#first drawing in forever and its old mike | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hawkinsschoolcounselor · 4 years ago

Text

Heteronormativity and its impact on Stranger Things

While taking a walk today, I got to thinking about how romantic relationships are handled on TV and in movies. It generally comes down to the basic formula of the male and female leads getting romantically linked, regardless of any actual romantic building. We just expect a man and a woman who meet to have some degree of romantic attraction to each other. We see it all the time in real life. How many of you have had friends or relatives who see boy and girl toddlers interacting and begin to say things like “He’ll be a real heartbreaker.” or “Oh, I hear wedding bells.” I imagine many of us who oppose the idea of heteronormativity have fallen into this behavior as well.

We simply have been conditioned to expect boys and girls to pair off. Joyce and Hopper had a fan following for their relationship as early as season 1, despite there not being much to go on until season 2. We knew they were familiar with each other, but there wasn’t really much in the way of romantic undertones. Still, fans started to pair them together. Mike and El’s fan base acted like they were the best couple in the history of fiction, even though they were 12 and only knew each other for a week. There were even people who shipped Will with Jennifer Hayes. Why? Because she cried at his funeral. That’s it. That’s all they needed.

Strong relationships between same-sex pairs end up being written off as mere friendship and/or adoration. Even worse, terrible same-sex relationships take off as popular pairings. Look at Steve and Billy. There’s no reason for those two to be romantically linked, but it’s one of the most popular pairs in the fandom. It reeks of a horrible concept of homosexuality, one characterized by animalistic attraction and a lack of genuine affection. This all harkens back to old ideas of gay people: that they are sexual deviants, immoral, primal. There’s still this idea in even progressive culture that sees the heterosexual couple as the ideal, and the homosexual couple as inferior. The better among those who think this way at least understand it is not a good mindset to have, but it still leaks, subconsciously or not, its way into popular culture.

Had Will been a girl, there’s no question as to whether his relationship with Mike would be seen as romantic. There’d be a full-fledged ship war going on. We’d have Team Will vs Team El. I realize that I have my own biases in this, but I didn’t start seeing Mike and Will romantically because I wanted them to get together. I started wanting them to get together because I was reading that there was something going on between them. Just close your eyes and imagine these scenes with a female actor playing Will:

Mike becomes intensely worried after Will disappears and goes searching for her despite the growing danger.

Mike breaks down in tears when Will’s (fake) body is pulled from the quarry. He tries to console himself by looking through the drawings she had given him.

Mike is the only one awake in the hospital waiting room, and the first to rush to Will’s side when she wakes up.

Mike dotes on Will during the entirely of Season 2. He’s constantly in tune with her emotional needs.

Will trusts Mike, and Mike alone, with what is going on with her. Mike tells her that if they’re both going crazy, then they’ll go crazy together. Will smiles and says, “yeah, crazy together.”

Mike becomes Will’s primary source of comfort throughout the season. He stays by her side, making use of a lot of physical contact.

Despite the Mindflayer eating into Will’s memory, she still remembers who Mike is. Mike smiles a bit bashfully in response.

Mike tearfully recollects meeting Will in an attempt to break through to her. Will starts off staring blankly at him, as she did with Joyce and Jonathan, but by the end of Mike’s story her eyes are glassy and her mouth is trembling.

When a boy walks up and asks Zombie Girl if she wants to dance, Will looks over at Mike briefly before going off at his urging. Mike suddenly looks stunned and then upset.

That summer, when Mike meets Will, Max, and Lucas for a movie, Mike sits with Will a row apart from Max and Lucas. He notices when Will sense the Mindflayer, asking her if she’s ok.

When Mike bails on the party to go off and make out with El, Will turns away with a sad look on her face.

In fact, everytime Mike makes a display of his feelings for El, Will looks sad.

When Mike and Will fight, and Mike asks if Will really expected things their relationship to stay the same forever, Will tearfully says she did. Mike looks sad as she bikes away from him. He chases after her in the rain to apologize.

As Will sits in Castle Byers, she looks around at pictures of her and Mike and recollects him telling a campaign. She calls herself stupid and proceeds to destroy everything.

Before she moves away, Will packs up her D&D set to donate to Erica. Mike nervously asks what she’s doing, but Will reassures him that she’ll just use his set when she comes back. She tells Mike it’s not possible for her to find a new party. They smile at each other.

This would be a blatant “Will they or won’t they?” situation if Will were a girl. There would be no shock that Will had feelings for Mike or that Mike had feelings for Will if it were to be revealed explicitly. Everyone would already have been waiting for it, regardless of who they wanted Mike to end up with. There would be no cries of pandering or sexualization of children. Fans wouldn’t be threatening to burn merchandise or boycott the show.

I know there’s no chance that anyone associated with the show will ever read this. I know that I probably shouldn’t get so worked up about the love lives of fictional teenagers. Still, the entire situation, and the fact that most fans insist Mike and Will are just friends, reeks of heteronormativity. It’s nothing more than a low-grade homophobia. It pisses me off. This mindset is one of the last obstacles to same-sex couples being truly accepted. Stranger Things has a real opportunity to strike a blow against it, but I worry that it won’t. The buildup is genuinely all there, we are not delusional, but will they pull the trigger on it? I’ve grown to be pessimistic about such things. I hope I’m proven wrong.

#stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byeler #byler #heteronormativity

582 notes · View notes

magnusmysteries · 3 years ago

Text

Part 26: Captivating Literature

The Magnus Archives was a horror podcast. It is now completed. Many of the show’s mysteries were never explained on the show. I intend to explain them. Spoilers for the show, but also spoilers if you wanna solve these mysteries yourself. This is based on episodes Pageturner, Literary Heights and The Coming Storm.

Once when Dominic Swain and Michael Crew are children, Dominic insists they keep playing outside and as a result Crew is hit by lightning and gets a Lichtenberg scar. The Lichtenberg scar draws the attention of a monster of the Spiral that begins tormenting Crew. As an adult, Crew buys the book Ex Altiora from Herbert Knox. Crew uses the book to become an avatar of the Vast. He says he binds the monster to the book. Years later Dominic finds Ex Altiora in a charity shop and buys it. Later while wandering the streets Dominic ends up at Pinhole Books and meets Mary Keay. Later Mary’s son Gerard visits Dominic, buys Ex Altiora and burns it.

When Herbert describes the book, it has no Lichtenberg figure and it does not smell of ozone. Herbert says that when Crew was in his shop, there would be a smell of ozone, but the smell wouldn't come from Crew. Also the lights in the shop would get brighter. That’s the monster following Crew that is messing with the lights and the smell.

When Dominic has the book, a Lichtenberg figure appears in it and it causes the smell of ozone. He brings the book to a play and thinks there is a problem with the lights. That’s the monster in the book causing the figure, the smell and lights problem.

Originally Ex Altiora is supposed to make people dizzy and make them fall. Herbert falls out of a chair twice. The previous owner died from falling down the stairs. Dominic falls down some stairs and twists his ankle. After the spiral monster is trapped in it I think the book can also mess with the senses and memories of people.

A couple of quotes from when Dominic buys the book: “At first I assumed it was some sort of faux-leather special edition and I was sure whoever put it out for sale must have done the same, because the price on it was only four pounds. There was something about it that made me take another look, though, and picking it up I felt the binding and realized it might well have been bound in real leather, probably calf, given how soft it was.”

“...it was then that I noticed the time. I had somehow managed to spend an hour in that shop...”

I think the spiral monster spent almost an hour manipulating Dominic into buying the book. It made several attempts, and then deleted the memories of the failed attempts.

I think Crew somehow deliberately made Dominic buy Ex Altiora as revenge for Dominic causing Crew to get hit by lightning. Maybe Crew made a deal with the monster in the book, that Crew would release the book if the book hurts Dominic.

When Dominic goes for a walk and ends up at Pinhole Book, it’s the spiral monster messing with his mind. At one point Dominic almost walks into a man, so he is confused. Why does the spiral monster send Dominic there? It wants the book to be burned so it can be freed. Maybe the monster knows of Gerard’s habit of burning dangerous books. Or maybe it thinks Mary will destroy the book, as she is now an avatar of the End and the End and the Vast are opposites (see Part 3). Whatever the plan, the book is burned and the monster freed.

I think the monster is the Distortion. Crew mentions how his scar is a fractal. The Distortion loves fractals. The monster creates an impossible door for Crew. The Distortion makes doors.

Here’s how Crew described the monster ”In the dark it would stand beneath my bedroom window, the light flaring, flashing the awful brightness of sheet lightning across my room. I could never look directly at it. The bright, arcing glow of its insides almost blinded me when I tried. It was almost a man, but I could never be sure. Its strobing, flashing Lichtenberg organs changed and flickered too fast.”

Crew also says: “The thing that chased me, you see, it was an arcing branch of the Twisting Deceit, taken shape to follow me. But the shape it had taken more rightly belonged to the sky.”

Here’s how Herbert describes the monster: “It was hard to make out, as it only seemed to appear for those momentary flashes, but it seemed tall, thin, its limbs angular and branching. Like Mike’s scar.”

Here’s Sasha describing the Distortion “It looked too tall, the limbs and body were very thin and almost wavy, like they didn’t have any structure or bones in them.”

Here’s Helen Richardson describing the Distortion: “Its body was thin and limp, and when it moved, it shifted, like I was watching it through rippling water. Its hands were swollen, and bits of them jutted out at annoying angles.”

I think the Distortion, when tormenting Crew took the form of lightning, since Crew was afraid of lightning. But it still had some of its old form: tall and thin with arms that branches out.

I think this is The Distortion before it became Michael. It is not quite human, and does not have Michael’s Shelley’s Laugh.

In Left Hanging, Simon Fairchild jumps out of a cable car. More weird stuff happens, and the driver starts walking towards the door. I think he is about to jump out and fall forever, like Simon wants. Then this happens:

“There was a thump from above, the sound of something heavy landing on the roof of the car, and the driver froze, arms still outstretched. His eyes widened in sudden realization, but before he could pull back from the edge, an arm, long, grey, and completely inhuman, reached down from above with terrible speed. It grabbed his wrist, just for a moment, and then he was gone, his own scream vanishing into the abyss beyond the door. (...) Then came three bangs, one after another on the roof of the car. Knock. Knock. Knock. Then a laugh. A terrible whistling sound, like the howling of a gale.”

I think that’s Michal on the roof. The weird arm and the laughter points to Michael. And three knocks, like when Helen knocks on the door in Taking Stock.

I think Michael is stealing victims from the Vast as revenge for being trapped in the Vast book. The driver gets taken by Michael instead of falling. And the mother of the statement giver doesn't remember anything. Michael has changed her memories. That way the statement giver fears he or she for her sanity instead of fearing heights like Simon wanted.

Some might object that the dates don’t add up. The monster gets trapped in the book in 1998 and released in 2012. The Distortion tormented Paul McKenzie in 2003, and so it seems the Distortion could not have been trapped in a book then. But I think the Distortion is a time traveler. More on that in the next post.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #the distortion #michael crew

19 notes · View notes

cthomashoodstory · 3 years ago

Text

Best Years but Not in the Same Way (27)

Calum Hood x Reader

Previous Part

Hi guys if you’re confused I’m pairing Calum Hood and Reader but the character is Barbara Palvin, well… this story is a spin off based on stories i made on wattpad and it’s on my local language and i moved this story to Tumblr and i wanna make this story and the main character is the reader but I’m so attached with the barbara palvin character so… just pretend that you’re barbara hehe. Enjoy!

Oh btw if you just read this part and haven’t read the entire story, i put thr masterlist link below.

Masterslist

Calum and his band were busy promoting their new single, Easier since its released two weeks ago. And you were busy with your life at studio, working for Shawn Mendes’ upcoming album that he would released in 2020.

You were at your place right now since you decided not to come to studio because today was the schedule for you to clean up your apartment and you decided to do it now.

You started cleaning up the living room. Paving away the dust with feather duster, vacuumed the carpet, sofa and also the pillow. Then you moving to the kitchen, dining room, room behind the kitchen, and last your bedroom.

It wasn’t that hard to clean up your bedroom because it basically just clean since you did it everyday.

And now it’s time for you to decluttering your wardrobe. You went through your stuffs that you put on the box. You opened the first box and you found album photos of you as a little kid. You smiled when you saw it one by one. Then you stared at the picture of you and your parents at the park somewhere. You were in the middle, your mom was on your left and your dad was on your right. Your both hand held their hands and you were smiling. Such a decent smile.

You closed the album and saw the other things, like the present that your parent bought it to you, your first drawing of you and your parents and basically it was a stuffs that reminds you of your childhood. Going through on some memories sometimes is the best thing.

Then you moved on to the next box, which was your handwriting about poetry, motivation words, quotes, some lyrics you made when you were in high school. You read it one by one and you giggled. Young Saara Palvin really had a wild imagination. How could she even wrote a lyric about love when she never felt that before? Lol.

You saw a quote you made in a special quotes book, with a fractions of cd.

(Credit to @.thetypewriterdaily on instagram)

It was so cute honestly. How could you ever made such a beautiful words like that? You took a picture of it and posted it on your Instagram feed.

You put your phone away and then you put all the stuffs back to the box and moved on to the next box, which is the recent lyric books since 2013 until present. It was actually the lyrics you made when you were dealing with your hard emotion, for example the lyric you gave to Mali when you helped her with her single, it was came from this box. Everything you wrote when you were in your hard time, and you decided not to use it, you put it in this box. There was 3 books, the book one is from 2013-2015, second book from 2016 and the last one from 2017-2018.

You looked up at the first book and it mostly my writing about love, friendship, Calum. Yes, since you became friends with him, not long enough after a ‘bad’ introduction between you and him, you started to wrote songs about love and it inspired by him. You were smiling like a crazy person because the lyric was so cheesy and cringe. You also wrote songs about your trip with the boys, it was so fun to be remembered.

Ah, the more you thinking about it, the more you feeling so happy and grateful to be friends with Michael, Luke, Ashton and Calum. You also thanked God and Mike (Posner) for made you working with Jake Sinclair.

Then you opened the second book, 2016 book, which was the darkest book you’ve ever written. It was full of cursing, bad words, and it was basically not worth to read. You know the reason. Your ex. The famous singer ex that broke your heart more than you ever counted. He really torn you apart until this book existed.

You still hated him until today for making you suffered and gone through this phase, but you slowly letting it go away. Your anger is slowly fading away because you realized that horrible moment really lead you to your recent life. You found your happiness, and now you’re happy. Then you closed the book and put it back to the box and you decided not to throw it away because that book is part of your life.

Moved on to the last book, you only found lyric that you wrote only on a paper and the rest is blank. And its title called Habitual. Oh. You remembered you wrote it for months when you were still engaged to Justin. You really took your time writing it because you wanted the song to be perfect and you’ll giving it to someone that really deserve it.

You sighed. The song is finished and yet, you didn’t gave it to anyone. You felt hurt and angry at the same time. You didn’t know why.

Then you called your long time friend, Jason Boyd aka Poo Bear. You worked with him on Justin’s Purpose album at 2015.

“Saara Palvin,” he greeted you right away. “It’s been a long time, girl. How are you?” He sounded so excited.

“I’m fine, what about you?” You asked him

He laughed. “As always, I’m healthy and good. So, what’s up Palvin?”

“Oh,” you paused. “I just opened my old notebook and i found lyric that i’ve been kept for years and i think i will past it to you.”

“Are you for real?” He sounded surprised. “I have been waiting for something from you Saara. I’m so excited for what you’ll give me.”

You laughed. “Yeah i named it habitual, and i think i made a demo somewhere. I will email you the details. And the song and the lyric are all yours and you can use it or toss it or whatever. And you don’t have to gave me any credit. It’s all yours and you’re the only one i called.”

“Thank you so much Saara. I will… i have to give you credits and I believe the song you made is amazing. Thank you again Saar.”

You hung up the call and put all the books back to the box and put it back to your wardrobe. Then you opened your laptop to find the Habitual demo you made 2 years ago.

Finally you found it and you emailed Poo Bear the demo and the lyric you convert to pdf. All the lyrics you made, use or not use, you always save it digitally and non digital. You felt relieved knowing that the song is passed to someone else and you didn’t have to keep it forever.

The next minutes Calum texted you and you ended up chatting with your boyfriend.

To be continued

Next Part

#calum hood #calum thomas hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum hood x reader #calum fic #calum fanfiction #calum fanfic #calum imagine #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin #michael clifford #luke hemmings

19 notes · View notes

darlingsdevil · 4 years ago

Text

Of The Valley (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 2: Bullet Memories

Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.

Chapter summary: A test is administered. Did you fail?

Tag list (please comment to be added or removed): @sidepuff @joelsheartache @fangirl-inthe-us @cowboyfrazer

RDR2 Masterlist

Of The Valley Masterlist

A/N: Hi everyone. I’ve been really happy with how this story is going so far! I hope you will stick around!

Please tell me if you see any ‘Mike’s’ — I keep accidentally writing Mark’s name as Mike lol.

:readmore:

•••

You rode in silence for the rest of the way. That didn’t help with calming you down either. Every inch of you was burning up at the thought of being outside Jackson again. Having to relive that nightmare all over again. At least it was nice out, but the hollowed out homes and burnt cars were anything but soothing.

Joel’s silence was disheartening. You knew he was upset at you. In truth, you hadn’t really talked to anyone you were close with in the past three months. You blissfully shut out everyone you were close to and had meaningless conversations with mere acquaintances at the bar. People came by and checked in on you, but you almost always pretended you weren’t home, or you lied and said Mark was sleeping.

Joel deserved an explanation for your disappearance, you were avoiding him, but you weren’t avoiding him because of something he had done. The explaining section was the hard part, you weren’t sure where to begin or even when you should. Joel would listen. That was given, you just weren’t sure you were ready to open up just yet.

When you finally arrived at the nest after a solemn ride, your breath hitched at the side of your old spot. It had been longer than three months that you had been there. It was your favorite nest to shoot out of. Secluded, hard to get to, views of all roads leading to the small perch.

Joel hopped down from Caesar and hitched him on the tree, you followed suit. You took a small sugar cube out of your old saddle bag and gave it to her. Levia was a spoiled horse.

You walked up the steep hill to where Tommy was waiting, when you finally saw him you smiled. Your worries drifting away momentarily.

“Damn girl, didn’t think you would ever show up,” Tommy joked, holding out his arms for a hug.

“Didn’t think I was going to either. Maria convinced me to,” You laughed, hugging him tightly.

“My wife is a convincing one, that’s for sure,” Tommy chuckled as he began walking over to the nest. Joel leaned against a tree watching you two interact. Tommy nodded to Joel. You pulled the rifle off your shoulder and kneeled down on the wooden hut that was on the side of the hill. Tommy kneeled down next to you. The rifle’s weight was strange and clunky. It used to feel so natural in your hand, but now it felt like you were holding a stick.

“See them over there?” Tommy pointed towards the tree line. You pulled out your binoculars and looked at the group of infected. A couple of runners and two clickers.

“That’s all of them?” You hissed out. Why were there so few?

“So far. Spotted some more earlier, but they disappeared into the forest, we might be able to draw them out from the gunfire.” Tommy eyed you, speaking quietly.

“There’s six infected and it’s a two man job? Come on Tommy, you could have taken these out within ten minutes,” You huffed, pulling your rifle up to your shoulder and looking out the scope.

“I promise there’s more. I saw at least three.”

“Three? There’s only three more?” You stared at Tommy. Things were beginning to make less and less sense..

“There’s more by the north lookout,” Tommy explained. You sighed and picked up a bullet from the box Tommy had brought over. Feeling a bullet in your hand sent your nerves racing. There was suddenly a loud buzzing in your ear, growing increasingly louder and louder.

“You have to stay silent. If they see you, they’ll kill you.”

You blinked and it was gone. Whispers of a memory that would forever be etched into your mind. “Tommy, will you, take the first one?” You looked up at him with wide eyes, your voice vacant. Tommy nodded with an understanding look and took his own rifle and lined up his shot on a runner near the tree line. He pushed out the breath from his lungs and shot. You looked away, wincing, as the bullet hit its mark.

“Your turn,” Tommy said, resting his rifle on the wooden perch.

You gulped and slowly picked up your rifle, hiking it up to your shoulder. You gently picked up a bullet from the box without looking, you loaded it into the chamber. You looked out into scope, staring down at the infected below. It had been a while since you had seen infected. They were almost hard to look at, their bloody torn faces and mechanical moving bodies. It was saddening. They were people once too.

You lined up your shot. You let out all your breath, your finger over the trigger, and pulled it. You felt the recoil before you heard the shot. The burst of noise sounded like a scream. A warning. You weren’t supposed to be out here.

You immediately pushed the gun down, you fell back to the floor, crawling away from the gun. Panic rose in your chest, you tried your hardest to quell it, but nothing worked, fear outweighed everything when there was nothing else there. Tommy rushed to your side, he was concerned.

Your eyes were wide, and terror ripped through you like a wave, pulling you under. Joel noticed too, he came over quickly. Joel or Tommy asked you something, but you could barely hear. It was too loud, the ringing in your ears sounded like a terrible screaming alarm.

“Oh my god,” You choked out, eyes unfocusing. Tears threatening to spill from your eyes in heavy droplets.

“Hey, hey, snap out of it,” Joel gently shook you. You pulled your arm away from him quickly. You glared at him without thinking.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” You said, you put your hands on the cool grass in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Well it’s okay, I think we’ll head back to the north lookout for a little while, until you calm down, that okay?” Tommy asked you, looking at you with sympathy.

You still weren’t calm, it felt like a scream was waiting to be pulled out, but if you tried, no sound would come. Instead there was silence. Not a single sound in the world.

“Yeah, yeah,” You replied quickly, springing yourself up from the ground and brushing the dirt off from your pants. Tommy and Joel shared a look. Tommy picked up the guns from behind you, you reached out to take yours but Tommy resisted.

Joel unhitched the horses for you while you waited, holding your arms and taking in deep shuddering breaths. You knew exactly what came over you, it was foolish to agree to this stupid patrol. Tommy could have easily done it himself and you wouldn’t have had to make a mockery of yourself.

Joel led Levia over to you, and helped you up to the saddle. You had something to hold on to now, which was much better than before. Tommy got on his own horse and waited for Joel to hop on Caesar. When everyone was situated, you headed off towards the north lookout.

•••

The ride was silent on the way there, luckily it was only an hour away. Anymore silence would have made your head hurt. You still weren’t entirely calm, you were still outside of Jackson, your job wasn’t done here yet.

When the large building came into view you suddenly remembered all the good times you had there.

You hitched Levia at the front of the lookout and walked in, Joel and Tommy following you.

“You wanna tell us what the hell happened back there?” Joel asked while you walked down, setting your bag down at the table.

“No. I don’t want to talk about it,” You sighed. You weren’t in the mood for another argument. Why did Joel always have to pry?

“Okay well, Joel and I will get out of your hair for awhile, I think Ellie should be nearby, actually, we’ll go get her,” Tommy said from behind you. He hit Joel on the arm for that last comment.

“Ellie’s nearby?” You asked, plopping down on the couch. You noticed her guitar then.

“Yep, she’s been waiting to hang out with you, you know? Been awhile since she’s seen you,” Tommy responded, you could hear him grabbing something from the kitchen.

“She has?” Both you and Joel said at the same time. You glanced over at Joel, your eyebrow raised, he simply shrugged.

“Course she has. You’re like a mother to that girl,” Tommy said, looking through the cabinets. That was true of course, when things got rough in general for her, Ellie was the one she came to talk to. Someone who wasn’t related to Joel — or an in law, someone who wasn’t close with her friends, just an outside force in her life. It was good to have someone like that.

Tommy threw something on the couch next to you, you were startled for a moment. Upon examination, you realized it was a candy bar.

“Found Mark’s stash up here a few weeks back. Hid it for you,” Tommy told you. Joel was silent.

“Thanks.” You opened up the candy bar. It was Mark’s favorite. He always said that a person could be having the worst day of their life, and all they would need was a candy bar to make it good again. You weren’t sure how true it was — but candy did make you happier.

“We’ll be going out now, you best not go anywhere, alright?”

“I won’t be going anywhere, Tommy.”

•••

“Seriously Joel? The hell is going on with you two?”

“Ask her. She’s only avoided me for the past three goddamn months, and suddenly on my first day off in weeks, I have to escort her to a place she knows damn well where it is? Seems pretty damn fishy to me,” Joel scoffed. Caesar galloped besides Tommy’s horse, they were getting closer to the Ottawa Lookout, where Ellie was at.

“You know what today was supposed to be for her, Joel?” Tommy asked Joel.

“No, you really think I’m told much of anything that goes on about her anymore?”

“Today was supposed to be a test. See how well she could do back on patrol, ease her back into this, and Joel, you aren’t making this much easier for her,” Tommy glared at his brother as they traveled across the forest to the lookout.

Joel’s brow furrowed, “A test? The hell for?”

“You really are as dumb as rocks, big brother. It’s not my place to say. Maybe you should confront her about it instead of bickering and causing her to panic. Even a goddamn clicker could see that you were making her uncomfortable.”

“And you think I haven’t tried asking her where she’s been for the past three months?”

“Knowing you Joel, I’m sure you didn’t ask. More like yelled,” Tommy bit back. Joel was more than willing to continue the argument, but the Ottawa lookout came into view. It was a smaller building, that was once a home, on a steep hill that faced Jackson.

Ellie’s horse, Shimmer was waiting outside. Ellie was on the front porch with a journal.

“Hey guys,” Ellie called out.

Joel and Tommy waved to her as they got off their horses.

“Let’s go inside for a bit. Got some things I want to discuss,” Tommy said.

“Sure,” Ellie grabbed her notebook and headed in. She sat down at the table that faced the many windows, Joel and Tommy pulling up a chair to sit with her.

“How’d it go? Didn’t expect you guys to be back so soon.” Ellie rested her hands on her thighs, waiting for an answer.

“Can’t say it went well so far. I think we’ll go back out tomorrow, or maybe later today,” Tommy shrugged. Ellie gave him a knowing look.

“Wait, you’re telling me Ellie’s on this too?” Joel asked, leaning forward onto the table.

“Yeah? I mean, I thought you were too,” Ellie said, raising her eyebrows in confusion.

“Maria decided two people would be enough. She wanted to ease into it, get her around people who don’t piss her off immensely,” Tommy replied, glancing over to Joel.

Joel huffed before replying, “We butt heads sometimes, sure, but I don’t piss her off all that much.”

“All that much? Joel, I saw how uncomfortable she was riding with you.” Tommy shook his head. The sun was high in the sky now, the windows allowing light to come through.

“And Mark couldn’t have come out here instead of me, why?” Joel asked Tommy. He was only becoming more and more confused.

“Mark’s out of commission right now, but it don’t matter. I know you care about her Joel, I know she cares about you too but Maria just wanted to test the waters first. It was supposed to be your day off too, she didn’t want to assign you to a small job like this.”

“Yeah, why are you even here?” Ellie said curiously.

“Maria asked me to escort her. If Maria didn’t want me out here, why’d she ask me to come?”

“Y/N insisted you come. Maria told me that she said that she needed someone she could trust out here. Someone who she could count on,” Tommy said.

“Count on? And she can’t count on you guys?”

“She can’t count on us in the way only you could,” Tommy replied slowly, he leaned back into his chair.

Joel nodded, it was all starting to click in place.

“Still doesn’t make much sense why she doesn’t want to go on patrols anymore.”

“I’m not really sure either,” Ellie chimed in.

“Not mine or Maria’s place to say. If you want to hear why, maybe ask her, but be careful, I hear it’s a delicate subject.”

•••

#joel x reader #joel miller x reader #tlou 2 #tlou 2 spoilers #the last of us pt 2 #the last of us part 2 #the last of us pt ii #the last of us part ii spoilers #the last of us part ii #the last of us pt 2 spoilers #the last of us #the lash of us part 2 spoilers #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #tlou x reader #tlou 2 x reader #of the valley

199 notes · View notes

amanda-teaches · 5 years ago

Text

Almost Paradise

Summary: Dean finds himself looking at pictures of old loves. Will he ever be able to find that paradise again?

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Square filled: Feelings Accidentally Revealed for @spnfluffbingo, Kissed to Keep Quiet for @spndeanbingo and “I’m sorry, did I step on your moment?” for @spnquotebingo

Word Count: 1558

Warnings: A little angst and Dean beating up on himself, one swear word, the rest is fluffy confessions and stuff with just a hint of smut

A/N: This is for the incomparable @atc74‘s Duets Reboot Challenge. I got Almost Paradise by Mike Reno and Ann Wilson, so you’re getting some romance today. I hope y’all enjoy!

He hadn’t meant to pull out the photos, didn’t even know why he still had them. Lisa was on top, of course, pictures of her and Ben, and the three of them together, but, underneath, there were others. Cassie, his first love, Robin, his first kiss, Jo...so many abandoned chances, lost futures. Futures lost because of him.

“Hey, Dean, you okay in there?”

He swallowed hard, shoving the pictures back into the box, which he hastily threw under the bed just as the door opened, silhouetting Y/N standing in the dim, hallway light.

He glanced down at the floor, quickly standing from where he was perched on the edge of the bed. “Uh, Y/N, yeah...what’s up?”

She studied him carefully for a second, eyebrows furrowing with unspoken questions. “Nothing. I just wanted to check on you. You seemed a little weird earlier.”

He cleared his throat, his eyes landing everywhere but hers. “I’m fine. Long day is all.”

She hesitated for a second, and he could tell without even looking that she didn’t believe him. “Okay. I’ll, uh, see you in the morning?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, not even bothering to wait for a response before turning his back on her. It wasn’t until he heard the door close behind him that he let out his breath, bending back down to pick up the box. He lifted the lid one last time, his hand falling on the one picture he hadn’t looked at yet, the one that had long-since become crinkled and worn from years of handling.

Y/N.

Falling in love with her hadn’t been instantaneous. It wasn’t the lightning striking, all-incomposing realization he’d expected. It was a series of soft smiles, late nights, deep laughs, and tender hugs. It was bonding over shared interests and fighting over food preferences. It was a friendship that had grown into so much more, more than anything he’d ever experienced with any of the others.

He fingered the tears on the edges of the picture and let his finger roam, tracing her smile. It was from that day at the beach five years ago, her eyes squinting into the sunlight, her hair windswept all around her. He was pretty sure she’d never looked more radiant.

His smile at the memory quickly faded as it turned to sadness. Placing the picture back in the box, he pursed his lips, steeling himself once again. It was a fool’s dream to think he could ever have anything with Y/N. Whatever chance he’d had was long gone after everything they’d been through, everything he’d done. Friendship was all he could ever expect from her, and, if he really loved her, he’d have to accept that.

He sighed, and placed the cover back on the box, not noticing how the picture of Y/N fluttered out and landed on the floor as he stood up. Walking quickly to the chest of drawers, he put the box back in its place, in the past, where it belonged. He didn’t have any right to dream anything different.

I thought that dreams belonged to other men

'Cause each time I got close

They'd fall apart again

I feared my heart would beat in secrecy

I faced the nights alone

Oh, how could I have known

That all my life I only needed you?

When Y/N had volunteered to go pick up the laundry from his room the next morning, Dean hadn’t thought much of it. They often traded off the chores they did around the bunker, and he was pretty sure she’d do anything to get him on cooking duty. He knew she’d been angling for a full-on breakfast buffet for days. But, when she didn’t return to the library after 20 minutes, he started to get worried.

Putting down his coffee, he made his way towards the laundry room first, finding it empty. He backtracked to her room, but it was the same result there. A little ripple of fear ran through him, and he picked up the pace, practically running down the hallway to his room. When he got there, he threw open the door, his chest falling in relief when he found her sitting there, at the foot of his bed.

But, then he noticed what she was holding in her hand. The picture.

“Uh, hey, Y/N,” he started, clearing his throat when he felt the shakiness in his voice. “I thought you were grabbing the laundry.”

She looked up at him, uncertainty written all over her face. “Why do you have this? Isn’t this from years ago, that day at the…”

“The beach, yeah,” he confirmed, nodding his head, but, again, refusing to make eye contact.

She wouldn’t let him. Standing up, she crossed the room in just a few steps, stopping right in front of him. “Dean, why do you have this crumpled up picture of me laying on the floor of your room?”

His mind went straight to any number of excuses, but then he looked into her eyes, her beautiful, vulnerable eyes, and he knew he could never lie to her. “It’s on the floor because I must’ve dropped it earlier. It’s crumpled, because…” He took a deep breath. No going back now. “Because, that’s how a picture gets when you look at it all the time.”

“You look at a picture of me all the time?” She looked back down at it, and he could see her brain working overtime to process the reality of what he’d just said.

Well, shit, may as well jump into the deep end now. “Yeah, I keep it in a box in my dresser with pictures of all of the women I’ve...loved.”

Her eyes shot up to his.

He just kept going. “But, I guess love isn’t really the right word, because I was never really in love with any of the others. I mean, I thought I was at the time or maybe I thought I could be, but I never really was, at least not the real thing, not like I feel for you.” He kept plunging ahead, unable to stop now that he’d finally gotten started. “And, I know you don’t feel the same way about me, but I'm in love with you, Y/N. Have been for years. I mean, obviously, this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out, not that I wanted you to at all, but, now that you know, I…”

His words were cut off by the touch of her lips to his, hesitant at first, but the second he began to respond, she leaned in, weaving her hands into his hair, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. He groaned and pulled her closer, his mind going blank in her arms. When she broke the kiss and leaned back, all he could do was stare at her, dumbfounded. “Was that? Wait, what just happened?”

She grinned. “Sorry, you were talking too much.”

“Talking too much…” he echoed, trailing off, still completely confused. She must’ve read it on his face, because she reached up and brushed her knuckles down the side of his face, leaning in for another kiss.

“I love you too, Dean.”

It seems like perfect love's so hard to find

I'd almost given up

You must have read my mind

And all these dreams I saved for a rainy day

They're finally coming true

I'll share them all with you

'Cause now we hold the future in our hand

And in your arms salvation's not so far away

It's getting closer

Closer every day

Dean tightened his arms around Y/N’s sleeping body, feeling her begin to stir. He inhaled, breathing her in, and dropped his lips to her neck, relishing the small moan that fell from her lips. “Mmm...mornin’, baby.”

“Good morning,” she said with a smile, turning lazily in his arms until they were face to face. “I like waking up in your arms.”

“And, I like you waking up in my arms,” he agreed, grinning as he leaned in to steal another kiss. “Damn, why haven’t we been doing this the whole time?”

She laughed. “Hm, I don’t know, maybe because you kept a picture of me in your underwear drawer for five years instead of just telling me how you felt?”

“Hey!” he shot back, feigning offense. “You never said anything either. Besides, I think I deserve some props for saying something now. You know, I had this whole dramatic speech thing going on.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I step on your moment? My poor baby.” She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, softening the tease with a kiss to his chin that quickly turned passionate as it found its way to his mouth. His hands began to roam down her body, drawing a whine from deep within her. “Dean, please…”

“What’s the rush?” he drawled, slowing the movement of his hands as he maneuvered her until she was laying flat on her back, his weight propped up by his knee so that he was hovering above her. “We’ve got plenty of time, baby. In fact, I think we’ve pretty much got forever.”

Almost paradise

We're knockin' on heaven's door

Almost paradise

How could we ask for more?

I swear that I can see forever in your eyes

Paradise

Forevers- @hamartiamacguffin @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @katymacsupernatural @impandagrl @cyrilconnelly @impala-dreamer @castielhasthetardis @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @be-amaziing @jalove-wecallhimdean @there-must-be-a-lock @mysterious-398 @hannahindie @emoryhemsworth @ohmychuckitssamanddean @wi-deangirl77 @carryonmywaywardcaptain @ericaprice2008 @masksandtruths @roxyspearing @squirrel-moose-winchester @sweetpeamoose @babypieandwhiskey @deans-dirty-writer @roxy-davenport @heyitscam99 @starry-chaos @spnbaby-67 @mogaruke @atc74 @dolphincliffs @closetspngirl @maddiepants @pinknerdpanda @focusonspn @deanwanddamons

Dean Tags- @akshi8278 @whimsicalrobots @dean-winchesters-bacon @adoptdontshoppets @alexwinchester23

#angelina's duets reboot challenge #spnfluffbingo #spndeanbingo #spnquotebingo #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #wow it's been so long since I posted I almost forgot how to format a fic

262 notes · View notes

flourchildwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Six years after their escape to the human world, the Grace Field children live together in a happy, harmonious home. Twenty-one-year-olds, Ray, Norman and Emma, have folded themselves into modern society and work tirelessly to provide for their younger siblings, putting the greater good of their family before their personal needs. But as children turn to into teenagers, new house rules come into play. Norman, convinced that Emma will never remember their unique childhood bond, makes a bold proposition — to prohibit romantic relationships between the Grace Field children and end his hopes for something more with Emma once and for all.

Ray knows all too well how dangerous it is to reignite a spark, but for the happiness of Emma and Norman, he's always been willing to burn.

Fandom: Yakusoku no Neverland | The Promised Neverland (Manga)

Relationships/Pairings: Emma/Norman (Endgame), Emma/Ray (Fake Dating), Norman & Ray, Emma & Ray

Genre: Post-Canon (Spoilers for Anime-Only Fans), Fake/Pretend Relationship

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 12,930 words (incomplete 3/5)

A/N: Oh, hi! So it's been a while, but I have neither dropped off the face of the Earth nor given up on this fic. Sometimes, I just have to wait until I'm in the right state of mind to write a chapter. Until next time....

Chapter 3

The cuckoo clock on the wall of Norman’s study is an ornate piece of artistry. It does its job fashionably and without complaint, keeping time with as much precision as its pendulum can muster. Norman likes to lose himself to the details of the carved wood. The dancing animals and crisp steeples that surround the clock face never fail to interest him when his thoughts turn sluggish at the end of the day.

Norman would happily wile away his evening hours waiting for the clock’s melodic chime to sound at the top of the hour, but this is not the gift’s purpose. Instead, it is meant as a constant reminder that time itself is a precious commodity. Mike Ratri gave him the clock upon his admission to law school. And though Norman’s enthusiasm for the present has dissipated, he cannot disagree with the principle behind the clock’s coded message.

Time can be a beautiful, but unforgiving mistress; yesterday’s opportunities are lost in the past, gone forever.

Perhaps, Norman muses, for his next graduation, he will receive a high-end watch from the Ratri clan. Then he, along with his time, will be literally and figuratively shackled to the course the family’s scion has mapped out for him. Norman knows he is regarded as the best of the bunch, the poster child amongst the extraordinary children born and raised in the demon world. Ever rational, he cannot disagree with that conclusion.

Still, he rakes a finger under the collar cinched around his neck to loosen his tie and fusses with the first few buttons of his pressed shirt. The emblem of Lambda 7214 peeks out from underneath the scoop neck of his undershirt, and not for the first time, Norman traces the tattoo’s hard lines where they are exposed. Compared to this marking, the numbers on his neck are practically forgettable.

Norman isn’t like the other Grace Field children, not since Peter Ratri’s malicious experiments. Neither can he lump himself in with the other Lambda survivors. Though Barbara never shies away from advocating for the latter.

“Are you even listening?” Barbara’s voice is shrill as it comes from the cellphone wedged between Norman’s shoulder and ear.

In the background, he can hear boxing gloves rhythmically pound against a punching bag. Norman doesn’t like lying to Barbara; he knows what the woman is capable of when she’s feeling feisty. But after hearing the juicy gossip from the younger children in his house, concerning a date between two certain someones, Norman’s mind refuses to focus on administrative matters. Still, he tries to soldier on as if nothing is amiss.

“Of course,” Norman fibs. “You’re concerned about the benefit, just like you are every year. And every year, it turns out fine. We get our funding; the Ratri family keeps their moral high ground.”

The sound of hard punch startles Norman, and Barbara pauses, slightly winded, before responding. “But the problem is that they want Zazie to attend this year. Zazie!”

The thought causes Norman to pause. He is wont to recall Zazie as he once was — a child stuck in an overgrown body with a paper bag hiding his face and twin swords strapped to his back. But Zazie, like his brothers and sisters, has grown into his shaggy hair, and in his case, his mental strides are much more impressive.

“What does Zazie think about attending the benefit?”

Barbara scoffs. “He’s fine with going for a little while as long as he isn’t on his own, but why should he waste his precious words on that family ? They don’t fund his therapy out of charity; they pay for it because his hardships, all our hardships, are their fault.”

Normally, Norman would play devil’s advocate. He would remind Barbara that Mike isn’t like Peter and point out that most of the advances made on behalf of the cattle, Lambda and farm children are funded by the donations of the benefit’s attendees. But tonight, Norman has no such fight in him. He has four cases to read and brief, an argument to draft for his legal writing class and a Ray-and-Emma-shaped problem that seems to become more bizarre by the minute.

“I’ll talk to Mike and see if we can defer Zazie’s involvement,” Norman capitulates, rubbing at his neck as his to-do list grows longer. “He may look like an adult, but he’s still a teenager. It can be easy to forget.”

There’s a pregnant pause on the other side of Norman’s cell phone connection.

“Are you feeling alright, boss?”

A part of Norman wants to laugh, a great big belly laugh that would draw the kind of attention the household head does his best to avoid. Of course, he isn’t alright. It was a relief when he first made the decision to impose a fraternization ban, but then, Ray went and asked Emma out just to spite him.

Clever, impulsive asshole.

How could Norman go through with it after that? Either he would have seemed like a heartless roadblock or a jealous cockblock to his siblings. And neither alternative comes close to the truth, an inconvenient conundrum that’s been eating away at him for years.

Norman exhales, long and slow, and because he can ordinarily be (somewhat) honest with Barbara, he doesn’t lie to her this time. He won’t divulge the whole, messy truth. For that, he wouldn’t even know how to begin. Heavy the head that wears the crown, or in this case, Norman thinks it’s more along the lines of a cape.

“No,” he responds, “I’m not alright. But I’m sure I’ll be fine after exams. I just need some time to rest and get my head on straight. No need to be concerned.”

There’s a flurry of movement coming from Barbara’s side of the connection, and when she speaks again, her voice sounds unflinchingly clear. Norman braces himself when he realizes she’s paused her evening workout and taken herself off speakerphone.

“Far be it for me to suggest that you shouldn’t be living with the Grace Field kids, but you’re also one of us — a Lambda experiment. We have different needs, and Lambda House could provide you with much more support or at least a break from being in charge. Come live with us and let someone else run things over there. We all miss you, boss. Maybe someone could help you for a change.”

A lump sticks in Norman’s throat, and he swallows it, ready to make excuses that never arrive. Words fail him for the umpteenth time in a handful of days. Suddenly hot, he scratches the back of his neck and shrugs off his collared shirt entirely. The top of his Lambda 7214 tattoo remains on full display. Sometimes, he hides it so well that he begins to believe his own lies, but there are moments when the truth corrodes his carefully constructed facade.

Norman may be the brightest child from the demon world, but he’s also damaged goods, marked in ways that Ray (for example) is not.

He could live at Lambda House. Correction, he should live at Lambda House to better avail himself of the on-call therapists for his night terrors and have his medication managed with more regularity. But then, there would be no reason for Norman to oversee the Grace Field children’s home. He wouldn’t be able to drag himself down to breakfast each morning to find her, Emma, sipping her coffee and joking around with the younger children, or feel his heart flutter when wishes him well in the evenings.

Norman stays because she’s worth all the small inconveniences and then some. The time in between, the numbing hours spent studying, problem-solving and balancing the books, are a means to an end. Emma always tips the scale in Grace Field’s favor. Even with an anti-fraternization rule, Norman doesn’t expect his feelings to change.

Nevertheless….

“I’ll think about it,” Norman hears himself say, and he ends the call promptly with promises to be in touch soon simply to put the matter to rest.

Read the rest on AO3!

#tpn #noremma #the promised neverland #yakusoku no neverland #tpn emma #tpn norman #tpn ray #tpn phil #manga spoilers #flourchildwrites #when the mood strikes her

2 notes · View notes

alcalavicci · 4 years ago

Text

1988 interview with Dean. This is a really good one and helps bring more of his life into perspective. Note: the newspaper originally censored his swearing, but I’ve put it back.

Guthman, Edward. "Dean Stockwell: Third Time's a Charm." The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California), August 14, 1988.

“Six years ago, Dean Stockwell's acting career had turned to dust. Reduced to playing parts in unreleasable, made-in-Mexico movies that now make him cringe, Stockwell decided to chuck it all and get out of Hollywood.

“Along with his second wife, Joy, Stockwell moved to Santa Fe, settled down under the wide New Mexico sky and applied for a real estate license. He even placed an ad in Daily Variety to announce his exile: 'Dean Stockwell will help you with all your real estate needs in the new center of creative energy.'

“Stockwell never sold a house; he didn't need to. Instead, almost as soon as he'd relocated, things started happening to the former 1940s child star. It began with a small part in David Lynch's 'Dune,' and escalated with an important supporting role in Wim Wenders' highly regarded 'Paris, Texas.'

“Moving back to California to cash in on his fortune, Stockwell acted in 'Beverly Hills Cop II,' 'Gardens of Stone,' and 'To Live and Die in L.A.' He also played a cameo role, as Howard Hughes, in the newly released 'Tucker: The Man and His Dream.' And in 'Blue Velvet,' David Lynch's American nightmare, he delivered a chilling cameo as Ben, a waxlike, sexually ambiguous drug dealer.

“And now, at 52, Stockwell says he's found 'the favorite role I've had, by far.'

“The picture is 'Married to the Mob,' a dark, romantic comedy by Jonathan Demme ('Melvin and Howard,' 'Stop Making Sense') and Stockwell plays Mafia don Tony 'the Tiger' Russo. Wearing an Al Capone fedora and full-length vicuna coat, Tony is a rich, sardonic, larger-than-life character -- the kind Stockwell has never had a chance to play until now.

“Opening Friday at the Galaxy and UA the Movies, 'Married to the Mob' has been touted as Demme's first shot at a genuine box-office winner. Set in Long Island, New Jersey and Florida, it stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Angela DeMarco, a young Mafia wife who tries to start a new life when her husband, Frankie 'the Cucumber' DeMarco, is pumped full of lead during a hot-tub tryst at the Fantasia Motel.

“When Stockwell's character isn't ordering hits, drug deals and the dumping of toxic waste, he's lusting assiduously after the gorgeous widow. Meanwhile, bumbling FBI agent Mike Downey (played by Matthew Modine) is jumping through hoops trying to shadow Angela and 'catch Tony with his pants down.' Instead, he falls in love with Angela.

“During a recent luncheon interview, not far from his central California home, Stockwell spoke about the film, about his new happiness as the father of two children and about the bizarre trajectory of his long career. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a Panama hat and drawing first on a cigaret, later on a cigar, Stockwell emanates prosperity and calm.

“'I don't know why I was unemployed so long,' he says, reflecting on a fallow period that started in the '60s and lasted the better part of two decades. 'The only thing I can figure out in my own mind is that, for some reason or another, I was being made to wait until a certain time in my life when my talent would reach its full maturity and fruition.'

“Ironically, he says, he felt just as equipped 10 years ago to do the work he's doing now -- 'only I couldn't get fucking arrested.'

“Today, Stockwell sees harmony in the fact that his new success coincides with the arrival of two children. His son, Austin, will be 5 in November, and his daughter, Sophia, turns 3 this month. Inordinately proud and protective, he refuses to allow his children to be photographed, and also requests that the town in which he and his family reside not be named. (There were no children from his first marriage, to Millie Perkins, which lasted from 1960 to 1962.)

“'I want to make a lot of money and I want to put it away for my children,' he says. To that end, Stockwell has been snapping up job offers. 'A lot of people ask me, "How have you been able to choose these wonderful things you're doing? Have you been very selective?" And I have to tell them, "I haven't been choosing what I'm doing." Things have been coming and I've been accepting virtually anything that's come.'

“Stockwell's ambition is so great that, for the first time in his life, he actively pursues aspects of his career that he once shunned- interviews, for example.

“'My entire motivation in life is my family,' he says. 'I don't need to get an award. I don't need recognition. I've had that already. What I need is to provide. The best way I can provide is to be successful, and the best way I can be successful is to take advantage of all the things at my disposal to achieve that, one of which certainly is press.'

“Take a look at the young Stockwell, specifically the version that emerges from old magazine and newspaper interviews, and you meet another person altogether.

“Robbed of a normal childhood, Stockwell had made 22 films by the time he was 15 -- including 'The Boy with Green Hair,' 'Kim,' 'Anchors Aweigh,' and the Oscar-winning 'Gentleman's Agreement.' Working nonstop, he had a privileged life that millions of children probably envied, but he loathed it nonetheless.

“The son of show-business parents -- his father, Harry Stockwell, was the voice of the Prince in 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,' and his mother, Betty Veronica, was a former stage dancer -- Stockwell made his professional debut at 7. It all happened by a fluke: when Stockwell accompanied his older brother, Guy, on a Broadway audition, the casting director took a liking to both boys, and cast each one. The play, aptly enough, was called 'Innocent Voyage,' and it led to an MGM contract for curly-haired Dean.

“From the beginning, the pressure on young Stockwell was intense. His parents had divorced when he was 6, and when his father defaulted on child-support payments, Dean reluctantly became the family provider. Over a six-year period, he averaged three to four films per year.

“At home, he says, 'There was a lot of friction... I was getting all the attention, but I hated it. [Guy] couldn't appreciate that, because he wasn't getting the attention. He had all these friends, his peer group, that he took for granted. I had none and I resented him for being able to live that way. I was fucking lonely.'

“When he was 13, chained to a seven-year contract, Stockwell was described by one magazine as 'a young rebel who despises acting and resents every moment it takes from his fleeting boyhood.' Many years later, Stockwell told columnist Hedda Hopper, 'Child actors exist in a sort of limbo between childhood and maturity and belong to neither. Adults take them too seriously and other children are either awed or hostile. A child actor can find friends in neither group.'

“Finally, Stockwell fled Hollywood when he was 16. He cut off his curly locks, started using his real name, Robert Stockwell, and for the next five years roamed the country, working menial jobs and disavowing his true identity. 'People that might have known me from seeing my films knew me as a young child,' he remembers. 'Now I was 17 and I wasn't that recognizable.'

“Around the time of his 21st birthday, Stockwell was pushing papers as mail boy to a Manhattan plumbing firm. 'Of all the jobs that I'd had in those intervening years,' he remembers. 'I think I hated that worse than anything. I came to the realization I had no training at anything. My primary education was very skimpy, very poor, and happened under the worst type of conditions. I was literally at the mercy of the world.'

“Most of Stockwell's childhood earnings were squandered by crooked accountants, he says, and he knew that the tiny sum being held in a trust wouldn't last forever. 'So I thought, "What am I gonna do? Well, let's go back and attack this [acting career] again, and see if I can do it a little more on my terms."'

“What followed for Stockwell was a brief but impressive 'second career.' He starred in the 1959 film 'Compulsion,' based on the Leopold-Loeb case of the '20s, and won a joint acting award with Orson Welles and Bradford Dillman at the Cannes Film Festival. He played the lead in the 1960 film of D. H. Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers,' and in 1962 scored the plum role of Edmund Tyrone in Sidney Lumet's film version of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night,' holding his own alongside Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards.

“Stockwell was winning the best parts, but found his attention drifting elsewhere. What was happening, he says, were the first signs of the '60s youth revolution. 'It captured my imagination as much as anybody's. And it represented to me -- I can see this in retrospect -- something in childhood that I had missed: the freedom and loving being alive, without responsibilities and work and having to report to the studio every day, and deal with fans and interviews and shit that I hated when I was a kid.'

“So Stockwell called his agent, said, 'I'm not workin',' and dropped out once again. When he tried to come back three years later, though, 'I found it very difficult, 'cause I'd been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.' What followed was a long period of marginal employment: He found some TV work, took parts in low-budget trash ('The Dunwich Horror') and occasional oddities (Dennis Hopper's 'The Last Movie') and co-directed a film with musician Neil Young ('Human Highway') but often just didn't work at all. At one point, he went 18 months without a job.

“Today, along with his buddy Hopper, Stockwell is enjoying a major career renaissance. And with his starring role in 'Married to the Mob,' he says, he's never felt more confident.

“'I knew before I started the film that this character was going to work in spades,' he says, adding that Demme, as director, deserves credit for taking a risk with such offbeat casting. Instead of picking Peter Falk, Vincent Gardenia or another ethnically identified actor to play the Mafia don, he went with Stockwell (who is actually half-Italian on his mother's side).

“Demme's inspiration occurred on a flight from Los Angeles to New York, when he opened a copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Stockwell had just changed agents, and in order to announce the fact, had taken out a full-page ad. Demme saw the picture, and instantly recognized his Tony.

“Weirdly enough, Stockwell made another film immediately prior to 'Married to the Mob': a Canadian feature called 'Palais Royale,' due for an October release, in which he plays a character almost identical to Tony Russo.

“'It's very curious,' he says. 'For all my years I'd never had a role like this come my way, and here it was twice. The Mafia don in New York, the Mafia don in Toronto, both of them colorful and charming and also threatening. And I just thought, "What am I gonna do? It's the same character." So I decided to do the same character in both those movies.'

“To take the coincidence 'one nauseating step further,' Stockwell says he's also got a part in the recently completed 'Backtrack,' Hopper's next film. This time he plays a corrupt mob lawyer, dropping the Italian accent for a generalized East Coast sound.

“It would be difficult to find a film actor who's busier than Stockwell at this moment. And it would be difficult to find anyone whose job history better illustrates the vicissitudes, serendipities and insecurity of a Hollywood career.

“Looking back on his misfortunes -- at the career that he was forced to accept as a child, and the humiliation he felt when he couldn't maintain it as an adult -- Stockwell says he's not bitter. 'When you reach your maturity, I think it behooves you to accept the fact that it's absolutely futile and fruitless even to speculate on changing anything in your life. All you can do is get embittered. So I accept everything that's happened as part of my life, and try to push it in a positive direction from the moment right now.'”

#dean stockwell #article #i hear the kid who had plans to get a ranch again in this article :)#i've also been trying to reconcile his working in NYC when he was 21 with what parts he had around then #i think he tried acting again at 19/20 #hated it #got out went to NYC worked that job also hated it #so he went back to acting #then Compulsion helped him accept acting more

14 notes · View notes

kafka-ish · 4 years ago

Text

sleep-over | b.d.

it’s been years since bill denbrough’s been to an actual sleepover. but when someone invites him over for the night, he can’t seem to pass up the opportunity to join them.

word count: 3,313

warnings/included: fluff, fem!reader

request: (from anonymous) “hiii could i please request a bill denbrough fic? you can decide what it’s about but just lots of fluff and something really cute”

a/n: repost bc my tumblr tags didn’t work on the last one and i didn’t realize until now,, also based off of this song

“Do you...do you want to come over?” y/n asked. Those were the first words to spill from her mouth when she dialed Bill’s phone at twelve-o-one a.m. She didn’t have to look out her window to know it was late because of the darkness that engulfed her room, but she also knew she had Bill wrapped around her finger and he’d do anything for her if she asked.

“Luh-like a ss-sleepover?” Bill’s shoulder was pressing his phone to his ear as he paced back and forth in his room. He looked out his window to see nothing. Just a dark abyss that beckoned for him, the same way y/n did from over the phone.

“Yeah. Like a sleepover.” y/n thought back to the multiple sleepovers she and he had before when they were younger.

When dusk ate the day and it got too late, Bill would stay the night at the y/l/n’s house. Her mother would have y/n’s brother keep an eye on the two of them because god knows what would happen if the two were left alone (even at an early age).

“Loser has to fit five marshmallows in their mouth,” y/n declared as she was setting up Candyland. She already had dibs on the purple gingerbread man so Bill supposed he’d just have to play as yellow.

“Oh-oh-okay.” A wide smile formed on a young Bill Denbrough’s mouth and his chest moved in sync with the guffaws he was trying to contain. “B-b-but I don’t think your...your mouth is that big.”

y/n’s grin matched his and Bill had gotten cocky that night because he had found y/n’s gingerbread man crossing the rainbow finish line before his and he could only hold three of the Jumbo Jet-Puffs in his mouth.

“I’ll b-be ri-right over.” Bill had unintentionally slammed the receiver back on the dial pad. He had never been so fast to pack up in his entire life, but he also didn’t take much; just a fresh pair of boxers, a change of basketball shorts, a t-shirt similar to the one he was wearing, and his toothbrush. It had been forever ago since he and a friend like Stan or Mike spent the night at each other’s houses. It had been a lifetime ago since he spent the night at y/n’s house.

He walked—no—ran out the door, almost forgetting his shoes in the process (which he slipped on without socks). His duffle bag was light on his arm and threatened to slip off more than once if Bill hadn’t been careful. He made it to y/n’s house in record’s time, but he also lived four blocks away.

Bill waited outside of y/n’s door. His fingers fought with each other and he noticed that the green porch light was still on.

“What are you doing?” y/n called down from above. She could freely yell into the earth’s crisp air because the neighborhood was asleep, and she didn’t have to worry about her brother who was sleeping in one of the dorms Duke University provided.

“I didn’t know if I should knock or not,” Bill answered honestly. He knew y/n was rolling her eyes at his response whether he could see her face clearly or not. He could hear her loud footsteps—rushed and enthusiastic—from inside the house as she trampled down the stairs to let him in.

“Hi!” She looked up at him wide-eyed and bushy-tailed because Bill stood tall and lean while y/n was like a dainty sprig—fragile and still waiting for spring to bloom—at least compared to him.

A smile couldn’t help but draw itself on Bill’s face when she greeted him. She was dressed in a white tank top and cotton sleep shorts and it was in that moment when Bill realized how much she’d grown. How much they’d all grown.

“Are you ready?” y/n eyed him curiously because it’d been seconds since she said anything and Bill had yet to reply.

“Ye-yeah,” Bill said. He stepped in. “Where?” Gulp. “Where should I puh-puh-put this?” He held up the seemingly empty duffle and y/n took it from him only to toss it aside next to the potted plant that greeted guests as they walked in.

“We can come back for it later. Now come on.” She was dragging him back outside. “I need an adventure!” She locked the door behind them with her golden house key she had turned into a necklace by feeding a length of black lace through the middle hole. She wore that thing everywhere she went.

“Ad-adventure?” One of Bill’s untrimmed eyebrows raised and y/n nodded as soon as the word left his mouth. “I th-th-hought this was a s-sl-sleepover.”

y/n giggled. Her small hand only covered a third of his as she grabbed it and led him from her front lawn and across the street. “Who actually sleeps at a sleepover?”

That was true. As he recalled, the last time he ‘slept over’ at Richie Tozier’s house, neither of them had actually closed their eyes.

Bill hadn’t noticed he was now in front and y/n stood a few paces behind him until he felt the warmth of her hand leave his. She was taking the time to light the cigarette she had balanced between her bottom and top lip. Bill chuckled softly at the sight behind him. She was a sight for sore eyes.

He stepped back to meet her figure whose nimble fingers were concentrating on flicking the purple BIC at hand.

“Nuh-need help?” Bill took the lighter from her and it came to life with one swift move of his thumb.

“Yo-you know s-s-s-smoking is... Once you start, you cuh-can’t s-s-s-top.” Bill said this as if her were a father, telling his child about the dangers of drug usage. But he still lit the stick that was poking from y/n’s pouting lips.

She took a drag from the cigarette. It was long and she coughed afterward because she hated the taste. Bill could tell she wasn’t an experienced smoker and that this had probably been her second pack. “I’m already addicted,” she said. The cigarette muffled her words. But it wasn’t the nicotine she was addicted to. She was addicted to fitting in.

Bill shook his head which he’d inadvertently thrown back while he was consumed in laughter. “You guh-guh-got an-hother one?” He asked and y/n reached in the elastic of her waistband to grab a pack of Mavericks (a gift from Bev). The box was full except for one and she had also stashed a twenty-dollar bill in the gaping space between the tobacco sticks.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” y/n said while tossing him a smoke.

“Fuh-first time for eh-everything.” Bill shrugged and lit the end like a natural. It wasn’t his first time, he just said that to make y/n feel better.

The two walked in comfortable silence. y/n was still trailing behind, but only to admire Bill’s frame under the white moonlight—not to enjoy her barely smoked cigarette because maybe she wanted pink lungs until she was old and wrinkled and had to have be waited on hand and foot at the nursing home.

It took them ten minutes to arrive at a worn-down gas station and it would’ve taken them five if y/n wasn’t lollygagging or if Bill didn’t stop to point at the stars every three seconds.

“Lo-ook at that one!” He’d say with the innocence of a child. His sneakers would make a scraping sound against the abandoned road when he came to a halt and y/n would bump into his shoulder because she never looked where she was going.

“It kind of looks like the mole on the back of your-“ Bill nudged her, causing her to wobble and drop the Maverick. It was one with nature now. Good riddance.

Bill put out his own half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray that sat on top of the garbage can next to the glass doors of the QwikTrip.

It was bright inside. Too bright. The empty gas station felt completely different from when they were slumming it in the outside and dancing to the sound of crickets chirping.

But y/n didn’t notice. She was too busy in her own world, mixing together a cherry and coke flavored slushie to make cherry coke. She watched in childlike wonder at the contents inside the slushie machine that whirled ‘round and ‘round so the ice could mix thoroughly with the syrup (a slushie with an imperfect ice-to-syrup ratio was not a slushie; it was just flavored ice). She didn’t notice the guy working the cash register who was obviously checking her out.

But Bill did.

An odd feeling struck at his heart which was now beating faster as he watched the greasy boy about their age eye his childhood friend.

“H-have you ever dr-dr-“ Bill paused. “Had alcohol?” Bill wondered aloud. y/n had just finished preparing Bill’s slushie for him—plain banana—so her attention could now focus on just him. Internally, Bill was banging his head against the wall for asking such a stupid question. But that’s what y/n made him in recent developments: stupid.

Every teenager drinks he thought to himself. But y/n wasn’t like every teenager.

“No.” y/n shook her head and Bill found his eyes roaming to the liquor case in the back of the store.

They both knew what each other meant and Bill just about dashed to the fridge the same way he dashed out his door when y/n called him that night.

y/n was waiting for him at the paying counter. She took small sips at her cherry coke slushie but luckily Bill didn’t take too long. He came back, holding a clear bottle of liquid that y/n didn’t know the name of. He set the glass on the counter and reached in his pocket only for his heart to fall twelve meters into its grave because he left his wallet at home.

“Don’t worry about it,” y/n reassured. Her hand settled on his momentarily. “I’ll get it. Just wait outside.”

So he did. But waiting outside nearly killed him.

“These please.” y/n gave the stranger her biggest smile, teeth and all, as she pushed the bottle of gin and two slushie cups across the counter for him to scan.

“Was that your boyfriend?” The cashier asked. His face could be mistaken for a pepperoni pizza and his blonde hair was uncombed. The graveyard shift really does some things to people.

“No...” y/n blushed and the stranger thought it was because she found him attractive. It was actually the idea that other people thought of Bill and her as a couple that caused y/n’s cheeks to tint. y/n looked up at the boy through her long lashes and it should be counted as a crime to not know the effect you have on the people around you.

A sly smile reached all the way to the boy’s eyes. “You know what? It’s on me.” He printed out her receipt. There were just three items marked as $0.00. The only numbers that added up to something were the ones on the bottom which he said was his phone number. “Call me.” He winked.

Bill felt like he was being stabbed all from watching the two flirt and before another invisible knife could make another incision in his already delicate heart, y/n was out the door. Two diabetes-filled cups occupied both hands while a plastic bag hung from her arm.

“Hi!” She said this in the same way she greeted him.

Bill covered his mouth when he coughed before sputtering out a hi.

She sat down on the curb outside of the gas station, her legs crossed like a pretzel. She sat both cups down, taking a sip from both straws. Her tropical-flavored chapstick tainted his red straw and Bill would taste pineapple mixed with banana later when he took a sip.

y/n’s mouth tingled at the taste of banana slushie. Who the hell gets a banana slushie? She supposed she’d never get used to the taste, but it was worth a try.

Bill took a seat on the rough pavement next to her. He knew his ass would hurt once he got up, especially if they would sit like this for a while, but he didn’t care.

“D-d-do you want… muh-muh-maybe wuh-want to g-g-go somewhere no… nobody will see?” Bill asked tentatively.

y/n smiled with the plastic still between her teeth. It was a more pleasant feeling than rolled-up tobacco. “Who would even see us here?”

Bill laughed but he thought back to how the cashier was eyeing her while she fixed her slushie. It wasn’t the same way he’d look at her. It was slimy and gross. But that was behind them now as he slipped an arm around her and held her close.

His shirt was old and worn, but it felt soft and homey against the skin of her cheek. She nuzzled close into his chest, feeling his ribcage and smelling the Old Spice that lingered from when he applied it earlier in the afternoon.

She hadn’t been this close since their last sleepover.

They were thirteen and y/n had originally invited him over to watch High Society on the new television set her parents bought and finally got around to setting up in the den. She promised she wouldn’t get jealous if he stared at Grace Kelly because he’d tell her the same about Gregory Peck. But Bill didn’t get the chance to stare because the ribbon was detached from the VHS, ruining their whole plans.

Bill wouldn’t have stared anyway—not when there was someone worth staring at who sat on the couch next to him.

“I’m so sorry.” It must’ve been the tenth time she apologized but Bill only waved his hand like how he wished he could wave the rest of her worries away. “I didn’t know it was all screwy... It’s been years since I’ve actually put the damn thing in.”

“Don-don’t-t worry ab-b-bout it,” Bill said. He glanced up at the clock on the mantle. It was getting late and the beginning of a sunset could now be seen from outside the living room window.

“You should be getting home.” y/n was looking at the clock with him. Bill shook his head.

“Ih-it’s ff-fine.” He shoved a handful of popcorn that y/n popped herself in his mouth. “Do-do you h-h-have an eh-eh-extra toothbrush? O-o-or I cuh-cuh-could leave early.”

y/n knew what he was referring to and a smile graced her already angelic lips. She was getting excited just at the thought of having a companion by her side during the witching hour. y/n jumped to her feet and skipped over to Bill on her bare feet. “What will you sleep in?... I could offer you my nightgown!” She laughed at the image in her head which projected a picture of a scrawny Bill Denbrough wearing one of y/n’s frilly nightdresses even she didn’t wear anymore.

“I cuh-cuh-can ju-just sleep in th-th-this.” He shrugged and y/n could only think that boys were strange.

By the time both of them had brushed their teeth, Bill was already tuckered out. Maybe it was from watching y/n mess with the VHS player for so long. Or maybe it was from running over to y/n’s house when she had excitedly announced her parents set up a new television set and she wanted him to be the first one over to experience it and his legs were still tired from carrying him.

“Do you want to watch a different movie? I’d hate to invite you over just to not do anything.” y/n picked at her fingernails, too afraid to meet Bill’s eye because she was scared he hated her.

Bill could never hate her.

“Nah.” Bill spread out on her double bed that she had made prior. He sunk into the plush covers and felt himself doze off until y/n hit him with a pillow.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She was hovering over him, scared that she’d fall and break her neck if she lost balance.

“Sl-sleeping.” Bill closed his eyes once more. “I’m kuh-kuh-kinda t-t-tired.”

“Move over.” y/n wasn’t tired, but she’d do whatever Bill wanted. She laid down next to him and there couldn’t possibly be enough room on the bed for both of them—at least with the way Bill was spread out.

She snuggled close to him, able to smell the toothpaste he used and the natural smell of vanilla that clung to his skin.

But right now, Bill didn’t want the night to end as they sat three years older and in an empty parking lot. If BIll had one wish, he’d wish this night would last forever. Just him and her and the space surrounding them.

y/n’s eyelids felt heavy and her legs felt gelatin-like. She fell into a dreamlike trance while Bill’s arm acted as a blanket around her, but she didn’t want the night to end like this.

“Ar-are you t-t-tired?” Bill asked. y/n could feel his arm remove itself from her and she visibly shivered.

“No,” she lied but he knew better than that.

“I’ll wuh-wuh-walk you h-home.”

Their trek back to y/n’s house was slower than it was when they left it. y/n didn’t mind. She basked in the presence of Bill’s calming aura and Bill felt the same. Both of them, however, were too afraid to tell each other that.

y/n could barely keep herself stood upright on her own. Bill had to stabilize her with his left hand. His right hand was gently figuring out a way to remove the key necklace that hung from her neck.

“That tickles!” y/n giggled loudly when the icy tips of his fingers brushed her sensitive skin.

“Shh,” Bill whisper shouted. “Th-there are puh-puh-people sleeping.” He looked at the time on his digital watch. Not for long, anyway.

“Shh,” y/n echoed back to him.

The front door creaked open. Bill cringed and hoped it wouldn’t wake her parents, but y/n told him it shouldn’t matter because they were heavy sleepers. He trusted her.

When both of them stepped in, y/n was the one to shut the door just like she had when they left. Afterward, they tip-toed up the stairs. Bill clutched his duffle bag and y/n still had the plastic one which contained the alcohol.

“Fuck...” y/n giggled at the curse word that left her lips. “Marry, or kill.”

“What’re m-my options?” Bill slurred. He was too scared to look up at her, so he looked at the dark ceiling. He was sprawled out on her bed—taking up most of the room—like he did when they were thirteen.

“Me, Beverly, and...” y/n sighed. She forgot the name of the girl who sat in front of her in math class. “Henrietta Simons.”

“Huh-who’s Henrietta?” Bill asked, but he already knew his answer.

“Someone you should kill.” y/n shrugged and stared at the ceiling with him, trying to find out what was so interesting about it.

“Kuh-kill Henrietta,” Bill said, and a proud smile found its way on y/n’s lips. “Fuck-ck Bev, an-” He didn’t really have to finish after that.

“You wouldn’t have sex with me?” y/n asked. She was only teasing but Bill knew she wouldn't have said that if she was sober.

“It-it’s not luh-luh-like th-that.” Bill took a deep breath and he didn’t know if this was the night he wanted to be saying all of this but that’s what everything felt like it was leading up to. “I guh-guess I ju-just want t-to marry you.” Bill closed his eyes at the drunken words that thought would be okay to leave his mouth.

“I wanna marry you too,” y/n said through a series of hiccups and a fit of laughter.

They both knew what was coming next. And even though neither of them didn’t want the night to end, it had to.

#it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it x reader #it imagine #it fanfic #it fic #losers x reader #losers club x reader #bill denbrough #bill denbrough x reader #bill denbrough x reader fluff #bill denbrough imagine #bill denbrough fanfic #bill denbrough fanfiction #bill denbrough fluff #bill denbrough fic

117 notes · View notes

stxn-the-mxn · 5 years ago

Text

Family || 2019!Richie Tozier X Daughter!Reader

IT CHAPTER 2 SPOILERS

Being in the town of Derry felt more surreal than anything. It didn’t seem real, actually being in the town your father grew up in. Richie didn’t talk about Derry, in fact, he never once mentioned his childhood. In the fifteen years you’d been alive, not once was Derry mentioned. The first time it had ever been mentioned had been the night he came home and started packing.

***

It hadn’t been that long since you’d gone to bed, 1:30 am most likely. Usually, you went to bed earlier, maybe 10 pm or 11 pm, but on nights when Richie had a show, it would be hours till you went to bed.

It was a tradition for you to watch every one of your dad’s stand up shows, and hope that some of the jokes you had written made it in. Richie made it his mission to have at least one of your own jokes in his set.

Tonight, he had included three of yours, which all went down well after his hiccup at the start. One of yours got the biggest laugh, and you could see Richie’s proud face through the screen.

You switched off the TV after the show ended, and as usual, crashed on the couch. When Richie got home, he usually carried you back to your room, but that night, he made no move to pick you up, pacing around their rather large home instead.

“Dad? What’s going on?” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, as Richie thundered around the house. It was around 2 am, a regular time for Richie to come home after a show, but usually, he tried to be quiet to let you sleep. Tonight was not one of those nights.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet, I did. I jus-”

The empty suitcase in his hand rang some quiet alarms.

“Dad? Where are you going?”

“Home. I have to go home.”

“Take me with you.”

Richie thought it over. He couldn’t in good faith leave you home alone for as long as he would be gone. Surely you’d be fine if you did what he said. After all, he promised you all those years ago, when one of his late-night flings left a baby girl on his doorstep, that he would be the best damn father around.

“Only if you promise to not leave my sight.”

You held up your crossed fingers and crossed those fingers over your heart.

“Right well, get packing, sweetie. We leave as soon as we’re done.”

***

The drive to Derry was a combination of obnoxiously singing along to the radio and you catching up on some sleep. The sign welcoming you to Derry sent a shiver down your spine, not going unnoticed by Richie.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“W-what? Oh! Yeah, yeah I’m good.”

He didn’t believe you but didn’t bring it up again.

The car pulled into the parking lot of the Jade of the Orient, a Chinese restaurant. Your dad seemed almost shocked by its presence. Clearly, this wasn’t in Derry when he was a kid. Richie spotted two other people off to the side and seemed to recognize them.

“Big Ben? Bev?” You trailed behind him, a few meters behind, somewhat out of sight.

“Richie?” The woman asked, not noticing you as you peered at the two adults. The taller male made direct eye contact with you, a confused expression forming. You stepped closer, not caring if they saw you at this point.

“Uh, Richie, you seem to have a fan.” ‘Big Ben’ said, gesturing behind him. Richie whipped around, only to be met with you smiling awkwardly at him.

“Oh, no, actually this is my daughter, Y/N.”

The pair had extremely shocked faces. You felt a bit more offended than you should have at that comment. The pair seemed to notice but didn’t backtrack on their comments.

“I’m Beverly, it’s lovely to meet you.” Beverly held out a hand for you to shake, which you took happily. Ben simply greeted you with a smile.

“Well, let’s go meet everyone else. I wanna see how they react to Y/N.”

The whole vibe of the restaurant felt normal until you stepped into the reserved room for what you had heard was called “The Losers Club”. Your dad, being your dad, hit the gong on his way in, causing three heads to snap towards where the four of you were standing.

The three pairs of eyes stared at Richie, Ben and Beverly, before instantly snapping to you. Their expressions were similar to Ben and Beverly’s.

“Richie, Ben, Beverly.” One of the men at the table stated, trailing off as he looked at you again.

“Right, I’m starving. Let’s eat.” Richie cheered, and everyone else just accepted that Richie was not doing what they expected. And for some reason, they felt like that was what they expected.

“Hey, Rich, would you mind explaining who that is?” Another man asked, nodding in your direction.

“Oh! Right, this is my daughter.” The three men who weren’t Ben and Bev all dropped their jaws.

“It’s lovely to meet you all, I’m Y/N.” You smiled, feeling less nervous as they smiled back. Going around the table, they all introduced themselves as Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough and Eddie Kaspbrak.

You immediately noticed a strong bond between all of them, even if they had only reconnected less than an hour ago. It was a similar bond that you and your father had; family.

You also noticed a different bond between Richie and Eddie. It wasn’t news to you that your father wasn’t straight. And this Eddie man, no offence to anyone, did not give off straight vibes.

It was strange, how well you felt you fit in with the group of forty-year-olds. You and Eddie found many a common interest, including joking around and teasing Richie. The more Richie remembered, the more he realised that you were basically a baby Eddie, save for the hypochondriac-ness.

It brought a smile to his face as he watched the two of you mucking about like toddlers from beside him.

Dinner continued on, and eventually, one of the waitresses brought out a bowl of fortune cookies. Everyone eagerly took one, cracking them open.

“Huh, mine just says ‘Could’. These cookies are bullshit.”

You looked at your slip of paper, and something about the words written caused that shiver to once again run down your spine.

Welcome to Derry, Y/N! Why don’t you stay forever?

Your hands were shaking, quite violently. Richie glanced over at you and immediately rushed to your side. He took the paper, reading it quickly before ripping it up. He hugged you tightly, comforting you like he would when you would get nightmares.

“You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re gonna be alright.”

***

You felt guilty, honestly. Richie had made you promise to stay in the hotel, not to set foot outside, but you didn’t listen. After finding yourself in a brand new town, so much different from your hometown, writing new material for your dad seemed bland.

Exploring the place your dad grew up in seemed way more fun. Plus, it was a small town, what could really go wrong?

In your journey to the centre of town, the only thing that went wrong was the kid who almost ran you over with his skateboard. Aside from that, you were yet to run into the other adults or anyone for that matter. The Canal Days fair was drawing in quite the crowd.

Turning the corner, you froze.

Something about the abandoned cinema in the middle of the town drew you in. It ran in Tozier blood to love the movies. Finding a hole through the newspaper, you pushed the door open. It was incredibly dusty, and you felt your throat constricting. Eddie had warned you earlier about how gross this town could be.

The hallway that led to the cinema was lit up, and the smell of popcorn was on the verge of overpowering all your senses. Something told you to run, walk, do anything in the opposite direction. But your body wasn’t listening, and you found yourself in the screening room in no time.

The screening room seemed harmless, but nothing in this town really was. You turned to leave when the sound of a projector turning on echoed through the empty room. Turning around slowly, every bone in your body trembling, you were met with the blinding white glow of the screen.

Your eyes locked with the harmless, yet frightening screen, panic settling in.

The white screen wrinkled, and two beady yellow eyes opened. A scream latched itself in your throat, unable to escape through your dust infected lungs.

“Well, well, welcome to Derry, little Miss Tozier.” The face shrunk, smaller and smaller, and became a clown. At this moment, you wished your feet would just move, but alas, you remained glued to the spot.

The clown’s glowing eyes pierced your soul and reached out a gloved hand, grabbing the screen. The screen began to tear. The scream you were holding in escaped, causing the clown to laugh. Once the screen was entirely gone, the clown made his way towards you, leaping over the seats.

Your feet, much to your dismay, remained glued to the ground. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real. You would pinch yourself, open your eyes, and be back at home, watching some crappy movie and bullying it to death with your dad.

It wasn’t working. No matter how hard you pinched, no matter how many times you whispered that “it wasn’t real”, you kept opening your eyes to see that fucking clown.

Your entire body was shaking, all senses except sight seemed to disappear. The clown was only two rows away. One row away. Here.

A gloved hand clamped around your neck, your already constricted throat growing tighter. The clown smiled, never breaking eye contact. Drool dripped from his mouth, as he growled lowly. His face contorted, turning into Richie.

“You’re useless. A burden. I should’ve left you on that fucking doorstep. You’ve done nothing but hold me back. I never even wanted a child. Your mother was a drunk mistake, and so are you. I might as well leave you here to die.”

Tears rolled down your cheeks. No, your dad would never… Is that really what he thought? Had he spent fifteen years blaming you in secret? No, no, he promised that he loved you. He swore on his life that you were his everything.

Maybe it was true… after all, would any gay man want to live with and raise a reflection of someone who he never wanted to be with? No. You had to push the thundering thoughts aside. No.

“N-no.” Your voice was weak, only just loud enough to hear. “Richie” tilted his head, a sad expression on his face. His skin was reverting to the pasty white of the clown.

“No? Poor Y/N doesn’t want to accept that no one truly loves or wants her. Not even her own father.”

“Y-you’re not r-r-real. You c-c-c-can’t be real.” Words struggled to form, and those that did struggled to escape. The clown dropped his Richie facade and in a terrifying turn of events, smiled at you.

His grip continued to tighten, and you could see black dots forming in your vision. The sensation of trickling blood set your mind ablaze. You didn’t know where it was coming from, but it was there, and the clown was the cause.

In your last seconds of consciousness, you heard the thundering sets of footsteps coming down the hall, but the clown had sensed them first. You felt like the world was spinning before everything faded to black, your father’s panicked, fearful face the last thing you saw.

***

“Fuck, shit, shit, fuck!” The five other losers sat, heads hanging as Richie stormed around the building. They didn’t know what to do. Who would, in this situation? Bill was the only one who was close to understanding what Richie was experiencing.

“I’m a terrible father.” His pacing stopped as his knees gave out, collapsing onto Eddie, who caught him with ease. He held Richie tightly, letting him sob into his shoulder.

In the minutes since Richie had been too late, he was already struggling to come to terms with the gap of silence where you used to stand. It wasn’t right. It was unnatural, unheard of, unorthodox.

He couldn’t speak, the wave of guilt and despair pulling him out to sea.

“Richie, I wholeheartedly promise you that you are the best damn father ever. We are all going to get Y/N back, and we will stop at nothing until we do.”

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie, and one by one the losers joined in. Y/N Tozier was a loser now. And losers never left a loser behind.

***

The sewers were cold, wet and extremely uncomfortable. It was impossible to tell how long you’d been stuck here, but you did know that you’d walked through what felt like thousands of tunnels. You just wanted your dad back.

You couldn’t shake the tiredness that weighed you down. Closing your eyes wasn’t an option. You couldn’t let your guard down, not for a second, unless dying at the hands of a killer clown was on your bucket list.

The clown hadn’t shown his face since he took you. Part of you felt relieved, you didn’t have to fear for your life yet. But God knows what he was doing on the surface. You could only hope and pray that your father and his friends were okay.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as thoughts of your dad filled your mind. All you wanted was to be held in his arms again. Your dad was your everything, and you were his. This was most likely the longest you’d been away from each other.

You threw a small pebble up and down, catching it over and over again. Your trajectory was off on one throw, and it bounced and rolled its way over to the wall. Building up some courage, you scampered over to where the rock was, but your mad dash back to the “safety hole” was cut short by an echo.

“Come one, we gotta squeeze through that hole. We can all make it through if we try hard enough.”

That was Mike’s voice. They had come to save you. Somehow, no matter how far below Derry you were, they found you. You ran to where Mike’s voice was coming from, tripping over the smaller spikes on the ground.

“M-M-Mike!”

Said man’s jaw dropped and he ran towards you, and you grasped onto his jacket. Having a physical being to cling onto was calming. As you stood there, clinging to Mike for dear life, more people came through the small gap, the first being Beverly. She ran to you too, her hug even tighter than Mikes. She was the only loser who knew exactly what you had just experienced.

As Bill and Ben appeared, you could barely see them from between Mike and Bev’s arms. But they were there, and they were real and they were everything you needed right now.

“Y-you found m-m-me!” Bill looked at you surprised as you stuttered over your words. Your stutter wasn’t simply a stutter of fear, it was like his. He knew the causes of a stutter very well. And looking at the causes, he could cross out genetics and prayed he could cross out a brain disorder. Which left emotional trauma. Psychogenic stuttering.

As you remained surrounded by the four losers, quiet bickering drifted into the cavern.

The four stepped aside as Eddie and Richie came through the hole. Eddie froze, his dropped jaw widening to a smile while Richie remained frozen. There you were, alive, seemingly unharmed, surrounded by all his closest friends.

“Y/N. Holy fucking shit, Y/N!” Eddie exclaimed, hugging the girl close to him. They had only known each other for a few days, but they were already extremely close.

Richie still hadn’t moved, so Y/N and Eddie took the first step, sending Richie into a crazed sprint as he ran to hold his daughter again. Tears blurred everyone’s vision as father and daughter reunited.

If Richie had an option, he would have chosen to never let his precious baby go.

“Richie. We have to perform the ritual. It's now or never.”

***

The Ritual of Chüd didn’t work. Mike hadn’t been telling the whole truth. And also, a spider-legged demon clown was chasing and tormenting the Losers Club.

Each loser had run off in different directions, Richie and Eddie both pulling you with them as your eyes lay transfixed on the evil entity. The sewer’s tunnels were long, windy and tight at some areas. They seemed never-ending.

Until you came to a sudden stop.

Standing in front of the three doors, Richie, Eddie and yourself contemplated what to do. In this sort of situation, nothing was to be trusted. Flinging open the ‘Very Scary’ door, you all found an empty closet.

“O-oh. Well, this s-s-s-seems harmless eno- oh what the f-f-fuck?” You screamed as a pair of disembodied legs ran towards you. Richie pulled you behind him as he slammed the door shut.

The next door they opened read ‘Not Scary At All’ and at this point you were highly doubting that. From behind your barrier of Eddie and Richie, you could see a small dog staring at you all. It also seemed harmless at first, so you waited for it to fuck around and scare the shit out of you.

“Aww, it’s actually kinda cute.” Eddie cooed, leaving you a tad confused. Richie seemed to agree, telling the dog to sit, which it did.

“Aw, that’s precious.”

The dog twisted into a beastly creature, which was truly inevitable, wasn’t it? Your father and Eddie screamed as if they hadn’t been expecting any of this. The door slammed shut, and you quickly found yourself running out of the cave, back to where this whole mess started.

As you stepped foot into the cavern, bright lights drew you in, and you couldn’t feel anything. You were numb to the world around you. The screams of your father were nothing but faint echoes.

You could feel yourself succumbing to the lights. You let them decide your fate. This was how it all ended.

Until the lights disappeared, and you came crashing into Richie. You blinked slowly, adjusting to the darkness once more. Richie cradled you to his chest as Eddie stood off to the side, amazed at what he had just done.

IT lunged a clawed limb at the Eddie, but he ducked in time for IT to get trapped in the rock walls. It was a chance to escape.

On your feet once more, you ran to meet all the losers. Clambering through the hole once more, you used the time to think of a plan.

“We n-n-need to bring IT d-down to size. If w-w-we can lure IT in, IT’ll h-h-h-have to shrink to f-fit through that h-h-h-hole.” You muttered, mainly to yourself, as you contemplated your options.

“That just might work,” Bill announced, bringing you out of your daze. “But I don’t think we have to lure IT out here…”

Bill had a plan.

Crawling through another entrance, you mentally cursed yourself for coming back to this hellhole. Bill stood before the clown, who loomed over you all.

“You’re just a clown.”

Physical pain flashed across IT’s face.

“A clown!”

“You’re a sloppy bitch!”

“You’re nothing!”

The clown’s spider legs weakened, collapsing slightly. The insults continued being thrown, and IT continuously grew weaker. As IT staggered backwards into the centre spikes, IT grabbed the smallest loser, pulling her towards itself.

You fought against IT’s arm, yet somehow still found yourself powerless. Even now, IT was too strong for you.

“Put me d-down. You’re just a clown. Just a motherf-f-fucking clown!”

With a final punch to the clown’s stupid red nose, IT let you go, deflating into an ugly baby-looking creature. You ran to Richie and Eddie, the pair making another protective barrier around you.

You all moved towards IT, and Beverly kneeled down beside IT. IT’s expression was pure fear.

The beautiful irony of it all.

She reached into IT, yanking out a rotten, yet beating heart. Each loser placed a hand on the heart, and IT seemed to be begging for mercy. For forgiveness.

You all squeezed the heart, crushing it and watching the life drain from the monster that had tormented Derry for millions of years.

IT had been defeated for good.

***

Driving away from Derry was therapeutic. It was a breath of fresh air. For the first time in far too long, you felt safe.

On your way out, Richie pulled over on the bridge and got out. Walking over to the wooden rails, you followed behind him, not noticing the other car pulling up too. Richie traced a pair of letters on the wood.

“R + E.” You murmured, much louder than intended. Your dad spun around, catching you just in time to make the connection. His eyes drifted behind you, to the man standing beside his car.

“It was a-a-always you and E-Eddie, huh?”

You kneeled beside him, hugging him tightly. You knew how long it took your dad to accept who he was, so seeing him recarving the faded ‘E’ into the wood, with ‘E’ standing not so far behind meant the world to you.

“Can you just go kiss h-him, for god’s s-s-sake?” You whispered into his side, making him laugh.

“I just might, so you better close your eyes.” He covered your eyes with his hands, making you laugh loudly.

“And miss s-s-seeing my dad happier than e-ever? I could never.”

His smile held so much love and appreciation for the beautiful girl he had raised that people all across the USA could feel it.

***

“Dad! These are our s-seats.”

Your dad followed behind, making sure you were reading the right part of the tickets.

“Yep, these are them.”

You sat down first, leg bouncing in anticipation. You had wanted to see this live for years and finally, you could get into the show, with adult supervision.

“It s-starts in three m-minutes!”

If it weren’t for the sheer fanciness of this building, you’d be bouncing off the walls in excitement.

Three minutes passed quickly, and the announcement was made that the show was starting. You stared at the stage, a huge smile on your face.

He walked out on stage, and the applause was thunderous, but you knew you were the loudest.

“Yknow, my husband is a bitch and I love him so much.”

Looking at Eddie’s jokingly hurt expression, you burst out laughing, harder than you ever had in your life.

***

It was around 2 am when you all paraded back home. It had been a long, carefree night, only made better by the pure joy radiating off everyone in your family. Eddie fumbled for the house keys, eventually unlocking the door, only to be knocked down by their surprisingly strong Pomeranian, Stanley.

A minute after you walked inside and kicked off your shoes, you passed out on the couch. Stanley curled up beside you, licking your face.

Eddie and Richie shared similar expressions as they gazed at the adorable sight. Not once had either of them believed their lives would come to this.

Richie Tozier never believed he’d be a world-famous comedian, married to his best friend that he’d been in love with since childhood, with the most amazing daughter anyone could ask for.

Eddie Kaspbrak never thought he’d escape his never-ending cycle of letting an emotionally abusive woman control his life, marry the man of his dreams and have a daughter.

Y/N Tozier-Kaspbrak truly believed that no other kid was as lucky as her. No other kid had a perfect, unbreakable pair of parents like she did.

No other family was as beautifully perfect as the Tozier-Kaspbrak family.

Not even close.

***

@peteporkers @unamused-fangirl

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #eddie x richie #richie x eddie #reddie #richie tozier x daughter!reader #richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak #it #it x reader #it 2019 #it 2019 x reader

807 notes · View notes

vateacancameos · 4 years ago

Text

How To Move to Night Vale: Step 1, Arrive in Town; Step 2, Automatically Become a Resident

Fandom: Welcome to Night Vale Characters: You, Minor Cecil Palmer, Other characters Words: 1476

Summary: How does Night Vale get new residents? Given the high death count, either all the citizens have a TON of kids, or Night Vale simply ... acquires new people. I imagine the town is sentient enough to pull in people it likes. Here's a story of how that might happen.

***

You don’t intend to move to Night Vale. It just sort of … happens? You have a good job and a good home, and you are perfectly satisfied—no, not satisfied … content—with your life. But Night Vale happens, and you just go with it, like you always do. Your friends have always told you its your best trait.

You’re traveling to visit your sister, and on the drive across the desert that takes you to her, you stop overnight at a motel on the edge of the town you hit around supper time. You think it’s a little odd that you have to sign the register in blood—you have a perfectly nice working pen in your bag—but hey, if they want to conserve ink, who are you to tell them otherwise? You’re just passing through.

The next morning, after one of the best sleeps you’d had in years—you aren’t sure if it was the mournful moaning three doors down or the sickly sweet aroma bubbling out of the misting machine by the bed, but whatever it is worked like a charm—you find an orange envelope slipped under your door. In semaphore drawings, it tells you that you have been assigned as the new English teacher. Your semaphore knowledge is weak, so you’re not sure if the previous teacher quit or was swallowed by a black hole, but it doesn’t really matter.

read the rest under the cut

You shrug. You majored in psychology and have been working in the field as such for the last five years, but you did have a lot of writing to do in school, so you think you can handle this. English is mostly about reading books and talking about them, right? You can manage that. You like to read. You call your sister to let her know you won’t be visiting this week after all, but your phone starts smoking and sparking as soon as she answers. You’ll have to remember to hunt down a computer and try emailing her later.

You arrive at Night Vale High School and are directed to the vice principal’s office. She’s very excited you showed up already in uniform. You look down at your grey t-shirt, jean capris, and orange Chuck Taylors and ask about the color of the shoes. Everyone else’s seem to be a rust color. She waves you off and says that will be taken care of at the morning sacrificial ceremony. You nod. It’s always nice to not have to change your look just to go to work.

You are given attendance sheets, scrolls, and a watercolor set and directed to your room. When you arrive, the class is already full. It’s always nice to come into a new job where everything is already in place. You take attendance, which takes a good forty minutes, since everyone must perform their own interpretive dance routine to announce their presence, then you open up the scroll to see what the students are working on.

The scroll is filled with numbers and letters. Algebra? Geometry? You barely past stats in college and have tried to forget as much math as possible. You ask one of the students. They look at you funny and say “It’s English! What kind of English teacher are you?”

Now, you’ve been pretty roll-with-the-punches so far, because it’s in your nature to be so, but this is definitely not English. A tiny elfin-looking creature at the back of the room stands up and sighs. “Come on, Mike, give the new teacher a break. The administration only switched English and algebra a week ago. Maybe she wasn’t around to hear that announcement.” It’s nice being in a place that gets your gender right on the first try.

Your shoulders drop in relief. You say that you only arrived in Night Vale the night before and had indeed missed the announcement that English and algebra had been switched. You make a mental note to talk to the vice principal, but figure you can handle one day of teaching. Maybe it’ll turn out that you’re really good at it. You won’t know until you try.

Unfortunately, you’re pants at algebra, both in learning and teaching it. The morning drags on forever, but lunchtime eventually comes. The sentient patch of blue fog that teaches theater (“I’m Misty. Yeah, my parents have terrible taste in names, laugh it up.”) invites you to eat lunch with her. You’d rather eat alone, but you’re polite and accept. Perhaps you can learn more about the school and town.

You’re warned not to ever go to the library (“Not that an English teacher ever needs to go to the library”) but told that the Moonlite All-Nite Diner has the best invisible pie in town. Misty gives you a spare coupon for a free slice of pizza from Big Rico’s. When you say you’re gluten intolerant, Misty laughs and says, “Aren’t we all?” She’s cute when she laughs. You wonder if she’d go get a slice with you some evening.

The afternoon goes faster after you decide to forgo teaching algebra and just talk about your favorite movies instead. You applaud the school system on molding such polite, intelligent children. They all do exactly as asked, and the one time a student speaks out of turn, he looks completely terrified, which concerns you just a bit, but you let it go. It’s your first day after all. They’ll get used to you.

You try to talk the vice principal into switching you to … would it be called algebra? ... class, or really anything else but math, but she shrugs and said it’s already been carved into the bloodstones. When you say you’re terrible at math, she asks if you can count to eight. When you affirm, she says you’ll be fine. You sigh and nod.

You ask her where the closest real estate office is, so you can look into getting an apartment—the motel is great and all, but the orange buzzing lights are really annoying after a while. The vice principal’s eyes go wide and her face pales to an olive green, she stutters a bit before the administrative assistant pokes his head through the door and reminds her that you can just take the old English teacher’s home, since they no longer need it, being an Erika now. The vice principal looks relieved.

You raise your eyebrows but follow their directions to your new home—a cute tri-level with a yellow door, the bloodstone circle that you’d learned earlier that day was required in all Night Vale homes, a cheerful kitchen, six bedrooms, and no bathroom.

A smooth voice whispers that the last occupant converted the bathrooms to bedrooms, since they had no use for them, and gives you the number of a reliable plumber. You wonder if your neighbors are nice enough to let you use theirs until you can get one installed. One waved to you as you arrived earlier. He had a very furry face, but there seemed to be a smile hidden under the hair.

Your neighbors are indeed very nice. They are a fairly young couple with two children. The man who waved at you says you’re welcome to use their bathroom whenever. The other man, the one who answered the door, gives you a key to their home, plus the appropriate runes to keep the door from eating you. You make a note to bake them a pie in thanks. You talk about the weather, as good neighbors do, along with the chances of Night Vale’s football team this year (a topic kindly suggested by the woman in a balaclava and cape hiding in the verge) before heading back to your new home to unpack your one bag. You’ll have to go shopping soon. Your Chucks won’t last long if they get covered in blood every day, and you’re about out of deodorant.

That night, you lay in your bed, listening to the screeching of the setting sun—it seems a bit late, almost eleven, but time has never meant that much to you anyway—and think about your first day as a Night Vale citizen. This place is like no other place you’ve ever lived. It’s strange, you won’t deny it, but you like it. It’s comfortable. Even while your brain is telling you it’s wrong in so many ways, your body is saying it’s perfectly natural.

Your mind finally calms when your radio turns itself on for the government-mandated community radio show, and you consider your future. The radio host gushes about the town’s resident scientist, and you smile sleepily when you hear that they just got married. You make a note to sit with Misty at lunch tomorrow. You really should ask her out.

You look forward to tomorrow for the first time in years. You think you’re finally home.

#wtnv #welcome to night vale #fanfic #ficlet #meagan writes #you

7 notes · View notes

screensirenfic · 5 years ago

Text

Menthol Cigarettes - Chapter 2

dinThe future had come to Hawkins, and it came in the form of shining neon and All American capitalism.

The Starcourt Mall was open for business, offering every category of Hawkins’ favourite pastimes, from a brand new multiplex movie theatre, to a sprawling food court that offered the chance to stuff your face with junk food from the world over.

And of course; there was shopping. Shoe stores, clothes stores, jewellery stores, record stores, and just about every store you could think of all under one roof.

It was consumer culture at its finest, and a big part of me was still struggling to see the appeal of it, but apparently the rest of Hawkins wasn’t so much, having already embraced the Starcourt corporation with open arms, judging by the near impossibility to get a parking spot out front.

Still; the Wheeler kid was late, and the last thing I wanted to be doing was traipsing through half a mile of badly parked station wagons and sedans just to get to the front door.

Instead I rolled straight up to the entrance and parked on the sidewalk, because what were they gonna do?! Call the cops on me?!

Mike wasted no time, hopping off the back of my bike before it was even stationary to run up to a familiar gaggle of misfits waiting outside the front doors.

“You’re late!”

I could already hear the disbarring voice of Lucas Sinclair as he began lecturing Mike from the moment he was in earshot.

“I’m sorry-“ - Mike began to apologise; having given up on arguing back weeks ago.

“Again!” Lucas continued; not willing to hear the twentieth excuse Mike had for ditching his friends for my baby sister.

Still; I could understand Lucas’ frustration; after all, the world didn’t stop the moment you started smacking lips with someone on a regular basis.

“We’re going to miss the opening!”

Jonathan’s little brother; Will interrupted, clearly more concerned with missing out on vital minutes of Hollywood magic than any relationship troubles, but even I could see that whether they wanted sweet or butter popcorn was the last thing on these kids’ minds.

“Don’t worry shit about it. I’ll get you in.” I assured him, already beginning to lead the way into the mall, with a hopefully silent entourage following in my stead.

Starcourt was sprawling; gargantuan, really. An ever stretching multi faith temple dedicated to the gods of Pepsi Co and The Coca-Cola Company.

Over processed perms bounced around the place in a sea of pastel prints, congregating around artificial plants and real life water features.

People ate, drank, shopped and gossiped beneath the starlit sky of a state-of-the-art glass roof, complete with shiny new escalators and even shinier tile floors.

The whole thing seemed very big city and entirely out-of-place in the proverbial toilet stop of a town that was Hawkins.

Still; the young and wide-eyed population of Hawkins flocked to it like rats to a garbage truck and the kids were no exception; even if they insisted in spending half their time bickering in it.

“Let me guess, you were busy...” Lucas complained; finishing off with a trail of sucky noises which I guess was meant to pass as kissing.

“Yeah. Real mature Lucas.” Deadpanned Mike, clearly having had to put up with this for the whole of the summer, perhaps longer.

“Oh; El, I wish we could make out forever and ever and never hang out with any of our friends” Lucas mocked in a high pitched voice and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes back into their sockets; because were kids really this petty?!

“Lucas; stop-“ Max cautioned; the spritely redhead always the voice of reason in these situations.

“Will thinks it’s funny...” Lucas remarked, drawing attention to the quiet kid trailing at the back of our convoy.

“Because it is!” Will stated, heralding our entrance to the main foyer of Starcourt.

I could already spy our ticket in on the floor below; I just wish these damn kids would shut up long enough for us to get there.

“Yeah; it’s so funny to want to spend romantic time with my girlfriend.” Argued Mike; and really?! That’s what he was calling it now?!

“I’m spending romantic time with my girlfriend right now-“ Lucas pointed out, throwing his arm around Max’s shoulder in a move that was far too smooth for a fourteen year old.

“Will you guys please shut up!” I exclaimed; already having heard enough of every side of the argument on the Mike and Eleven dating saga, and really wanting to think about something else for once.

The kids conceded; smart enough to know it was never wise to piss off their ticket to sneaking into the movie theatre, and I led them down the packed escalator to a chorus of “Excuse me’s” and “Sorry’s”.

After narrowly missing barrelling into a crowd of preppily dressed preteens and Max practically towing Lucas away from a very immature verbal spar with his little sister, I led the party into the pastel striped lair of our unknowing key master.

———————————————————

“Hey Robin!”

I called out, leading the kids into Hawkins’ first nautical themed ice cream parlour, “Scoops Ahoy!”

Behind the counter, slinging cheap gelato was the less than shipshape form of Robin Buckley; a surly looking freckled brunette who I vaguely knew from English and History Class.

Still; I could understand why the girl was pissed off half the time, considering company policy required her to dress up like the corporate equivalent of Olive Oyl every day.

“Hey Lola; what can I do to float your boat on this fine day?” She asked, flashing one of those rare dry smiles that reminded me that she wasn’t all rainclouds and thunderbolts.

“I need a favour...” I began, leaning on the edge of the counter, and already Robin knew exactly the kind of favour I was looking for.

“Hey Dingus! The wife and kids are here!” Robin called out, turning to the back of the store, where said Dingus appeared from behind frosted glass slide windows.

“Really; Lo?” Sighed Steve; looking equal parts hilarious and adorable in his matching Popeye shirt and shorts.

I just shot him a smile, knowing that despite his protests, Steve would help me out anyway.

After all; what are friends for?

TAGLIST: @lemonypink @daringvixon

50 notes · View notes

har-rison-s · 5 years ago

Text

heaven: 16

nothing lasts forever

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

A/N: Hi! Part sixteen already. Whew, last one was quite long, wasn’t it? It’s one of my best works ever, I think. Has me feeling so many emotions, and quite strongly, idk. Welp, here goes one of the last chapters. I still haven’t decided how many more chapters there will be, but I just know this Heaven is nearing its end. I hope you all like how this turns out. I’m still a bit conflicted between a few characters and plot points of the ending, like I have a few versions of the ending in mind, and I wanna execute all and none of them at the same time. If I decide on this one ending that’s the most strong out of all of them, I hope y’all won’t kill me. I just finished rewatching the 1990 mini-series. Damn, that’s messy. The dialogues, the special effects… Don’t even get me started on the acting. Anyways, happy quarantine reading! Love you lots <3

warnings: long as always hahahah, wounds, blood, food, nothing else

word count: 3.7k

main masterlist

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

previous part next part

Gif credit goes to owner, which isn't me! (Also, it's raining in the gif but idc! Y'all know it's morning and sunny as hell in Derry, Maine rn!)

“Could we have six menus and a first-aid kit?” Richie Tozier asks the young waitress who has approached their miserable-looking table. Her eyebrows raise and she scans the eight adults to see why they would need a first aid kit—not that it’s any of her business—and she screams, coming across Eddie’s bleeding side. The Losers flinch at the high pitch of her scream.

“You need to get to the hospital!” She says, tears streaming down her face. Now this one’s quite emotional for six o’clock in the morning, the Losers think in unison and exchange looks between themselves, finding it imposible to say any words at the current moment.

“I promise, he’s fine.” Richie tells the girl, looking at her through his thick glasses.

“It’s just a scratch.” Eddie says non-chalantly, and the waitress thinks to herself that these really are a bunch of crazy people, as she presumed when they walked inside the diner. “Besides, I’m a doctor. Could you please bring the menus and a.... uh, a first-aid kit?” He squints and tries his best at a smile at the crying waitress.

She gathers herself, wipes her tears and smiles as wide as up to her ears. “Right away.” She says in a squeaky voice and leaves their table. The Losers exchange looks between themselves once again, overwhelmed by the events of the night and by the heavily emotional waitress that they have to deal with. They huddle closer together to one another in their red-and-white leather seated booth.

The place smells of freshly cooked food, coffee and cigarettes. Oh, they’ll all definitely have coffee. A mood and energy booster, that’s for sure, that’s what they need. Though none of them are sure they even have such a thing as a ‘mood’, or ever will. This morning they’re certainly not in any kind of mood. To be completely honest, the Losers feel quite hollow. They feel completed, and they feel a lot of love and pride, but they feel empty inside, as if there’s a hole in their chests and it keeps getting more hollow.

Stanley’s head rests on Y/N’s shoulder, his hair fallen against her delicate neck. She runs her fingers slowly through his semi-dry curls. Only the roots have dried, and slowly the draught moves further through his jet black strands, taking its time. Stanley places his hand over Y/N’s in his lap, their fingers intertwining seconds after. She lays a kiss on his forehead, and he closes his eyes. You can be at peace.

Y/N looks onto Eddie and Richie, both anxiously waiting for that requested first-aid kit. But they look more peaceful than ever before and Y/N thinks, they all must look that way. Richie’s arm has fallen with natural force around Eddie’s shoulders, and Eddie holds that slack hand in his own, creating a lock of security around himself. Richie’s other hand is drumming against the marbled surface of the table, and he looks at Bev and Ben across the table.

They’re talking to themselves abotu something so quietly that no one can hear them. Their foreheads are pressed together and they’re playing with each other’s hands softly, playfully. Bev’s crimson locks touch Ben’s cheek ever so softly and he closes his eyes. January embers. He opens his eyes again and looks strongly into Bev’s. My heart burns there, too.

Bill tries not to watch them too strikingly. But it’s hard, his first supposed crush and love sitting at the other end of the table with his best friend, completely in their own world, completely in love. It’s hard for his heart, to be precise. His mind knows better. You know better, Bill, you have a wife that you love and, now that you think of it, looks a lot like Bev here. And Beverly’s happy. So are the rest of your friends. You’ll go home and you’ll be happy, too. Back home with Audra, her movies, your novels and their shitty endings.

Maybe I don’t want to go home, he finds himself thinking. And he’s a bit surprised by that thought. Hmm. What does that mean? Maybe I could live in Derry, spend the rest of my days here, watching as the town, hopefully, evolves, changes. Maybe he can live with Mike now. Bill looks over at his friend. Mike’s smiling, smiling for his friends and his own self, but he’s not looking at them. Mike is probably gonna stay, isn’t he? So what’s so bad about me staying here, and with him?

Actually Bill doesn’t even wanna think about going back what’s been, for the last thirteen years, considered home. The thought of it makes him sick, for some reason. Maybe he’s not yet ready to think about it all, think about the possibility of going back to England and telling Audra they’re moving to Derry. Yeah, she is not gonna like it at all. And he’s not gonna like that she won’t like it. The thought of it makes him sick, as already said.

“Here are your menus and the kit.” The waitress has returned, and she doesn’t look shabby anymore. She lays out the menus on the table with her delicate, seemingly teenage hands, and puts the first-aid kit on the table in front of Eddie.

“Thanks so much.” Eddie speaks his thanks the loudest, and the young girl leaves again. Eddie immediately opens the red box and searches for disinfectant and bandages. He finds a bottle of Equate antiseptic and hands it to Richie, continuing his search for cotton gauze and pads, assuming he won’t find plasters as big as he needs in here.

Richie unscrews the antiseptic and lifts up Eddie’s shirt. Jeez Louise, it’s a bloodbath. Eddie’s started to bleed onto the seat. Y/N sees their desperate situation and hands the box of tissues on the windowsill to Richie. But Richie gives them to Mike, so he can help clean the wound while Richie cleans it with wipes Eddie’s found in the box.

“You’re losing a shit ton of blood, dude, you feeling okay?” Richie asks Eddie, carefully cleaning the scrape in his side. Eddie winces here and there, and even draws back when it really stings.

“I’m fine.” Eddie replies in that same non-chalant voice he’s used for the past half hour. “It’s not that much, anyway.” Richie shakes his head at that statement. They’re almost done with cleaning the skin and wound. The blood still flows, though.

“We’re going to the hospital later.” Richie states in a soft, commanding voice. Eddie doesn’t really pay mind to Richie’s words, having trouble connecting to thoughts about the next five minutes. He’s gathered some bandages from all that he could find in the kit. Then Eddie looks down at his left side and groans.

“Looks like something took a bite out of me.” He states, looking at the obvious strike in his skin and a bit further than that. There’s other layers visible already, a darker red than his skin. Muscle, that is, and he can see some blood vessels too. Oh, dear God, he’s going to faint. The blood flow is not stopping.

“Be thankful it didn’t.” Richie reminds him. Eddie takes some medical wool and gives it to Richie. He puts it, as softly as he can, directly into the wound after it’s disinfected, to hopefully stop the blood drip for at least a while. Eddie winces, and his face scrunches so much he feels tears squirting out at the corners of his eyes. That is not a nice feeling at all.

Mike presses his hand on the wool to keep it there while Richie gets bandages from Eddie. He puts the biggest plasters at the top and bottom of the wound, securing the wool, and Mike lets go. Then Eddie adds more wool, puts tissues and bandages over it, and Richie helps him secure it all with gauze. Quite messy, but for the time until they’re in the hospital, this will have to last. Richie cleans up the blood around their make-shift work place and puts Eddie’s shirt back down. They throw the tissues in a trash can under their table—wow, they have that kind of thing here?—and lean against the sofa, both tired, more tired than before.

“No staph infections in our lifetime.” Richie states between yawns. The ones who were there, in the back alley where the two holy words were spoken first, laugh. But Mike and Bev only share looks of confusion. Richie lays a kiss atop of Eddie’s head and embraces him back in his arms. Now they have time to look at what the menu’s offering.

Y/N opens the menu in front of her and Stanley so they can both read it at once. Stanley sighs. “I don’t have my glasses.” He mewls. The words printed on the laminated paper are blurry to him, and he realises his obstacles are either back at the hotel or lost in the over-flown sewers or the underground lair. He blinks his eyes twice, but he still can’t read anything except for Derry Diner Menu, which are much larger and in bold.

Y/N tilts her head to rest on his. “Breakfast. Pancakes - ones with caramel, ones with chocolate, ones with bacon and cheese, ones with berries and fruit, ones with ice cream…” She reads out loud. “Country breakfast - ham, eggs, fries, baked beans. Eggs Benedict, Lobster Benedict, Irish Benedict, Eggs Florentine, waffles, steak & eggs.” She sighs. “Anything strike your fancy?”

Stanley shrugs. “Keep reading.” He says, and feels his eyelids and chest heavy. Her voice is so sweet and soothing. Y/N nods.

“Breakfast burrito, mac and cheese, mac and cheese with lobster,” she widens her eyes, “chili, chicken pot pie… turkey, roast beef sandwhiches… sea food, side orders…” she flips through the menu, which requires to move the arm that’s around Stanley. And she finds that his body is limp against hers. She worriedly looks down.

His breath passes through his slightly parted lips, his eyes are closed and his face is completely relaxed. He’s asleep. Y/N almost laughs into his face, but she turns away and suppresses her giggles. Her friends look at her. “He’s fallen asleep.” She tells them in a whisper, pointing down at Stanley. They nod and most of them smile. No wonder. They feel like doing the same, and they’re actually on the verge, if they weren’t concentrating on reading the menu and hoping for coffee soon.

Y/N stops her giggling fit and looks down at the menu again. What do I want, what do I want… “What are you guys gonna order?” She asks her friends.

“Probably pancakes.” Comes from Bev, who’s decided for both her and Ben.

“Us too.” Mike informs. “Bacon?” He asks.

“Berries.” Ben responds.

“We’re gonna get that country breakfast or whatever.” Richie says. “To get proper fat, you know, grow into Eddie’s mom.” He explains further and everyone giggles, even Eddie himself.

Y/N hums. “I’ve got no idea. I want everything, but it just won’t fit.” She states and Bill chuckles. “I know what to order for Stanley, but myself…”

“Take the same and stop working your brain.” Mike suggests. Y/N looks at him.

“It’s worked enough for the past hours.” Bill supports his argument. Her eyes shift to Bill, and then she looks down at the menu again, a smile on her face now.

“I guess it’s just that easy now.” She admits and closes the menu, putting it on the table instead. Making decisions really is that easy now. She leans back into the seat, Stanley’s body moving with hers. He gets more comfortable while sleeping, his face nuzzling into her neck, tickling her a bit, and his arms going around her, securing themselves together at her waist. Y/N smiles and hugs him back, resting her cheek on his curls. She closes her eyes.

“What will you have?” Bill asks her and she opens an eye to look at him, her own eyelids feeling sort of heavy now. “Before you join him.” He whispers, smiling. She smiles back.

“Love you, Bill.” She tells him sincerely. “Eggs Benedict for us both.” She says and Bill nods. “And coffee, too. Both black, but two sugars in Stanley’s.” She’s surprised herself that she still knows how he likes his coffee, or which breakfast option he’d always choose. It’s like it’s basic knowledge now, something that’s imprinted in her mind and feels like it’s been that way since she can remember. She closes her eyes again and lets her exhaustion take over. She wants to rest, just for a little bit, just lay with Stanley for a while.

She did join him in sleeping for a while. Bill wakes her up when the food and coffees have arrive, starting to tickle her, Ben doing the same to Stanley. The two adults jolt awake, eyes wide and confused, and make their friends laugh.

“Morning, sleepyheads.” Richie nods to them with a smile. Stanley nods right back and Y/N and he both right themselves, sitting up straight. Y/N moves her hair behind her ear and Stanley flattens his shirt. They look down at the fresh food in front of them, though their vision and look on their environement is still hazy from the good-as-hell nap they just woke up from.

“Bone, apple, tit, was it?” Richie suggests as a toast for the Losers’ diner breakfast. Everyone laughs once more, but they clink their coffee cups together, repeating Richie’s ridiculous words and they laugh again, harder this time. Languages have never been Richie’s strongest side.

They all drink coffee in unison and regain some amount energy at that, then delve into their steaming breakfast which fill their noses up to the maximum with utterly irresistible aromas. Richie, like the beast he is, devours half of his plate in the first few minutes while everyone else devours their food bit by bit. But everyone is so endorsed in eating that they don’t pay mind to their friends, for the time they’re eating they even forget they’re with their friends, lest someone else entirely. Food is very good right now. Heavenly, if you might.

When they’re done, they all slump into their seats, letting out groans of content and holding their bellies. “For a diner, that was really good.” Bill says. Y/N laughs. Bill, Eddie, Stanley, Ben—cross that, all of them, except herself and Mike, have grown used to dining at fancy restaurants where it costs to even reserve a table, grown used to making great mega-dishes at home for themselves. They’ve grown used to business events with crazy dinners and a wide range of appetisers. Champagne, wine, whiskey of the highest classes. So this is entirely out of their usual menu, and Bill is, of course, taking it like a snob. Hence Y/N laughed.

She and Mike have not lived the life their friends have. Not that it’s bad lives they’ve been living upto this point, just different, way different from most of the Losers Club. Y/N hasn’t become a famous writer, architect or fashion designer, neither has Mike. So for one, their daily routine differs, and two, their eating habits differ from their friends’. Diner food may be the lowest of them all, considered so by the highest class of society, but Y/N can safely admit that she likes diner food and doesn’t mind having it once in a while. And what can Mike have in this shithole town, anyway, other than make-believe restaurant meals, takeout and diners? Neither of them mind eating here now or any other time.

“I want more.” Y/N manages to croak out, and everyone laughs. “Anyone up for a sundae split?”

“Ugh, we’re really gonna get fat.” Eddie sighs.

“Haystack’s gonna have a come-back!” Richie announces and changes his face into an excited expression. But he still makes his friends laugh, including Ben himself. His laughter rumbles deep and low like a bear’s roar.

“I’ll have a sundae split with you, Y/N/N.” Beverly says, then. Y/N smiles at her.

“Anyone up for a Diet Coke and salad?” Mike asks now, and they all laugh again. Richie joins the girls for a sundae split, and the rest agree with Mike’s offer.

“Wait, wasn’t Y/N working in a diner for a while? In, like, high school?” Eddie asks now, as they wait for the waitress, and he looks at Y/N. She looks at him, tired and full from the eggs, but nods.

“I was.” She confirms. “Not this one, though, the one in the center of town.” She leans towards the table to sit proper and rests her elbows on the surface. She crosses her arms and puts her chin on top of them. “After Bowers and Cockstetter were… out of the picture, I had the freedom to work in the skirt the diner required me to.” She recalls. Those boys were always onto her and Beverly, while they were still alive, which made it hard for them to ever wear something remotely feminine. They always got some sort of cat-calls, and groping was the worst of what would come from them. “Jesus…”

“What scumbags they were.” Beverly joins in, also leaning against the table. She moves her hair out of her face, and looks to Y/N, but Ben’s worried gaze catches her eye instead. She turns to him. He only reaches for her hand with his own. I’m here now.

“You working in a diner was the best thing, Y/N.” Richie says, putting emphasis on ‘best’. She looks at him now and smiles, remembering how stoked they all were for free food and the food that she actually made. Mostly deserts. Stanley’s arm makes its way around her waist. She leans closer to him. “I mean, the birthday parties there were amazing. Nothing could top them.”

“Wow, Rich, even college and work parties?” Mike asks, and they both chuckle.

“You bet your fur, Mikey,” Richie says, patting his friend’s shoulder. He looks reminiscent for a second, his head hangs down, and then he tries to put it into words, “you know, I think—I think because childhood, and teenage years, were the best part of my life. I mean, I’m forty now, so I’m old enough to say shit like that, you know, but… It’s true. I know that I thought it then and I know it now—those were the best parties of my life.” He admits and looks around at his friends. “Because—because I was still young, and because it was the best childhood, I think, any kid could wish for. Even counting in all the shame, the fear, and IT. And because I was with you guys.”

A silence falls upon the Losers Club. But they smile at Richie, and at each other, realising that’s true. Those were the best years of their lives, and actually, taking the horrible parts, the best childhood any child could wish for. The best friends anyone could wish for to spend that childhood and those confusing, difficult teenage years with. Without each other, they wouldn’t be the same, and they wouldn’t be as strong and as full of love and, perhaps, belief.

“You know…” Stanley starts to say, they look at him, “nothing lasts forever.” He states, shaking his head with a dreamy look in his eyes. Nothing does seem to last forever, that is true. But he has a feeling of differing in opinion with his own statement. Nothing lasts forever—the monster they thought had lived under Derry forever, eaten its kids and other residents, cast a spell on the adults and the whole air of Derry, is now dead. So that doesn’t last forever. The promise they made—it is fulfilled now, meaning it won’t last forever, either. It lasted as long as needed to unite them all again. But this… what they have…

“Except for friendship.” Y/N says, looking at him. “And love.” Yes, friendship and love. Those will last forever. The love they have for each other will outlive all their future deaths, all their future kids’ deaths, and their kids’ deaths. This love, and this bond, it will last forever. It will always be somewhere in the predicted long life of the Earth and humanity. It will fly with the wind, blossom in flowers and rosy cheeks, it will swim with the ocean and breathe with the air. Always.

“And love.” Eddie says it with Y/N in unison. They smile at each other. Love. What a wonderful thing. It might as well be a living creature, like fear was. Only much stronger.

“Desire.” Ben suggests. Beverly closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder. I know, Ben. But we’re here now. All the desire pent up in teenage and adult years seems much lighter now. For Beverly, Ben and for Richie and Eddie, too. And for Stanley and Y/N. All their desire towards each other has finally been released, even if the door to it is only open in a narrow slit now. Desire might as well live in all eight of them, desire for each other, desire to meet each other again, desire to have that unbreakable friendship again. Desire for that lived in their hearts all these empty years, it was unknown and mysterious, a feeling they could not guess. Now it’s known, and out in the open, nothing to hide from each other. Or anyone else, for that matter. They’re proud.

The Losers Club fall silent, but comfortably so. They’re finally in a comfortable state with themselves and each other, and with the world around them. Strange, vile and ignorant as it may be, the world is truly amazing, though, and much bigger than they all thought. Brought them together that one summer, made a bond that will last forever. They’ve got a lot to thank it for. But they’ve also got every reason to kick the world in the butt and other places.

For now, they’ll let it slide. For now, they’re only focused on being in the diner, getting desert and then showering. Most importantly, for now, they’ve got each other, safe and healthy, and that’s all they need. That will do.

“Anything else you’d like to order?”

Permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @eddie-spaghetti-boi @anxiousanakin @terratori812 @urban-dreams

Stanley Uris tag-list: @nightbu-g @sadhwstudent @shawni-h @gothackedalready @seasidecrowbar @starred-river @raspberryacid @facelessbish @tozierskaspb @plum-duels @whereyoustand @kimseungminsgf @stanstan-the-manman

Heaven tag-list: @lovvliies @kaspbrak-uris @happy-at-home @jars-of–jupiter @violetzendaya @veronicapuff

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

28 notes · View notes

harringtown · 5 years ago

Text

(time flies by) in the yellow & green | alternate ending

its alternate ending time!!

i call this: i worked very hard on the logistics of the original fic and that was the only ending that worked, but im also a self-indulgent emo fuck, and am willing to disregard my own created world logic for a happy ending!

the first two sections are very similar to the OG ending, but the third section is the legit alternate ending! I figured it was easier just to post the whole chapter with the reworked elements rather than jumping in mid part so! sorry ya gotta scroll! (Also catch my agents of shield reference in there at the end lol)

read the rest (and the original ending) here!

The twelve of you stood just outside Steve’s backyard, five of you gearing up for what could be a battle. The younger kids had fought Joyce tooth and nail in an attempt to let them come with you, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Steve, but she hadn’t budged an inch. She was already a buzzing ball of anxiety, fluttering around all of you and double-checking weapons and gas mask straps.

“You’ll come see us?” El asked, the younger kids gathered around you to say their goodbyes. You’d already said them to Nancy and Robin and assured them you’d call and let them know you were safe as soon as you could.

Tears welled in your eyes but you smiled through them, wrapping El and Max in a hug. The boys hesitantly joined, forming a big group hug on the lawn.

“I promise,” you said. “As long as you guys promise not to forget about me.”

The kids pulled apart, faces filled with various levels of sadness. The girls, Mike, and Dustin had tears in their eyes.

“Never,” Mike said.

“Good. I expect big things from you kids.”

Next was Joyce, who came over to hug you, gripping you tightly in the way only a mom could.

“You be careful in there,” she said, pulling back to look at you.

“I will,” you said. Someone cocked a gun behind you and you glanced over your shoulder at Steve, loading his shotgun. Your stomach twisted painfully.

Joyce smiled sympathetically and brushed the stray hairs from your forehead, drawing your attention to her.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “but I promise you’ll be alright. You’re strong.”

“I don’t know if I’m that strong.”

She smiled. “You are.”

A hand touched your arm and you turned to find Steve, who jerked his chin toward the trees. You gave Joyce a quick hug before following him, moving until you were just out of sight of the others.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Steve said.

“You’ve fought these things before. If it shows up, you know what to do. All we have to do is-”

“Not that,” Steve said. You frowned and crossed the short distance between you. Steve’s head drooped, shoulders sagging.

“We don’t have a choice.”

Steve lifted his head and shook it, flushed and frustrated, but sad above all, the sorrow tearing through the roaring anger, making him wilt.

“We-I’ve-lost everything twice already. I can’t do it again. Not you,” he said, sounding young and fragile, not at all like the hot-headed, brave boy from the stories.

“We can’t close the gate with me on this side. That’s why I was brought here,” you said, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. His brows furrowed, but he leaned into your touch.

“It’s time to end this,” you said.

Steve shook his head again, backing up.

“By the time you get back, or however the hell that works, I’ll be…”

“Old.”

He blinked rapidly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I bet you’ll still have that hair,” you said. His lips curled up in a small, lopsided smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wish I could stay. I wish I could stay forever and grow up here, with all of you. But I have a life. I have people that are missing me. And if I don’t go, it’s not safe for them, and it’s not safe for you. I can’t risk all of that happening because I want more time.”

“It’s not enough,” he said, like a child.

“I think we got lucky. We got more time than we were ever supposed to have.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he said. Your heart tore in half and you grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him against you, arms winding around him. He hugged you back fiercely, face buried in your hair, his fingers gripping your sides.

You pulled back to look at him, determined to memorize the lines of his face, the scars and the bumpy nose and the hair and the thick, pink lips. You ran her fingers through his hair, tugging him back to you and pressing your lips against his. His hesitation came from his pain, but his resolve disappeared and he kissed you back with a fierce intensity. Your lip stung, reopened with the pressure, but you couldn’t bring herself to care, not even when you tasted copper. Steve didn’t seem to mind, either, pressing closer.

It was the last. That fact was blisteringly obvious, woven into every touch and movement. It was the one to hold onto, like the first. There was something shattering in the knowing, a pain so big it was almost numbing, in watching the door start to slam shut behind them.

“Don’t you dare forget about me, Harrington,” you whispered against his lips. He smiled, fingers tangled in your hair, mouth hot on yours.

“Not a chance.” He tipped his forehead against yours, arms slung around you.

“Everyone gets rid of them where I’m from, but promise me you’ll get a home phone. It’ll be listed, so I can find you. Let you know I get home safe,” you said, lips quirking up.

“Hilarious,” he said, “but I promise. Anything for you.”

“Anything?”

His lips quirked up suggestively, though it wasn’t the time or place, and the Steveness of it made your chest ache. You’d miss him, god, you’d miss him.

“Stop being so hard on yourself. When I look you up, I know you’ll be someone great. You’ll get there. You’ll figure it out. Even if you don’t think you will,” you said.

“I want to figure it out with you.”

“I wish we had that choice.”

“Why can’t we?”

You reached up and brushed your thumb across his cheek before letting your hand settle.

“You know why,” you said, “You can’t come with me. You have a life here. I can’t take that away.”

“You’re my life.”

“You’ll find another one. A better one.”

He frowned, but leaned into your hand, his eyes fluttering shut.

“It’s time to go,” you said. Steve opened his eyes and pulled you against him, burying his face in your neck. The hurt yawned open inside you, plucking the breath from your chest. You wanted to stay here, right here, forever.

For a moment, you pretended you could, pretended it wasn’t all about to end.

The reality was too hard to face. The reality was this: you were going home, and when you got there, Steve would be grown. All of them would be. Even the little ones. They’d all have lives of their own. And you’ll still be at the beginning of yours.

You pulled back and tilted your chin up, kissing him softly. His lips parted against yours for one blissful moment before you broke away.

“Ready?” You asked.

“Not at all,” he said, one side of his mouth quirking up.

“Me neither.”

Steve took your hand, threading your fingers together. He looked down at your hands and back up at you.

“Stay together,” he said.

“Until we can’t,” you said. Steve didn’t say anything else.

For three whole minutes, everything was fine. The five of you made your way through the hole and into the Upside Down without fault, halfway to the town square without interruption.

Nancy heard the growl first. The second was loud - and close - enough to send you all into action, weapons raised and pace quickening. By the third, you were at an all-out run, the others following you and Steve through the dark, murky streets.

You snuck a glance back; the Demogorgon was gaining speed, and another had turned the corner to join it.

“Go!” Nancy screamed, stopping long enough to shoot twice before running again. The five of you raced toward the stop sign, tripping over debris and things that used to be alive.

Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin stopped as the first creature reached you, their shots piercing your ears. You and Steve slammed to a halt and turned to fight, raising your guns. The second creature was nowhere to be seen, and its absence your stomach dropped. These things had one job: protect the heart. You knew it wasn’t going to let you through without a fight. It was there, somewhere, and you couldn’t see it. You opened your mouth to yell - to warn them - but the first Demagorgon’s mouth split open and the roar that followed drowned out any other sound.

Everything happened so fast. The creature roared again, and something silver flashed in your peripheral vision, and then something sharp was shoved through Jonathnan’s stomach, and the world moved a mile a minute.

“Jonathan!” Nancy screamed, her composure falling as she ran toward him, her gun clattering to the ground. She caught him just as his knees buckled and lowered him to the ground. You, Robin, and Steve took up post beside you, firing at the creatures until their bodies joined Jonathan’s on the ground.

“We have to get him out of here,” Nancy said.

“How? Where? We can’t-” Robin rambled, her panic stringing her tight.

“Robin, you help me carry him,” Nancy ordered. She looked at you and something unbearably sad filled her eyes.

“Can you do it? Can you do it on your own?” She asked. You looked down at Jonathan; still alive, barely conscious, but dying nonetheless.

You didn’t have a choice.

“Get him out of here. I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I can do it,” you said, heart-ripping in two - between the family you were born into, and the family that was hurt in front of you. You touched Nancy’s arm, hoping to reassure her. There wasn’t a lot of time; there wasn’t any time for more goodbyes. There would be more enemies to fight the longer this took.

“Save him,” you said to Nancy and Robin, who knew now wasn’t the time to niceties or more goodbyes. They carefully gathered Jonathan in their arms. Steve reloaded beside him, cocking the gun and lifting it.

“I’ll keep those things off you as long as I can,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said, “for everything.” It wasn’t enough, couldn’t possibly sum up what you wanted, but it was all there was.

And then they were all gone, and you were alone with blood on the pavement and Demagorgon’s lurking in the shadows.

You only needed a moment. Just a moment. You took off running, darting around cars and debris. A shot rang from the direction of the gate; Steve. The noises moved closer, and though you knew that meant they were getting pushed back, it wasn’t yours to worry about. Your priority was the Upside Down’s heart, not your own: even if your own was a trampled, bleeding, worried mess.

You found it again, the bubbling bulge in the ground, pulsing and bright and alive. You dropped to your knees in front of it, images of Steve flickering behind your eyes. You could almost swear you heard his voice, but there was no more time to hesitate. You plunged the blade into the bubble. It ripped open and liquid burst out, burning your skin, but you didn’t stop. You stabbed and cut and slashed until the light went out, and when the fire licking your skin was too much, you let go, falling back to the ground, the knife falling with you.

You woke in the forest just the way you had all that time ago, covered in burns and bruises and abrasions. The worn path through the trees was undeniably yours; which meant that this was, undeniably, your time.

That fact hurt more than all the aches and stings on your body combined. A sob bubbled up in your chest and you clamped a hand over your mouth, buckling. You dropped to your knees, hands finding purchase in the dirt.

The hole was closed. As if it had never even been there at all. As if you’d never gone anywhere at all.

“Jesus. I’m gonna have to take twenty showers to wash all this off.”

You jumped, scrambling back to your feet in the direction of the voice you couldn’t possibly have heard. You turned to find the one boy who couldn’t possibly be there.

Steve.

You should have been angry at him. Angry for doing something so stupid, so risky. Angry for throwing his future away for the chance of one with you. But all you were was relieved. So, so, so relieved. It was as if the boulders that had settled between your shoulders the first time you’d crossed the gate had finally fallen, and all that remained was love so overwhelming it was almost painful, in the best way.

“Steve?” You breathed.

He wiped some off the grime off his pants, meeting your gaze with a sly grin.

“Hey.”

“What are you-you-you’re not supposed to-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“How are you here?”

“I followed you,” he said as if it wasn’t the biggest thing in the world.

“What if something happens? If the gate closing with you on the wrong side…”

“The Upside Down only cared about you. I guess I’m like…a Trojan horse.”

“I’m the Trojan horse. You’re inside.”

“Whatever,” he said, “same thing.” He still had that cocky smile, like he hadn’t just risked everything.

“If something happens to you because of me, I-”

He crossed the distance between you, taking your face in his hands.

“Hey. If something happens to me, it was worth it.”

Your brows furrowed, and you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

You stared at him, stared like you’d never seen him before. You knew that, had it been possible, you’d have stayed. You’d have pretended 2019 didn’t exist until you reached it, taken the life that wasn’t rightfully yours and lived it. But Steve…Steve had no one here. Was no one here. And he’d followed you anyway.

“What? Do I have mucus on my face?” He asked.

“You jumped through a hole in the universe for me.”

“More for your mass collection of yoga pants, but yeah,” he said. Tears welled in your eyes and you threw your arms around him, infinitely grateful to have something other than memory to hold onto: the person himself.

“The others. They don't know what happened to you. They-”

Steve pulled back and smiled.

“I might have mentioned something to Nancy. She thought it was insane, too. But I figured, if I didn’t make it back, someone should know I’m not dead.”

“We’ll find them.”

Steve’s brows knotted together.

“Dustin’s older than me, now. Hell, even Erica has twenty years on me.”

“Now you know how I feel.”

He looked around, something like confusion settling on his features. This was a world completely foreign to him. One you got to show him.

“Your parents, and the others…”

“If you’re asking if I regret it, the answer is still no. Don’t regret anything when it comes to you,” he said.

“They’ll have no idea where you went.”

“My parents already don't know I exist. Nancy will tell them I ran away, or something. I don't know. It’s not my problem, I guess.”

“By now, it’s definitely worked itself out.”

The words alleviated some of his guilt, leeching it away visibly.

“You’re right.”

You reached out to take his hand, threading your fingers together and looking down at them before meeting his gaze again.

“You want to see your new life?” You asked. He squeezed your hand and smiled.

“Ours, you mean?”

“Yeah. Ours,” you said.

Then, you walked hand in hand out of the trees, into a world where no one had the answers. But, for the first time, you didn’t mind. You were content to go back to a life without Demogorgon’s and without parallel universes and losing friends, so long as Steve was by your side.

A lifetime had passed since you left your friends in the Upside Down. Years, and years, and years that the others spent waiting to see you again.

But for you, and for Steve, the beginning has looped back around. You have an entire life ahead of you. Things to do and places to go and time, time above all. Time to live and time to love and time to learn. More time with Steve than you were ever supposed to get. And that, you realized, was the strangest thing of all.

#brooke writes fic #time flies by au

253 notes · View notes

suffering-and-happy-about-it · 5 years ago

Text

First Loves, Gentle Kisses, and Families (Sriracha, Part 28.)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: Eleven bringing more people to your life was something that was terrifying, yet fun and full of adventure at the same time. And there were more exciting news about to come from the Hawkins Lab.

A/N: The Snow Ball is approaching, romance is in the air, everyone is feeling good, this is going to be fluffy.

Word count: 2.3 K

Tagging: @nemodoren, @creedslove, @missdictatorme

Master list: H E R E

It was just a matter of time before you found your way to at least respect the children Eleven was friends with. There was this Sinclair boy, Lucas, who always had some dumb jokes that made you at least chuckle. There was Dustin, who sometimes had the front teeth and sometimes he hadn’t got any because of some weird illness he had. There was also Maxine, who was quiet, but she liked to cook with you and Eleven. You already knew Will and his Dungeons and Dragons and you’ve seen Mike around already, so there was no surprise there.

Just before December was about to start, you first noticed that Mike and Eleven maybe are a thing. You noticed those careful touches that you shouldn’t see, you could notice how aware Mike is around you and how El blushed every time he looked at her.

Once, you asked Hopper about that when you were about to lay in the bed.

“Hey, I feel like you’re keeping some secrets away from me.” - You furrowed and put on your pajama pants, putting your hair in a comfortable hairstyle, so it wouldn’t bother you during the night. Hopper's eyes closed as he tried to guess what you're talking about. His eyes popped out then, figuring out that you had found out about the lab stuff, and his arm hugged the blanket a bit tighter. - “You do?” - Hopper mumbled, his voice cracking a bit.

“Obviously. I feel like there is something weird every time I get back to Hawkins, like, you know, there’s something different. Almost… Almost as if you and El are keeping some secrets and other things away from me. Did you know anything about that?” - A clear amusement could be heard in your voice, which made his testicles crawl back inside of his belly. Was he about to be bitched down as a fourth-grader who came home late? Were you about to turn into a furious, yelling, plate-throwing demon he was used to? - “Do I know about what, exactly?” - The man asked as he watched your body laying down next to him, cuddling to him in the ice-cold late November night.

“You didn’t see that? El and Mike? You hadn’t noticed?” - You giggled, turning your head at him, smiling. Hopper could feel the damn relief falling off of his back. It was just El and Mike… Well. It was his daughter and that little Wheeler bastard you were talking about. That was when his eyebrow got a spasm.

“Oh, come on, don’t be a jackass. First love is the most beautiful one, James.” - Your laughter could be heard when you watched Hopper having a facial expression of rock. His hand was thrown over your waist, yet his body was ridiculously tensed. - “Hopper, stop this, don’t act like a fucking idiot. She is our princess, yes, but this would come over the time either way. And I like this Mike Wheeler. I know him since the day he was born, he’s a good kid.”

With that, Hopper shoved his face into the pillow, grunting annoyedly at you supporting Eleven’s damn choice. This battle was lost even before it started - he knew that he could go against you and your opinion, theoretically speaking, but you would pull out such arguments that it would make him sit on his damn ass. - “I’m with these two together way more than you. I know how Mike acts around her and I know he’s damn sweet to her. Let it be Hopper.” - You whispered to his ear before you slowly brushed your fingers under his t-shirt. Yes. This argument and battle were lost long before it even started.

The life went on, how much more could you possibly say? You went to work, studied in your free time, took care of Eleven, her friends and Hopper - the life in its entirety has never been better when you thought about it. Eleven was properly happy for the first time in forever and you couldn’t be happier about that.

It was a week after December started - and a week remaining to Snow Ball. Early Christmas, Hopper called it jokingly, but he was right. When he came home that day, you hadn’t expected him to be there that soon. You were pleasantly surprised because you and the kids were just in the half of a karaoke marathon and you were just staying Ghostbusters with a small help from Will the Wise himself. Hopper watched you with an amused smile - there was something magical about watching you work with children; whether it was studying with El or making dumb things with the whole gang, you always made it fun for both sides.

Last time he came in and you were just doing stuff, you played D&D. And oh my, you were just lost - visibly lost at what the hell was happening. Mike and Lucas helped you with building a character and you even got pretty far into the story, with the help of the boys, of course, but you still didn’t have any idea about what the goddamn hell is going on. You only knew that some kind of Minotaur had sliced you in half and just like that, you were dead and out of the whole story.

So this time, seeing you slaying Ray Parker’s song, that was a pleasure. And it was damn sweet when you repeated Who you gonna call? and the gang yelled back Ghostbusters! with lots of laughs as the melody slowly faded away.

“Would you mind if I steal Mr. Parker here for a minute or..?” - Hopper asked once the song ended.

“Only if Lucas and Dustin won’t cheat during Never Surrender. Mike, you’ll watch them and if they do cheat, points down.” - You said, a bit sad that you won’t see Dustin and Lucas chaotically yelling the romantic song. They were bickering about something, but you just walked to Hopper, smiling at them. - “Yada yada yada, can’t hear you. Do your best and don’t cheat or you’re out. I’m not playing games with karaoke.”

Hopper took you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed even if you said it’s completely pointless. Only when you finally sat down and heard Corey Hart and Dustin in sync yelling the first verse, Hopper gave you a completely normal envelope. You smiled at him before taking it out of his hands. And boy, when you finally opened it, you were taken away, watching that piece of stamped paper in your fingers.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” - The man kneeling in front of you whispered, smoothing both your thighs. You started shaking with excitement. Your eyes were scanning the paper to see if it isn't fake. But it seemed to be real.

“Is… Is this… Are you for… Is it even real? Are you telling me..?” - You whispered, watching the adoption certificate of Jane Hopper, presumably Eleven, in your palms.

“You’re now officially a proud mom.” - Hopper smiled with tears in his damn eyes. It was so pleasurable to see you as happy as you were in that moment. You were crying like a baby, let’s face it, but you tried to contain yourself just because there was only a piece of cloth between you and a room full of teenagers.

This was something huge, something you thought you would never achieve. That piece of paper was saying that Eleven is yours and no-one could deny that. And the document was even official, which was just breathtaking. You cried along with Jim in the backroom for the next ten minutes before you walked into Lucas and Max performing Material Girl from Madonna. And Lucas was just slaying the whole text while Max performed the backup vocals.

Not an hour from that, while Hopper decided to read something, the moment you didn’t like came by - Steve Nanny McFee Harrington came to pick up the boys and Max to drive them home. But you weren’t quite done with the contest, so you walked into the cold evening and looked at him. That was a thing you haven’t done before. You haven’t spoken to Steve in almost a year, which was crazy to think of since he was a big part of your life before.

“Hey, wanna come in? It’s freezing out there!” - You called in the direction of the car, smiling at the boy. He watched you like a dear in the headlights, trying to make out if you’re making fun of him or not. But when your smile widened even more than before, he stopped the engine and walked to the cabin, hearing first notes of Runaway, Max's song of choice.

“Hi there.” - You whispered with a smile, looking at the boy. Steve seemed to be mature. You didn’t know why or how was that possible, but the boy in front of your eyes looked… Really like an adult.

“Yeah, h-hey.” - Steve got out of his lips before you closed the door after him. The kids waved at him before continuing with their little karaoke. You, without hesitation, prepared Steve some warm chocolate so he wouldn’t freeze. The cabin was warm enough, but that boy just seemed to be cold. - “Haven’t talked to you in a while… How… Are things?” - He asked awkwardly as he looked around the cabin.

There was Eleven’s drawing hanging on the fridge, a lot of her pictures, there were even pictures of her and her friends there - you especially loved the one where Dustin was pretending that he had rabies when you made them Hopper’s triple-decker extravaganza one evening. There were pictures of you and Hopper side by side, pictures when you were alone with El - like hugging her on the couch or cooking with her. It was obvious that you had a family life and that you’re happy with it. It felt strange to see his former best friend’s sister, and his past crush, to have such a life at such an age and to be happy with it.

“They’re going just great. A year ago, I wouldn’t ever think that I can have a life like this, yet, here we are. It’s kind of a miracle.” - You smiled, giving him the mug, making yourself one as well. - “How are you? You and Nance are still hitting it off?” - You smiled wickedly, but as soon as you could see his miserable face, you knew that you hit some soft spot in steve.

“No. I was, in fact, a terrible boyfriend and she started dating Jonathan Byers a month ago, they seem happy, tho. A terrible boyfriend, would you believe that? Just as you always told me.” - Steve turned the awkwardness into a joke, but you punched his shoulder with a giggle.

“I have never told you that you’d be a terrible boyfriend, Harrington. I just told that you and me? That wouldn’t work. And I told you a million times, again and again.” - You told him, looking him in the face with a smile on your lips, feeling a bit better around him each passing minute.

“Turned out I’m the best single mom Hawkins High basketball team had ever seen.” - Steve said proudly, which made you laugh again.

“Listen, dude, I love you and I always did. But not in the way you desperately wanted me to. You’re like a little brother to me - whatever happens, call me, we can hang out, talk things out, yeah?” - You offered him a sisterly hug and Steve accepted, smiling into your shoulder. - “Don’t you forget I’ve seen you running naked around our pool when you were small.” - You whispered, making him hug you even tighter.

He got over the crush some time ago, but the shock of you dating Hopper was just so huge, that he never brought himself to say hi to you when he met you in Hawkins. He couldn’t wave at you or look you straight in the face. It was just so hard - you were turning his offers down him for years at that point, but you fell in love with a total shit like James Hopper? That wasn’t fair.

But now, it felt just good and natural to hug you as a friend only. It didn’t feel pressured or weird. Steve started to see the value of a true friendship after he started hanging out with Dustin Henderson and his douche friends. And he could see why you and Hopper were making things work so well - when he looked at your mutual relationship without his jealousy, he could see why your bitching-down nature could hold a man like James grounded in reality and why his nature could make your head make fly in the skies.

“But we’ll sing karaoke now and we’ll show these teens how to slay a song hm?” - You asked, more like told him straight forward, and dragged him in front of the couch. Steve tried to resist with laughter, but in the next minute, you were yelling the text of Total Eclipse of the Heart into the hairbrushes like the whole mattered on this performance. Hopper was standing there, in the doorframe of the bedroom, watching as you made Steve laughter on many occasions when you just fucked the words up because you wanted to.

And for the first time, Jim wasn’t a bit jealous when it came to Steve - because no matter if the boy was a prick, they get to know each other during the second incident in Hawkins. And no matter how hard he tried to get under your skirt previously, that kid had a heart of gold. He just needed friends because, in reality, Steve was lonely. And it felt right when Hopper saw you two jamming to the song.

#jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x reader #james jim hopper #jim hopper #stranger things #stranger things hopper #stranger things netflix #jim hopper stranger things #eleven stranger things #eleven ives #eleven hopper #eleven #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson #steve harrington #will byers #max mayfield

27 notes · View notes