie threw an arm around the smaller boy. Beverly made no noise while tipping her head onto Ben’s shoulder and squeezing Mike’s arm, and both boys smiled softly in response. For a moment, Bill stayed completely still, but then reached for Stan’s hand. Stan jerked his eyes back open to only find Bill staring at him with the inevitable question in his eyes- Are you okay? Lacing their fingers together and squeezing hard, Stan closed his eyes again. 

In the morning he wasn’t only berated for coming out of the Neibolt street house half alive, but also that the Uris couple found their son lying cheek to cheek with that no-good Denbrough boy, fast asleep with their limbs entangled together. He got an earful, but Stanley didn’t mind much. He felt much braver than he ever had before. 

Stop and stare

I think I'm moving but I go nowhere

Beverly Marsh was almost fourteen years old and she was trying desperately to remember the name of the boy with bug-eyed glasses. It began as a joke she was trying to tell to Ella, another freshman who kept her head down and avoided the popular girls at all costs. “Tangled up there, lass?” Beverly had remarked when Ella came out of the bathroom stall with her skirt caught in her underwear. The girl laughed and asked what accent that was supposed to be, and Beverly began to answer when she caught herself short. “Well… it’s called the Scottish Cop.” She said slowly. “This boy… he used to do it all the time… even straight to a policeman’s face.” Ella then laughed once more and led them both out of the bathroom, a place they never willingly spent more time if they didn’t have to. (Another feeling Beverly couldn’t quite place- restrooms made her nervous. Like she was helpless.) 

Spending the rest of the school day thinking it over, she still didn’t have a name when she pulled her bike up to her aunt’s back door. A quick hello and a dash up the stairs led Beverly onto the floor of her bedroom, thinking about her life in Derry. 

She was born in Derry, Maine. Raised in a house with light blue shutters and a broken living room window. Inside lived Beverly and Al Marsh, a sweet child with cherub cheeks and a father who liked to beat his daughter senseless whenever he had the opportunity. Al had died in that house too, but from what? A lot of dying was happening, Beverly could remember that much. That’s why she was sent to Portland. Her father… but who else? Who else had died- G-G-Georgie. Georgie Denbrough. Little brother of Big Bill Denbrough, a tall boy who had a stutter but also a sweet dimple and layers of freckles that Beverly suddenly remembered being incredibly charmed by. Bill was the leader of the ragtag group of kids that followed him around on his heels and took heed of every word he stuttered out, and Beverly was no different. Like a puppy and it’s owner, Beverly saw stars when she looked at Bill. 

That was a long time ago. She was tougher now, she didn’t let any boys tell her what to do or when to do it. Not that the boys she had loved back in Derry were mean, they were just in charge. Beverly was the captain of her own destiny now. 

However, there were days when a sickly feeling would crawl up the back of her neck and make her turn around fast, for one second, to find nothing but a breeze behind her. There were days when walking into a bathroom meant going straight to the toilet to throw up, because the sight of white-tiled walls made her inexplicably nauseous. There were days when she would cross to the other side of the street to avoid a storm drain with an open grate. There were days when Beverly Marsh did not feel in control at all, and she wished that Bill Denbrough was there to tell her what to do. 

He was back in Derry, however, and sent her postcards every once and awhile to remind her. They were never waxing letters of love and longing, (although she had one of those too, but it stayed in the back of her closet and in the back of her mind) but instead cheerful reminders to write to her old pals back in Derry. She had tried once, but after crying in frustration when she couldn’t figure out the name of the place they used to spend all of their time, that dusty forest with the great big cliff drop off, the letter went into her wastepaper basket. Beverly now kept the postcards in a plastic pencil case box at the top of her closet. 

They now sat scattered around her as she tried to figure out the kid’s name. Bill’s letters mentioned Stan the Man, Trashmouth, Eddie, Benny Boy, and Mike, but Beverly couldn’t decipher the differences between all of them. It was like they were characters in a book she had read long ago, all blending together to make a ball of personality- Someone hated taking their shirt off when they swam, another kept an inhaler glued to his hand, one worked on a farm and brought them all apples when the season was right. Bill was the only one that stood out in her mind, but that was because he had always stood out. He was first the boy with the dead brother. He then became the leader of the group. Bill never wore glasses, though, this much she could remember. 

Giving up after a last ditch skim through the letters, Beverly lied down on her bed and curled up into a ball. Perhaps it was for the better that she couldn’t quite remember Derry. After all, she had left her father there, and that was definitely for good. 

In the morning, Beverly had forgotten all about the conundrum of the boy with the bug-eyed glasses and ate her toast and jam in complete peace. After kissing her aunt on the cheek and grabbing her brown bagged lunch, she mounted her bike (an old, rickety thing that glinted in the sun and caused her aunt to worry when she made a sharp turn around the corner of the neighborhood) and lifted her fist in the air, crowing with triumph, “Heigh ho, Silver away!” 

Yeah, I know that everyone gets scared

But I've become what I can't be

He dropped to the floor, clutching his ears and trembling. The bang of the gun was too much for him to handle, even though it had been ten years since he had a reason to actually fear it. Staring the sheep right in the eyes to mirror the eye contact Henry had held with him before attempting to blow his brains out was a bitter pill for Mike to swallow. 

One he often choked on. 

The farmhand, a younger boy named Thomas, tried to hide the sigh that escaped as Mike took a deep breath, calming the tremors that ran through his body. He didn’t chastise him for the disrespect, because he knew he would’ve done the same thing if he was fifteen and working for a crazy man. “Do you mind finishing up here?” Mike asked. The boy nodded and picked up the abandoned gun, hanging it off of the shelf and slung the sheep around his shoulders. Mike’s stomach turned with the sight of blood dripping from it’s head, the one he had just put a bullet through, and pushed through the barn doors. 

Dropping to his knees and taking in deep gulps of breath, Mike let the heat of the sun beat down on his back. The memories of that day were too vivid in his mind. Things were never truly the same afterwards, he knew it, the Losers Club knew it, even his parents understood that there was a change in their boy. He was no longer the delicate yet strong boy they had raised. He no longer wanted to explore all of the unbeaten paths of Derry. Mike had lost the spark of curiosity that made so many people love him. Each member of the club had reached a level of adulthood that no eleven year old should be able to understand. 

They handled it in their own ways. Beverly, for starters, moved away. Completely. It wasn’t really her choice, but she wasn’t arguing. She had told them all once, in a hushed voice at one of Bill Denbrough’s sleepovers, that she heard noises in her house still. Dripping water pipes. Child-like whispers. Faint circus music. Beverly Marsh left Derry with a skip in her step and a promise to write them all at least once a month with a review of the latest horror movie in theaters. (They never heard from her again. Bill kept sending letters, however. They would gather around and write it together, jutting in with their own handwriting and stories of things they thought she would like. Mike always wrote lengthy descriptions of the butterfly migrations. Bill would sign each one with Losers Forever.) 

Bill began to write. He was always good at english and he came up with the best lies to get them out of scrapes, but this was something different. Pages and pages of horror stories began surfacing, dropped off at their doors with varying notes. (“Is this something to actually be scared of?” “Can you check my grammar?” Mike was always asked to see if the story was historically accurate, to see if pilgrims would’ve been in Utah during November, 1650, or something of that nature.) The group never acknowledged it, but the stories became increasingly real, increasingly familiar, until they just had a specific recount of the day at the Neibolt house and they all gathered together and cried, as thirteen year olds are wont to do. 

As if nothing ever happened, Stanley Uris would refuse to talk about anything that had occurred. He began spending less time with the group as well, and they all hated to see the strained look on Bill’s face when any of them questioned where Stan was. Sometimes they saw him riding his bike around town, or birdwatching in the park, and none of them really said anything about it. Stan was affected in a different way that day, because he had to face the monster alone. When they made a promise to come back and fight if It ever resurfaced, Stan’s hand shook when he held out the broken coke bottle. He was with them until he wasn’t. 

Richie and Eddie became RichieandEddie and no one was brave enough to bring it up. Not brave, there was no bravery in that sort of confrontation, but no one was willing to take away something that made them happy. They each had their thing, and they happened to be each others. So if cuddling so tightly you couldn’t distinguish who was who during movies nights, Richie comforting Eddie alone during his panic attacks, them spending more time together than with the Losers made them happy, what else could they do except stand there and think Thank God we are safe and we have one another?

Ben and Mike began spending more time together as well. They both migrated toward the library and found solace in the quiet stacks of books, arming themselves with knowledge and words instead of weapons and fire. It began subconsciously, showing up at the same time because they had wordlessly made a schedule, sharing a table and putting each other’s books away as a favor. Then one day Mike wasn’t there because of some chores and Ben called his house breathlessly wondering if Mike was okay and if he could speak to him, please? Suddenly showing up was a lot more purposeful now, Ben bringing two sleeves of Necco Wafers, Mike having enough paper for both of them to take notes. Library days became Mike’s favorite because he knew that he wouldn’t have to face the world for a while, and he had a great pal beside him. 

This is where Mike found himself drifting to, ten years later. Benjamin Hanscom had left Derry when they were fifteen years old, but Mike still loved the library and the peace it brought him. The rattle of his beat-up Ford slowed to a stop outside of the Derry City Library and Mike suddenly didn’t feel as nauseous as he once did. Greeting the librarian with a quick smile, he took his spot at the table he had occupied for so many years and cracked open whatever book was lying on the end. A tale of princesses and knights in shining armor. 

The lazy afternoon light filtered in as time went on, and Mike looked up. The clock on the wall told him it was definitely time for him to head home. As he put the book back, something etched into the surface of the table caught his eye. Result of a day where Ben and Mike tried to convince the others to meet at the library, Richie had taken out his pen knife and carved LOSERS FOREVER BITCH into their sacred reading table. Ben had almost cried when he saw it and Mike threatened to punch him before Bill had stepped in and calmed everyone down. Mike knew that it was Eddie who had snuck back in and scratched out the ‘BITCH,’ risking the chance that he would be teased mercilessly. He grazed the carving lightly, remembering fondly of the moments where he felt invincible standing next to the rest of his friends. He felt a surge of protection even seeing it, feeling guarded by the ghosts of the Losers Club. And by God, isn’t that what Mike wanted? To feel safe again, even if for one day? 

Stop and stare

You start to wonder why you're here not there

The top button of his shirt was making his neck itch something fierce. He wasn’t quite sure why he had to wear it so tightly around his neck, but the striped tie he also had held it up fastidiously. The itch, in the end, did not matter. Because when you’re attending your little brother’s funeral, trivial things like the top button of your shirt seemed to be important for only seconds at a time. 

Technically, the funeral had already passed. Bill had spent the morning in the local church, holding his mother’s hand as she cried. He had been strangely stoic for a just-turned eleven year old boy, but maybe it was to show his father that he was a man, that he was strong enough to be his son. It didn’t matter. Zach and Sharon Denbrough cried through the entire service, and their adventurous (alive) son sat between them, unblinking. On the way home Sharon accidentally caught Bill’s eye in the mirror and for the first time in his young life, she did not smile back. 

Bill’s top button was itching him as he sat in the middle of the upstairs hallway listening to the people that were gathered downstairs. A low murmur crept up from the crowd, people apologizing to his parents while trying to mask their secret relief that it wasn’t their own child’s funeral and eating crudites. For a while Bill had stood with them, but he got antsy and his dad tapped him on the back, relieving him of the duty. Not really sure where he wanted to be, (not his room because he could see Georgie’s bed and Georgie’s toys and Georgie’s things but there wasn’t a Georgie anymore) Bill slid down the wall and hid from the rest of the people. 

He untied the tie around his neck with clumsy fingers, just pulling at the knot until it came loose, and then unbuttoned the itchy culprit of a top button. Just as he sighed with relief, pairs of footsteps came bounding up the stairs and almost stepped right on top of him. “Hole-lee shit!” Richie exclaimed. “I faouwnd ‘im, boys!” For an inexplicable reason, hearing Richie’s terrible Cowboy Joe voice relaxed Bill just a bit more, and looking into the eyes of his best friends made him release all of the tension in his small, eleven year old shoulders. 

Eddie and Stan looked impeccable, as if anything else was to be expected of them. Both in little suit jackets that were broken out for special occasions, like Sabbath when Stan’s Bubbe came to dinner or Christmas when Eddie was dragged by the ear to church for an incredibly boring amount of time. Richie was in a clean pair of jeans and a button-up, since his parents did not believe in buying such an expensive item of clothing for a growing boy. The trio looked very nice, but they also looked out of place, as if their very faces told the story that they should not be dressed in their nicest clothes on a Thursday afternoon. The slump in their shoulders and pity in their eyes said I should be playing in the sunshine, not mourning the loss of my best friend’s little brother. However, there they stood. At the feet of the boy with the dead brother. 

“H-H-Hey guys.” Bill said quietly, smiling half-heartedly up at them. They all crowded down with him and wordlessly wrapped their arms around each other, making Bill the center of their small universe. He said nothing, just let them pat him slightly and make comforting noises for a second before slinging an arm around Stan. A small sniffle escaped from him, and the boys all let go for a second. They settled in the middle of the hallway, a tight circle with their knees overlapping each other. Eddie was wrapped up in Richie’s side, and Bill didn’t let go of Stan. 

They still sat in silence and watched Bill fight back tears, tears that he wasn’t allowed to shed in front of his father, tears that he would probably get made fun of by Richie for later, but tears that suddenly spilled over when Stan carefully bumped his forehead against Bill’s. The small act of sincerity reminded Bill that he would never be able to feel Georgie’s small hand grasp for his when they were crossing the street, and now he was a blubbering mess. He didn’t dare try to say anything because he knew his stuttering would be terrible, but the other boys seemed to understand everything he was feeling. So Bill just cried, and his best friends held him while he did. 

Later, Bill sat on his bed, his feet dangling off of the edge, staring at his closed door. Eddie was brushing his teeth, Richie looking through his meager record collection, and Stan sat next to him, reading from a book about birds. “Hoopoe is a national bird of Israel and one of the birds that were considered sacred in-” 

“I-I-I-I wis-sh-sh it had b-b-been me.” Bill cut Stan off. The soft slap of a record hitting the floor came from Richie. “H-He d-d-d-didn’t deserve t-to d-d-die. Sh-Sh-Should’ve b-b-been m-m-m-me.” The Big Book of Birds closed with a thump. “I s-s-sent hi-him out th-th-there with-thout anyo-o-ne.” Stan reached for his hand, but Bill drew it away with a suddenness that made Stan jump. “D-D-Don’t p-p-pity me. I-I-it’s t-t-true, and I-I-I c-c-can’t take it b-b-back.” 

Bill jumped off the bed and flung open his bedroom door. He stared at Georgie’s bed with a hard look in his eye and then made the decision that he would never close the door again, because he deserved to be reminded of the thing he had done, and he wanted to make things fair. Georgie had died because of him and Bill was going to make himself pay. 

And you'd give anything to get what's fair

But fair ain't what you really need

This isn’t fucking fair, Bill thought. My friends are going to die because of me, and that just isn’t fair. The clown had him by the throat, his breath hot and rancid and making Bill feel slightly dizzy. “As I feed on your fear.” It finished, giving that wide, maniacal grin. “Or.” He tried turning his head to look at the thing, but it tightened its grip, the talons biting into his flesh. “You'll just leave us be. I'm taking him, only him. And then I'll have my long rest and you will all live to grow old and drive and lead happy lives until old age takes you back to the weeds.” 

Bill’s shoulders fell with relief. His friends could live, really live, have long lives where they got to do more than build a dam in the Barrens or watch crappy horror movies all day long. All he had to do was convince them to leave. Their spouts of protest suggested otherwise, but he knew that they would go if he told them to. He was Big Bill after all. Always the one to make the decisions. “Leave,” he commanded. The room went quiet for a moment, because that’s what the world seemed to do when Bill Denbrough spoke. All of creation paused just to hear him speak. “I’m the one who dragged you all into this. Go!” 

Like deer in headlights, his friends stared at him as they tried to make their decision. After a pregnant moment of silence, Richie took a step forward. “Sorry, Bill.” He shook his head. “I told you, Bill. I fucking told you, I don't want to die…” Bill took a deep breath. Richie was going to lead them all out of the sewers, Richie was going to save their lives, Richie was going to leave him to die. And Bill wasn’t even angry about it. “It's your fault. You punched me in the face, you made me walk through shitty water, you brought me to a fucking crackhead-house. And now… I'm gonna have to kill this fucking clown!” Before Bill could react, Richie swung his bat with the power of God himself. “Welcome to the Loser’s Club, asshole!” 

A flurry of pipes being thrown and children grabbing onto his back and Bill being released from it’s terrible grasp then commenced. He immediately joined in on the fight and they all fought back, harder and harder until it took the form of a man none of them had seen before. Except Beverly. 

The man had asked a question Bill did not understand, called her a name he had not heard before, when Beverly screamed a terrible and ugly scream and rammed an iron rod down his throat. They all watched as it flung itself down the larger sewer hole and stood together, beaten and bruised, but alive. 

In the quiet, Bill came to a decision. Maybe his life wasn’t fair. If it was fair, Georgie would be almost seven by now and starting the second grade. If it was fair, he would be able to sit with his parents and feel the love and light his home used to carry. If it was fair, Stan would look at him just like Beverly did. His life wasn’t fair, but he tried his hardest to make it right. Bill fought for Georgie, for his parents, for his friends. Fair wasn’t what he needed. Bill needed things to be just. 

hello this is really fucking long jesus @ me. anyways pls leave a comment and i will show up outside of your window at midnight with a boombox to serenade you

[mediocrethoughts]

Recalling the Past and Reading Someone’s Memories

Journal for November 12, 2020 (7:55 PM) to November 13, 2020 (5:02 PM)

I woke up at around 7:55 PM because of my alarm yesterday, November 12, 2020. I wanted to sleep some more because I felt really tired, but I needed to attend my class. When I looked in the mirror, I looked so dead with dark circles around my eyes. I was too tired to even wash my face so I just took a long sleeved shirt from the wardrobe and put it over the white shirt I was wearing yesterday before I slept. When I got accepted into the Google Meeting and when we proceeded with the class without Sir Hans asking us to open our cameras, I heaved a sigh of relief. At least I’d spare myself the embarrassment of looking so bad compared to when I was made up when we presented our reports last time.

Anyways, we continued to discuss about the Magna Carta and related it to the movie Dead Poets Society still. Along the way, it kind of still surprised me how some students weren’t able to watch it completely yet. It’s a good movie! The trick is to really try to enjoy yourself while watching the movie and just not think of it as something that you’re required to watch. That way, if you really enjoyed the movie (without the heavy feeling that you’re only watching it out of responsibility), you’d be able to easily recall scenes that you can relate to anything. Of course, going back and opening the file to properly recall the scenes you’re trying to recall helps as well.

We ended class early again! We finished Article V this time. There was actually a point in the discussion where we talked about inappropriate or immoral acts of teachers and stuff, and I wanted to input a gossip I heard from a schoolmate during my time in UP, but it seems that a lot of the other students had lots to share, so I didn’t volunteer to share (also because I’m not even sure now if it’s true or not).

I’ll just write it here! Actually, I had this professor for a law subject of mine during my first year days. He had broad forehead, which he also admits to having, but his body was lean, like you can clearly see that he has a flat tummy and probably some muscles hiding underneath the sophisticated clothes he wears. He was actually a lawyer as well as a professor there in UP before. Lots of us had crushes on him actually! He has two kids,but he seems to be separated from his wife, and what comes out from his mouth really seemed intelligent and pretty much, he was a really cool teacher.There was even one point when I thought he might’ve had his eyes on me because of an interaction once:

My friends and I were on the way out of the AS buildings when he was also on the way to the parking lot (we had to pass by the parking lot before we’re able to get out of the AS premises). As usual, I was ahead of my friends because I usually had my own world. He sort of asked us in general (if I remember correctly) where we were from. My friends answered first, and then I said I was from Yati. I think he said something along the lines of, “Oh wow! I’m from Yati as well. If you need a ride on the way home just let me know.” It was most likely a joke of course, but it got stuck in my head and my innocent (and presumptuous) mind thought of it too much.

 Anyways, when I turned second year, I heard a gossip about him dating a senior of ours in the BA Psychology course. I never really knew if there was any truth to gossip, but since there’s gossip like this, there should be a little basis, right? 

That story aside, after my class, I was so intent on doing something productive. I told myself, “Okay, I’ll be finishing one of my school requirements today.” However, I ended up telling myself again, “Fine! I’ll just do my school stuff after I finish this video of mine for YouTube. It only requires like 5% work left anyways.” Well, I failed because I got attached to my game again. I swear I hate myself and my addiction to games.

Around 11:30 PM, I started to get hungry. Because I was intermittent fasting, my proper feast time was supposed to be around 12:00 AM, however, since there was only a few minutes left, I decided I’d eat. Me, Nivan, and Amber went to the kitchen to look for food, and also wait for his order. Amber has been sleeping at dawn lately. I don’t know why but her yaya lets her sleep at around 5 PM in the afternoon so she wakes up at around 7 or 8 PM which means that she wouldn’t be sleepy around 10 or 11 PM which was supposed to be her sleeping time last week. I made a note to myself that I should tell the yaya to not her sleep in the afternoon tomorrow to make sure that she’ll sleep again in accordance to the Philippines’ timezone.

When the food arrived, we ate and then went back in again after. We’ve been giving Amber her YouTube videos lately (something we’re really guilty of doing), so she’s just stuck in bed with me, nursing and watching her YouTube. I started to get really sleepy, so... I fell asleep around 1:30 AM and left Amber awake watching her YouTube with Nivan. I kind of remember telling Nivan in a half asleep state to get her YouTube away from her at 2 AM even if she cries so that she’ll sleep. 

I woke up at around almost 6 AM in the morning and saw that my baby was sleeping on the bed where her head was near my back. I was facing the other way, so if I didn’t wake up and move around, I probably would’ve pressed on her head. Sigh, I don’t get why Nivan still doesn’t move Amber when she’s asleep. 

Anyways, I woke up wanting to work on my school stuff again, but then I saw that my Filmora app was still open. My video was still waiting for me to finish it, and so I decided I’d do it. I was recording my voice overs when when Nivan tapped my shoulders and told me that I promised him that I’d help with a video that he needed for his work. Agh! He also asked if I wanted anything to eat, which I said yes to since I have only eaten once during my eating window. So while he was away making food (or mandating ate Amy on what food to make, I’m not sure), I was editing the video he needed for his work.

By the time I finished working on his video, it was also time for an event in my game. Sigh. I got stuck playing the game again. The food that Nivan went out for earlier only arrived at around almost 9 AM (my eating window was supposed to end before 8 AM). I made a mental note to adjust my eating window again. A few minutes later, the choco chip cookies he ordered the other day arrived, so I thought I’d try some and just readjust my sleeping schedule again.

After eating, well... I sort of proceeded with finishing my video. I finally got to like 1% worth of work left, and then Amber woke up. I was also playing my game while editing the video (mostly playing the game, really), so when she woke up, I brought the iPad to the bed and played there while also talking to Amber. I was having a really bad migraine that time and I can’t seem to find my pain-killers. I was searching for it and playing (mostly playing, again) for an hour or so, until I finally found it right in front of my face... but hiding. It was underneath the laptop I was sitting in front of! When I finally took the painkiller, the pain subsided. 

I swear, I hate my migraines. Whenever it’s not there, I take every moment for granted. Whenever it’s present and pounding the right side of my eyes though, I definitely can’t wait for it to be over.

Well, around 1 PM, Amber blurted out that she misses her wowo and uncle (my dad and my brother), so I decided to video call with them. It’s been a long time since we went home to my place, and we really miss them. I’ll make sure to go there with Amber next week.

It was supposed to be my sleeping time already around 2 PM, however, since I slept at 2 until almost 6 AM, I wasn’t feeling sleepy. I also didn’t have anything to do in the game, and so I decided to download the book ‘The Diary of a Young Girl’ by Anne Frank. It’s actually a book that we’re required to read for our Prof Ed 2 class, but boy when I opened it, I got really interested! Reading this book might be something I’d really enjoy, after all. It wasn’t the lengthy type every ‘chapter’, instead it was really like how diaries are supposed to be.

While reading her diary, it made me want to write on this again. So while reading her entry for July 10, 1942, I decided to spring out of bed and start writing this journal before I lose my will to get out of bed and write anything. 

So far, I am not yet on the brutal or sad parts of her diary and it made me realize that this historical girl was just a normal girl before everything that happened to her happened. On her first entries, she sounds like a presumptuous teenager to me. (I can say this because I never called anybody an ‘admirer’ of mine if they were just staring at me all day, especially when I was still 13 years old. They had to tell me straight to the face that they admire me before I brand them as my admirer in my head... although I was already assuming that they were indeed admirers, I knew that I was too shy to admit it, even in my own writing. So having read that she boldly thinks they were her admirers, and also putting her really honest thoughts like disliking someone, and even describing their flaws as a person in her own diary, she was a really honest-to-oneself person. I envy her.)

I’ll continue reading the book now! I don’t think I’m gonna sleep anytime soon since I still have class at 6:00 PM so I’ll just wait for it and finish it then sleep.

I’ll write here tomorrow again!

Yours, Angel

[chasemisprintedlies]

38

38: Talk about songs that remind you of certain people.

First and foremost, Sara by Fleetwood Mac. I know the song is about one of many abortions that Stevie Nicks had, but it absolutely reminds me of my beautiful Sarah Ruth, who passed a couple of years ago. We hated each other for so long over a stupid boy, but when we realized how dumb it was, she became one of my favorite people to be around. We weren’t the closest of friends, but she was an amazing person and she was always so positive and it was just infectious. She was an angel.

All I ever wanted, was to know that you were dreaming, Sara. There’s a heartbeat that never really died.———————————————————————

I Love You Always Forever by Donna Lewis reminds me of my best friend since third grade. The day I met her, we just clicked and we’ve been friends since. We fought a lot through middle school and high school and we weren’t really huge on apologies, I guess because they were awkward for us, but when we were done being mad at each other, one of us would just kind of send a song to the other. This was one of the first songs that was sent by her to me and it sticks out more than any of the others.

I love you always forever. Near or far, closer together. Everywhere, I will be with you. Everything, I will do for you. ———————————————————————

When I was in third grade (I apparently have a lot of memories from that time), we had an assignment for Mother’s Day and it was basically something like “if my mom were a _____, she would be a _____ because _____.” One of the questions was “if my mom were a song, she’d be…” and I just put Hanging by a Moment by Lifehouse , with the reason being that it was her favorite. It was a simpler time. 😂

I’m falling even more in love with you, letting go of all we’ve held onto. I’m standing here until you make me move, falling even more in love with you.———————————————————————

Does anyone even remember the song Coco Jamboo by Mr. President ? It was the strangest song when I was younger, but so catchy. I guess I had no choice because my sister loved it and it just stuck in my head, so it just reminds me 100% of her.

Put me up, put me down. Put my feet back on the ground. Put me up, take my heart and make me happy. ———————————————————————

This song has a reminder of like three people, but it’s a fun one. We always have family dinners at my parents’ house and me, my older brother (or one of them, 13 months older than me), and all of our cousins that were around our age would always eat upstairs as kids. Well one of my cousins only lived on the other side of the graveyard beside my house, so she always showed up earlier than anyone else. So here I was, just chilling with Kirby and listening to Voodoo by Godsmack and my brother comes in and for some reason, we just start dancing like witches around a campfire and we just get lost in the song, being complete weirdos, and didn’t even pay attention to the fact that our older cousin had walked in the door and he just looked at us like we were so strange. But I mean, he also knew it wasn’t anything unusual for us, so… 😂

Hazing clouds rain on my head, empty thoughts fill my ears. Find my shade by the moon light, why my thoughts aren’t so clear. Demons dreaming, breathe in, breathe in. ———————————————————————

Collective Soul has been my favorite band since I was, like, maybe four. I used to be positive that I would marry Ed Roland one day. Lol. Anyway, my oldest brother has played music since he was young and when he was maybe 16 or so, he learned to to play Heavy by Collective Soul on guitar for me and he has a great voice, so that’s a plus. He had my mom come get me and bring me to his room and he sang it for me because it was my absolute favorite and let me tell you, I had never been more excited in my life at that point.

Complicate this world you wrapped for me. I’m acquainted with your suffering. And all your weight, it falls on me, it brings me down. ———————————————————————

Another one of my favorite songs when I was little was I Shot the Sheriff by Eric Clapton, but I always thought it said “I shot the Sherry.” I didn’t know who Sherry was, but by God, I sang those lyrics like that’s what it actually said… until my dad told me that’s not what it said and it’s been one of his favorite stories to tell on me ever since. Lol.

I shot the sheriff, but I did not shoot the deputy.———————————————————————

I could go on forever with these songs, but I’ll make this the last one. I was in a terrible relationship on and off for three years, mostly on. There was a break of a couple months where I actually dated someone else, a guy that had been a senior when I was a freshman. First time I ever saw him, I was at the town’s Mayday parade, which is a huge thing for our county. There’s a pageant and everything. Anyway, he had the coolest mohawk I’d ever seen and I instantly fell in love. Lol. I guess there’s really two songs for this because for that first instance, it would be Change by Good Charlotte. Like I said, freshman, senior.. he’d never pay any attention to me, and at that time, he didn’t.

And now you’ve got me thinking ‘bout the first time that I met you, standing in a crowded room, but I could only see you. And I hope my words will get through ‘cause now I can’t forget you. I wanna tell you if only I could reach you, and make you feel this way…

Continuing on with this story, I finally caught his eye after we had graduated. He met me one day and was concerned about my terrible relationship and he became a really close friend of mine that I could talk to when things were bad, but he eventually took a bit more of a liking to me and my high school dream came true. I was ecstatic. We started dating and things were going great. He was the first guy I felt 100% comfortable with and I think, he’s probably still the only guy I’ve ever felt 100% comfortable with. But nothing perfect ever stays that way for me. My idiot ex purposely wrecked his truck (yes, purposely) so that I would pay attention to him… and my idiot self ended up back with him, all the while the guy of my freaking dreams remained just that. He didn’t, and still doesn’t, hate me for it. We’re still great friends, but now Never Had a Dream Come True by S Club 7 is more my song for him.

Everybody’s got something they had to leave behind, one regret from yesterday that just seems to grow with time. There’s no use looking back, or wondering how it could be now or might’ve been. Oh, this I know, but still I can’t find ways to let you go. I never had a dream come true 'til the day that I found you. Even though I pretend that I’ve moved on, you’ll always be my baby. I never found the words to say. You’re the one I think about each day and I know no matter where life takes me to, apart of me will always be with you.———————————————————————

Sorry it’s super long. Lol. Also, I don’t listen to a lot of newer music, so excuse the lack of newer songs. 😂

[cacowhistle]

i love you too much

Chapters: 1/5 Fandom: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rich Goranski/Jeremy Heere Characters: Jeremy Heere, Rich Goranski, Jake Dillinger, Michael Mell, Brooke Lohst, Chloe Valentine, Christine Canigula, Jenna Rolan, Ms. Lohst Additional Tags: Hanahaki AU, ye it's hanahaki, SQUSBANDS, thats the ship name, I love it so much Summary:

rich doesn't have a crush.

he doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't.

oh god, yes he does.

read it on ao3

The clock on the wall read 4:31, and Rich was sitting in the auditorium with Jake, Jenna, and Christine, going over lines for this year's show, The Little Mermaid. Rich got to play Flounder, and he was fucking thrilled.

"This is dumb. If she really had a crush on this guy, Ariel would just - fuckin' - ignore her father even more and swim up to the prince whenever he's nearby. Long distance relationship. Make it work. Dedicate yourself to this. Don't go make deals with a shady sea witch who probably killed your mother." Rich had his chin resting on his hand as he read over the lines, eyes half-lidded and the words tumbling out without thought.

"But it's love, Rich! She is dedicated, she's giving up her voice for the prince!" Christine grinned at him from where she sat, perched on the back of the seat rather than in the seat itself, still going over her lines.

"Yeah, but at the very least she could've like, learned sign language or something - or fucking written stuff down ? She knows how to write. She could've written what she wanted to say, she's a dumbass." He flipped the page, eyebrows furrowed.

Jake leaned back in his seat, snorting. "Crushes are dumb anyways."

"Says the guy with a crush on Dustin Kropp," Jenna piped up as she idly flipped through her script, smirking. Christine glanced over at Jake with wide eyes, giggling.

"Oh, shit, Jenna's revealing all sorts of good stuff today. Anything else to report, Jen-Jen?" She leaned forward eagerly, half-focused on the script, half-focused on Jenna. Her knee was bouncing as she turned the page of her script, going over the lines under her breath, head cocked to listen to Jenna.

They all knew that Jenna and Christine were hardcore pining for each other.

"Brooke and Chloe were making out in the girl's bathroom during lunch today. If you were wondering where they were. I had the brilliant luck to walk in as they were doing it." Jenna looked up at Rich and Jake, raising her eyebrows. "Wonder how much longer they're gonna last."

"Knowing Chloe, not long." Jake shut his script, leaning forward again, obviously done with trying to be productive - normal for him. "Although, it is Brooke."

"That's true." Rich flipped the pages of his script back and forth, gaze flicking over the words, but his mind not registering them. "It is Brooke. Chloe's head over heels for her, I'm sure they'll last for a good long while."

He was confident in his words - Brooke had loved Chloe for years, and Chloe had just started to return the sentiment. The two were incredibly happy and seemed to have everything they wanted. They planned to move up to Boston, get an apartment and two cats. They had everything planned out. They'd already started looking for places to move to. In the meantime, Chloe was staying at the Lohst household (well, the Lohst-Goranski household at this point - Rich lived there too, Ms. Lohst knew his dad was shitty and had taken him in almost immediately. She was a goddamn angel in Rich's eyes). They all knew Chloe's parents wouldn't approve of the relationship.

Rich loved Brooke like a little sister, and so naturally he had to threaten Chloe. If she hurt Brooke, Rich would be hunting her down and beating the shit out of her. Of course, he knew Chloe would never try to hurt Brooke on purpose, and that thought calmed him a little. Nobody in the Lohst house would actively try to hurt anybody. It had not been that way in his old house. He was relieved to be out of that shithole. He was loved in the Lohst house. They cared about him - all of his friends actually cared about him. It was nice. It was really, really, really nice.

Rich snapped back to attention at a hand waving in his face, and he snapped at it. Christine jerked her hand back, rolling her eyes. "We were talking to you, dumbass."

He shook his head, blinking away his previous daze. He got lost in his thoughts like that far too often for his liking. "Sorry, sorry. What were you saying?"

"We wanna know who you, " Christine jabbed him in the chest, and he yelped, "have a crush on."

Rich rolled his eyes. "Chris, I don't have a crush on anybody. We've been over this. Several times."

"Liar." Jake didn't even look up, he was flipping through his script again. Rich shot a glare his way.

"You're the one lying," He retorted, rolling his eyes.

As he spoke, his eyes flicked up as Jeremy and Michael walked into the theater, talking. He found himself staring for much too long as Jeremy laughed at something Michael had said. The boy buried his face in his hand, shoulders shaking, eyes bright. Upon realizing that he was, in fact, staring, Rich jerked his gaze away, knowing that he'd probably gone red. He felt like his heart was crawling up his throat as Jeremy and Michael walked over, and he gripped the hem of his tank top with his hands.

Shit, he didn't have a crush on Jeremy, did he? It wouldn't be a bad thing if he did, he just… didn't think he had any crushes at the moment. Shit, maybe he was wrong. He coughed into his hand, the coughs harsh and grating against his throat. He was surprised that it hurt so much. Maybe he was just getting sick, who knew?

He looked down at his hand, his heart stopping at the three smooth, white petals that rested in his palm. He swallowed nervously, tongue darting around his mouth, running over his teeth as if searching for other petals that might've gotten stuck in his mouth. Upon finding none, he hastily shoved the petals into his pocket, trying to pretend that nothing had happened. He was fine, he was sure of it. People had probably randomly coughed up flowers before. He'd eaten flowers on a dare before. He'd done it the other day because Michael had bet him ten dollars he wouldn't do it. They made plenty of bets like that.

Well, Rich "Is That A Goddamn Challenge" Goranski went home with ten dollars that day (and Brooke "My Brother Is A Trainwreck" Lohst judged him for eating those flowers).

He was snapped out of his confused haze by a voice. "Rich? You okay over there? You look like you're gonna get sick." Michael furrowed his eyebrows in concern as Rich hesitated with his response.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He flashed a smile, hoping it was reassuring. I already am sick.

He pushed that thought away.

His confidence practically vanished as Christine spoke up. "Hey, Michael, we're talking about crushes. We want the dirt, who are you into?"

Rich found himself getting nauseous at the mere thought of crushes, and looking at Jeremy just made his head spin. His heart was pounding, the sound in his ears getting louder, and louder, and louder, and eventually it was too much as Jeremy began to answer the question. Rich didn't want to hear it - he didn't, he didn't, he didn't. He kept himself calm on his exterior, but inside he was a disaster. His thoughts were swirling and buzzing, raging like a thunderstorm, panicked and tangled and mixed up. He tried to keep himself steady, not wanting to cause a scene or something.

So. He liked Jeremy. That was a fact. Did he like Jeremy as more than a friend? He still wasn't sure.

At least, he wasn't sure until he looked up at Jeremy again, who was grinning, face flushed red from embarrassment as Michael droned on about something - probably something stupid, not that Rich cared. And Rich felt himself getting lost in those blue-gray eyes, and he cursed himself inwardly. Oh god , he was so fucked, he was so fucked. He was a gay mess right now, that's what he was. He forced himself to look down at the script in his hands. Hoping for a distraction, he tried to focus on the words, focus on something before he got lost in his thoughts (and Jeremy) again. Anything to get his mind off of Jeremy and his budding crush.

"Rich, dude, are you sure you're okay?" It was Jake this time, and the conversation had come to a halt as everyone noticed how strange he was acting.

Rich forced a smile. "Been… sitting for too long. Gettin' kinda restless. I might take a walk to the costume closet and chill for a bit." That was a believable lie, right? And maybe he could find out if Jeremy currently had any crushes or not.

"Sounds good, dude." Jeremy tilted his head. "Want someone to come with you?" He ignored how his heart pounded when Jeremy spoke, at how his hair flopped down over his eyes when he tilted his head like that.

His gaze flicked over the group, and his eyes landed on Jenna. He grinned. "I'll take the Jen-meister with me. If she wants to come, that is."

The girl looked slightly taken aback but shrugged. "Sure, why not. Y'all are wearing out the conversation. We get it, Jake has a crush on Ed Sheeran."

Christine giggled, rolling her eyes (she was so into Jenna). Jake just groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You're all terrible people. I make a joke one time, one fucking time. "

"Say that to the Ed Sheeran poster in your closet. I have pictures." Rich laughed, getting to his feet. "Alright. C'mon, Jen. Racks of shittily organized costumes await."

Jenna stood up as well, leaving her script behind as the two wandered in the direction of the costume closet. Jenna was the first to speak on the way there, although Rich barely heard what she said, and just hummed in response.

"Rich, dude, that's not an answer. Why the hell did you ask me to come along?"

They entered the costume closet, and Rich began to sift through costumes, busying his hands - a distraction, something to keep him occupied so he could keep it together. "Uh, I - what do you know about Jeremy? Like, relationship wise? Who he dated, all that stuff. If he - uh, likes anybody now?"

Jenna looked offended, scowling. "What, you brought me along just to get information out of me? That's shitty, Rich. Just ask him yourself."

Rich felt his chest tighten at the mere thought. "No, no, I'm sorry. It was pretty shitty of me, Jen, but - but it's important. It's really fucking important." He coughed twice into his hand, shoving the slick white petals in his pocket again.

Jenna looked at him with a strange expression for a moment - bordering on concern, curiosity, and nervousness all at once. "Uh - okay." Her face twisted back into a scowl, and she started listing information. "He dated Brooke for two months, Christine for five, and he briefly dated Michael for three weeks. Happy?"

Rich felt his heart race. He liked guys. Thank fuck, he was into guys, praise the goddamn lord he was into guys. "Almost. Is he dating anybody now? Have any crushes?"

Jenna shook her head, and Rich felt almost relieved for a few moments. He could actually do it. He had a slight chance. "Thank you so much, Jen. This - this is really helpful."

She frowned, studying him for a moment. "If you don't mind my asking, why do you care about this?"

Rich hesitated, debating on whether or not he should tell the truth. He opted not to. "Uh. Not really a specific reason. Just… curious."

The girl raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing him. "You're a shit liar, Richard."

Rich forced a smile at his full name, gritting his teeth. "I'm not lying, Jen. I'm just curious."

He didn't like this. He had a crush, yes, and he was okay with that - but something felt off. Something about how tight his chest felt, something about how he could hear the tiniest hint of a wheeze in between each breath he took, something about the coughing and the flowers - it all rubbed him the wrong way, something was just… wrong. And he couldn't figure out what, he couldn't put it together - it was frustrating him.

He shoved a few more petals into his pocket.

[theflashgrant-archive]

Au Fudge → Gustario

Tagged: Grant Gustin & Troian Bellisario @hqtbells Location: Au Fudge, Los Angeles, CA Time Frame: Friday Night, April 28th Notes: Grant and Ali have dinner and spend time with Troian, Phillip and Sophia.

Troian finished buckling up Phillip and Sophia in their car seats, making sure they were locked and secured. "You ready to go see Uncle Grant?" She asked Sophia with a smile, tickling her daughter's stomach to illicit a reaction out of her and her eyes strayed over to where Phillip had his face buried in her iPhone. He liked to make the games on there and if it meant that he didn't spend the whole car ride trying to annoy his sister or demanding she play the Chipmunks on repeat..then Troian could swallow her guilt about appeasing her children with frivolous technology. "Alright, let's go!" She called out and got into the front seat, starting up the car and making the drive over to Au Fudge. It was just easier to drive there separately with the car seats (trying to undo one and then relatch it was a nightmare) and Troian sent a handless text over to Grant that they were on their way. When they arrived, she managed to get her phone back from Phillip and had him hold Sophia's hand as they walked over to where Grant was parked. "Hi guys," she greeted them and immediately outstretched her arms for her daughter. "Hi beautiful," she sang out. "How's my favorite little goddaughter, huh? I missed you, did you miss me?"

Grant had Ali alone this weekend since Danielle was away doing a convention and he was excited to get some one on one time with her. He knew he'd be leaving to film in Costa Rica soon so it would be nice to get this time with her beforehand. After feeding the dogs and making sure they were all set, Grant got Ali situated in her car seat before heading to Au Fudge where he was meeting Troian and the kids. "We're going to see your godmother, sweetheart. And Phillip and Sophia. Are you excited?" He asked, smiling at her as she held onto her puppy. They got to the restaurant and found a spot that ended up being near Troian, getting Ali out of her carseat and carrying her towards the entrance. Smiling as he saw Troian and the kids meeting them there, Grant waved with his free hand. "Hey guys," he said, watching as Phillip ran to wrap his arms around his legs. "Hey buddy," he said, ruffling his hair gently. "Wow, she gets a proper greeting before me? Rude," he said, rolling his eyes playfully. "She might've missed you a little bit, it's still up for debate," he teased.

Troian pressed a kiss against Alison's cheek, breathing in that fresh baby from a shower smell that all little ones seemed to just naturally have and then smiled warmly at her best friend. "Babies always get first dibs on hellos," she teased and then leaned in to give him a friendly peck on the cheek as well. "She definitely missed me! I'm the coolest godmother around, isn't that right?" Picking up Alison's foot and wiggling it, Troian leaned down to hold Sophia on her hip and then took Phillip's hand as he let go of Grant's leg. "You ready to go in? I'm starving, I need food. I've been saving my appetite for this all day." It had been a while since Troian had gone out to eat at a nice restaurant and even though the evening would be spent mostly on making sure their children behaved and didn't cause a mess, Troian was still ready for somebody else to wait on her and cook the food and just relax, catch up with Grant. She held the door open for all of them and then followed everybody in, stepping forward to the maitre'd and giving them her reservation name. "I put it under Gustario," she winked at Grant as they were led to a table in the back.

Grant chuckled and shrugged. "Fine, I'll accept that. Especially since she's so cute," he said, kissing his daughter's cheek. "I'm starving too. I haven't really eaten much all day since I've been filming. Tom keeps me distracted all day long," he smirked. They walked inside and Grant laughed when Troian said she put the reservation under Gustario. "For real? You're a dork," he said, nudging her playfully. He followed the hostess to their table in the back, glad they'd be secluded and not have to worry about anyone noticing them. He got Ali set up in a booster seat and sat down next to her, Troian across from him and the kids on either side of her. Grant took a quick glance at the menu and realized there was a lot of healthy and vegan options which made him smirk. "Now I know why you chose this place," he teased. "So what am I going to like here?" He then asked as he started looking through the menu.

Troian shrugged her shoulders playfully as Grant teased her. She thought it'd be a safer, and much more fun, option than putting it underneath her actual name. She didn't want to be bothered tonight by anybody, she just wanted to focus on catching up with Grant and spending time with their respective children. When they arrived at the table, both parents worked quietly to get their children situated and then Troian was pulling a menu towards her. "I've never been here actually," she replied as he asked her what was good. "I just checked them out online." Troian knew the place was started by Jessica Biel and a lot of Hollywood starlets recommended it, so she had wanted to give it a shot. "But yeah, the vegan choices make it pretty easy to order," she smirked at him. "There's ribs and burgers..shit, truffle fries." Troian's eyes widened. She knew what she wanted already but she might just have to specially order those because they sounded delicious. "I think I'll have the Vegan Caesar with a side of the truffle fries." Closing her menu, Troian glanced up as a waiter came to take their drink orders and she asked for a water, and two sodas for her kids. When the waiter had walked away, Troian folded her hands together and smiled at Grant. "So. Tell me what's new! How's filming going?"

Grant furrowed his brows. "You haven't? I figured you would've found this kind of place by now. Hopefully it's good because then you can come here more often. And maybe I will too, depending on if I like it," he smirked. "I wonder if Danielle has been here before. She usually goes to all the hot spot restaurants in LA when she's here," he said. "I'm probably just going to get a burger. Can't go wrong with that. As long as they don't make it a veggie burger on me," he teased, scrunching his nose in disgust. Grant had brought Ali's food so that he'd be able to feed her while they were out, taking out a jar of it and starting to do that before his own food came. "Not much is new. Tom and Grant is officially done, it was only four days but it was a lot of fun. It's going to be a pretty short film, probably around twenty minutes but it'll still be great," he said. "We've done pretty well with funding too which is always a plus," he said. "And now I'm just gonna chill until I go to Costa Rica which could be any day now. I swear my hiatuses are never actual hiatuses but it's fine," he chuckled while shrugging. "I should have June free and Danielle and I are going to London for a bit I think. What about you? What's new with you?"

Troian shook her head. "I don't really get out much, honestly. I'm not that comfortable in large crowds and unless I'm with friends, I tend to stick close to home. Anxiety." She shot him a wry smile and watched as he fed Alison. It made her chest twinge a bit to remember when her own kids were that small and she reached over to Phillip, smoothing his blonde hair back and scooting her chair back so he could sit on her lap. He'd have to move when the food came but for now, it felt good that he wanted to cling to her. This wouldn't last forever. "If the food is gross, I promise we'll stop somewhere else and eat," she countered back with a chuckle. "I just know there's a treehouse and a play area somewhere around here that I thought the kids would like." Troian waved her hands around, motioning to the general back area where it was. "It's a very cute, kid-friendly place. If they don't get entertainment every five minutes, my kids go a little stir-crazy." She smirked at Grant and then thanked the waiter as he brought over their drinks, taking their food orders next. When he left, Troian turned her attention back to her best friend. "I'm very excited to see Tom and Grant," she smiled at him and then continued playfully. "And I want my prize!" She hadn't even hesitated in donating money, knowing how much it helped when she did her own short with Shay. "Costa Rica is at least a beautiful place to work at," she pulled a sympathetic face at him but then brightened at the mention of London. "Ooh! Seeing Louis and Harry, I presume?" As for what was going on with her..Troian tucked her hair behind her shoulders. "I'm looking for the next big thing, I guess. And spending time with these two." Phillip leaned back against her chest and Sophia was busy banging her silverware around, Troian hastily trying to take it from her. "I swear, my daughter is slowly becoming a mini me and it's not fun. My poor dad."

Grant nodded. "I understand. I don't really go out often either so I hear you," he said. "Homebodies forever," he said, leaning over to hold his fist out for her to pound. "That's cool, we'll bring them there afterwards then," he said while nodding. "That's...pretty normal, I would guess. Ali is getting pretty greedy for attention too. She always wants Danielle and I paying attention to her," he chuckled as he continued giving Ali more of her food. "You'll get your prize soon! I think. I don't know. Tom has basically been in charge of this whole thing so he knows better than I do," he laughed. "It is, I'm excited. It's gonna be fun and I'm glad I get this opportunity. Plus I love the beach so it's perfect," he said. "Danielle has a convention in London so then we're going to spend a week to visit Louis and Harry, yes. And probably Ed too as long as he's around. Which I hope he is," he said. "Well at least you get some more time with the kids while you're figuring out what's next. That's never going to be a bad thing," he added. It was funny to see how different Phillip and Sophia were, Phillip being so calm and Sophia causing trouble. "She really is, I can see it. The world better watch out, I don't know if they can handle another you," he teased.

Troian knocked her knuckles gently against Grant's, chuckling at how dorky of a move it was before she pulled back, the bright smile still on her face. "Well, who can blame her?!" She shook her head, taking in the sight of how sweet and quiet Alison was being as she was fed. "Look at her, she's a little angel." She had the best features of Grant and Danielle combined and Troian was obviously very biased, but she found her to be the cutest little nine month old in the world. "Has she said more than Dada yet? Any Mama's or is Danielle still going insane?" She gave Grant a warm smile, remembering fondly of herself constantly asking Phillip and Sophia to say her name. It took a while but eventually they caught on..and luckily, they never stopped saying it in those sweet voices when she needed to hear it. "Tell Tom if he doesn't give me my goodies, I'm gonna find him." Troian smacked her fist into her palm as threateningly as she could (which wasn't very) and then straightened up as their food came. She passed the plates over to Phillip and Sophia and began to cut up the burgers so they could take small bites at a time. "Oh, that's fun!" She remarked on the mention of Danielle having work there and them seeing their mutual friends. "Say hi to everybody for me. I'm going to have to make some time to go back." When she had the chance to finally eat her own food, Troian relaxed in her chair and began to fork bits of the salad into her mouth. "Yeah," she said after she swallowed. "I love being with them and I'm not complaining. I missed them like crazy when I was away." Rolling her eyes as he commented on how similar Sophia was to Troian, she let out a low groan. "Seriously, her and I are going to go head to head a lot. I can feel it. I'd say wait your turn with Alison but I don't know, I'm getting the vibe she's going to be a good girl like Danielle."

Grant smiled and nodded. "She's always saying Dada, it's still the only word she says so I think Danielle is going a little crazy," he chuckled. "Come on Ali, let's show Troian. Say Dada," he said. "Dada," she said in her cute voice, Grant melting at the sight. "It still gets me every time," he grinned. "I love it," he sighed happily. "I'll be sure to pass the message along, I know many people would back you up on that also," he laughed. Grant started eating his burger when it arrived, smiling as he saw that Phillip and Sophia were having the same. "You're the odd one out, Bells," he teased. "I definitely will. It'll be nice. Usually I don't go to conventions with her but I've been telling Louis I'd try to get to London as soon as I can and this is the perfect time," he said. "Yeah, I bet. Now you get to make up for lost time. And soon enough, your next big thing will come. You're too talented for that to not happen," he told her, sensing she was slightly worried about it. "I would pay to see those kinds of head to head interactions," he smirked. "Definitely. She takes after Danielle a lot, which I love. Even if she's Daddy's girl, she looks more like Danielle and acts like her. It's perfect."

Troian raised her head, her face expectant as she waited for Alison to speak and then a wide smile split across her lips at the sound of Alison speaking for her dad. "Wow!" She clapped her hands. "That's so good, Ali, yaaaay!" It was funny how big of a deal you made everything when they were that little but it was rewarding to see how happy and pleased with themselves they got afterwards. Even Phillip and Sophia were clapping, which tickled Troian. She took another bite of her salad and then gamely went along as Grant teased her. "Yeah, yeah, I'm the boring healthy one," she chuckled and continued spearing pieces of lettuce with her fork along with the quinoa. The burgers looked good too but only if they were veggie, and Troian hadn't seen an option for that. "London's great and why not, right? The convention isn't long, is it? Let Danielle do her thing and then you guys can go off and have a fun family vacation." Reaching over to wipe at Sophia's face, Troian glanced over as Grant commented that she didn't need to worry about finding work. Since she had just wrapped something, it didn't make her panic as much as it had but she knew it'd be a little worry just niggling around in the back of her mind for a while. "Thanks, bub," she told him softly with a small smile and then reached over to steal one of his fries. "Don't worry, I'm sure you will. And that's great." Danielle was obviously woman goals and Troian knew if Alison grew up to be just like her, she'd be perfect. "Maybe Alison will be a good influence on Soph," she joked and looked over at Phillip. "I can see Philly trying but I have a feeling Soph will /always/ be the boss with him. Like her mama," she smirked, winking at Grant.

Grant smiled as Phillip and Sophia started clapping after Ali said 'Dada', finding it to be adorable. "I know, it's amazing how she'll say it when I ask or even just out of the blue. She's stopped calling the dogs Dada though thankfully," he laughed, shaking his head at the thought. "Yeah, the convention is only for the weekend so then we figured staying the week after that to spend time with friends would be the best thing. "Of course, it's just the truth," he told his best friend, smiling at her softly. "Hey! Those are my fries," he said when she stole one from his plate. "Yeah, I'm definitely okay with that. She's so well behaved and has been such a good baby from the start. She barely gave us a hard time even in the beginning and now she's sleeping on practically a normally sleep schedule which is awesome," he said. "It definitely helps when we're filming since our hours always vary," he added. "Maybe, or Soph might try to corrupt Ali in which case I better watch out," he chuckled. "Yeah yeah. You're the boss," he rolled his eyes playfully.

Troian simply smirked as Grant reprimanded her for taking one of his fries and instead, reached over to take one of Phillip's. "Ma/ma/," she teasingly echoed what she already knew he was going to say and made a playful glower right back at him as he pouted at her. Her kids were both so protective over their food and would act as if you had stolen all their toys if you tried to eat from their plate. She munched into the fry and then tried to finish up the rest of her salad, knowing she didn't have much food back at home. She needed to have a grocery run. "Comparing you to Jett. I can see it," Troian teased and nodded as he confirmed what they'd be doing in London. "I hope you guys have a good time. Buy me a present." Was she serious, was she not serious, they just didn't know. Finishing up her meal, Troian wiped her hands and then stretched her hands out to Alison. "Lemme hold this perfect little baby." She unlatched the high chair and picked up Alison, giving a soft coo as she settled her on her lap. "I know you're a little angel but I'm going to need you to start giving your daddy just a /liiittle/ more trouble for your godmama T. Okay? Can we work this out?" Alison simply stared at her though and then Phillip asked to hold her, Troian giving Grant a look. "Do you think he can handle it? I'll turn so that I can hold her too if he gets too fidgety."

Grant chuckled and shook his head. "I probably do have some similarities to Jett though. No shame," he shrugged. "Jett seemed pretty bothered by being called Dada though. Maybe he's not ready for that kind of commitment," he teased. "We'll see, maybe we'll get you a present," he smirked. "Presents!" Phillip yelled and Grant chuckled. "I'll get you a present when I leave the country buddy, don't worry," he said. When Troian gestured to hold Ali once they were done eating, Grant smiled and watched Ali sit there contently and just let Troian hold her. She was being so good and Grant was happy about that, though not surprised at all. Once Phillip asked if he could hold Ali, Grant pursed his lips, wondering if it was a good idea. "Yeah, I'm sure he can. Plus we're both right here. He can give it a shot," he said, knowing Phillip would probably be fine with her. Plus the image would be adorable. Once Phillip was holding Ali, Grant made sure to take a picture, wanting it for himself and so that he could also show Danielle. "Good job buddy. Keep her nice and secure."

Troian nodded once Grant gave his permission for Phillip to hold Alison and gently maneuvering her over so that she was in his lap, Troian kept herself close by - just in case. Sophia was watching all of this curiously, and Troian waited with bated breath for her to get jealous but luckily she kept quiet. "Yeah Philly, just hold her, okay?" Phillip had some experience, though. He had been a big brother to Sophia for two years now and he knew how to be gentle enough that he didn't hurt Alison and strong enough to keep a grip on her so she didn't fall. Watching as Alison tugged at Phillip's hair, Troian laughed at the look on Phillip's face and how his patience eventually broke. "Mama, here," Troian quickly gathered Alison up and then held out her palm. "High five, girlfriend! Always fun to annoy the boys." Alison slapped her hand in delight and Troian laughed again, looking over at Grant and bouncing his daughter lightly on her knee. "Geez, hurry up. We've got a play area to explore," she teased. "You eat so slow!" Everybody was done except for Grant and even Sophia playfully pitched in for her uncle to eat faster.

Grant chuckled once Phillip got tired of holding Ali, giving her back to Troian. "You did good, bud. You're a great big boy. Are you gonna look after Ali for me as you guys grow up?" He asked, smiling when Phillip nodded. Realizing he was the only one who wasn't done eating, Grant scoffed. "I've been a little busy! Had to feed my daughter and got distracted by you guys. This isn't all my fault here," he said, smirking as Sophia started to speed up the process. Eventually he had finished and Grant paid the bill, making his way out of the restaurant with Ali in his arms, following Troian and the kids. Once he spotted the playground area Troian was talking about, he saw Phillip running over to it and Sophia trying to catch up to him. "If only Ali could walk, she'd probably be joining them," he chuckled, keeping her close. Ali rested her head on his shoulder now and Grant kissed the top of her head gently.

Troian ,along with the kids, continued to playfully egg on Grant as he hurried to finish up his meal. Since he was paying the bill, Troian thought it only fair to leave a decent tip behind, and she gathered up her purse to follow him in the lead to where the play area was. "Alright. Go crazy. Be careful!" She called out after Phillip, who had already tugged off his shoes and began running. "Hold sissy's hand!" Her eyes narrowed as she made sure he was listening to her, Troian was satisfied to see he did and then sat down at a small table with Grant and Alison. "Trust me, she'll be walking before you know it," she smiled at him and then directed her smile towards Alison, pleased when she got one in response. Baby smiles were enough to melt even the coldest of hearts and Alison's was no exception. "I want more," she suddenly announced, her brown eyes bright as she took in how young Alison was and how everything was still so exciting. "I want more babies, bub. I want Philly and Soph to have more siblings and have a big family." She let out a wistful sigh and stared at her two kids playing, Phillip climbing up the slide and Sophia sitting down on the ground and grabbing blocks to stack.

Grant nodded as Troian spoke. "Oh I know. I mean she's almost a year old. Three months away. It's crazy. She's growing so fast," he said to his best friend. He knew she knew that feeling well since she experienced it with two kids already but it still felt so surreal to him. He smiled as he watched Phillip and Sophia playing while he had Ali in his lap now who was quiet and content, holding her stuffed animal puppy. When Troian said she wanted more babies, Grant was a little surprised at the sudden statement. "You do?" He asked her, pursing his lips. Troian wasn't with anyone currently but that didn't mean it wouldn't happen in the future. "You'll get that. You're gonna find someone and have a family with them. As much as I tease you for being old, you are still young mother wise so you have time. If you want to have more kids, I think it'll happen at some point," he told her.

Troian chuckled softly. "I feel like I have very few years left," she confessed. "And honestly? I'm not sure I'm gonna get that white picket fence, ring on my finger lifestyle." She wasn't trying to set herself up for a pep talk but that was just the way the world worked. Some people /had/ it, some people just didn't. There needed to be checks and balances in the world. "I think too much has happened for me to see myself in any future except the one I'm in right now, with my kids." She shrugged her shoulder. "Maybe they'll be my best love stories and that'll be it." It had surprised her too that she had blurted out to him her wistful baby fever and Troian swallowed anything else she wanted to get off her chest, knowing he was probably uncomfortable with listening to it all. There were just some things you had to keep to yourself. "But that's okay!" She patted his hand, giving him a bright smile and then looking at her kids once more. "I'm really lucky to have what I have right now and I know that." Standing up as Phillip called out to her, Troian turned back towards Grant. "Come put Ali in a swing and let's see how high we can push Philly. I might even let you buy him a treat before we leave." She winked at him before turning around and making her way over to her son and daughter.

Grant listened as Troian explained what she thought her future looked like. Obviously no one knew better than she did, or maybe that's just how she felt and how things looked right now. Anything could happen or change in an instant but Grant realized she was talking this out for her own benefit and he was going to let her do that. "As long as you're okay with that. But it kind of sounds like you're trying to convince me and yourself of that," he told her. Grant could always see right through Troian and when she was lying or trying to convince herself of something. "I just truly want you to be happy, Bells. Whether you end up alone with two kids or having five more with someone else. You deserve to be happy. And anything can happen in the future, it's not set in stone. It may look a certain way right now but things can totally change. I mean you witnessed it happen with me," he shrugged. He stood up and followed Troian to the swings, putting Ali in one and smiling at her smile. He took a picture of it so he could send it to Danielle before pushing Phillip who kept saying 'higher'. "Oh you know I'm going to get him something, with your permission or not," he teased.

Troian mulled over what Grant said and just gave him a small smile, acknowledging that she had heard him and that she was taking what he said to heart. It didn't need to be discussed, though. This was their opportunity to catch up and have fun with each other and the kids, not be sad and reflective. Since Grant had control of both Alison and Phillip, Troian focused solely on pushing Sophia who kept squealing every time she went up a little higher. "If he goes any higher, Philly, you're gonna fly!" Troian told her son, laughing as this now prompted him to yell out that he wanted to fly. Shaking her head, Troian smiled at Grant and then the two of them continously alternated turns, pushing different kids and listening to their happy noises as they just enjoyed being little. After a few minutes though, Troian rolled back her shoulders. "Dessert time? My arms are getting tired."

Grant laughed as he continued to push Phillip harder so that he would go higher. He kept Ali in the swing, not wanting to push her yet in case she didn't like it. Troian was doing the same with Sophia but not pushing her nearly as high as he was pushing Phillip. Eventually Troian started to say that her arms were getting tired and Grant laughed. "Fine, fine. Sorry Philly, time to go. But we're going to get a bunch of sugar in you, okay?" He said, Phillip clapping excitedly at that. They had found a little place near by that sold all sorts of things cotton candy, chocolate and assorted candy and when Phillip pointed at the blue cotton candy, Grant wasted no time getting him some. "You're gonna eat all of this?" Grant asked and Phillip nodded. Once Phillip had it in his hand, Grant had to take a picture since he looked adorable eating it.

Troian tugged on the swing chain so that it eventually stilled and holding out her arms, pulled Sophia out and rested her on the ground. She wasn't kidding - she worked out as much as possible but her arms felt like she had been pumping iron for /hours/. Child raising was a workout routine in itself. She held onto Sophia's hand and playfully glared at Grant as he told her son he was getting a sweet treat, even if she had basically approved of it earlier. It was just something they always did when getting together and Troian knew that it was Grant's special thing with Phillip. She wasn't going to step in and ruin that. Following them over to a candy stand, Troian pushed back Sophia's hair and shook her head as the blue cotton candy was purchased. Of course. After Grant had taken the photo, Troian bent down to steal a portion of it and her fingers sticky already, she let Sophia have some and then she finished off the rest, enjoying the way it instantly dissolved on her tongue. "He's going to be so hyper," she sighed but there was no actual irritation in her tone. Just resigned amusement. "You wanna start heading back? Maybe he'll get all his energy out by walking.." A mother could dream.

Grant held Ali in his arms as he watched Phillip start to devour the cotton candy. Troian took some for herself and for Sophia and Grant was tempted to let Ali try it but she didn't seem interested, resting her head on his shoulder and close to falling asleep. "Of course he's going to be so hyper, that's always the point," he teased after posting the picture of Phillip on Instagram. "We can start heading back, yeah. I bet he'll be done with it by the time we're back in the parking lot. Look how hardcore he's going," he said, chuckling while shaking his head. Grant didn't regret it one bit and obviously if Troian really didn't like it, he wouldn't have done it but he had a feeling Troian knew this was just their thing. When they got back to the lot, Phillip was nearly done with his cotton candy and Ali was now sleeping on his shoulder so he knew it was time to part ways. "I'm glad I got to see you guys and spend time with you. I'll let you know again once I'm back in LA. Not sure when I'm headed to Costa Rica yet but maybe I can see you once more before then, depending," he said, wrapping one arm around Troian to hug her while still holding his daughter.

Troian continued to try and help Phillip eat the cotton candy, not wanting him to get a stomach ache, but he seemed determined to be a big boy and finish it on his own. Glancing over at Alison who had fallen asleep, Troian smiled. She was disappointed the little girl wouldn't be able to give her a kiss goodbye but the whole evening had probably tired her out. It tired /Troian/ out. When they stopped at Grant's car first, Troian leaned in to press a kiss against Alison's cheek and then returned Grant's hug, giving him a friendly little peck on the cheek as well. "It was fun, thank you for paying," she smiled at him. One of these days, she was going to reach her wallet before Grant did on their meals out. One of these days. Pulling back, she watched as Phillip hugged Grant's leg and then leaned Sophia forward to air brush Grant's cheek, not wanting to disturb Alison before she nodded at what he was saying. "Definitely. I want to come over and check out your crib," she grinned at him. "Drive safe!"