#everyone say thank you ‘derry girls’ for not only being one of the best tv shows ever but for giving me this song

[gothsuguru]

toji fushiguro is OFFICIALLY a real human being in my suguverse now 💯

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Birthday

Summary: could you do a hs losers x reader where the readers new to town and hates her bday bc each year her past friends and family had always forgotten or did nothing so when richie finds out her bdays coming up he tells the losers and they all plan a special surprise party and richie saves up and gets her something super special and the losers r all like wow he’s never gotten anyone anything like this b4 so she finds out that he likes her or something so it’s like the best bday she’s ever had

Richie bikes swiftly passed you, faster than he usually does, which can only mean he’s trying to surpass you. You barely refrain from flipping him the bird in public, as you too throw your weight into peddling. It’s no use, Richie is more athletic than you by a long shot, and he’s been practicing with Eddie for track. You’ll never be able to catch up with him with no viable effort.

‘You asshole,’ you yell out to him, noticing an elder woman pledging through her yard too late to stop your exclamation. She regards the both of you with malcontent, stabbing her hark too brutally in the soil of her allotment for it to be a coincidence.

‘Not my fault your short legs can’t reach the peddles.’

You growl, lifting up from your saddle to race faster, but Richie sees you do it and does nothing but laugh.

Any other time you might give him hell for it, but today, you are in no mood to indulge in Richie’s escapades.

It’s your birthday, and while for most that equalizes a fun day stacked with presents and cake, to you it stands for a day full of misery.

Your birthday is cursed. And no, that is not you being dramatic. At your ninth birthday, your cake got slammed into floor, therefor ruing the gift your parents had been working on for weeks, and which was their only present.

At age ten, you fell off your brand new bike into a ravine and had to go to the hospital to get eleven stitches. On your fourteenth birthday, you and your parents got into such a huge fight they send you up to your room and forbad you from sneaking down at any point in the day.

There are more examples to back up your claim for the terrible birthdays, but you have tried to desperately block them all out, so you won’t rehash them.

That’s why your so peeved that Richie is forcing you to the quarry.

‘If you could tell me where I’m supposed to be going to bet u could find a short cut and be there faster than you.’

‘Nice try Dora, I’m not telling you anything. It’s a surprise.’

‘Alright, I get two attempts. If I can’t guess where we’re going, I’ll do your homework for a week.’

‘And if you do guess it?’

‘Then you owe me a favor and no matter for what reason I cash it in, you don’t get to complain.’

‘Fine, bring it miss know it all.’ Richie slows down to slide next to you, the wind picking up as the two of you descend down the mountain. His smile is mischievous and cheeky, probably too confident to think you’ll be able to reckon the spot he has in mind.

If only he knew that you had limited the possibilities to two places, the exact amount of guess you were granted.

‘Hm, are we going to the arcade?’ Your first theory is. Richie doesn’t have anything on him right now, except pennies that have been rinkeling inside his pockets the entire bike ride, the only thing he needs to go to the arcade.

Richie smirks, and shakes his head. ‘Try one my dear, may I say that the odds aren’t in your favor right now?’

His impressive ego in the way he taunts you with the right answer fuels your desire to be right. ‘Are we going to the Barrens?’ You sing, smiling wide as Richie’s shrinks.

‘Eh, no?’ He says, but he sounds petulant. ‘Fuck this shit, what gave it away?’

‘A girl never reveals her secrets’, you say covertly, forgetting momentarily about the agitating day. You suspect that might have been Richie’s intention.

It’s not like the Barrens is such a stretch in the first place, the losers and you have made that place your own, but you do hypothesize that he may have planned something special for you.

Your theory turns out to be true, as you can spot a long table at the end of the dirt path you and Richie are currently riding on to get to the clubhouse. The table is stacked with a variety of candies, your favorite, drinks that are sweet enough to rot your teeth, something Richie should be more aware off - having a dad who is a dentist-, and a giant cake with eight candles on. Each one representing a loser.

You say nothing as you approach, in a sneaky way torturing Richie a bit more before revealing that you’re at the verge of tears of this nice gesture. Richie slows down his speed by dragging his shoes along the dirt, glances darting nervously towards your face.

‘I know you said no parties, but how else was I supposed to show off my rocking dance moves?’

‘Do you mean the moves you make that look like you’re dying?’ Stan chides, him and the rest of the losers rolling up behind you two. They’re all walking next to their bikes, and Bill’s hands are smudges with cake residue he somehow missed while cleaning up. They didn’t want to be here before you and ruin the ‘surprise’, but it’s clear everyone has worked hard to organize this for you.

‘Fuck you Stan the man, the color green doesn’t fit you.’

‘Happy’, Bev grounds out, leveling Richie with one look, the way only Bev can, and then address you. ‘Birthday.’ She hugs you despite you still holding your bike, and you let it clatter to the ground with a loud bang.

‘Thanks Bev.’

‘Happy Birthday’, the other losers also call out, because there’s just too many of them for each to wait their turn.

‘We hope you don’t mind we don’t have any presents, we spend basically all of it getting ingredients for the cake, which we had to redo- twice.’

They don’t offer any other explanation about why the cake had to be remade two times, but by Eddie’s scowl you can fill in the blanks.

‘No, honestly, this is already too much.’ It is too much, but their efforts are so kind and heartwarming that you have to bit back a happy squall. No one has ever bothered to organize anything for your birthday, whether it be purchasing a two dollar present or even ordering a cake, but these people that you had met less then a year ago were willing to scramble together all the money they could, just so they could turn your day special. Thank god for moving to Derry.

For the first time in years, your birthday has brought smiles and laughter, and no tears and weeping moods.

‘Nonsense my dearest young lady, this is but a blip on our radar, a speck of dust on the tv, nothing compared too-‘

‘Can we please cut the cake now? Before something else goes wrong with it?’ Eddie glowers, refuting to wait for an affirmative.

‘Don’t forget the candles,’ Ben says as he follows Eddie to the table. You��re about to join them, when a hand on your wrists stops you.

‘Hey, Y/N? You really don’t mind this right? I know you said you didn’t want anything but I know how nice it is be caught off guard with something like this.’ Richie rubs the back of his head as if that makes him see any less anxious. It’s incredible how smart someone can be while simultaneously also being so dense.

‘Richie’, you say as you smile, unable to hide it any longer. ‘It’s amazing, thank you so much. If there is any way I can repay you I’ll do that. I’m really happy with this.’

‘That’s good, not that I was worried about it, who isn’t a fan of everything I do?’

Rolling your eyes only spurs Richie on, but it’s become an automatic response now, you can’t help but do it.

‘Oh, I almost forgot. I did get you another gift. Two actually, if you count my huge dong as one.’

‘Gross Richie, why do you always have to add something sexual to everything?’

‘It’s my game babe, love it or leave it. Anyway, here is the gift if you want it. If you don’t that’s fine too.’

‘Don’t get all shy on me now Rich’, you tease as your bump your arm into his while grabbing the package. ‘I’ve just gotten used to your antics.’

The package isn’t heavy, but it also isn’t light. It’s wrapped in enough layer that you can’t feel what’s inside of it just by holding it, but that was probably Richie’s intention. That or he is simply horrible at wrapping up.

While you carefully peel off each layer, you begin to speculate on what it could be. It could be a gag gift, but Richie looked sincere, and his eyes behind his glasses are magnified in true anticipation, a gag gift wouldn’t illicit that response.

As soon as the final layer is detached, you gasp, armored by the actual gift. It’s a blue bracelet, covered in butterfly pattering. You once mentioned having a similar one as a kid that you loved but lost one day while playing outside and had been sad about for weeks.

You can’t believe Richie had kept it in his mind, and had gone out to look for it.

‘Richie… I don’t even know what to say right now.’ You exclaim, squeezing the bracelet in your hand tightly, a blush covering your face. Richie’s mimics yours. ‘Thank you’, you say while reaching out to him and kissing him on the cheek. Richie face burns a brighter red.

‘Yeah… glad to be of service.’ His mind is ball parks away, and he is left dazed.

‘Come on Y/N, it’s time for you to blow out the candles.’

You go easily, letting your hand linger around Richie’s, deciding mentally that you’ll do it tonight before you go home. Your birthday has already been better than anything you could have imagined, and maybe it has one more miracle left to give. If Richie says yes to your question about going on a date, then this will truly have been the best birthday you have every had. By the love struck expression Richie is walking around with, you have an inkling as to what his response might be.

You blow out your candles, but you don’t need to make a wish. You already have everything you could possibly want.

----

‘Off course that asshole buys her a gift, but never returns the money I loaned him so long ago. I’m not a fucking bank.’

‘I think it’s cute.’

‘No, Eddie is right, I’m also waiting on my refund.’

‘It’s adorable he bought her something, he really can’t hide his crush anymore.’

[i-eat-bread-and-cry-on-the-floor]

y i k e s

@it-fandom-exchange 

Here’s my fic for the IT fandom exchange! This is for Julian, aka @sigmatauris. enjoy!! 

Stenbrough :) 

TW: Mention of suicide attempt 

Stanley pushed a mixtape that Richie made for him into his car stereo. The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert plays softly on the winding road to Ben Hanscom’s house for a Losers Club sleepover. The fiery sun rolls down the sky, painting a trail of pink on a pastel blue blanket. Barely-visible stars blink, sprinkles across the yellow sky. Stanley unrolled his window to hear the chirping crickets that no one else in all of Derry slowed down to listen to. 

At a stoplight, Stanley took a package of mint gum from the car’s cup holder. He unwrapped the flimsy strip of candy and folded it onto his tongue. Stanley checked his rear view mirror, keeping an eye on the full moon as it approached him. He was a good driver. He picked up the skill the day he got behind the wheel. He kept a rigid posture, hyper-aware every time a green light would flick on, gripping the wheel with both hands. 

On the other hand, Stan Uris’s best friend, Richie Tozier, was the exact opposite. Stan always made fun of him before they turned fifteen. (“I’m terrified to see you behind the wheel, Trashmouth, there’s gonna be a lot of lives lost!”) He’d joke. The two loved to joke. Richie and Stanley shot rebuttal after rebuttal, teasing each other whenever possible. In their teenage years of mood swings and raging testosterone, the reckless kids loved poking fun at one another. Their shield of an ego would protect them from such “love-filled” words. Stanley’s ego though, slowly crumbled, and his confidence too. He had to build a shield—a wall—out of something else. 

The Miranda Lambert song ended as Vienna by Billy Joel began. A smirk appeared on the lone driver’s face as the opening piano blinked through the speaker. 

“Slow down you crazy child. You’re so ambitious for a juvenile…” He hummed, moving his head to the rhythm. Not quite bopping or swaying, but a healthy middle ground, “Why are you still so afraid? Hmm…” 

Stanley let the crinkling piano and gentle vocals set around him as he subconsciously drove slower, reaching the Hanscoms’ neighborhood. He twisted the steering wheel, to prolong his drive. Stanley hated to stop in the middle of a song. Especially such a masterpiece as Vienna. His tires grazed the road until the song finished. He found his way to Ben’s house, nearing the song’s end. The same crinkling piano that opened the melody also closed it, prompting Stan to turn off the engine.

He noticed Barn Boy Mike Hanlon’s truck, similar to Richie’s pick-up in the driveway. He thought about Mike. He never understood the boy. Stan couldn’t resist rolling his eyes or making some passive aggressive comments sometimes, but Mike kept silent for minutes and more at a time. He reclined in the comfort of seeing his friends smile or share banter. Mike would blush under his dark skin at the sound of their laughter. Sometimes, Stan thought Mike Hanlon knew more about any of the Losers than the rest of them did. Other times, he prayed he didn’t. 

Stanley saw Beverly Marsh’s beat-up wagon of a car too. He got out of his car and went to examine the rusty thing. Beverly drove well. Her reflexes never failed her; she knew the moves of every driver around her; and she had the second most driving experience of the group, (first being Bill.) The thing was that she inherited the car from her dad after he stopped driving. The alcoholic got his license confiscated and left his car to Daddy’s Little Girl. Stanley bent to see a broken windshield wiper and examine the chipped paint. 

He assumed Eddie may already have arrived since the boy hated driving and lived within walking distance of Ben’s anyway. He finally decided to find out, hoping from Beverely’s car to the steps up to Ben’s front door. He knocked three times and stepped back, flexing up and down on his toes. Excitement ran through his veins whenever the Losers were about to meet up. 

“Hey!” Ben’s bright grin lifted his cheekbones. Ben was a chubby kid, but way more handsome than most of the fit kids at school. His hair always fell into the perfect place unlike anyone in the Bowers Gang. His eyes shone with gratitude. He looked like someone who should be in a toothpaste commercial, where at the end a little sparkle effect was added to his smile. 

“Ben, hey!” Stanley smiled back at his friend. Richie and Beverly both called Ben Hanscom “Ben Handsome” at some point behind his back. Beverly always loved plays on words. Ben once wrote Beverly a sloppy haiku entitled “January Embers.” Richie was the first person Beverly told about her crush on the golden-hearted boy, over a few cigarettes, a good month after the one-hit-wonder wrote: 

Your hair is winter fire 

January Embers 

My Heart burns there too

Their stuttering friend, Bill Denbrough, loved words as well. He wrote a lot in journals no one dared to read. Pencils don’t stutter, so when he wasn’t around the Losers, he built pages upon pages of expression. Bill had it bad for Beverly, but Ben Handsome got the girl first. Stan hated himself for being glad about it. 

Stan peaked inside, hearing a movie, some arguing, and bubbly laughter. 

“Come on in!” Ben pulled him inside. We’re watching Back to The Future. Kind of…” he trailed off, leading him to the living room. 

“All I’m saying is,” Eddie stubbornly argued, with sharp hand gestures to prove his point, “You can’t not have a backstory for a friendship! How the hell did Marty McFly and this stupid scientist guy meet? They clearly didn’t meet at school! Doc isn’t Marty’s dad or grandfather! You can’t just give us nothing!” Eddie stuck to his strict opinions on things.

“Eddie, it’s just a movie!” Beverly chuckled, crunching down on some popcorn. “Calm down.” 

Mike rolled his eyes with the widest grin on his face. As the rest of the Losers Club barely tolerated Eddie’s hard opinions, Mike enjoyed the supervised chaos. 

“That’s what I’m saying! It’s a shit movie!” Eddie leaned back on a dark blue pillow, against a white couch. 

“Woah, woah, we don’t talk shit about Back to The Future!” Stanley spoke up as he entered the living room. Ben smiled. 

“Maybe you don’t,” he shrugged, “I think the movie is trash!” he complained. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Beverly snatched the remote from the table and turned the TV off, earning three groans and one silent ‘thank you’ from her friends, “Who wants to play truth or dare?” Those groans were replaced with cheers. 

“Are we gonna wait for Richie and B-B-Bill?” Stan mocked Bill Denbrough’s stutter. He was only allowed to do so because they’ve been best friends since practically birth. He fumbled with the sleeve of his hoodie, sitting next to Eddie Kaspbrak. His lanky frame reclined against the leather piece of furniture. 

“I guess,” Ben shrugged, “I’ll download a truth or dare app in the meantime.” 

“We’re using an app?” Stanley laughed. 

Eddie jumped at his opportunity to insult his friend, “Well, you couldn’t use your brain. We all know the saying ‘can’t use what you don’t have.’” 

“That was a trash comeback,” Stan commented, fumbling with his Star of David necklace. He admired Eddie’s unwillingness to not chime in. 

“You’re a trash comeback!” the boy crossed his arms with raised eyebrows. 

Stanley furrowed his eyebrows, “What?” 

“FBI, open up!” Richie boomed, kicking at the door.

“We brought s-s-snacks!” Bill’s soft normal-pitched, stuttering voice chimed in. 

Ben marched to the door to welcome the conclusion of the group inside, “Hi!” Ben made way for the two, brushing his blond bangs from his eyes. 

“What’s up, Losers?” Richie stepped inside, pacing to the usual meeting spot; Ben’s living room. He dropped a shopping bag of snacks near the couch as the Losers crowded around it like starved wolves in a pack. Really, that’s what they were; a pack. 

“We were just about to play some truth or dare,” Mike informed, “For recap, Eddie’s been bashing on every little detail of Back to The Future and Stanley is a trash comeback.” 

“That doesn’t even make sense.” Stanley scoffed. 

“He’s also in love with Bill,” Mike added, making Stanley’s eyes go wide. “What are your sources? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?” This was one of those moments he severely hoped Mike didn’t know Stanley more than he knew himself. Truly, Stan didn’t know himself at all. He lost it somewhere in his mind and figured he may find it later. Perhaps, like an innovator digging through a dumpster, trying to find parts and pieces, he’d create something; bring it to life one day. 

“You’re the Jewish one,” Richie poked Stanley’s shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, mad intelligent?” 

“Just mad.” Stan rolled his eyes. 

The one thing he knew for sure about himself was that he had his secret which was the fact that Mr. Uris had no interest in women. He liked Bill as more than a friend since they were fourteen years old. The Losers were sixteen and seventeen now and he couldn’t kill the butterflies in his stomach when Stuttering Bill’s lips curled into a smile. 

“The app’s downloaded if you guys are ready to play,” Ben held up his phone, showcasing the title screen of the application. 

“I’m ready!” Beverly excitedly raised her hand. 

“Me t-too,” Bill’s gentle voice followed Bev’s sharp one. The rest of the group ad-libbed ‘yes’s and ‘ready’s. 

Ben has a very nice house. Marble floors matching the marble island in his kitchen, a nice white couch with navy pillows to go with the white walls, accented with dark blue trim. He had a wood-and-glass coffee table too, separating the couch and the TV. It was comfy. 

Ben shooed everyone into the office, closed away from the living room with white french doors. There was a desk in the back of the room and shelves with books and comics and journals, displayed along the walls. The well-lit room had a shaggy carpet on top of the cold floor.

The Losers gradually made their way into a circle. Counter-clockwise, starting by the back of the room was Ben, then Beverly, then Eddie, then Richie, then Stan, then Bill, then Mike, then back to Ben. 

“Alright,” Ben started, looking at Beverly, “Miss Marsh, Truth or Dare?” 

“Dare!” her eyes glowed. The brave girl, far more chivalrous than any of the “men” in the room, loved adventures and thrills. Stanley insisted they call him a ‘man’ because of his bar mitzvah that barely happened. Bill and Mike were the real men of the house, but they both tied with Beverly even at that. The ‘dare’ part of truth or dare was a piece of cake.

Ben clicked the ‘dare’ button, “I dare you to put ice cubes down your shirt and leave them there until they melt,” he read with an amused expression. 

“Son of a bitch,” Beverly heaved herself up, the key on her necklace jingling. She opened the door, “How many should I get?” 

“Just grab a cup and we’ll see what happens,” Ben answered, offering a smile toward her, picking at the fabric of his hoodie. Beverly nodded and went off. 

“A whole cup?” Eddie’s eyes went wide. 

“Yes sir,” Ben nodded. Ben was not at all the evil type, even in truth or dare. The Losers dubbed him the ‘sweetheart.’ As long as everyone was safe and comfortable though, he enjoyed a bit of excitement, just like Mike did. Mike supervised all the shenanigans the group got into. Unlike him, Ben had no control over what happened. He liked to dip his toes into the pool of chaos nonetheless. 

Beverly arrived back, a full cup, shaking with ice cubes. She smiled and held one of the frozen squares to showcase it for the group, “There’s at least fifteen in here.” 

The Losers waited in anticipation and Beverly sighed. Her overalls would certainly keep the cubes in place. She slid the ice down the back of her shirt with a wince, “One.” 

She counted out the rest, managing to keep her breathing steady as the sharp temperature nipped at her back. 

“N-No one a-asked you to do a-a-all sixteen,” Bill reminded, an amused grin on his face. 

“That was the dare!” She shivered. 

“Actually,” Ben took a sharp inhale and showed the phone screen, “It never specified how many. It said ‘ice cubes’ in the plural, but could have just been referring to two.” This was a time that Beverly was not so much a fan of words. 

The red-headed Beverly deadpanned Bill and flipped him off. She had gorgeous red hair that used to hug her neck, but after cutting it short, it curled into the air around her as a pixie style. The only similarity was the color which matched the freckles sprinkled about her face and arms. 

“Why b-be mad at me? B-B-Ben’s the one who m-mmm-made you get a full cuh-cup!” Bill giggled, playing as if he were ‘oh, so offended.’ 

“I’m in so much discomfort,” she squirmed as she sat down, the ice numbing her lower back, “Okay, Eddie, truth or dare?” Ben passed on the phone after hitting ‘dare complete.’ Beverly earned one point for her troubles. 

“Truth,” he answered. 

“Pussy!” Richie taunted, “Just kidding, I love you, you fucking pussy-ass-coward.” Eddie huffed and looked to Beverly who now had Ben’s phone. 

“Who, out of the people in this room, is your least favorite?” she read with a smirk and curious eyes. 

“Richie,” he answered without a hesitation, making a grab for the phone. 

“Bitch, please, we all know you guys are gay for each other,” Stan called, receiving an exasperated blush from Eddie and a cackle from Richie. 

“That’s not true! I fucking hate him and his stupid face!” Eddie covered. 

Beverly kept the phone hostage, “I’ve got a better truth: Who do you have a crush on Eddie?” her direct eye contact intimidated the asthmatic. 

“I already answered a question!” he made another attempt for the phone, “That’s how the game works, you get one truth per turn!” 

“Nah-ah!” She pointed, “Come on…” 

“Richie’s, like, worse than Stan!” Eddie defended himself, “I wouldn’t date him if my life depended on it.” 

Ouch. Stanley thought, but found comfort in being on a higher ranking than Tozier. 

“Oh come on, I’m not so terrible!” Richie reasoned. “Are you saying you’d rather date Stan the Man Uris than this?” he posed, puckering his lips. 

“Gross, Rich.” Eddie’s nose turned up in disgust. “I’m not dating either of you.” he crossed his arms.

“Beep, beep, b-b-both of y-yyy-you.” Bill brushed his shoulder against Stanley. Something about it seemed non-accidental. 

“Richie, Truth or Dare?” Eddie turned to him. 

“I’m not on speaking terms with you,” Richie crossed his arms. 

“Oh, come on, I was kidding!” he admired Richie’s attempt to not burst into giggles. Eddie sighed and kissed Richie’s cheek, whispering a ‘no homo’ which received a wolf-whistle from Mike. “Truth or dare, you stupid bitch.” He took out a bottle of hand sanitizer from his fanny pack and applied it like a chapstick. 

“Dare,” the flustered and confused boy stated. 

Eddie took a second to click on the ‘dare’ button and read the task, “Ew, this one’s gross, I’m not reading it.” 

“What?” Richie whined. “I bet it’s fine!” he strived to take the phone. 

“You’re not licking the fucking floor, Richie.” Eddie snatched the phone away from Richie’s reach.

“Gross!” Beverly made vomiting noises. “Was that the dare?” she asked, earning a wrinkled nose and a nod from Eddie.

“Um?” Bill’s eyebrows furrowed, “Is n-no one paying at-t-tention to that k-kiss?”

“Just let ‘em do their thing,” Stan looked at Bill, wishing he could do the same to the blue-eyed boy. He’d imagined kissing Bill. He’d imagined holding his hand, cuddling, going on dates, pursuing a relationship, dancing, anything.  

“I f-fucking knew it!” Bill celebrated. Stanley couldn’t help but blush at the gleam in his crush’s eyes.

“It’s okay, guys, he said ‘no homo,’” Richie put his hands up in innocence. He thought for a second about the dare. “I’ll lick the floor though.” he shrugged.

“I can’t believe I’d rather watch you--” Eddie read off a new dare, “--Twerking for 60 seconds to a song of the group’s choosing.” 

“Please for the love of God do Please Don’t Go Girl!” Ben cackled, having the song stuck in his head all day.

“No!” Bev whined, “Babe, that’s our song! I don’t want to be dancing with you one night and end up thinking of Richie’s ass.” 

Stanley could only be jealous. Not because he wanted to dance with Beverly or Ben, but because he wanted someone to dance with. He looked over at his crush, envisioning Bill’s hands on Stanley’s hips and Stanley’s on Bill’s shoulders. 

“You’re right, you’re very right.” Ben nodded. “I vote You Got It then.” 

“Ben, no one wants to twerk to your New Kids in The Block trash.” Richie urged, pushing his glasses higher onto his nose. 

Ben pouted, whispering a correction, “It’s On The Block. Not In.”

“Whatever.” Richie said. “Can I please do Crazy Frog?” 

“Why don’t we pick something nice like Frank Sinatra?” Mike suggested ignoring Richie’s proposal. 

“Crazy Frog it is!” Eddie decided, cueing up music on his own phone. 

Beverly bopped her head, trying to hype Eddie into doing the same next to her. He just laughed along with her refusing to dance. Mike made another wolf-whistle as Richie twerked--poorly. Bill pretended to slide dollar bills off his hands at Richie. “Yeah! That’s my be-be-best f-friend!” He cheered.

Stanley admired how Bill encouraged him, even while doing a terrible job. He wouldn’t dare to be brave like Richie, but he hoped that if he was, Bill would be just as proud. Maybe even wear the same goofy smile. 

At the one minute mark, Eddie paused the music. “Who else is mentally scarred from that?” Five loser-hands all shot into the air. 

“Fuck you, fuck all of you.” Richie sat as the crowd booed him offstage. He failed to refrain from laughing. “Stanley, your turn.” he nudged him once Eddie handed him the phone. “Truth or dare?” 

He glanced in Bill’s direction, but decided not to fully look at Bill. “Dare.” he swallowed. 

“Ooh, unexpected!” Beverly grinned, spinning around to lay on her stomach. She put her elbows on the floor and her chin in her hands to observe. 

“Oh-ho-ho, you ain’t gonna believe this one, laddie!” Richie plastered an Australian, maybe slightly pirate-ish accent. “Feast yer eyes!” he shoved the screen in Stanley’s face causing the boy to squint and retract his head.

“Could you maybe like…” he brought the phone to a distance he could see. “What’s it s-ss-say?” Bill asked him. 

“Let the group go through your phone, sixty seconds each.” Stanley recited the line. “Easy, I guess, yeah.” he nodded. Off the top of his head, he couldn’t think of any embarrassing text messages or photos. Stanley was a clean kid. “Did you wanna go first?” he handed it off to Richie, “We can just go clockwise?” 

“You got it, chap!” Richie took the phone, “Which one of ye rascals’ll set up a time ticker for the gang?” he looked up. 

Mike pulled out his phone and went to the timer app, “I've got it. One minute is on the clock… and…” He glanced up to each member of the group. Everyone leaned forward in anticipation, “Go!” he initiated. 

“I’m going to the messages!” Richie declared and scrolled. The room erupted in instructions and suggestions, “Let’s see what Stanley is talking about with his dad…” Richie read a few messages out loud about handing in homework and test grades. He was doing relatively well in school, earning a congrats and a high five from Mike, across Bill’s torso. They studied sometimes together and both aced an English test no one else passed. 

Richie got bored of reminders about school and his dad asking about Torahs that would always go missing from Rabbi Uris’s office. (“Dad, why in the name of Baruch Atah Adonai would I take six Torahs and keep it a secret?”) He went to messages between him and Mike. “Why were you and Mike sending memes back and forth at three a.m.?”

“As opposed to nudes? No, thanks man.” Stan tilted his head. 

“I bet I’ll find some, somewhere here.” Richie laughed, reading three funny memes out loud before the timer rang. 

“Pass it on!” Eddie held out his hand. Eddie looked at the rest of the memes, saying most of them outloud. Laughter roared from the group. 

After Eddie spent his whole turn looking at Mike and Stan’s meme collection and Stanley calmed down a bit, he passed the phone to Beverly who passed it onto Ben. Ben passed on to Mike and Mike passed on to Bill. Stanley was almost completely calm by now. He was laughing along with the group. They made fun of Ben for sending Stanley drafts of poems that he wanted his friend to review before giving Beverly.

He had very little anxiety about them finding something personal since none of them yet came across something bad. He was just almost home free. 

“I’m guh-guh-guh-going into your sss-search histor-r-ry,” Bill declared. 

Richie cackled, “Why didn’t I think about that?” he huffed. Stanley’s eyes went wide, “What? No, that’s gotta be, like, illegal!” he reasoned. He was terrified of being outed. He knew he’d been doing research in the past week about if being gay was actually a bad thing. Gay quizzes, gay research, gay history, why gay? 

His mind raced: What if they hate me? What if they don’t want me around anymore? He loved being a loser because “you had nothing to lose” but he did. If he lost the losers, he truly did have nothing left but himself. That’s the thing he hated most. 

“So, you’re hi-hiding s-ss-s-something then?” he teased, looking to Bill to start the timer. 

“What would I be hiding?” Stan asked, before quickly adding: “Bill, don’t you dare, I’m actually begging you,” he could hear his heart pounding in his throat. What if Bill came across something terribly worse than Stanley imagined? The feeling sank in his stomach as his heart rose into his throat. 

“And I’m a-a-a-actually going into y-your ss-s-search history,” Bill rebutted, “Hey, if I f-f-find your wwweird p-porn, I won’t say it ah-ah-out loud.” The group laughed. Stan chuckled as his heart sank a little deeper, because he knew it would be far from pornography. 

“Fuck you, man,” Stan flipped him off

“F-fuck you!” Bill’s face scrunched up. 

“Sorry, I’m too busy fucking your mom!” Richie chimed in. He watched Eddie and Stan roll their eyes in unison. He saw Bill’s blue brown irises glowing almost white with the light of the phone.

“I w-w-won’t go into yyy-your search histor-r-y,” Bill bluffed. “Start the t-t-timer.” 

“Thanks.” 

“It just makes us all the more curious, Stanley,” Mike reminded him. He raised his eyebrow. Stanley did not like that gesture. 

“Yeah, well,” Stan brushed it off, looking at Bill. 

“Three, two, one!” Mike began the timer, officially. 

Bill typed his way into Stan’s history to silently be met with a few things. Stan glanced down at the phone. 

“Billiam, you bitch!” he reached for the phone. Bill deflected this turning his arm away. Stanley lunged at him but the boy dodged and stood up, reading out some searches, “From last night: Lots uh-uh-of reddit… Some songs… l-lll-lyrics… F-facebook… That’s a lot of s-s-swear words in Heb-b-brew.” his eyes widened.

“Stan, please!” Bill whisper-begged, an itching at his lungs brewed up. 

The Losers snickered along, all oblivious. Richie chanted “Fight! Fight! Fight!” as Stanley got on top of him to wrestle the phone away. 

“Bill,” Mike warned. He hated to see Stanley so panicked and used a stern voice, “Billy, hang on, I don’t think you should…” 

“H-how to t-t-tie a tie?” (“Stan you can’t tie a tie?”) Richie taunted Stanley from inches away. Bill was barely focused on the words, just Stan’s priceless yet genuinely desperate reactions.

“What is-” Bill’s voice shut down for a good second. He looked at Stanley’s, coughing once, then a few more times, almost clearly stalling. Can you overdose on melatonin? How many milligrams of melatonin can the brain handle? What is the suicide hotline number? Followed by other related searches to pull the tears from one's eyes and drain the color from one's face. They met eye contact, exchanging a thousand words before Beverly said,

“Bill? What is it?” she leaned forward, now more concerned than gossipy.

“I-I sh-shh-shhh-shouldn’t,” Bill turned Stanley’s phone off and returned it to him. He sighed. This brought some brief attention to the distressed boy. Stan’s throat tensed as if he were on the brink of vomiting. Gravity seemed to pull his chest together, tightening and tightening and tighter, and he was almost sure he’d close into himself if it continued. 

“What?” Eddie eyebrows furrowed, “What was on there?” he leaned his chin out at Stanley, the curiosity burning him up like one of the Bev’s cigarettes. 

Stanley put his hands up like a robber who’d just been caught with a bad, bad crime. As if a pack of police officers surrounding him all had guns, pointing shiny red lights at his vulnerable, unprotected chest. A light-headedness pressured him and his blood ran cold--Cold enough to re-freeze the ice in Beverly’s shirt.

“Bill?” Beverly sat upright, no longer relaxed on the floor, prompting his name, more as a search for a solution than a question. 

“I sh-shh-shouldn’t s-sa-say.” Bill stammered, much to Stanley’s delight. “P-p-per-per-p-personal.” 

The guns were still up, but this time, Bill was his bulletproof vest. Granted, he never tried on such a shield before, so he wasn’t sure how good it’d work, but he had something. 

“Is it something we should worry about?” Richie looked from Stan to Bill, indecisively. “Give us something, guys.”

Stanley shook his head with an instant, “No,” he answered, “Just personal.” 

Mike nodded, “And we respect that. Right guys?” he asked the group, as a pleasant reminder to lower their firearms and let the guilty man free.

Stanley gave both Mike and Bill separate thankful expressions. 

After a good minute of calming down, Bill still had the remains of thoughts flowing through his mind. Can you overdose on melatonin? What is the suicide hotline number? Can you overdose on melatonin? What is the suicide hotline number?

The group continued. Ben spilled the beans on how long it took for him to write January Embers and Bev gushed over him for the rest of the night. (“Babe, you spent a whole hour on seventeen syllables? That’s so cute!”) 

Bill tapped his nails on the floor. Stanley watched his anxious hand. “I’ll be right back,” Stanley stood up, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he was met with a few nods and ‘ok’s. He had been dared to chug a whole can of soda in one gulp so no one blamed him. After Stanley shut the office door, Bill propped up. 

“I’m gonna be right back too,” he got up and followed. Stanley turned around at hearing the door open. He typically would feel butterflies in his stomach and blush in Bill’s presence, but after Stanley’s dare, he couldn’t think of a person he wanted to see less. 

“Hi,” he waved, “What’s up?” he walked toward the bathroom, Bill following. 

“C-can we t-t-t-talk?” Bill proposed, searching Stanley’s posture for any clues of expression. Stan turned around to face him, making the job easier. 

“Sure…” he prayed it wouldn’t be about the searches, but he knew, somehow, that he’d run out of luck for the day, “About…?” 

“I’m s-s-sss-sorry for still guh-guh-going into your hi-h-h-hi-history when you were c-c-clearly upset ab-b-b-bout it,” he started, looking between Stanley’s right and left eye, unsure of which one to make eye contact with. “I d-d-didn’t think i-i-i-i-it’d be that ssss-s-serious, I juh-juh-juh-just thought th-that…” he searched for words he didn’t prepare before hand, “Well, I d-d-don’t know wuh-wuh-what I thought b-but I just d-d-d-didn’t really c-consider how you f-fe-fe-felt and I’m sorry.” 

“Stanley, it’s okay, it’s a game as far as everyone knows, right?” Stanley touched his shoulder. Bill was stressed to say the least. Thin balloons clustered in his mind, all filling up with helium and popping loudly at different times. All the colors of this loud, wild rainbow. He needed answers he was too scared to ask for. 

“I’m- Is th-th-th-there- D-d-d-do you really fff-f-fe-feel like you wuh-want to d-d-d-d…?” it took a good ten seconds of ‘d-d-d’ before Stanley realized he wouldn’t be able to finish. 

“I got help,” Stan cut him off, “It means the world that you care, but I promise I’ll be okay.” Bill shook his head. That just wouldn’t do. 

“F-f-from whom?” the boy demanded. 

“Uh- you know, just- people. You know?” he stammered. At least he wasn’t worse than Bill at this point.

“Th-that’s a l-lll-lie,” Bill pointed out, “St-Sta-Stanley, have you t-t-told your p-p-p-parents about this? You c-c-c-can’t- You have to g-guh-get help. A-actual help, like p-p-profff-fessional shit or m-mmm-m-medicine,” Bill told him. It was not a suggestion, but a fact.

“No, I don’t,” the words rolled off of Stanley’s tongue, with perfect diction, “I can just… promise real hard to be safe?” he suggested. “I wouldn’t break a promise to you.” he shook his head, tapping the scar on his hand from their blood oath. 

“Stan, p-p-please,” Bill decided on Stanley’s left eye to stare at, “You’ve guh-guh-got to t-t-tell your p-parents, or- or I will,” he threatened. 

Stanley shook his head, “Bill, for the love of God. Literal God. Please keep this a secret,” he begged him, his anxiety spiking once again. 

“We ca-ca-can’t keep this a sss-s-secret.” he spoke, slowly and calmly, though Bill Denbrough was anything but that. 

“Please, Bill!” he reasoned, “I’ll actually do anything at all. I swear. I don’t want my parents to worry. I don’t want them to know everything and then never leave me alone about it.” He breathed. “I don’t want them to treat me differently or treat me like I can’t be alone!” 

“I’m nnn-n-not taking no for an answer on this wuh-wuh-one,” Bill decided. Every plea Stanley made only pushed Bill to give in, but he knew better. The two of them were tense. Anxiety sparked between the two of them when all Stanley wanted was a spark of love, not tragedy. Each word tasted like gasoline. Stanley had a lighter. He could easily mix the two. 

“I’ll work on it on my own!” he put his pinky out, “I promise! I really promise. I swear, Bill. I swear on my life.” They shared a collective thought. “I swear on your life. I can do it on my own!” 

“Stan,” his tone lowered as something clicked in his mind, “You don’t have to do it on your own,” he abandoned his coercive method instead, and approached gently, “I ha-ha-have no idea what I would do if- if maybe one day I woke up and you didn’t. Or what if… I missed my chance to say that I really appreciate you. Or if I never got to go to the quarry with you. Or give you another hug. Or tell you all the- a-a-a-all th-thh-” he huffed as his stutter made an ugly return. 

“Bill, I promise, I’m okay, I promise,” Stanley repeated for him. He heard laughter from the group, but the joy from the closed off room did not seem to reach either of the teens. 

“N-n-no, juh-just-” He took a deep breath. “I n-need-” Another breath. A breath so clear and refreshing that Eddie Kaspbrak would be jealous. “Stanley, I need you to know that I love you. That… not just friendship. I guess. Like the real, romantic, I want to be near you all the time. I want to make you smile and I want to dance with you and take away all your pain until I can just see you smile, type of love. I want to write you poems like Ben does for Beverly. And even if that never happens, I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t know it.” Bill stared at Stanley, almost frozen. He couldn’t find it in him to move or speak to him. He listened. 

Stanley had been hit with something he never experienced before. His stomach turned and his mind fuzzed; those butterflies were back. His eyebrows furrowed, lip jaw just barely dropped, which turned into a smile. Time passed too quickly and he knew he was wasting time, standing still. 

“I- wow,” he raised his eyebrows. “Bill, can I give you a dare?” he swallowed, as Bill nodded. 

“I dare you to kiss me and then hug me for a really long time.” Stanley grinned.

Without hesitation, Bill slinked his hand onto Stanley’s jaw and collided his lips chapped with Stanley’s soft ones. Stan imagined if Mike saw, he’d do another one of his famous wolf-whistles. 

Stanley pulled away and smiled, “I feel the same way you do,” he whispered as Bill pulled him in again--not for a kiss, but for the promised hug, “I have for a while.” 

“Wuh-wuh-will you b-be my b-b-buh-buh-buh-boyf-friend?” Bill asked as his face lit up, unable to contain his excitement. The butterflies in his stomach were replaced with fireworks and a grin permanently planted on his face. 

Stanley hugged him tighter, burying his forehead in Bill’s neck. “Fuck yeah.”

Bill closed his eyes. He caressed Stanley’s back, exhaling a sigh of relief. He kissed Stanley’s head, not exactly aiming for a cheek or his temple, but just as his head was leaned on Bill’s shoulder. Bill rested his chin on Stanley’s shoulder. 

“C-c-cool,” a smile crept onto Bill’s face.

The sun had completely rolled down the sky, leaving a black blanket with silver, glittering dots and a big round moon that he could see from the window. For the first time in a while, the butterflies visited when Stan thought about staying alive. He reached for Bill’s hand hesitantly and cracked a slow grin. Bill looked at him and smiled, squeezing his hand back. Stanley searches his brain for the right words. He ended up whispering, “I appreciate you to an incredible extent.” 

Bill blushed and replied with, “I love you, too”

“I-” Stan’s face heated up at his inability to properly piece together the three fast words. He giggled and nodded.

Bill gazed at him, “D-d-don’t forget it,” he squeezed Stanley’s hand gently. “O-o-okay?” 

“I won’t. Same to you.” Stanley squeezed Bill’s hand in return with a proud smile. 

“Stan, y-y-you know we sss-s-still have to t-t-tell someone.” Bill raised his eyebrow, watching Stanley’s face fall to consideration. 

Stan almost wanted to protest. ‘No, we don’t.’ or ‘I told you, didn’t I?’ or ‘Why?’ or ‘Just give it a week on my own and we’ll figure it out after that.’ he thought about saying. Instead he looked at Bill’s face, longing for closure.

“I know.” he sighed. “Come over tomorrow and we can talk about details and all that, I guess?” he scratched the back of his neck. 

“I’ll b-b-be there.” Bill nodded, “I’m proud of y-you.” 

Stanley beamed, kissing Bill’s cheek again. Bill copied him, kissing Stanley’s cheek. Stanley’s face heated up, blossoming like bright red roses. He went to kiss Bill’s cheek again, but Bill matched his lips to Stanley’s and they shared a kiss. Stanley was exhilarated; overwhelmed with what he’d wanted for years. 

Richie stepped outside to check on the two, “Hey, what’s taking you so lo- oh.” The two pulled away from each other. “Reminds me of myself and Eddie’s mother last night.” 

“I am going to end your fucking life, Richie.” Stanley threatened. 

Richie put his hands up in innocence, “Just saying!” he went back into the office. Even through the closed doors, the couple heard: “Don’t bother them kids.” Richie’s Brooklyn accent “They’s suckin’ face and Eds here owes me five Washingtons.” 

Stanley and Bill chuckled. Stan smoothly put one more kiss on Bill’s cheek before, leading him back to the office. Their hands never unclasped. Stanley looked over to him as Bill opened the doors. The attention turned to the two. 

“Were you two actually kissing?” Eddie dropped his attention from his conversation with other Losers. “Cause I’m not paying Richie five dollars.” 

“Are you kidding? Denbrough was practically getting laid out there!” Richie answered, receiving five voices of laughter and one Jewish glare. (“Beep, beep, Richie.” “You g-g-guys put buh-buh-bets on us?”)

“Not getting laid, however, was getting a boyfriend,” Stanley corrected.

“Doubt it,” Eddie challenged, shrugging. “Not paying.” he shook his stubborn head. 

Bill glanced at Stanley, then kissed him on the lips for proof, catching the boy off guard. Stan almost fell over, before holding Bill’s waist and kissing back. “Whatttt!”s and “Woah!”s and Mike’s wolf whistle filled their office space. The two separated, grinning, sitting down in their original places. 

Mike looked at the two with an expression that could only be described as ‘I knew it.’ Eddie looked over at a smirking Richie. He knew as well. 

“I’m happy for you guys,” Ben smiled at the two. 

“Me too,” Beverly’s eyes shone with pride. 

“Th-th-thanks,” Bill answered for them with a smile, noticing Beverly and Ben holding hands. He whispered to Stanley, “C-c-come cuddle, let’s be a c-cuter cuh-cuh-couple then them.” 

Stanley giggled, leaning his head on Bill’s shoulder. “Thank you so much by the way.” he said, not exactly paying attention to the other Losers’ words. “You’re the best, Bill.”

[homenum-revelio-hq]

Welcome (again) to the Order of the Phoenix, Seb!

You have been accepted for the role of MADALÉINA WARREN with the faceclaim of Sirena Warren! We really enjoyed how Maddy, while being a fighter against injustice, is also still a young adult. We truly can’t wait to see how she blossoms into herself and finds out who she really is as a person. We also love that she’ll be joining the ranks as a Muggleborn witch, as this is a group fighting for people of her blood status and doesn’t actually have many of them within their organization. So excited to have her on the dash! 

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME & PRONOUNS: Seb he/him

AGE: 21+ (not getting younger, lads!)

TIMEZONE: GMT+1

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I’m here! Usually I’d do at least a round of replies every morning (either 1 reply per character or a full round of 1 character) but at times I’m a bit anxious about spamming people with too many of my replies at once, so I hold off. And now that I’m on a holiday until October 15th, I’ll definitely be able to keep that regularity going so what am I to do? Find another roleplay? Never!

ANYTHING ELSE: Triggers, still: under-water sequences

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Madaléina “Maddy” Warren

AGE: 18

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY:

Cis female. She/Her. Hetero.

To turn things around a bit, I like to think that Maddy is quite endeared by the idea of being bisexual, of just loving everyone and anyone regardless of their gender, and she definitely clings to the girl-crushes she had, but really, she’s just straight. She hasn’t had any serious relationships yet but I think the day she meets the right guy, she’ll realise that those feelings are very different from infatuation. For a while it’ll make her seek the same emotional depth with a woman for a while, but eventually she’ll realise that she’s fully straight. This being said, she was raised Irish-Catholic and this whole ‘I’m open-minded and bisexual!’ might ironically stem from that; a way to distance herself from the conservative world around her. So it’s less observation-based and more a head thing, where she’d just rather want to be on the side of the ostracised than the ostracis..ers. 

BLOOD STATUS: Muggleborn.

HOUSE ALUMNI: Hufflepuff.

ANY CHANGES: No, please stay the way you are!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Maddy’s heart is big, open, and full of love. That is the first thing you must know.

She sees the good in people before anything else, and when there is no good, she dreams of planting it into their hearts, seed by seed, smile by smile. She’s the epitome of ‘kill them with kindness, giving everyone second, third and fourth chances, and truly believing that everyone can change for the better, that no one deserves death, that everyone deserves a friendly hand, helping them. The second thing you must know, is that she’s a clever little fox, and when she asks: What Would Jesus Do?, she doesn’t mean the glorified white Jesus people misuse for the prejudiced bullcrap, but the actual Jewish Jesus who yelled at the rich and kissed prostitutes regardless of their reputation. She’s got an innate sense of justice, and it can turn her into an American Honey Badger if ever she encounters someone being treated unfairly. The third thing you must know, is that she’s still very much searching for herself. She knows who she wants to be, she knows she wants to spread love and eradicate injustice in the world, but in between those goals, she’s an 18-year-old mess who’s not really good at what she’s doing. One minute she’s talking about the importance of unity amongst the Order, the next minute she’s talking about how cool it would be if they all wore the yellow-black X-Men uniform. One minute she’s angry about big corporations exploiting the poor, the next minute she’s babbling about how much she loves coca cola. One minute she’s talking feminism and how every woman should be allowed to do what she wants, the next minute she scoffs at a roommate wearing too short of a mini-skirt. She’s young, Christ-damnit – oh yes, she also truly struggles with cursing in a non blasphemous way – but she’s trying.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Derry, 1972. The infamous key-event of The Troubles of Northern Ireland called Bloody Sunday, which caused the IRA to grow and radicalise further, makes the mother of 9 children a widow. The youngest of those 9 children has just been born in the hospital and Maddy is watching over the other younger siblings with only mild interest – after all, the Addams Family is on TV! – and she knows not to expect her mother to come home before tomorrow night. What she doesn’t know, however, is that while her mother returns, her father never does.

From that day on, the Warrens’ life is no longer the same. Were they a wild, jumbled bunch of messy but cheerful people, they are now scraping at the stone of their personal rock bottom hell. Maddy’s older siblings are off to find work, so is their mother, and Maddy is left to slowly become a second mum to her younger siblings.

Before that, she was one of many, forgotten and forced to scream and scratch for attention – now there’s not even that much left. Who she is doesn’t matter, what she wants doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the family survives, and a fun and quirky personality brings laughter but not bread to the table, so what’s it really worth?

The TV is sold, so are all of Maddy’s comic books and the cool earrings she got for Christmas. When it’s time to even sell her father’s clothes, she steals the jeans jacket he was shot in, never bothering to repair the hole on its back. A reminder, perhaps, of the injustice in the world. Of how dangerous it is, to let people know who you really are. No one notices. No one ever notices what she’s doing. Much like the big jeans jacket eats her entire frame, her father’s death overshadows everything she once was. By the age of 10, she’s lost her identity and personality, becomes ‘one of the many Warren children’, and people in the streets address her by her father’s name, not her own. And then she turns 11. It’s Dumbledore himself who appears in her living room, explaining Maddy everything, and her mother cries the whole time through. Why? That’s something Maddy learns only a few years later. And quite frankly, in that moment? She doesn’t want to know. Here is a real whole Wizard who looks like Gandalf the Wise and says she’s a Witch and says she’s special and says she has a life away from all of this. And then he says: “It’s okay to be scared,” and Maddy hears herself admit that, yes, she is a little scared. After all, she wasn’t raised to be special.

Suddenly she’s an individual, her own person, and the possibilities are endless. Who does she want to be? What’s the plan? Where will this adventure lead her to, and why is no one there to guide her? She’s lost. Alone and lost. Her dream has become a nightmare. Her first year, she is focusing on being a good Witch at Hogwarts, carrying the burden of her destiny as good as she can while keeping her head low and fearing the sound of her own name. It’s only been a bit less than a year since her father died, but a year in the life of an 11-year-old is a lot, and it scarred Maddy. Hogwarts isn’t a big school, people quickly know her, that Irish Mudblood, as they call her, and even though she hears the snarl in their voice she’s too afraid to correct them. “What is it, muddy Mudblood? Don’t know how to use your wand to defend yourself?” Then the Summer holidays come. She’s can’t wait to be back home, one of many, ‘one of the Robert Warren kids’, back in anonymity. But it’s too late. Things have changed. She’s the special one now here, too. In Derry, people know her as the girl who got a scholarship in a private school in Scotland; everyone is proud of her. Her older siblings are glad they don’t have to feed yet another hungry mouth all the time, to see at least someone get out of here unharmed. And her younger siblings have, for the first time in years, hope in their own future again. Hope that they, too, might become special at the age of 11. None of them are.

Maddy remains the only Witch of her family.

For a while, as the years pass, she tries to fit in even better. Look less catholic, speak less witchy, smell less like a Mudblood. She’s long stopped screaming and scratching for attention but now she’s actively trying to never stand out. And why would she want to? The English don’t care about the beauty of the green. The Muggles don’t understand the full scope of the marvel that the Wizarding World holds in store. And the Purebloods can’t even grasp the greatness of using a damn – sorry! – telephone. People live and exist in in- and out-groups, and the walls are high, causing cold wars in the world and amongst possible friends. She’s special, yes, but in a way no one truly understands, and she realises that there is loneliness in being different. And that’s when Maddy, fourteen years old, walks into the second-floor bathroom at Hogwarts and into a long-deceased family member: Myrtle Warren. Her father’s sister and her mother’s childhood best friend. Killed by bloodpurist ideologies. Safe, nowhere, not even in the hopeful life she’d been promised here. And Maddy understands. People die because they’re different. It’s not just lonely. It’s dangerous. But ducking one’s head and letting the un-different people rule will never undo the danger. Only being visibly different, outspoken, unashamed of one’s specialness can tear down the walls and help people familiarize themselves with the cultures on the other side. She’s special, goddamnit – sorry! – and she’d rather die teaching people how beautiful that is rather than pretending she’s not! With determination, she puts her wooden cross back around her neck. Stuffs her Wolverine T-shirt into her jeans, tosses her dad’s jeans jacket over her shoulders. Then she marches up to the Slytherin table and smashes her fist into Avery’s face. “See, the thing is, we Mudbloods don’t need a wand to defend ourselves.” So, while the war in Northern Ireland gets worse and worse, Maddy makes a name for herself at Hogwarts by selling Muggle-trinkets (sending the money home), playing on the Quidditch team, excelling in various classes and just being a good sport altogether. People listen to her ideas and even laugh at her jokes, and she makes sure to learn about everyone else’s specialness as well. After all, if everyone realised they’re worth of attention and love, maybe they’d grant the same blessing to others as well, and no one would have to fear being different anymore. 

Nowadays, cheer has returned to her family. With four children out of the house and two already capable to work, the Warrens are much more relaxed, enjoying watching everyone’s path unfold, while still waiting curiously to see if the youngest, Robert Jr., will receive a letter for his 11th birthday or not. Some resent never having received their letters, others are just happy for Maddy, and others prefer not to think about it at all. What matters is that they’re now all individuals thinking for themselves, allowing each other, at times together, to be happy. And all would be good… Only that Maddy’s no longer part of it now, is she?

OCCUPATION:

Entrepreneur (Business for Muggle-trinkets sold in the magical world).

What started as an act of desperation (bringing ballpens to Hogwarts) suddenly turned into its whole own thing, where first Muggleborns begged for more objects from home and then the other kids got interested in it, too. Seeing how Hogwarts’ magic didn’t let electronics function properly, those objects were usually of mechanical banality or just plain cultural stuff like magazines, blotting paper, alarm clocks, a special type of cereals, etc.

Maddy was more than ready to stop her business after graduating, but the fact that her clients graduated along with her and now still preferred her shop than hunting through Muggle cities for the things they never really had to buy for themselves in seven long years just had her continue the thing. And now, since she has to make money somehow, she’s looking into buying an empty shop at Diagon Alley.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Maddy was attracted to the Order by Maurice’s radio show and his subcultural references calling out for more Muggleborns to join the war. In all honesty, up until that point, she wasn’t really aware that a war was going on..? She understood that she was being discriminated against, and that Muggleborns were fleeing the country, but, Jesus – sorry! – she’d grown up in Derry, a bit of oppression is neither a proof of war nor a reason to run away, is it? But when she learnt that there was a vigilante group trying to fix the racist bullcrap that was going on, she found herself quite interested. “I don’t really know what I bring to the table, though,” she told Maurice after meeting him before anyone else, and he replied: “You bring perspective, and that’s exactly what we need.”

She doesn’t really support the more radical notions of some Order members, and would rather see them figure out a peaceful way to end the war (the idea of seeing someone be shot in the back like they did it to her father is haunting her at all times, unfortunately) but she knows that not doing anything won’t fix things either. And at least these people understand the beauty of diversity. In fact, she’s more than proud of the Purebloods who have joined the cause, and takes it as proof that everyone can change if given the chance.

She’s still very new in the Order (therefore still full of hope) and is mostly trying to find her footing. But I think it won’t take long until she will come forth with her first pro-active, constructive suggestions: it’ll be less about killing Voldemort and more about educating those who could become potential followers. Teaching them of the Muggle World, of how fun the culture can be, how there’s not such thing as blood dilution, etc, perhaps going all the way to even dismantle the Statue of Secrecy.

SURVIVAL:

She lives in a flat with some Muggleborn and Halfblood friends in Muggle London. Gerry and Charlie started a university degree and Kathy is currently doing an internship at the Ministry of Magic. None of them really know what’s going on, what they’re doing, and how to subscribe to a newspaper, so while they do face daily discrimination in the Wizarding World (very much a reason why Gerry and Charlie went back to the Muggle World for the time being), they haven’t really paid attention to fixing it yet. And while Maddy knows it’ll be a bit difficult to keep the Order thing a secret from them, she also knows that they wouldn’t really care. In a way, that’s what’s also keeping them safe: they’re just a bunch of kids, so no one would ever suspect Maddy to be a danger to society. Right?

RELATIONSHIPS:

As you just saw above, there will definitely be a strain put on Maddy’s relationship with her friends. She knows that she’ll eventually have to leave them, if the secret becomes too much of a burden or Death Eaters could put them at danger just for being close to her, or tell them the truth and let them decide whether they want to join the Order as well or not. In a way, she already knows they won’t. After all, they chose to go back to the Muggle World for a reason. The same goes for her family – who, admittedly, are less close to her these days, but who are still very much family, and she’d never forgive herself if something happened to them. Other than that, I think joining the Order will open a lot of new relationships, seeing how Maddy will be surrounded by people who are equally as invested in wanting to make the world a better place.

The Bang Gang (Chaos Trio): Maddy went to school with them and has a complicated relationship with them. By the type of personality, she’s similar to Dorcas, her roommate, and you’d think that’s a great basis for a friendship. But that’s definitely not what happened. From the day Dorcas revealed herself to be more on the ‘I’ma fight everyone!’ type, Maddy decided to go against that and be of the ‘I’ma befriend everyone!’ type. The Bang Gang seems loud and obnoxious and not at all on the peace-path to fix discrimination with love. No wonder the Order is so radical! Sure, deep down, Maddy admires them at least a little, for being so cool and brave, but on the outside she’s mostly annoyed. After all, if Maddy had wanted to join a terrorist group, she could’ve picked the IRA.

Caradoc: Big Grumpy Man, Maddy is not a fan. While he’s surprisingly civil to her, compared to many other Order members, she doesn’t agree with his radical notions. Sure, Purebloods are the ones who started it all, but Christ – sorry! – give them a chance to change! It’s not by antagonising them that you will end up making friends. From the outside, their relationship must look like a tiny dog yapping at a benevolent old man who just smiles back with patience.

Dedalus: Funky Funny Man has a shop on Diagon Alley, and while Maddy absolutely despises Wizarding Candy, she wonders if the flamboyant (and very handsome) Wizard might want to give her a corner of his shop for her to set up her own. Just until she has enough money scraped together to buy her own shop. And if the poor Muggleborns entering this world had to suffer through ear-wax jelly beans, then it’s about time that Purebloods experience the greatness that is Muggle candy.

Maurice: Feisty Pretty Man is the one who attracted Maddy to the Order. His voice drew her in, his face made her stay. Who can blame her? When she asked him what the Order could possibly want from her, he said: “Perspective”, and it was what Maddy needed to realise that her whole thing about changing the world one kind deed at a time might’ve just found a home to grow in. Whether Maurice knows it or not, he’s become her mentor, and Maddy couldn’t look at him with any more heart-eyes if she were a cartoon.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS:

I direly need Maddy to have a crush on every boy she encounters, be they gay or racist. I don’t care how far it gets (I don’t think she really wants anything serious anyway, even if she whines about being single all the time) or how many rejections she’ll receive, I just need her to constantly be distracted by the urge to snog, thank you.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

I think by nature of who they are, how they grew up, Muggleborns are less prejudiced towards people and creatures from the Wizarding World. Because on the one hand, everything is weird and different to them, on the other, it’s just fairy tales! Werewolves are cool as hell – sorry! – why would you be mean to them?! Why not befriend them and learn everything about them! And while obviously Maddy finds herself kind of tense around Purebloods, it’s not at all an innate thing like her hate towards the English. And then there’s the whole thing where she believes in the good in everyone that just makes her actively fight any prejudices she might have. So while I’m sure she’s free of bias, I think of all my characters, she’s the most open-minded one.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? Listen.

PLOT DROP IDEAS:

For Maddy:      - have her fight for a spot on Diagon Alley while bloodpurists try to keep her from it.      - have her kill the Basilisk at Hogwarts (it’s personal, okay)      - have her get some snogs      - make up with Dorcas and Benjy? For the RP:      - telephone station at House of Bones for Maurice to actually receive responses from the Muggleborns he calls out to (Pride style)      - Generally a branch of the DTF actively recruiting Muggleborns (and it causing discussions in the Order)      - maybe a law passing at the Ministry related to her shop in Diagon Alley, taking away the right for Muggleborns to have their own shops, and the Order managing to prevent the law from passing (but before they manage, perhaps there’s a surge of refugees the DTF has to take care of?)

ANYTHING ELSE?

Maddy is Low-Level. I’d say she joined fairly recently, seeing how Maurice’s radio show plot hasn’t even been made official yet. So maybe Dedalus’ plan of that buddy-system [x (first paragraph)] for new Order members could take effect on her as a test dummy? :’ D

EXTRA FOR NON-BIO CHARACTERS:

PAST: Born and raised as an Irish Catholic in Derry during The Troubles of Northern Ireland, young Maddy learnt from a young age that there are people who will kill you based on something you cannot control. Born and raised amongst a family of nine children, however, she also learnt that being different is a gift and not something you should hide. Being the same as everyone else, one of many, might make life easy, but it certainly doesn’t make life honest and good. This realisation came when she met the ghost of her aunt in the second-floor bathroom at Hogwarts – known as Moaning Myrtle; Maddy didn’t know why she was the only one of her siblings to have been granted magical powers, but she sure as hell – sorry for the swearing! – understood in this very moment that keeping a low profile like Myrtle had done fifty years ago would neither protect her life, nor change the world for the better. Thus, in the span of four years, she grew to be the most honest version of herself that she could possibly be: an Irish Catholic Muggleborn Witch with a love for superhero comics. Selling Muggle trinkets at Hogwarts (ranging from ballpens to comic books) she was known as the proud Hufflepuff who knew how to befriend about anyone. ‘Kill them with kindness’ became her motto, and while she still had a lot to learn regarding how to be as self-assured as she liked to present herself to be, she was, for the most part, succeeding in her mission to introduce Purebloods to Muggle culture, building bridges for those two worlds in ways she knew she’d never be able to do it for the English and the Irish at home.

 PRESENT: The cat who dragged her into the Order was Maurice Creevey and his radio show. Her “What do I possibly have to offer them, though?” was answered with a “Perspective,” and it was all she needed to hear to be convinced. Had he said ‘your wits’, ‘your optimism’, or ‘the stakes you have in this war,’, she would’ve declined and gone back home to her Muggleborn flatmates who have turned their back to the Wizarding World after graduating from Hogwarts. But he said: “Perspective”, and that was the one thing Maddy has always believed is in her range of capabilities. After all, she does have a different perspective on it all, and she is more than willing to teach people of this perspective, of her side of the story, to make them empathise and want to tear down the walls of cultural divide alongside with her. She firmly believes that everyone could be friends if they only understood each other, and she’s not afraid to grab her megaphone to have communication happen. Either way, she does not care for another war like there is at home, does not care at all for seeing more people she loves be killed by being shot in the back, the way it happened to her father in 1972. So her main focus right now (except finding an empty place in Diagon Alley to set up her Muggle shop) is to identify the more radical members of the Order and explain to them that they shouldn’t hurt anyone on behalf of the Muggleborns, or there will be direct retaliation against exactly those. And once she’s got them in her pocket, she wants to update the Hogwarts curriculum to educate Wizards about Muggles to finally end the divide – and perhaps even the Statue of Secrecy, one day. 

FC CHOICES: Sirena Warren as found here: [x], [x], [x]. Alternatively: Meta Gewald [x], [x], [x] or Faith Jaggernauth [x], [x], [x] . I must admit, none of them have very good resources, though…

[agentkgent]

Fic: If You Want It Back

Read on AO3

13-year-old Richie/Eddie fluff because my heart needs it (apparently my boys taking care of each other is my favorite thing in the world??); This is probably a multi-chapter slowburn deal that I may or may not have the patience to complete; We’ll see!

Pros: Intimate medical care, sleepy cuteness, innocent sleepovers

Cons (Warnings): Mild blood, profanity, nightmares, sexual humor dialogue

- - -

Eddie | 13

“Would you stop being so fuckin loud? It doesn’t take much for her to check on me,” Eddie whisper-shouts.

Richie yanks his momentarily-stuck leg past the threshold of the window seal. “Dude, she’s used to me sneaking into the house late at night,” he smirks. “She’ll just be jealous-”

“Shut up, Richie.”

It’s dark - at least 11 o’clock at night in the shithole that is Derry. Fall is coming and nighttime is colder than it’s been for months.

He had been waiting up for Richie in his second-floor bedroom, gently lit by an old desk lamp. While his room had always been pristine and prepared for a Sonia Kaspbrak inspection, it’s fallen into a slightly less-than-perfect state the past few days while he preoccupied himself taking every possible moment to join the Losers in their final days with Beverly; final days of their summer vacation.

A few items of clothing lay on the floor near the bed, a jacket strewn across the corner of the bedspread. Socks hanging inside-out on top of a pair of Converse sneakers near the door.

Richie stands upright and tugs his hooded sweatshirt gently, fixing the zipped sides. Without pause, strides across the room to Eddie’s closet and pulls out his (well, not really his , but no one else uses it) comforter and pillow. “Move your shit, Eds.”

He scoffs. “Don’t fucking act like your room isn’t a pigstye.” And starts to grab clothing from the floor and throw it to a vacant corner, avoiding using his cast-covered limb.

“You couldn’t clean up for company?” Richie teases while he tosses the pillow onto the floor near the bed and unfolds the comforter.

“Yeah, well,” He begins, annoyed. “I’ve been distracted by the giant festering garbage wound on my hand, thanks to Bill. It’s freaking disgusting. He just fucking picked up a piece of glass and started cutting us with it. What the hell were we thinking? We’re all gonna get tetanus and shit.” He’s speaking faster, the horror setting in again. “What if the infection spreads to my arm? What if one of us has AIDS? Now we all have AIDS because Bill wanted to make a stupid fucking blood oath. Why couldn’t we have just created a secret handshake-”

“Shhh!” Richie throws his index finger over his mouth.

Eddie swats a hand over his own mouth in alert, realizing his own volume. The two wait a moment in silence, listening for a reaction, eyeing the bedroom door. They wait to hear footsteps in the hall or creaking on wood floors.

Nothing. He exhales in relief and continues, a bit calmer. “I don’t think there’s enough penicillin in the world to prevent me from getting an infection from that fucking piece of glass he used.” He watches Richie de-shevel his hoodie and kick off his sneakers. “Did you clean up your hand?”

Richie half-shrugs. “Yeah, I’m good. I washed my hands after I took a piss.”

His jaw drops. He thinks he might literally scream. “WHAT THE HELL, RICHIE?” He quietly shouts, his voice squeaking.

He can’t tell if Richie’s joking or not but he definitely DIDN’T see any kind of bandage over the moron’s hand, so he scrambles urgently to his desk’s designated medical drawer and digs out all the necessities. Fucking Trashmouth WOULD bring infection and sickness into his bedroom, goddamn it. Alcohol, gauze pads, antibiotic cream, yep. Medical tape, gauze wrap, rubber gloves...

“Jesus Christ, chill out,” Richie protests, a shit eating grin on his face from Eddie’s urgency. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

“No!” He points a finger at his stupid friend. “You are not gonna touch my stuff and leave blood and puss and infection and whatever-the-fuck-else in my bedroom.” He crudely dumps his First Aid supplies across his bed and yanks Richie to sit next to him. He leans back down towards the floor next to the head of his bed, grabs a flashlight, flicks it on, and slams it into Richie’s un-injured hand. “Hold this so I can see, idiot.”

It’d been a significant moment, the seven of them holding hands; committing to each other and to keeping It from hurting more people. Although they laughed off the tension at Stanley’s “I hate you,” and lightly talked about plans for the following day, something about the situation made it feel melancholy. The weight of their promise had also felt… a little suffocating, to be honest.

He needed to hug his best friend. It sprouted from deep in his gut and drove his movement. Almost instinctively, Richie opened his arms for a hug and patted Eddie’s back affectionately.

He finally took wide steps across the weeds-covered ground to head home, and turned to wave goodbye to his Losers. His attention landed on Richie, though. And Richie’s expression was… dopey? His huge eyes were fixed on Eddie, but it looked like he was far away. He was sort-of smiling? But wasn’t entirely focused behind his thick glasses. Eddie didn’t read into it too much. It was a heavy day.

Two hours later, the Kaspbrak residence phone rang. “Hello?” He answered.

“Spuhgett!” A poor Italian impression came through the line. “Come over and stay the night!”

“Richie, really?”

“Yeah man, let’s dive into some new issues of Hustler and howl into the night! Ow OW!”

He held the phone down in shock, the asshole’s howling audible from the handset. He flung his head to either side, looking for his mother, and then hissed into the phone. “You can’t say shit like that on the phone, asshole! My mom could be listening! She’s been on me nonstop.”

“Dude, that’s some kinky incest shit. But pretty hot.”

At this point, Eddie was confident his mother wasn’t listening on the line. That would have been her opportunity to shut down the conversation. “You’re fucking disgusting. I’m hanging up.”

“Come on! I’ve got some comics I need to catch up on, let’s hang out!”

He sighed. “Rich, my mom’s basically put me on house arrest.”

“I can come over there, if that’s easier.”

“How is that easier?”

“I’ll climb up to your room from the gate.”

“Wow. Genius.” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, I agree.”

“Dude, I’m tired.”

“Alright then, you can fuckin’ sleep, I’ll entertain myself.”

“So then why don’t you just stay home?”

A quiet moment, and then, “Eddieeeee!” Richie faked a whine.

He closed his eyes in defeat. “Fine. But I’m not staying up late. And you need to get out before my mom’s up tomorrow.” He remembered the most important part. “HEY AND you need to wait until it’s been dark for a while or she’ll still be watching TV.”

“Edward, I’m quite familiar with my lady’s nighttime habits. She watches porn ‘til 10 p.m., then I come over, then we do a couple lines, and after you’ve gone to sleep, she sucks my-”

Eddie slammed the phone back on the cradle.

Richie’s hand is now clean and covered, at least until the bandages need to be replaced. Eddie had only gagged once (maybe twice) while cleaning the Trashmouth’s palm. He inspects his handiwork one more time before closing the container of gauze. He takes the flashlight from Richie into his arm along with the impromptu First Aid kit.

“Do you think Bev will come back and see us? Like, visit from Portland?” Richie asks suddenly, looking at his cared-for hand.

Eddie pads across the room. He looks back towards Richie. “I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Come back for more quickies down by the Barrens, probably,” Richie sneers. “Maybe if we’re lucky she’ll let us watch.”

“Ew, dude, what?” He asks. He knows Richie doesn’t mean it, they all genuinely like Beverly. She’s cool and funny and treats them like normal people, which is more than they could say for other girls at school. But who-?

Richie knows what Eddie’s asking. “She and Bill sucked face after we left,” He wiggles his eyebrows.

He isn’t really surprised, he supposes. “Oh,” he says after a moment.

He turns off the desk lamp and walks back towards the bed. Richie scoots carefully until his back is against the wall, and Eddie plops his weight onto the bed, shifting until he’s next to him. They sit quietly for a whole three seconds before Richie continues with his gratuitous humor.

“Or maybe Bill will go see her .” And Richie starts with a dramatic tone of voice. “She might leave her bedroom window open at night for Big Bill, her dear auntie not knowing about the debauchery taking place in their home-”

He shakes his head slightly and ignores Richie. “Do you think Bev remembers Ben kissing her?”

Richie considers the question for a moment.

Everything that transpired in the filthy, dark tunnels beneath Derry had been something of a blur, but they all remembered that moment clearly. They found Beverly in the sewers, floating and white-eyed. She wouldn’t wake up. Ben was terrified. “What’s wrong with her?!” He looked at the others for answers, but no one knew what to do. Then he made a decision. Ben cupped Beverly’s face with both hands, and pressed their lips together, to everyone’s confusion. What the hell was that? ...And then Beverly woke up. Why did it work? Who knows. But it did. Bev mumbled something about ‘January embers’ and was back to normal.

“I don’t know, dude?” Richie dismisses, snatching the flashlight from Eddie’s hand and flicking it off. The whole room becomes immediately darker, only lit by the slightest bit of moonlight coming through the window. “Ben’s a nerd, anyway. Bev may be a Loser, but she’s still hot. And she and Bill like each other.”

“Poor Ben,” Eddie concludes.

“Plenty of fish in the sea, my dear Eds! Benjamin will be just fine,” Richie proclaims.

“Don’t call me ‘Eds.’”

“You love it.” Richie smirks.

“I don’t. And Ben will probably be fine, but YOU sure won’t. No one wants to kiss a Trashmouth.”

“If you only knew, shorty. Half of Derry has tasted my tonsils.”

Eddie smiles widely, preparing to call Richie’s bluff. “Bullshit. You haven’t kissed anyone.”

Richie’s smile drops. He looks into Eddie’s eyes. “Eddie…”

Eddie’s smile drops, too.

Richie continues, leaning in closer. “When are you going to face reality? Your mom and I care about each other very much. The woman has the most talented tongue-”

“Shut UP, Richie!” Eddie swats Richie with a pillow, landing with a muffled whack . Richie laughs quietly to himself.

Another quiet moment, and they’re both looking down at their hands in their laps.

He presses the question. “Rich, really. Have you kissed anyone before?”

It’s a risky question. They talk about girls all the time, but it’s always been something of a distant topic: jokes and celebrity crushes and their classmates. Bill, Stanley, Ben, and Mike always kept things PG. They’d each mentioned having crushes. Of course, Bill talked about kissing Beverly in the 3rd grade school play, something Richie taunted him about ruthlessly. Eddie kept quiet while the others discussed. He’d laugh when they joked or look when they shared photos from magazines, but he stayed away from the subject, afraid to reveal how little experience he had interacting with the opposite sex. Or, interest, honestly.

Richie, on the other hand, basked in loudly telling about his fictional sexual conquests with every female he’d supposedly ever encountered. At every opportunity. No one believed it, but no one bothered to dispute it.

But this was new territory for Eddie. Talking seriously about this stuff. Girls and kissing and feelings. Or rather, Eddie’s complete lack of anything to do with girls and kissing and feelings.

And with Richie, of all people?

But something about the events of the summer of 1989 made their friendship feel less… adolescent.

Richie slides onto his comforter on the floor. Without looking at Eddie, he answers. “No.” He takes off his glasses and tosses them recklessly onto Eddie’s desk.

Eddie expects a follow-up or a joke, but doesn’t hear one. “Me neither.”

“Yeah, that I know, Eddie-bear.”

“Fucking-”

- - -

Eddie dreams of Beverly, alone in the darkness.

He recognizes the horrible place that they’re back in. He’d hoped to never be back there ever again, smelling the piss and shit of Derry, mixed into a nice concoction with blood and remains of Pennywise’s victims.

Bev is a couple feet in front of him, eyes wide open. They’re solid white, no irises or pupils. She’s in the trance again.

Eddie places a hand on either of Bev’s shoulders, shaking her gently. “Shit, Bev! Bev! Beverly! Come on! You can snap out of it again, Bev!” Eddie yells. T hen shaking her with a little more force. She is slack-jawed and unresponsive, facing him blindly. “Guys! Guys, it’s Bev!” He looks around frantically for the other Losers. “She’s zonked out again, what do we do?!”  But they are alone. Matter of fact, he can’t make out any of the terrain around them, either. No water, no drainage pipes, no pile of murder trophies. No ‘new kid’ to wake her up.

Eddie swallows and looks back towards the damsel in distress. If it worked for Ben, maybe it’ll work… for him?  He places a hand on each side of Beverly’s face, squeezes his eyes closed, and gently pulls her towards him, pressing their lips together.

‘Please wake up, please wake up!’ He thinks, trying not to panic about what he’s doing.  And Eddie releases the kiss, letting himself move back a few inches, and opens his eyes.

He’s holding Richie’s face, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips slightly pursed and shiny.  Richie’s white eyes fly open, wide and horrified.

“WHAT the fu-” Eddie wakes with a heaving chest.

He’s confused and flustered and about to have a fucking asthma attack. He reaches behind his head to his nightstand and grabs his inhaler, placebo be damned. As he puffs and takes deep breaths, he looks around quickly, reminding his brain that he’s safe in his clean, non-sewer bedroom.

It’s still dark outside, and a little cold. He’s only been asleep for a couple hours. And he’s moved around so much in his nightmare that his comforter has slid onto the floor, ...and is starting to move on its own? Wha-

The comforter folds back. “Eddie?” Richie mumbles, half-asleep.

Eddie yelps and slams his back against the bedroom wall with a thud. Richie tries to shush him and continues, “Whoa! What the fuck?”

He dramatically clutches at his chest and uses his inhaler again. He examines Richie’s alerted expression, making sure his eyes have irises and pupils. Then his eyes glance at Richie’s lips, which are so-slightly parted. And maybe looks a little too long.

“Eddie, are you okay?” Richie climbs onto the bed and places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

He resettles in reality. Right. Richie stayed the night. He’s actually here. “No, I didn’t- I forgot you were here.” He covers his face with both hands and exhales deeply, embarrassed. “It was a stupid nightmare.”

Maybe another time, Richie would seize the opportunity to make an ‘erotic nightmare’ joke, but he leaves it be. “Well, breathe, dummy.”

Eddie focuses on his breathing for a few moments. He drops his hands into his lap. There’s something wet on his face, but maybe it’s just sweat? Richie’s brow furrows. And that’s when he comes to terms with a sharp pain in his hand.

“Eds, your hand!” Richie whispers urgently. “Shit, you got blood all over your face!”

He can’t even process what’s happening before Richie flies across the room to fetch the medical stash and his glasses.

“Oh my god,” Eddie squeaks. His hand is still bandaged, but it’s bleeding and has soaked through, running down his arm. He can feel the panic and terror bubbling in his throat at the utter level of unsanitary , but Richie’s back and holding his arms.

“Shhh, okay, hold on,” Richie tries to calm him. “I’m gonna get something to clean off your face.” And he hurries out of the bedroom, leaving the door open. The water runs in the faucet down the hall and Eddie hears gentle splashing. He looks towards the dark door opening, then back at his hand. His fingernails have blood under them. His cast has a large, rusty-red tint across the inside of his arm.

And Richie’s back, holding his chin carefully and cleaning with a wet cloth. He continues shushing Eddie, sensing his nausea. “It’s okay, you’re okay, don’t barf.” Richie works at his cheeks and brow, and softly wipes at his nose. His attention turns to Eddie’s hand and he looks closer. Seeing someone in that proximity to his injury makes him queasy, but Richie’s hold grounds him. Since when is Richie capable of being so… caring? (Last time Richie tried to help him, he re-broke his goddamn arm and called his mother, who wouldn’t let him leave the house for almost a month.) “Looks like you just squeezed your hand too hard. Probably fucked it up while you were sleeping. I’ll rewrap it. I watched you do mine. Jesus fuck, breathe, Eds. You’re panting like a pornstar.”

Right. Breathe. Where the fuck is his inhaler? He’s starting to feel lightheaded.

“You probably need to take off your shirt.”

“FUCK OFF, Richie!” He spits.

Richie raises his eyebrows. “No, seriously. You got blood all over your shirt, too.”

He blinks and looks down at his- oh. Fuck. Yeah, his favorite night shirt is ruined. It’s covered in blotches of red. He feels like he might pass out.

He pulls it from behind his neck and over his shoulders and head. He almost immediately starts shaking from the cold rush of air. Richie rolls his eyes, leans down to the floor where he slept, scoops his hoodie with one hand, and hands it to Eddie. He quickly pulls it on but leaves his casted arm and hand for Richie to tend to. He mumbles a drowsy, “Thanks.”

“Just try not to bleed on it, please? It’s one of my faves.”

- - -

Eddie doesn’t have any more dreams that night. Actually, he has the best night’s sleep in recent memory. No nightmares.

He also doesn’t remember falling asleep. But the morning light is shining directly into his face now, and he reluctantly comes to consciousness.

The pieces of last night reassemble in his mind, and he quickly looks at his injured hand. It’s wrapped tightly, only a few smudges of dried blood in between his fingers evidence of the late night mess. A tiny bit of dried red on the very edge of the cuff of his sleeve. And poorly written in Sharpie in the center of his bandaged palm, Sweet dreams, Spaghetti ♡

“You really know how to fuck up a nice gesture, huh?” Eddie says quietly to his probably-still-sleeping friend. He didn’t know what time it was or if his mother was lurking around yet.

No blood on his bedding, thank GOD, and no more blood on his- ...wait. What is he wearing?

He leans up on his elbows. He’s warmer than usual. Something hard is scratching at his chest and his neck, but the rest of whatever he’s wearing is so, so soft and very oversized on him.

Its an ash grey zipped-hoodie. It’s Richie’s.

His sense of smell kicks in, and he scrunches his nose at the reek of shitty body spray coming from it. He sits up and unzips the gross, unwashed jacket, pulling on the cuffs at each wrist carefully.

“Rich, come on. It’s morning. You gotta go before my mom wakes up.” He glances over the edge of the bed, but Richie’s not there. The comforter and pillow are wadded up in front of Eddie’s closet, and his sneakers are gone. No glasses on the desk.

Which means... he left already? Eddie’s heart sinks a little. Whatever. He’ll see Rich today, probably.

He looks back at his wrapped palm.

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

Richie | 13

“Just try not to bleed on it, please? It’s one of my faves.”

Eddie doesn’t laugh or fuss, which is disappointing. Richie needs to keep Eddie’s attention away from the fuckin’ Carrie episode triggered by some nightmare.

He wants to keep things light because he knows, he’s certain , Eddie’s violent nightmare probably has something to do with It. Because he’s been having nightmares about It, too. He dreams of missing posters hanging across Derry with his face on them, with no one looking for him. He dreams of that giant lumberjack trying to stab him to death in the middle of the park, and no one will help him. He dreams of being lost in the sewers, his friends calling to find him, but his mouth is sewn shut. Horrific realities every night. He can’t stay asleep more than a couple hours.

That’s why he’s risking getting caught in the Kaspbrak house. Anymore, he doesn’t feel okay unless he’s with his friends. The Great Richie Tozier is reduced to a sleepless baby, and the only possible remedy is having one of his Losers at arm’s length. And Eddie is his favorite Loser, after all.

And up until Eddie woke him up, it seemed to be working.

He focuses on unwrapping the crimson tide mess of cloth wrapped around an apparently catatonic version of his friend Eddie. It isn’t until he’s gently wiping away fresh blood from the cut that Eddie actually responds again.

Eddie hisses. “Ow.”

“Sorry.” He apologizes softly. “I’m just gonna clean this up, and then… I’ll put some stuff on it?”

He looks up and meets Eddie’s eyes, which are half-lidded and sleepy. He figures the horror has subsided and his firey little friend has worn himself out in his own panic. Or maybe he’s about to pass out? Either way, he’s glad Eddie isn’t making this difficult.

Eddie nods. “Yeah we can jus’ put some triple antibiotic on it.”

He looks over the products he brought to the temporary emergency room that is the bed. Triple… antibionic… ?

“S’the yellow tube,” Eddie mumbles and points lazily. Richie picks it up and uses some across Eddie’s wound. “Don’t use it all, dumb.”

“‘Dumb’ what?” He replaces the cap.

“You’re not qualified to do this.”

“You’re not qualified. I’m qualified as shit.” He’s glad Eddie wants to bicker instead of freak out. He finishes wrapping a first layer of gauze and tape around Eddie’s small hand. Richie risks a glance up at Eddie’s face, only a few inches away. The kid hasn’t fallen back asleep, but his eyes are shut and he’s tilting his head back against the wall.

Richie allows his fingers to gently drag across Eddie’s as he pulls back. He pinches Eddie’s fingertips softly as he lets go. The sensation tingles up his arm and to his center, where it’s growing warmly. (He thought it couldn’t get better than Eddie tending to his hand earlier in the night. He enjoyed the rough way that Eddie yanked his hand into a position easy to clean and bandage, lectured Richie about cleanliness and all the risks involved with not properly taking care of a wound.) There’s a tightness in his chest at how he gets to take care of Eddie like this, totally in control and responsible for his well-being.

He looks over the casted arm, with LOVER written across it and smiles fondly at Eddie’s determination to fight back against that stupid bitch Greta Keene. (He really wishes he could hit a girl.) But even more than that, the fact that Eddie prefers to be thought of as a “lover” makes Richie’s heart pound.

He’s almost done wrapping Eddie’s hand.

“Richie?” Eddie whispers.

“Yes, ‘muh boy?” He whispers back.

“Can I go back ‘ta sleep?” He slurs.

“Hand’s almost done. And then,” He pinches Eddie’s cheek. “We just gotta wrap you in fucking bubble wrap because you can’t fucking manage NOT to hurt yourself every chance!” Eddie is apparently too sleepy to fight back and allows him to hold the freshly bandaged hand in both of his own. “All better, Spaghetti Man.” And he presses his lips to the center of Eddie’s palm in a quick kiss and smiles widely.

Eddie lifts his head and opens his eyes at Richie. He looks down at his hand, and then back to Richie. “Thank you.” His eyelids drop, he quickly tips over, and plops his head onto his pillow, bouncing on the mattress slightly.

Richie has to cover his mouth to stifle his laugh. Eddie muffles something into his pillow. “Pardon me?” He says quietly with a big smile. He can’t help it. This is cute as shit.

Eddie turns his face away from the pillow. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m gonna sleep.”

“Can you sleep without injuring yourself?”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away. “I dunno but I’m tired.” He shuffles and twists his body around until he’s facing upward and looking at Richie. His hand reaches up and wraps around Richie’s wrist. “You can sleep on the bed too, if you want?”

Richie’s throat closes. He’s not entirely sure how much of this Eddie is actually processing, he seems really out of it. And his wrist feels like it’s on fire from Eddie’s touch.

“I just… Maybe that way if I start hav’ ‘nuther nightmare, you can wake me up. If you don’t wanna, tha’s fine-”

“No it’s fine.” He stops Eddie, taking a breath before continuing. “If you start freaking out again I’ll kick you in the dick until you stop.” He hopes that Eddie believes his nonchalant agreeance.

Eddie, once again, doesn’t laugh or fuss. He scoots to the outer side of the twin mattress and closes his eyes. The oversized hoodie swallowing his tiny form, almost covering his sleep shorts. He leaves space between himself and the wall.

Richie gulps. He can feel his hear pounding in his ears as he steps across the room to turn off the light on the desk, and pick up Eddie’s discarded comforter from the floor. He looks over his patient lying on the bed. His chest is moving gently as he breathes. It’s really cute. Too cute. Dangerously cute.

He can already hear steady breathing coming from the little wad of hypochondria. He’s out.

Richie steps back towards the desk and plucks a Sharpie from next to the lamp. He pads back towards the bed and kneels down close to Eddie’s face. He gently pulls Eddie’s bandaged hand from near his neck. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his fingers and it sends chills down his spine, but he stays focused. He scribbles, Sweet dreams, Spaghetti ♡ into the center of the palm, and replaces it against Eddie’s chest. He knows Eddie won’t think too deeply about it, he’ll just be pissed off and probably want to change the bandages as soon as possible. He hopes, at least.

After he tosses the closed marker onto the floor, he prays to WHATEVER evil God has put him in this position that Eddie won’t feel him shaking as he lays down facing the wall, pulling the cover over them. His ears are ringing, at this point. They’re echoes of blood rushing all over the place, his heart on overdrive. He tries to keep at least a couple inches distance from Eddie’s back, but he’s starting to get a contact high from the proximity and the body heat. His breathing is totally out of rhythm. His body is buzzing with a want to close the gap.

Listening to Eddie’s soft breathing, Richie drifts asleep.

And oh, by the way, it’s been exactly six days, 13 hours, and 12 minutes since he decided he was in completely love with Eddie Kaspbrak. And it fucking sucks.

- - -

“Eddie!” An irritating voice rings from the hallway. “Why is the bathroom light on?”

The sound shakes Richie awake. Looks like the sun has just started coming up, and it’s still a little chilly. He knows right away that Sonia is up and on the move. He’s got to go before she starts jiggling Eddie’s doorknob. By then, she’ll hear him climbing out of the house.

Richie rubs his eyes quickly and touches the top of his head, checking for his glasses, but doesn’t feel them. He tries to lean himself up on his arms, but something is weighing one of them down…

He doesn’t need his glasses to figure out that the blurry figure laying on his arm is Eddie. He can make out the features of Eddie’s nose and eyebrows, and lips… Really close to his own face. His breathing intensifies as he realizes how closely they’re facing each other. Eddie is only a few inches away, weight holding down Richie’s right arm.

He would have loved to stay like this longer… but he can hear the floorboards creaking outside the bedroom.

“Fuck.” Richie mouths to himself.

As gently as possible, he pulls his arm from under the still-sleeping angel next to him. He scoots to the far end, away from Eddie, and worms off the bed, avoiding touching him. He places the comforter back on Eddie and scrambles to clean up the rest of the evidence. He scoops his make-shift bed from the floor and tosses it in front of Eddie’s closet. He clumsily pulls on his sneakers and grabs his glasses from the desk.

He turns towards Eddie, still dead asleep. Must have slept okay?

Man, for that matter, Richie didn’t have any nightmares either. The Great Richie Tozier slept like a sleep-full baby.

“Sorry, Eds, I gotta scram.” Richie whispers affectionately as if to a one night stand, and moves towards the window. Out the window, across the roof to the gate, down onto the fence, then he’ll escape out the back yard. Carefully, he lifts the window and climbs out, focusing on not catching his leg again. He pauses to take one more look inside, towards the bed.

“Eddie!” Mrs. K repeats, from behind the door. “Are you awake this early?”

“Shit!” And he rushes away from the window, out of sight. He’s moving quietly, and he hears the window shut behind him.

[lifesucksheres20bucks]

this is pretty random, out of nowehere but could you write a soulmate au of reddie in which people can see who their soulmate based on a red string tied on their ring finger and the end of the string is tied to your soulmate, richie and eddie forgot each other because of the trauma they had on their childhood so they both believed they have no soulmate because there is no sting on their fingers and then they saw each other on a random place and the sting appear, i made a fan art on this

@weirdwaffle made some incredible art to go with this fic so go check it out!

Richie has been in Los Angeles for the past 4 years going to UCLA, busting his ass in with his Major. He decided to pursue an acting career but his parents wanted him to go to university, so they made a compromise, he could do an acting major. He also picked up a minor along the way, he wanted to dabble in the art of writing. His goal was to be able to write his own jokes and perform them on a tv show. Not to toot his own horn but he was damn good at writing jokes and at performing them. About two years ago he started doing stand up at the local comedy bar and he completely fell in love with the gig. That brings us here, the summer after he graduated, top of his class, in the middle of New York City. He probably has the shittiest apartment in the city, but he’s proud of that, because it’s his shitty apartment. One that he paid with his own money, money with no strings attached, unlike his parents money. He had come here because he wanted to work on Saturday Night Live. He wanted to be a cast member so bad but he would take any job he could, hell he would become the janitor if he had too. SNL was his dream, it combined all of his passions, acting, writing, comedy and stupid voices. He was already on the right path to working on the show. He had sent in a self tape while he was back in LA and they told him they wanted to see him perform live. The second he got that phone call he decided to pack up all of his things and move to NYC. 

Eddie on the other hand, was kind of a hot mess. He just graduated from nursing school and was working shitty night shift at the New York Presbyterian Hospital, he only accepted the job because he had interned there and they offered him a permanent post. He told himself he wasn’t going to work there long, only a year or two just to get enough experience to get a better job. Working the nights shift were the worst, he mostly got drunks with stupid superficial injuries. The most exciting thing to happen in the emergency room in the last week was that someone accidentally set their pants on fire and had 1st degree burns on their ass. Although he complained a lot about his job, he wouldn’t change it for the world. He loved being a nurse, it made him feel important and strong. When he was younger, his mom made him believe he had serious health issues, he was scared of everything and it prevented him from being a worry free kid. He didn’t remember much of his childhood, his therapist said it was probably because he had blocked out all memories of his mom and that sadly included his childhood. He always felt like something was missing like a part of his soul had been ripped out, maybe that's why he didn't have a red string on his finger. 

Everyone has a soulmate. Every person is born with a red string attached on their ring finger and once they meet their soulmate those two would connect. That’s how you knew, pretty simple actually. However, Eddie didn’t have a string on his finger, he figured his soulmate must of died before they had a chance to meet. Thinking of that made him sad, it most likely meant he was going to die alone. 

Richie didn’t have a string either, not that he cared much, he wasn’t really one for soulmates. He preferred being the guy people hooked up with before settling down with their forever partner. It was quick and without any real commitment. Plus he had an array of people to choose from, both guys and girls liked to experiment before meeting their soulmates.

A month after his live audition, Richie got a call, it was from one of the producers of SNL telling him he was going to be apart of the featured cast. After the phone call ended he collapsed to the floor, it was the best day of his life. He suddenly felt the urge to tell someone what happened he took his phone a blankly stared at his contacts, he didn’t know who he wanted to call but the urge to do it felt so powerful, he thought he was going insane. 

“It’s just the adrenaline, you’re not insane” he told himself

Instead of dwelling on what just happened, he called his parents to tell them the good news.

The week before the first SNL show of the season, the cast were practicing skits non stop. He was there from 8am to way past midnight on most days. He was exhausted but he was only so happy to be actually doing this, his dream job. One night they were practicing a skit that involve someone breaking a vase on Richie’s head. Of course they used sugar glass but somehow the last take they tried had hurt a lot more than the ones before.

“OH shit dude you’re bleeding!” one of his cast members yelled

Panic settled in Richie’s stomach as blood dripped down the side of his face. He slowly touched his forehead and felt the deep cut on his temple. 

“Dude you have to go to the hospital, that looks really bad. Come with me, I'll take you to the emergency room” Richie mindlessly followed his colleague out of the Rockefeller centre. 

“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance, I don’t know if I can walk far like this”  

“Don’t worry, it’s just on the other side of the street, we’re nearly there”

Richie walked in the emergency room and sat down on a chair, feeling very lightheaded. His colleague talked to the nurse at the reception and she told him he could wait on a bed until a nurse came to look at him.

He sat there for what felt like forever until he felt something pull at his ring finger. He looked down thinking it was hallucination coming from the blood loss but there it was, clear as day, a red string tugging at his finger. 

Eddie was finishing up with a patient when he was called to look over another one. 

“You have a patient in bed 4, head injury, so you might need stitches”

Eddie groaned, he hated giving stitches, he hated the way the needle felt when it the in the skin. He suddenly felt nervous, thinking it was because of the stitches, he just brushed it off. 

As he started walking towards bed 4 and  he feels something pulling his at his hand. He quickly looked down and saw a red string. He starts to panic, this wasn't supposed to happen, he doesn't have a soulmate. He starts to turn away, he can't do this, not now, he's not ready. He feels a full on panic attack coming on and he tries to walk away but the string is keeping him there. 

“Hey could you stop pulling, you’re starting to hurt my finger”

Eddie’s head shoots up, that voice, he knows that voice. A sense of comfort and warmth washes over him and he slowly starts walking toward the noise. He pulls back the curtain at bed 4 gasps.

“Richie…” , Eddie breathes out, he doesn’t know how he knows the guys name but he just does.

“Hiya Eds”, that nickname escapes Richie lips like it was something he was dying to say all his life.

Suddenly everything hits Eddie like truck. Derry, the quarry, all of the summer nights spent with the losers club laughing but the most important thing that came back to him was Richie. The way that Richie made him feel, how could he have forgotten a love that powerful. He can see in the way Richie’s face squints, that’s memories are coming back for him too. 

“Eddie, how could I have forgotten you”

“I don’t know Richie, none of this makes sense” 

“It’s Derry, that shit hole made us forget each other. We didn't have strings because we had already met when we were children.” 

Eddie suddenly remembers Richie injury and touches Richie’s face. He feels this feeling inside of him that he's never felt before, it’s like he’s breathing for the first time in his life. 

“I, uhm, I need to, hm, stitch you up, okay ‘chee?” Eddie didn’t know where that nickname came from but it felt right.

“ yeah hmm, Now, pip-pip and tally-ho, my good fellow, go ahead and patch me up Dr.K” Richie said in a terrible British accent

“Oh my god, I can't believe you still do those awful accents”

“ Yeah well, I get paid to do them now”

“What did you like start working at SNL or something, like you dreamed of doing as a kid” Eddie says laughing

“Actually yeah, that’s how I got my injury. We were practicing a skit and someone used real glass instead of sugar glass. A real great first week”

“ Wow that’s incredible...I think we have a lot of catching up to do. I'm all done by the way.” Eddie said as he took his hand away from Richie’s cheek

Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand and squeezed it softly.

In that moment they knew that everything was going to be okay. 

*SORRY THE ENDING SUCKED AGAIN I CANT FINISH STORIES FOR SHIT OKAY THANKS BYE*

**i also researched way too much for this fic lol**

[leona-x-lancaster]

[ ZENDAYA COLEMAN, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER] — If you’re strolling Derry today, you might see [ LEONA LANCASTER ] along the way! The [ TWENTY-TWO ] year old can usually be found at [ BARTINI as HEAD BARTENDER / OCCASIONAL DANCER ], when they aren’t busy with [ GETTING HIGH and PARTYING ]. I hear they seem to be [ LAID BACK and GENUINE ], but they are also rumored to be [ SARCASTIC and RECKLESS ].  I’m sure they’d never admit it, but they’re terrified of [ DEEP WATER ]

TW: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Bullying, Attempted Murder, Insomnia, Eating Disorder, Drug Abuse, Alcohol Abuse

Basic Info

Full Name: Leona Alexis Lancaster Nickname(s): Lee, Little Lion Age: 22 Occupation: Head Bartender at Bartini Dance Club Birthday: Sept. 13th Zodiac: Virgo

Family

Father (adopted): Alistair Lancaster Father (adopted): Antonio Hernandez-Lancaster Birth Mother: Name is Unknown. She was a teenage mother, though, and possibly a drug addict herself Sibling(s): Older (adopted) Brother

Physical Appearance

Height: 5′10′’ Weight: 114 lbs Hair Color / Type: Dark brown / Naturally curly. She sometimes straightens it Eye Color: Dark Brown Piercings: Two piercings each on the right and left earlobes; once on the right and left cartilages

Wardrobe examples: X

Personality

(+) Independent, Genuine, Down to Earth, Genius, Fiercely Loyal (-) Unrestrained, Wild, Impulsive, Reckless, Sarcastic

She’s pretty nice to almost everyone, and tries her best not to judge others for their situations, seeing as she’s not exactly perfect herself. She’s very chilled and down to earth, and is super, SUPER smart but tries her best to hide that from people, because of all the hate she got during her high school years.

Has no restrains at the moment, and is very reckless and impulsive because of that. She gets high and drunk all the time and doesn’t really care too much what everyone else thinks of it.

VERY sarcastic, but moreso in a humorous way than her just being truly nasty (she doesn’t really have a malicious bone in her body)

Her Demons

She suffers from: Drug Addiction, Alcohol Addiction, Bipolar Depression, Insomnia, and an Eating Disorder.

She’s well aware that she is a fucking mess (she uses that phrase quite a lot to describe herself), and while she cares, she has no plans of actually stopping. Mostly because she doesn’t know how and also because she loves the feelings her highs give her far too much.

She lies and says that it’s only for fun and she could and will stop, but…she’s lying through her teeth.

She suffers from bipolar depression, which contributes heavily to her substance abuse. Leona was diagnosed at a very early age, and was on a thousand different kind of meds, as the doctors tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with her. These days, she’s opted out on her medication for actual drugs, to help her cope with her insomnia and severe depressive episodes.

She has very low self esteem and she has no self worth. You could tell her that she’s the prettiest girl in the room and she wouldn’t believe you. This comes from her school years where she was bullied severely, and from her depression. She was called every horrible name under the sun and she’s come to believe them all.

She’s a literal genius, but the bullying and hazing that she suffered in high school has caused her to hate that about herself. Her mind is always busy, racing with thoughts and she finds it so hard to turn it off when she’s sober…so she gets high to help her do it for her.

Due to her mind always constantly on autopilot, she suffers from insomnia, as she finds it extremely difficult to sleep because her brain just won’t shut off.

Her drug (and alcohol) addiction is getting more and more out of control. It’s pretty obvious, just looking at her most days, that she’s not okay.

You will catch her staring blankly at the walls, unresponsive. That can be really unnerving to witness, because her eyes look dead. This is her at the peak of her high.

She’s always had an aversion to food, but it’s gotten worse as her addiction to drugs got worse. Leona was practically starving herself. She hardly ever eats anything, even when she feels hungry which is pretty rare - it’s only ever the bare minimum. Her appetite is just non-existent and oftentimes when she does pick at food, her stomach just can’t handle it and she ends up getting nauseous.

She’s always been pretty thin and frail looking, but she’s getting thinner by the day. She doesn’t notice.

BIGGEST FEAR

Thalassophobia -  is the persistent and intense fear of deep bodies of water such as the ocean\sea, river or lake - any kind of body of water that seemed vast, dark, deep, and dangerous.

When Leona was thirteen, she had been invited by a few of the older girls that she went to school with to go sailing along the harbor. Getting the invite had been decidedly odd, since these girls had been her main tormentors for the last several years - ever since she had moved up to their grade (she’d skipped three grades). They’ve done nothing but bully and terrorize her, for seemingly no reason other than the fact that she was really smart - much smarter then them, and that seemed to offend them. Now all of a sudden they were acting all nice and as if they were her friends...it was really weird. 

While she was suspicious, her dads on the other hand had been been thrilled and even encouraged her to accept the invite, hoping that it meant that she was starting to make new friends, after years of having just a few close ones from her childhood. Leona hadn’t told them about her bullies so it wasn’t like they were to know, so reluctantly, she had agreed to go.

The first two hours on the boat was fine, if not really awkward. Always perceptive, Leona could see right through their phony smiles and friendly behaviors - they were definitely up to something. It wasn’t until the sun started to go down, that their demeanor changed, like someone had just flipped their on switch.  They lunged for her and started physically beating her, taking turns hitting her and kicking her and tearing at her clothes. Then the leader of the three - Lizzie - bound Leona’s hands in rope while the others held her down.

Once she was bound, Leona was hauled to her feet and then pushed overboard, where the fell into the depths of the open, ice cold waters of the Atlantic ocean. Though she was a rather strong swimmer, with her hands bound Leona was helpless and so she was quick to sink below the surface, all the while struggling to undo the bindings.

It was only thanks to Lizzie being terrible at tying knots that saved Leona’s life. It took a while, but she was able to loosen up the rope enough to slip her hands free, and she was able to make her way back up to the surface, with only just a few short seconds of breath to spare. When she re-surfaced, she saw that the harbor patrol had spotted the entire incident and had been quick to respond. Lizzie and her two accomplices - Marisa and Erin - were immediately apprehended. Upon seeing Leona floating precariously in the water, the officer was quick to throw a life preserver to her and helped pull her out and into the squad boat.

As all three girls were sixteen, they were tried in court as adults and sentenced to jail for attempted murder for several years. They would likely head to prison once they turned 18.

Due to this very traumatic incident, Leona has since been extremely terrified of deep, and dark water. Although she is adamant able never getting on another boat for the rest of her life, deep down she really wants to conquer her fear. She’d always loved going sailing on her dads’ boat and misses being on the water, but the thought of actually being on one and being surrounded by the wide, open sea just terrifies her to no end.

This incident is widely known around Derry, so the locals who’ve been in town for at least nine years would have certainly heard about it and the trial of the three older teen girls that followed. It was on the news - TV and newspaper alike.

Interests / Likes / Dislikes / Habits

She practically lives at Bartini, the local night club. She works there as head bartender, and has been there for a year, and it’s never really seemed like work to her. She thrives on the atmosphere of the place, and if it weren’t for closing times during the daylight hours, she’d likely spend all day there if she could.

Getting drunk and high constantly, practically every other day (she goes on day-long benders sometimes)

Likes going to a good party, and has a pretty good ‘partydar’ - in which she tends to find parties quite easily. She was such a good girl in high school, and now that she was an adult and living in her own place with her roommates, she felt free to do as she pleased.

Gets along with most everyone, especially those she considers her ‘inner circle’ - those that she’d ride or die for.

She’s a LOT more social now as a young adult than she ever was as a teen, and she actually enjoys being in the thick of things and having a good, strong network of friends or just friendly acquaintances all around her. Because of her job at Bartini and the fact that she spends ninety percent of her time either working down at the club, partying elsewhere in town or going on walks and bike rides around Derry at any give hour, she has a tendency to run into a lot of the locals. Because of that, a lot of people knew who she was, and she them.

 Of course, she knows that the incident with her near death was also a well known and talked about event several years back so most already knew who she was to begin with. She HATED being known as the Derry girl who was nearly murdered by some of her classmates - it was a terrible stigma and tended to bring back horrible memories whenever it was brought up. She much preferred being associated with her job or as the local wanderer.

LOATHES bullies, given her past with them. She refuses to be a victim, and she will not stand to see others being one as well.

LOVES to cuddle, and is super clingy to those she considers her closest friends and family members. Her friendship comes with it’s own little warning label - Warning: Don’t be friends with Leona Lancaster if you don’t like to snuggle.

Has a beautiful singing voice, and isn’t shy about breaking out into song at random, and sometimes in rather inappropriate places.

Has a fantastic fashion sense. She absolutely loves fashion and therefore, loves shopping. The part of her paychecks that don’t go towards her bills and drug addiction, goes towards her rather expansive wardrobe.

Biography

Was actually born in Chicago, IL., to a drug addicted teenage mother (although this fact is unknown to her) who wanted nothing to do with her after she was born. She was put up for adoption almost as soon as she came into the world.

Luckily, she was adopted just a short time later (at six months old) by Alistair and Antonio Lancaster. They were a happily married gay couple from Maine who were looking to adopt a second child. They already had a son, who that they had also adopted.

Leona grew up, alongside her older brother in Derry, Maine. In her early years, she was a happy child, easily making friends with the other locals who were close to you own age. She had a few neighbors who she quickly became besties for life with. To this day, adult Leona cherished every single one of them, and thought of them as an extension of her family.

From a very early age, it was clear to everyone in her family that she was highly intellectual - like, genius level smart. Leona had e a much higher IQ than most her age, and she quickly found her classes to be a breeze - so much so, in fact, that she was inevitably forced by both her parents and the school administrators to skip several grades. She found the entire experience mortifying and traumatic, as all the kids she now had to surround herself with were much older and bigger than her. She hated it.

Of course, being the smallest and youngest in her class resulted in several painful years of humiliation and bullying. Mainly from three specific girls - Lizzie, Erin and Marisa. They were three years older than her and tormented her throughout jr and high school. 

At the age of 13, her three main tormentors were arrested and locked away after nearly drowning Leona. The entire town was quick to learn about the attempt on her life and the subsequent arrest of the girls responsible, but it didn’t make her last year of high school any easier. 

 By the time her high school graduation came around, the then 14-year-old had been ecstatic and relieved to finally be leaving high school behind.

When her dads tried to push her into going to college right after, Leona had adamantly refused to go. She wanted to wait until she was 18 or even older, determined not to have another repeat of her high school years, where she was several years younger than everyone else.

When she finally turned 18, instead of heading to college like she said she would, Leona moved out of her dads’ house and headed to Portland, tired of being in Derry, and feeling like she needed to escape the stigma that still followed her around.

While in Portland, she became roomies with a few of young adults who were quick to introduce Leona into the life of drugs and alcohol and sex, and it hadn’t taken her long to get addicted. Not just to the substances, but to the lifestyle of partying and not giving a fuck about anything. With such an overactive and constantly running mind, she found that if she took enough drugs and drank enough alcohol, that her brain would finally be able to slow the hell down and be quieted, if only temporarily - sometimes enough to let her sleep a full eight hours, other times it was just a couple, but she'd honestly take what she could get.

She stayed in Portland for two years. At the age of 21, she attended a mixology course, and when she was finished Leona decided to move back to Derry, feeling homesick. She hadn’t seem her brother, or dads or any of her friends in the two years she’s been gone and she missed them terribly. 

Instead of moving back in with her dads, though - in fear of them discovering her addiction and forcing her into rehab - she became housemates to Prissy Goldwyn, one of her childhood best friends and someone she still remained close friends with throughout their teen years. It was an easy friendship to maintain, since Prissy lived just a few houses down from hers.

Her dads may not know about her plethora of problems with alcohol or drugs, but her brother certainly did and worried for her a great deal. The two were very close and he didn’t like that she was destroying herself and wasting her potential.

- W A N T E D   C O N N E C T I O N S -

Dad #1 - her adopted father. (50+, Hug Jackman, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Robert Downy Jr, Idris Elba, UTP) Any ethnicity

Dad #2 - her OTHER adopted father. (45+, Oscar Isaacs, UTP) Any ethnicity, although I did picture him being of Latino descent.

Older Brother - Adopted. (28-32 - Ryan Guzman (first pick), Logan Lerman (second pick), Diego Boneta, UTP) He can be of any ethnicity, as well.

Childhood Friends (CAN BE MULTIPLE PEOPLE) - friends she’s had since she was very young. They used to play together all the time in their youth, and have either remained in touch over the years, or they’ve lost touch (since Leona ended up skipping several grades - she left 3rd grade behind to go into 6th).

Co-Workers - either someone who is also a bartender for Bartini Dance Club, or who works there as like a dancer or server or something. Leona does fill in as a dancer some times, when they’re short-staffed and need a fill-in.

Drug Dealer - she will definitely need a drug dealer around town. Whether they have a good rapport with one other, or it’s literally just a business exchange - either way will work and would be welcome.

Inner Circle - those that she considers “her people”. The ones she would do anything for, and who would do anything for her in return. She loves these individuals dearly and with her whole heart, and she is fiercely protective of them - whether they’re in need of her protection or not - but also they’re the ones she’s the most cuddly and clingy to.

[losvcr]

escape (reddie)

Type: One-shot

Summary: Richie gets community service and convinces Eddie to begrudgingly come along one day, but when Eddie meets a little girl named Ellie, he realizes it was not what he thought it would be.

Pairing: Reddie

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: illness, death

A/N: why do i write sad ass one shots? someone tell me to stop. anyway this is a revenge one shot i wrote for lauryn. i hope you guys enjoy!

“Richie, where are you taking meee?” His words were nearly a whine as his arms folded over his chest, Eddie’s head turning to stare at a grinning Richie Tozier in the driver’s seat next to him.

“You ask too many questions, Eds. Just let it be a surprise.”

“Uh, no. You’re the one who got community service because you don’t know how to act at school. The least you can do is tell me where the hell we’re going.” He huffed, his gaze returning forward with a small pout.

“You’ll love it, Eds. Just trust me on this one.” Richie glanced over at Eddie, thinking the pout on his lips was absolutely adorable.

“I don’t trust you on anything, Richie, so what makes you think I’m gonna trust you all of a sudden?”

Eddie’s eyes scanned the area they were in for clues, so preoccupied with the thought of where Richie could possibly be taking them that he wasn’t freaking out over Richie’s less-than-stellar driving like he normally did.

“Okay, ouch. We’re almost there, moody boy. In fact--” Eddie frowned when they pulled up next to a small, brick building, leaning over towards the car window to get a better look at the sign; Derry’s sick-house. “We’re here!”

That didn’t sound like a pleasant name. Not at all.

“Richie, what the fuck--”

“Shh, Eds, c’mon. Let’s go.” Richie was quick to hop out of the car, and Eddie stared at his boyfriend with an incredulous expression on his face.

Although he hesitated, Eddie pushed his car door open and got out to stand face to face with the building. “You’ve got another thing coming if you’re thinking I’m going in some place with the words ‘sick-house’ in the name.”

Richie smirked at Eddie’s frown, moving to stand in front of his smaller companion. “It’s literally not even what you think. C’mon Eddie, just give me a chance to prove myself.” A moment later, his face deadpanned. “Seriously. Please.”

Eddie fidgeted under Richie’s gaze, narrowing his eyes a little before huffing in defeat. “Okay, fine. Let’s go. But I swear to god, Rich, if this--”

“I know baby boy, I know.” Richie smiled and threw an arm over Eddie’s shoulders, ignoring the resistance as he urged Eddie forward.

---

This wasn’t what Eddie had been expecting or picturing at all.

As they walked through the home and his eyes took in young children, he figured that maybe they should change the name of this place.

“Richieee!” Eddie flinched at the squeal he heard, eyes widening when a small body collided into Richie’s, nearly knocking him over.

“Ayo! Woah, kiddo, it’s good to see you too. Maybe a little less enthusiasm next time? My fuckin’ bones aren’t strong-- Ouch! Why’d you hit me, Eds?”

Eddie watched Richie hug the diminutive child dressed in flannel and jeans, taking note of their clean-shaven head. “Don’t swear in front of children.”

To say Eddie was surprised was, well, an understatement.

Richie grinned, pulling back to stare down at his companion. “What’s up, Ellie? Remember how I told you I’d bring my boyfriend here to meet you?”

Eddie blinked in surprise when the child, a female he realized, whipped around to face him with the widest smile he had ever seen. “Are you Eddie?”

Now that she wasn’t squealing, he could hear just how soft and small her voice actually was.

“Y-yeah. I’m, uh, yeah. I’m Eddie.” He stammered.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Ellie, I’m twelve, and I’ve got leukemia.” Ellie still had a grin on her face as she thrust her hand out towards Eddie, clearly expecting a handshake.

He wondered if this was how she introduced herself to everyone. “Nice to meet you, Ellie.” Eddie gave her a nervous smile, taking her smaller hand into his and giving it a firm shake.

“Now you and Richie are my new best friends!” She beamed, and Eddie found himself glancing over at Richie who was staring at him with a victorious smirk on his lips. “Richie, my mom brought me my guitar yesterday and you said you’d play so... On with it. Let us go.”

Eddie’s jaw was nearly slack to the ground when he heard Ellie’s mock British accent, and the laughter that Richie emitted next to him let him know that his boyfriend had every bit to do with it.

---

Everyday, after school, Eddie would join Richie in going to visit Ellie for a few hours.

She would always be so happy to see them, and Eddie thought that was precious.

Even though Richie wouldn’t say it out loud, Eddie could tell that this meant a lot to his boyfriend. He knew that their after school visits were the highlight of Richie’s day, and that Ellie was important to him. The bond that Richie and Ellie had was strong, in Eddie’s opinion.

On a few occasions, they had gotten consent from Ellie’s mother to take her out, and Richie would always panic about how it had to be perfect for her. It usually ended up with them taking her out to a movie and then getting pizza and ice cream afterwards. They would then end it with Richie playing and singing for Ellie until it was time to take her back.

Even after Richie’s community service was over, they still went back to hang out with Ellie.

Eddie remembered the best time they had. The home had a small dance for the residents, and Richie and Eddie had gotten clearance to attend. It was absolutely adorable to watch Ellie and Richie bounce around the dance floor to the music. He had never seen Ellie smile and laugh so much, and if he were being honest, he couldn’t even remember seeing Richie glowing that much.

Eddie made sure to get video footage of these cute moments when he could, knowing that they would be able to play it and reminisce later. Hopefully, with Ellie.

Good things didn’t last forever, however.

Ellie’s health had started deteriorating suddenly and aggressively, so much that the once bouncing and vibrant child started becoming weak and meek. It had gotten to the point where one week she was walking, and then the next she needed a wheelchair to get around.

Each visit got sadder and sadder.

Once Ellie was bedridden and emaciated with sickness, Richie was trying to smile and be cheery for Ellie so that she wouldn’t be so sad, but to Eddie, it appeared like it was becoming harder for his boyfriend to do so.

---

“Richie, c’mon, answer your phone...” Eddie mumbled to himself worriedly, pacing in front of the school. However, the phone went to straight to voicemail just like it had the other six times he tried.

Normally, Richie would meet him in front of the school afterwards and they would drive to the sick-house, but Richie hadn’t even been in school that day.

Richie always told Eddie when he wasn’t going to come to school. Richie always answered his frantic calls and texts. Not today, however.

After hitching a ride from Bill to Richie’s house, he tried not to think of the worst as he got out and thanked Bill.

Eddie used the key Richie had given to him a year ago, and pushed through the door, listening carefully for signs of anyone else.

It was quiet. Unsettling quiet.

“Richie? Are you here?” Eddie hated the way his voice trembled as he made his way through the house, looking for his boyfriend.

Eventually, he got up to Richie’s room, and timidly twisted the door open in hopes that Richie would be there.

What he saw, he would never forget.

He saw Richie curled up in the middle of his bed, his eyes bloodshot and tears streaming down his face as he held a jacket in his arms.

It was Ellie’s jacket that they’d bought for her months ago.

Eddie’s heart dropped as he came to the realization of what was going on, and he clasped a hand over his mouth, tears instantly springing into his eyes.

“Sh-she’s gone, Eddie... Sh-sh-she died th-this morning..” Eddie jumped slightly at the sob that left Richie’s lips, and he quickly rushed over, wrapping his arms around Richie.

“Fuck... I’m so sorry, Richie..” Eddie whispered, sniffling as his own tears began sliding down his face.

He had been close to Ellie, but not nearly as close as Richie had been. It hurt him to think that Richie had been alone all day to deal with this major loss.

“She... she was only twelve, E-Eds... How could this happen? She had so much life.” Eddie could feel Richie’s body begin to shake, causing Eddie to pull Richie closer as he ran a hand through Richie’s dark locks.

He didn’t have a response to it. They both knew that death for Ellie was always a possibility, especially once she started deteriorating, but he didn’t think either of them was prepared for it to actually happen.

“This is bullshit. She should still be here. She should be in school, she should be hanging out with other kids.” Richie’s shaky voice was growing angrier by the second, which startled Eddie slightly.

“Richie, please, calm down babe...” He tried.

“Calm down? Calm down, Eddie?! I can’t calm down. They didn’t save her, and they were supposed to save her.”

Suddenly Richie was up on his feet, and Eddie fell onto his butt on Richie’s bed as he watched his boyfriend in shock. “Richie, just-- Richie, stop!” He shrieked loudly.

Eddie flinched visibly when he watched Richie’s TV come crashing down to the ground and shatter under its own weight.

“She was only twelve!” Richie was like a tornado, flinging around and breaking everything in his sight while yelling about the unfairness of Ellie’s death.

“Richie please, stop it!” Eddie had scrambled himself up into a corner of the room, hoping to keep away from Richie’s frenzied destruction as he begged and pleaded for Richie to calm down.

Richie stood in the middle of the room after he dismantled it, his chest heaving up and down. “Why couldn’t they save her, Eds? W-why couldn’t I..? I...” Richie got out weakly through his ragged breathing, shaking all over. Without warning, he collapsed to the ground in his sorrow, gut-wrenching sobs ripping past his throat and lips.

Eddie quickly rushed passed the mess and over to Richie, collapsing next to him as he pulled Richie into his arms.

“It’s not your fault, Richie..” Eddie whispered, choking back his own sobs. “You gave her something to look forward to in her last days, Richie.. You were her hero.”

For hours, Eddie and Richie sat in that spot on the floor, holding each other and grieving together. 

One thing was certain; They would never forget Ellie.

They had petitioned for Ellie to get a memorial at the local park, and it was granted. There, Richie left a CD that contained all of Ellie’s favorites songs. He wanted to make sure that she always had his voice wherever she was.

[gillianfoster]

thanks for being the best idea beta jameothy

As much as they did love to all hang out together, there were times parts of the Losers Club had broken off on their own, and Eddie tended to find himself, at those times, hanging out with Richie. The two of them just ended up together when no one else could hang out. Just like Eddie had known that when Bev was there she and Bill had broken off and hung out on their own - only, well. Not quite like that. Maybe.

The point was that Richie’s parents, shitty as they were, didn’t really care if Eddie just sort of showed up and didn’t leave. He couldn’t be gone from home too long, but especially after that summer, the summer of ’89, he just needed a night out of the house sometimes and he would go to Richie’s. He and Richie had gone to the arcade sometimes (not that Eddie would ever touch an arcade machine without at least several wet wipes involved), or to the theater, so they’d hung out without everyone else. Going to Richie’s just made sense. Mostly.

Anyways, Bill’s parents were better and worse after everything had happened with Georgie, and Stan was always scared his dad would throw a fit, whether he would or not, but Eddie was always welcome at Richie’s, whenever. One time he’d woken up in the middle of the night and ridden his bike over at 3 in the morning and Richie had just still been up reading comics.

Sometimes they’d just sit around in the quiet, but eventually they started watching movies. Richie had a tv in his room, and he’d taken his family’s VCR and they hadn’t noticed, so he and Eddie both would buy tapes or rent them and watch them whenever they hung out. At first Eddie had always let Richie pick, stupid comedies or his other favorites like Ghostbusters, but eventually Eddie started making suggestions, too, and Richie let him.

Eddie was the reason Richie had seen The Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink more than once - and he was the reason they’d ever watched Sixteen Candles.

He wasn’t sure if anyone else in the group had watched it or not, so when Richie showed up at school on his sixteenth birthday and said, “They fucking forgot my birthday,” Eddie thought it might be a joke just for him, but he couldn’t be certain.

“Are your grandparents coming by later with Long Duk Dong, too?”

Richie cracked a smile at that, and Eddie smiled back - only then Richie got that look in his eye that Eddie always came to regret. “Hardly need my grandparents to come by for Long Dong to be in the house, do I?”

Stan groaned, and Bill sighed, while Ben smiled a little.

Eddie just said, “Jesus, Rich, don’t get started, I’m trying so hard to be nice to you on your birthday.” Then he frowned. “Were you being serious, though?”

“Me? Serious? No, of course not, just havin’ a good time, Eds.”

“God, don’t call me that.”

Richie slung an arm around Eddie as they all walked into school, and Ben started talking about something he’d been working on for history. Eddie shot Richie another questioning glance, because he could tell something was off, but he figured he could ask about it later.

Later didn’t come until lunch, but when it did, Eddie finally found he had a moment alone with Richie.

“Rich... Were you just referencing the movie when you came in this morning?”

“Uh, when I what?”

Eddie sighed and nudged Richie’s arm. “When you came in this morning, you said they forgot your birthday. Was there really a they?”

He watched Richie grimace, and he knew immediately he was right. Eddie almost regretted bringing it up, suddenly. “Oh. Yeah. Just... my parents. I’m actually living fucking Sixteen Candles, except without the excuse of my sister’s wedding, but. It’s no big deal.”

“Your sister didn’t tell you we’re getting married tomorrow?”

It was lame, taking a page out of Richie’s book and just cracking a joke, but it got Richie to smile, and that was all that mattered to Eddie.

“Yeah, don’t worry, Eds, your mom and I will be right there in the front row.”

“Alright, chill out with the mom jokes and nicknames, I can only ignore so much for the sake of birthday kindness. But... Look, we’ll do stuff with all the losers tonight, who cares about your parents?”

“Yeah... yeah. You’re right.” Richie looked distant for a second, then shook himself. “You think Jake Ryan’ll show up?”

Eddie flushed a little and laughed, but he knew it sounded awkward, or possibly slightly hysterical. Richie seemed to have less and less issue making jokes like that. While he’d always made weird flirtatious and sexual jokes about girls -  since he was like 12 - Richie had recently decided that he was free to include flirty jokes about guys in his repertoire, too. Eddie found that he almost had a heart attack every time it happened. If he were younger, his reaction might have even made him reach for his inhaler, but ever since he’d thrown away all his meds when Greta Keene told them they were bullshit, he didn’t use any of them anymore.

The thing was, Eddie knew why he reacted that way - he just didn’t really want to think about it. He’d gotten pretty good at putting it off.

Fortunately, they got their food and got seated with everyone before Eddie had managed to stop laughing, so he didn’t have to say anything.

Jake Ryan jokes aside, Eddie still spent the rest of lunch distracted. He had already been planning some things for Richie’s birthday - but now he felt the need to make sure it was perfect. He’d need to talk to Bill at some point to really plan anything, and he’d have to run some other errands, too, to put some extra touches on the rest of plans. Still. If it could cheer Richie up, make him forget his shitty parents and really grin again, it would all be worth it.

To do everything he needed to do, really, he’d have to skip out on class for most of the rest of the day. He never did that without Richie or the other losers egging him on.

There was a first time for everything after all.

The first thing he did after lunch was to catch up with Bill before he got into class.

“Bill, wait. I had some ideas for Richie’s birthday tonight, but I need your help. Can you help?”

“Well, sh-sure. B-but what is it?”

“Right. I know we were all going to the quarry, but I think there’s other stuff we could do instead. Ask Ben to get a projector if he can - he might be able to borrow one from the library. I’ll get most of the other things - I need you to go to the barrens after school, take everyone else, too. Make it look nice, find a concrete wall or something. Bring blankets, too, for all of us to sit on. I’ll leave all the stuff there, I’ll take Richie so you have some time to get everything set up. And I might get you some extra help, too.”

“E-extra help?”

“Can you do it?”

“Yeah, E-Eddie, o-of course. I-is there anything else?”

“No, just. Try and make things look nice, put the film on the projector. Everything will be waiting for you at the barrens. Just go to class, I’ll see you later.”

“Y-you’re not c-coming?”

“Too much to do! Sorry, bye!”

The next was to sneak off to the school payphone. It was absolutely disgusting, but Eddie was determined, and he knew if his mom caught him at home and using the phone instead of at school, he’d end up dead. He took some paper towels from the bathroom and wiped the phone off before he used it to call Bev’s number in Portland.

He didn’t think she’d be home, but apparently she’d been skipping school, too.

“Bev?”

“Eddie?”

“Oh, good, thank god. Okay, so. Hi! How are you?”

“Eddie, are you calling me at school?”

“I. Yes. Yes, that’s possible. You don’t wanna tell me how you are?”

“I’m fine, Eddie. Is everything okay?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I mean. Nothing’s really wrong or anything, just. It’s Richie’s birthday today.”

“Oh yeah! Tell him happy birthday from me!”

“Well actually... Bev, you can drive, right?”

“...Eddie are you really asking me to drive back to Derry for Richie Tozier’s birthday?”

“Bev, look. I know it’s-“

Bev cut him off immediately. “Of course I will.”

“...Really?”

“Eddie, Richie’s one of my best friends. And I mean, honestly, I’d thought about it anyways, but I’m assuming there’s a reason you wanted me to, isn’t there?”

Eddie sighed. “His parents forgot his fucking birthday, Beverly. My mom’s never been party planner of the year-”

“Yeah, neither was my dad, but. Yeah. I get it. I’ll drive up. It’ll take a few hours - when are you guys getting together?”

“Well, I had this idea... Just go to the barrens when you get here, Bill and everyone will probably still be setting up. They can explain everything. I’ll see you when Richie and I get there.”

“Oh, Richie and I, huh?”

Eddie blushed. Bev had always seemed to know more about himself than he did, in particular ways. “Bev, oh my god, not now.”

She laughed through the phone, and Eddie smiled in spite of himself, glad to hear her again - as always, he hadn’t even realized how much he missed her.

“See you, Eddie.”

“Wait, one more thing! Bring your stereo, can you?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll bring that, too. See you.”

“See you.”

He hung up the phone and then wiped off his hands and the phone again. By this point, he’d found that the only way to get through anything like that was to distract himself as quickly as possible. He could swim in the quarry and not think about it because he was with his friends, and that was more important - in this case, Richie was more important. He’d be happy to see Bev - they’d gotten close before she left, always smoking cigarettes together and talking. Eddie didn’t think Richie felt the way about Bev that Bill and Ben did, but he knew they were good friends, and that Richie would appreciate her being there.

With that all settled, Eddie got his things and managed to sneak his way out of the school - not that any of the adults in the school particularly cared. Not in Derry.

His errands began with sneaking into his own room at home to get his money, and a blanket. He’d been right that his mom would be home, so he had also been right to use the phone at school - he never could have gotten to the phone in the house.

With his savings all gathered up, he proceeded on the rest of his afternoon errands. He picked up Richie’s cake from the bakery - all the losers had pitched in on ordering it. He got some more food from the store, some battery powered lights to hang up in the trees, and some string and tape to help hang them up. He went to the music store and got some of Richie’s favorite music - Eddie had made Richie a mixtape for his birthday, because they always exchanged mixtapes for holidays, but he didn’t want to play that mixtape in front of everyone. The very thought of that made him a little flushed.

The last step was the most important - he had to go to the Capitol and see if he could get a copy of a movie. He knew the Capitol kept some of their reels, and they would show older movies, so if he could figure out who was the best one to ask, it was possible he could get a reel for his big plan.

The only person he knew to ask, really, was Foxy - which was what they all called the theater manager. Not to his face, but it was mostly an affectionate nickname.

Eddie snuck around the theater and found Foxy smoking in the alleyway, taking a break - timing was apparently on his side.

“Mr. Foxworth?”

The old man squinted at Eddie, and then snubbed his cigarette out on the wall beside him. “Kaspbrak. You here with that Tozier kid?”

“No. No, Richie isn’t with me. Neither is anyone else. I wanted to ask a favor.”

Foxy narrowed his eyes even further, which hadn’t seemed possible, and then hummed. “Alright. What is it?”

“Do you still have Ghostbusters on reel? And if so would it. Be possible for me to borrow it? Just for tonight.”

“We’re not the damn video rental. Get lost.”

“What if. What if I pay for it?”

The old man blinked at him. “How much?”

Eddie had about fifty dollars in savings that he’d decided he could spare. He offered Foxy thirty of it.

He glanced at the money, then back up at Eddie. “Fine. Give me the money, you can do whatever the hell you want with it.”

Eddie handed over the thirty dollars, and Foxy went back into the theater. Eddie hovered awkwardly in the alleyway, hoping that was what he was expected to do, and he was pleasantly surprised when Foxy actually came back out with the reel tucked under his arm. He passed it over to Eddie, and the title on the front told Eddie that he hopefully had the right one.

“Bring it back if you want - I don’t think anybody’ll miss it, though.”

Recognizing his luck, Eddie ran off with the reel before Foxy could change his mind. Difficult as it was, Eddie held the reel and all his other materials wrapped in a blanket on his lap as he rode his bike to the barrens. He did it without falling, and left everything somewhere he thought Bill could find it. He left a note, too, with some instructions for the film reel, and the lights, the food and the music.

After all that was done, he rode back to school on his bike, and made it just before classes let out. He waited by the bike rack and was glad to see that Bill was the first one out.

“Bill, thank god. Okay. Everything’s waiting at the barrens, by the creek, I think you can find it. Bev’s going to meet you there.”

“B-bev’s coming?”

“Yes, look. Get everyone together, head down there - I’m gonna take Richie to the arcade, but go ahead and find them, tell Richie you have a project to work on or something and you’ll meet him down there.”

Bill just nodded, and ducked back into the school. After a few minutes, Richie came out.

“Eddie my boy, where’s everybody else?”

Richie hadn’t even seen them. Eddie smiled. “Bill, Stan, and Ben had something they had to work on - something about that history project Ben was talking about. They’re gonna meet us at the quarry later, but I thought we could go to the arcade first.”

“The arcade? On my birthday? Does that mean you’ll actually play with me?”

“We’ll see.” Eddie got on his bike, and Richie followed suit, and they smiled at each other as they rode off to the Capitol.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Reunion

Summary: could you do a stan x daughter where she meets the losers club for the first time? like maybe at the restaurant scene from CH2? 

warnings: swear words

In spite of the fact that the temperature didn’t differ much from outside, Dalia’s glasses fogged up instantly upon entering the restaurant. The abundance of spices assaulted her sense of smell, but the combination of herbs formed a plenary attraction, opening a black whole in her stomach from hunger. Her last meal was a sandwich she ripped from home, hours before landing in the airport of Maine and purchasing the first rental car they found.

Her dad offered to buy her something to eat on the way over, but she declined. She picked up part of Stanley’s quirks growing up, and though not nearly as bad, food originating from a place she didn’t thorough investigated was a big no go. Not only that, but finding food that qualified as kosher is hard to do, and Dalia didn’t think it was worth the hassle.

Blind thanks to the fog clogging up her specs, Dalia removed her glasses and squinted around the entrance hall, waiting patiently for the mist to retreat.

Her dad did the same thing, only he didn’t necessitate the usage of them, so he tucked them away in his front pocket. Dalia could tell his hands were dithering, aiming wrong twice before finally managing to slip them in.

‘Dad, are you okay?’ she asked him, worried for her father’s sanity. She had been repeating the question ever since they left Atlanta to reclaim Derry, but so far Stan dodged the truthful answer.

‘I’m okay.’ He lied again, a sweat drop slithering down his forehead, smiling reassuringly.

The haze cleared, Dalia slipped her glasses in place and returned the favor, coming to grips that whatever it is that her father is struggling with, he’s not about to spill the beans.

‘Chin up dad, I for one can’t wait to meet your friends I’ve heard nothing about for so long. Should I tell them you did? Should I introduce myself with: ‘I’ve heard so much about you?’

Stan laughed winded, shaking his head dismissively. ‘No, that’s alright. They won’t mind, trust me.’ A waitress approached them with two menu’s in her hands, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

‘Good evening, how may I help you?’

‘Good evening, I am meeting my friends tonight. I assume the name the reservation is placed on is Hanlon Mike?’

The warm and greeting smile on the waitress face turned sour, scrunching her nose up in distain. ‘Of course, follow me.’

She led them deeper in the restaurant, and the more distance they bridged to the reserved table, the more it became clear why she didn’t appreciate two others joining. The ruckus the group havocked audible from the buffet counter, loud voices banding together in loud and abrasive symphonies. A chair was left unattended, presumably for Dalia’s dad, in between a man she watched on tv occasionally, against the wishes of Stan, and a smaller, pensive man.

‘Here you are,’ she explained, halting just outside their line of vision, making a getaway as fast as possible, forgetting the menu’s in her hands.

‘Okay, okay please. Come on guys is Stanley coming or what?’

A loaded silence fell over the group, but Dalia’s father suppressed his announcement, simply looking at the group and letting his gaze swipe over all of their faces.

‘Stan?’

‘Stan, Stan urine’, The famous man murmured, tasting the name on his tongue. Dalia witnessed the exact moment it caught on who they were talking about, his face breaking open in a grin.

‘Stanley Urine, no he’s a fucking pussy he’s not gonna show.’

Dalia snorted, curious as to what the reaction of her father would be, while Stan grinned extravagantly. ‘Are you going to let him talk about you in that way dad?’ She elicited a response, dying to get to know the people who unhabitable spoke about Stanley Uris in such a way. As far as she knew, people in Atlanta held Stan in high regards, only to slander his name behind his back, but they never dared refer to her dad as Urine.  

‘Speak for yourself Tozier, as I do recall correctly, I jumped down from the barons to retrieve your coke bottles. Would a pussy do that?’

The group was surprised Stan showed up, their faces betrayed their mindsets, but they were even more flabbergasted at the girl Stan brought with, her hair and stance a carbon copy of Stanley Uris himself.

“Tozier” jumped on his feet first, enveloping his former best friend in a hug, patting him on the back at the same time.

‘Can’t believe you fucking showed up dude.’

‘Believe it’, Stan added dryly, his full warms already filled with the only girl in the group, a hug between two people that obviously care for the other. “Tozier” then addressed her, not hugging her but instead offering up a high five, as one does to a toddler renouncing, but Dalia grants him one anyway.

‘Guys, this is Dalia, she is my daughter. Dalia, these are Richie, Eddie, Ben, Beverly, Bill and Mike.’ Stan point each of them out, a wave hitting your way at each name.  Mike nods thrilled, sticking out his hand for you to shake, which he then does excessively. ‘We talked on the phone’, he reaffirms, the brief two second conversation you engaged in as you answered Stan’s phone brought to the forefront of your memory.

‘Yeah that’s right. Nice to add a face to the voice.’

‘Here sit, I’ll ask for another chair, I wasn’t sure you were coming along or not.’ Mikes eyes dash over to Stan, searching for something there, retreating after Stan gives a firm nod. An extra chair is shoved along side the table, a bit to tiny to fit everyone perfectly, your arm squashed against your dad and Eddie on the other side.

It’s not as cumbersome as Dalia feared, everyone reverts back to their rolls in the group, easily distinguishable even to an outsider like herself, the losers club Bill elucidated they preferred to be called, and they take her in as if she always belonged in that spot.

‘Wait, wait I have to know, is your daughter into birds as well?’

‘Kinda, I grew up with bird facts so I know a lot about them, but I don’t do any additional research.’

‘Oh Stanley you’ve made your kid into the same dork as you were?’

‘As I said all those years ago, birds are intricate little things and if you cannot wrap your brain around that that is your loss.’

Richie narrowly avoided sticking out his tongue, a piece of food landing in his hair, the culprit being Eddie in retaliation.

‘Hey’, Richie called him out, fishing out the bit with a giant smile.

‘Dalia’, Bev addresses her, hands clasped around her glass, ‘do you have any stories you’d like to share with us?’ A glint of a twinkle sparks in her eyes, fishing for juicy stories about her friend, and quite possible on Dalia herself.

‘Eum, well there was that time dad forgot about date night with mom and was in the doghouse for a week.’

S-s-stan, tell me you didn’t, that’s grounds for a d-d-divorce.’

Richie yawned. ‘Boring.’

‘What can I say Richie? Some of us have common sense and prefer a household over binge drinking at forty.’

Dalia’s mount gaped. Never had her father spoken to anyone in that regard, the wit and dry humor he bounced of Richie sure was a sight to behold.  

‘Stan the man I am offended. How are you so sure I don’t have a wife waiting for me, her beau? She’s terribly sad to see me go, but I promise her I’ll never meet anyone as cute as her ,’ he grinned shark like, teeth baring and preparing for the backlash of the joke about to emit.

‘Don’t you dare’, Eddie grit out, catching on to the joke.

‘Well, no one besides little Eds of course.’

‘I’m not fucking little, I’m average sized. Stan tell him.’

Dalia’s dad raises his hands in surrender. ‘Do not involve me in your antics, I have nothing to do with this.’

‘You are tiny Eds, always have been and always will.’

‘Fuck you I’m not.’

‘Wow there are children present Edward, language.

Dalia twisted in her chair to face her father, inching closer to whisper something only he was to hear. ‘Are they always like this?’

‘Oh you have no idea,’ Stan confirmed, fondness hiding behind a mask of indifference.

‘Yes,’ Ben staunched with hopeless eyes. 

‘They’re fun.’

‘Yeah they are.’

‘Thank you for taking me with you dad, for sharing your friends with me.’

Stan squeezed her wrist softly, smiling tenderly in lieu of a hug, the motion still having the same effect as the hug would have had.

‘Anything for my little bird.’

‘Does that mean I got to play around with calling our last name Urine.’ 

‘Oeh better watch out there Stanny boy, I seem to be having influence on your family already.’ 

‘This was a mistake.’ 

[weannoyingbouquetgalaxy-blog1]

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"michigan title insurance license

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michigan title insurance license

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I know it is something to do with insurance, but that's all I know. What schooling do you need for this job and what is the general pay? What does a typical day usually look like for a broker? Do they work for a company or on their own?""

What are the cheapest auto insurance companies for young drivers?

What is the cheapest major auto insurance company for a 19 year old male, with no violations or accidents? Going to be buying first car in the next couple weeks and need insurance. Getting a much older used car so I don't car much about comprehensive and such, just want state minimum coverage (20/40/15 in IL) to be legal. I've seen quotes from Progressive, Geico, The General and Safe Auto. So far, geico has been considerably the lowest. I checked various models I was looking at, on average progressive was about $100/mo, the General and Safe Auto were around $120 and geico I saw the lowest as $45/mo ranging up to $80/mo (but I've already eliminated that car- a ford probe that sold before I could test drive) I'm wondering if anyone knows of any other major companies with lower rates, otherwise I'm obviously going with geico. Right now my options are down to a mitsu eclipse or a camry/corrolla/accord (something of that nature, whatevers on the lot and priced right) The eclipse from geico I believe was around 60-70, I imagine the camry would be more in the 45-50 range. Any companies with rates lower?""

What to do when someone has an accident in your car...no insurance?

A friend took my car without exactly having my permission (had permission to drive, but not where the accident took place). We are in WI where insurance is not required so our lapsed (bad move on our part, but we are past that now). The friend was at fault in the accident and our car is badly damaged although the other car was not...what do we do now?""

Insurance on sports car?

Does any one know how much it would cost to insure a 2008 Audi R8, or the cost to insure a Ferrari 360?""

How much would car insurance be for a 1999 eclipse gs?

what would i be paying if i got a normal full coverage on this eclipse? and please no go to this link and get a free quote just give me an estimate, thanks""

""Just moved into small block of flats,and changing car insurance.?""

Just moved into small block of flats,and changing car insurance. Car is in a brick build car port under the building but shared with another car and among other shared car ports, is this then quoted as being in a car park, unlocked compound or car port?""

Buying life insurance for unemployed adult son?

I have a 24 year old unemployed son who works only temp jobs when they are available. I'd like to make sure he's covered if anything happens to him - what's the best route to take? I live in California, he lives in Ohio. Can I add him onto my job's insurance policy, or will I have to purchase it some other kind of way?""

How much lower would car insurance be if I started driving at 18 not 17?

Does anyone know how much lower your own policy would be to insure a car if you start at 18 instead of 17?

Car insurance for a 16 year old?

hi, i live in city center Mississauga, ontario, Canada. (Hurantario and Eglington) I am 16 years old and i can get my G2 next month if i am a second owner and second driver (my dad is the first driver) of a MAzda Rx8 2003. also receieved driving lessons. how much will my insurace will be per month, both my parents insurance is 300 per month""

National insurance number

I know you can get your national insurance number before your 16 , does this mean you can apply for a job as soon as you get you national insurance number , even if you are still 15 ?""

michigan title insurance license

michigan title insurance license

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