#i feel like if eddie had survived this would have cause a love hate relationship

[confused-disaster32]

Every day my brain forces me to think about how will must/would have felt knowing that all of his friends got back into DnD and joined a new campaign when they got into highschool, knowing that a year prior all he wanted to do was play DnD only to be constantly denied

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Never Took The Time (To Forget) part 4.2: Robin's Boy

A.N: Life is kinda sucky right now with job hunting, surviving at my current job, the strains that come with being a caregiver to a family member while maintaining a long distance relationship and just dealing with mental and emotional self-care. So here's this, super late and not beta-read but at least I wrote it.

As always, feel free to yell at/with me in the comments, tags and/or ask box.

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce's Edition), Part 3 (One of Us), Part 4.1 (With a Capital 'P'), Part 5 (Man Of The Hour)

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies her dad loves without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her.

Seeing the declared dead Chief of Police step out of a sleek black, obviously-secret-government-bullshit car flanked by an agent she recognizes as one of Owens' lackeys from last July when they were making the rounds with Government funded medical care contingent on signing sketchy NDAs? Just par for the course at this point.

Steve's face when Eleven-Jane rushes into the not-dead Chief's arms and it turns into a whole 'Moment'? Said Chief's look of barely interested confusion followed by tired annoyance when Steve drags her in front of him, rambling about Starcourt and new additions to The Party and finally getting to meet 'My Hop'? Yeah, none of that surprises her either. She plays along for Steve, doesn't give Hopper any time to say anything that would take that happy smile off his face or get rid of the way he's practically glowing he's smiling bigger than she's ever seen directed at anyone other than the kids. Tries not to think about the way it makes something in her clench and crouch like a cat getting ready to pounce and bare fangs she didn't realize she had outside of a life and death situation. She introduces herself, maintains eye contact and drags Steve off as fast as she can to do something, anything, that will distract him from trying to catch up like the Byers clan is with the kids and assembled assorted monster fighters.

She's not surprised when she can't stop Steve from stepping up every time Hopper or Joyce or anyone with a badge says they need anything despite his own still healing wounds. She's not surprised when Hop takes it a step too far.

They're at the Hopper Cabin that is steadily becoming the Hopper-Byers Cottage when Hop tells his and Joyce's shared custody bald parasite that Steve is little more than an annoyance he puts up with for the free babysitting service and manual labor and cause he can go up against shit that would give anyone else nightmares while keeping the kids safe and mostly in-check. She's sitting with Eleven-Jane, sewing patches onto one of Hop's old army jackets, (the kid had seen Eddie's battle vest in Steve's car and it had reminded her of her sister Kali and she'd decided she wanted one of her own for the war ahead and then all of the other rugrats had decided they did too so she and Argyle had taken to giving sporadic sewing lessons whenever the kids had the materials to start their own battle attire) when Steve comes round the corner to the back of the property striding with purpose she rarely saw when he was around his kids.

She leaves her unfinished project on the stump she'd been using as a stool and chases after him. She shooes off curious and worried kids, promising to stick with him, keep the walkie close and on, make sure he was safe and didn't run afoul of any demo-beasts or trigger-happy government goons as he made his way to his car and then wherever else he was marching his happy ass.

She hates the fact that when they're both finally back at the little apartment that Owens' yes-men had acquired for Steve when Harrington Sr. decided to be an opportunist prick and kick Steve out for 'not taking care of the house' in the middle of the 'earthquake', that Steve hasn't shed a single tear. She hates that she's not surprised.

He doesn't say anything as he kicks off his Nikes and shuffles over to the 'second-hand' couch they'd gotten from Mrs. Henderson (Steve and Robin were both fully aware she'd just gotten it shortly before Spring break and was in no way in need of a new one so soon, but they both also knew better than to call her out on her kindness). He doesn't look up at her from his spot curled in amongst the throw pillows and blankets they'd been gifted by parents of various members of the party after Hopper and Owens' story that the two of them had saved the kids again from some freak incident like last year with Starcourt. She pulls out the thick quilt they had found in the latest donations bins when Hawkin's government supervised relief force started outsourcing for supplies and basic comforts. He stares at the wall where they'd hung an oversized corkboard dedicated to polaroids and photo booth strips and even some properly printed pictures of the little monster fighting family they'd put together.

She can't pull him out of this, no matter how much she may want to. There's some places his mind goes only Eleven-Jane would be able to reach and neither of them were going to put more on that girl's plate. So she puts on a Bruce Springsteen record she used to hate and curls up as close as she can to him through the quilt and pillows. Every now and then she gets up to get them both water, to grab some crackers to try and coax him into eating and to switch over to a new record or just flip the one on the player but she always comes back to her spot next to her Steve.

"Whatever he said to you, you know it's not true. Right? You're worth more than a dozen undead cops on a power trip." That gets an amused huff.

"Seriously Stevie, the kids adore you, I swear all the moms in Hawkins think you're the best thing since sliced bread and I don't know what I'd do without my personal chump. We're soulmates, remember? One of these days we're gonna mind meld like Spock and McCoy and we'll be unstoppable. I can't make it without my McCoy, Bones."

"I can't make it without you either, you hobgoblin. Thanks Bobby."

The next day is better. Steve is still a little quiet, a little droopy. But he's present and there's a simmering anger underneath his smile that Robin is proud to see him acknowledging but makes her worry about him as he ushers her into his car to drop her off on her rare lone shift at Family Video before he heads out to a quick 'consultation patrol' with some military special operatives to check out something weird by one of the new cracks.

No one had told any of the kids yet, about the cracks starting to spread out in smaller fissures like a slowly spreading infection. Hadn't thought it necessary with Steve and Nancy (both now legal adults and wasn't the government taking full advantage of that) there as a first line of communication while Joyce wrangled a restless Hop as he settles back in and heals and spars with Owens over payouts and government aide for the town and what the growing military presence was and wasn't allowed to do. With the parents occupied the kids had come together tighter than ever, focusing on their injured and recovering from the nightmare fuel that was their spring break. No one noticed.

She can't help the rant she falls into as they drive through checkpoints and past regular civilians being escorted through areas a little too close to a Gate for comfort. She goes on about how half of the soldiers act like Steve is just one of them and the other half treat him with the same cautious curiosity they do Eleven-Jane whenever she makes her way to the 'front lines' these days. She wants to get the weird boy-speak head nods too! Even Nancy gets them, especially when she's walking around with her sawed-off strapped to a jerry-rigged hip-holster. Robin has used Darlin' before, she's speed poured Molotov Cocktails to hand to soldier boys trying not to piss their pants as Steve and Nancy barked orders as they tried to down a demogorgon fresh from the Upside-Down. Where's her battlefield camaraderie?

It makes him laugh and shake his head fondly as he calls her crazy and weird with that soft smile on his face that makes her chest feel warm and fuzzy like her parents' hugs used to when she was 10 and crawled into their bed after having a nightmare. She doesn't tell him to be careful as they turn down onto Main street or to make sure he comes back in one piece as he rolls to a stop in front of the dark storefront. She starts on another tangent about him abandoning her to the drudgery of Capitalism as he gets to frolic in the woods with a bunch of burly men with their toys before he laughingly reaches over her to open her door to start pushing her out of the car. He smiles big and dopey as she practically spills onto the asphalt, still rambling away about neglectful soulmates and abuses of driving power with smatterings of claims that she'll take over his apartment if he dies and use his ashes as fertilizer for the plants he's taken to keeping on the fire-escape outside the living room window if he dares to leave her alone to babysit his hellions.

He shoots back a final, "Love you too Bobby!" before taking off towards where he's meeting the scientists and soldiers he's supposed to lead through Upside Down infected woods. As he leaves her standing on the sidewalk he doesn't make any sort of promise to be safe, to let the government goons just do their job, to make it back to her alive or in one piece. Not even to make it back to her. She plays with the locket she's taken to wearing that holds a curled up braid of hair shades darker than hers or anyone's in her family.

She doesn't watch his car to the end of the street like she might have before Spring Break, after their Starcourt 'adventure', instead she takes a deep breath and unlocks the dumb video store in this dumb town full of dumb people who don't know when to call it quits and just get the hell out of Dodge. She boots up the computer leaving it to warm up while she starts sorting through whatever mess the new shmucks Steve insisted they hire to cover what times the two of them couldn't because of the Arcade (which they had also gone and hired more staff for now that people weren't one tremor away from rioting in the streets) and Upside Down/ government related shenanigans they ended up getting dragged into.

The bell above the door jingles and she has to bite back a groan. "Welcome to Family Video, I literally just got here so you're gonna have to give me a minute before I can help you."

"Afraid we've only got movies round here, officer. You want any other medium of entertainment I'd suggest the arcade or the distribution yard." She won't turn to face him, not sure she can keep her cool if she does right now. Her hands move on muscle memory, shuffling papers into their proper piles and flipping open VHS cases to check if they need to be rewound. "Sorry, guess we'll have to catch up another time."

"I'm uh, I'm not here for a movie." She may have only heard his voice a couple of times and in passing but she didn't call her ears little geniuses for nothing. She forces her body to relax, lowering her shoulders the way Steve taught her to and keeping her voice light like Eddie walked her through, calling on his Theatre Kid skill set to teach the Party how to convincingly lie improvise when being questioned by people who really did not need to know just what was going on in good old Hawkins.

She can hear him sigh and can't help but picture his hand running over the fuzz on his head the way Steve runs his hands through his coif more and more nowadays in a way he never did before Nancy, before he got pulled into this bullshit and Hopper was rumored to be the one signing his paperwork and taking responsibility for him when his parents didn't show up after an almost week long stay at the hospital. "Look, I know you don't like me. And it has been brought to my attention just how much I fucking earned that. But I- I need your help here. To fix it."

There's not much that surprises Robin Buckley these days. She gets queasy at the sight of ground beef and meatloaf covered in ketchup, the big friendly dogs a few doors down at the O'Reilly place she used to pet and give snacks to on her way to and from school make her blood run cold, she can't watch the old Russian movies she and her dad used to stay up late watching together without having nightmares after and she's sleeping with a nightlight by her bed for the first time since she was six. But it takes a lot to surprise her. Jim Hopper might have just done it.

She doesn't stop moving, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of throwing her off. She fiddles with the sharp little knife she has tucked up her shirt sleeve in the little sheath she and Steve put together between shuffling papers, taps at the button on her vest hiding the mic attached to the walkie talkie that never leaves her pocket these days. When she finally turns to look at him she's not surprised by the thinness of his frame or the way his eyes and cheeks still look a little sunken in. She sees the tired father worried for his kids and his people and his town, angry at the government for their involvment and their stupidity that she had come to expect. She is not expecting the remorse, the fear, she sees looking back at her. She wonders for a moment what he sees when he looks at her, at any of the teens and kids and young adults he's fought alongside trying to stop the end of the world.

"Fine. He'll be back from his patrol-" He looks mildly confused for a moment, meaning Joyce hadn't been passing along even the minimal information Nancy and Steve had been giving her to relay to Hop and the rest of the Party. That would have to be it's own discussion at some point probably. "-in about twenty minutes. You have fifteen. Now why should I help you?"

"You care about Harringt- Steve. You're close, the two of you have been basically Siamese Twins since Starcourt from what I hear. I- I realize that I made a mistake dumb enough shitting Mike Wheeler is making more sense than me, that I fucked up in a way I don't fucking know how to fix. And I am asking. Politely. For your help."

Honestly she's not sure she believes him. Honestly he's surprised her more times in the last five minutes than most anything or anyone else has in the last year. The man has a lot to unpack and the situation with Steve is just a drop in the man's pile of shit he's managed to bury himself under but maybe there's some hope yet.

She checks the watch on her wrist (an obscenely expensive piece Steve got from one of his parents' rich friends at a holiday party he was too young to remember on a leather band that he had outgrown and never got around to replacing) and looks back at Hop. Ten more minutes. "Why are you here?"

Hop groans in that growly sort of way that makes her think of her grandpa Dale, a great bear of a man who had given the best hugs with shoulders to put Jim Hopper to shame. The no-longer-chief runs his hand over his fuzz again, one hand propped on his hip as he shifts his weight to one side and she tamps down the flicker of biting anger at another example of the ways Steve had shaped himself after a man who never gave him the respect or care he deserved.

"I don't know how to fix what I fucked up. Steve's a good kid, I can admit that now. And he didn't deserve my bullshit just cause I couldn't get past old highschool biases. I wasn't there for him like I should have been- like I told him I would be when I signed those papers. But he's not the kid I thought he was, he's nothing like his folks or the other trust fund brats who think they run this shithole town. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know that kid deserves better than I've been doing."

She hums like she's mulling over his little speech to hide the way she's freaking out a little over what to say to all that. Even she doesn't know how she and Steve got to where they are beyond being tortured by Russians for information they didn't have then being drugged out of their minds while fighting inter-dimensional flesh monsters. But she doesn't think that would help Hop much in this situation.

But she thinks she believes him. At least for now.

"Alright, I'll help you with Steve." Hop sighs, his shoulders dropping as he seems to unclench slightly. Seriously, that much tension cannot be good for him after being in a Russian gulag for almost a year. "But not because I think you deserve it. You were right, Steve deserves better, but he wants you and Joyce and the kids to be in his life. Be a part of it. That is the only reason I will help you. He deserves a better dad than the one he's had and for some reason he thinks you're like super-dad."

"I- How the fuck did I not- What the hell?"

Robin shrugs, "The human brain is good at weeding out what it doesn't want to see. You didn't want to see Steve until you had to and that realization brought you to me. So. Ignorance is bliss and all that."

"So what do I do?"

She checks her watch again. "He'll be running late, especially if the fissure he's checking out is as bad as we think it is. So you have time to run back home, get Joyce to make extra of whatever monstrosity of a casserole she's trying to make this week and you get your rugrats to figure out a way to be the last drop off after Steve takes the brats to the arcade later instead of sleeping off whatever knocks he gets on patrol today. Then instead of letting him head home you make him come inside for dinner. Use the excuse of finding out he's been doing patrols if you have to. But you make him go inside and sit his ass down and eat something and you let him just- let him just be, Hop." She's running out of time but there is just so much she wants to get through to him. "Just make him feel like you see him."

"I- I'll try."

"Yeah, sure. Just-" She bites back the vitriol she wants to projectile vomit in his direction. "Just don't hurt him again. He's more than just a babysitter or front lines muscle. And I will make you wish you were back with the Russians if you make him forget that."

"I believe you."

"Good." The bell over the door jingles again and she looks past Hop to see a group of teenagers making their way to the comedies. "Now I have to get to work and you need to not be here by the time Steve comes to check on me. So talk to you later, Chief."

"Right. Thanks for your help, kid."

She shrugs him off as he turns to head out. The teens are watching him not-so-discreetly as they try to act like they're looking through the latest releases. She forgets that the man is as much a mystery as the heavy-duty military forces that have taken over their small town.

"Alright, folks. What are we looking for today?" She still technically has a job to do even if the kids keep their distance from her like they do the rest of the Party who at this point have all been seen either spending time with said heavy-duty military forces or chasing something into the dark of the forest wielding weapons smeared in monster blood, or both. It's going to be a long day.

Tag list (I think this is everyone?)(if your tag didn't work let me know cause they don't always work for me Idk why):

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus @wonderland-girl143-blog @failedstarsandgoldenclouds @steddie-as-they-go @steveshairspray86 @youdrewstarsxaroundmyscars @i-amthepizzaman @wormapothacary @croatoan-like-its-hot @maya-custodios-dionach @ineffable-monster-romancer @asquareinverona @ellietheasexylibrarian @pukner @bookworm0690 @nightmareglitter @joekeerysmoles @salchica @lawrencebshoggoth @iheartjennaaa @child-of-cthulhu @anaibis @rocochen20 @katdeerly @samcoxramblings

[artsybug0]

What are some facts about Millie? (Can also be for any AU!)

❤️Fun Facts About Millie!❤️

Original:

She’s afraid of the dark so she uses a nigh-light when she sleeps

She likes foods with strawberries in them more then just eating strawberries

Her entire home is lovecore decorated

She has three adopted parents who are in a poly relationship

She has seven adopted brothers

She’s the oldest sibling but third to be adopted

Millie can do many tricks on her roller skates. She even puts on a show for her neighbors with Barnaby

She caught feelings for Wally first

She compliments people a lot about how they look like characters from books she’s read

She gushes often about romance stories

You can often find her sitting on Howdys counter reading out loud to him as he works

She stims a lot (she’s just a happy gal!)

She word stims Wally’s name often

She’s afraid of fire (like big fires)

Actor:

She moved to the big city to go to a good college to become an author.

She graduated with a BA (Bachelors of Arts)

She’s worked a lot of jobs and has been almost all over Hollywood for work, but as you can imagine for a puppet. That didn’t get her anywhere

She gained her kinda violent tendencies while living alone in Hollywood (learned behavior for her own survival)

She became extremely depressed and had thoughts (and one attempt) at 💀 herself

She was literally dragged into the studio to be a replacement Actor for Welcome Home Puppet Show by Janet

She knew how to act because at that time she’s been pretending to be a “damsel in distress” to manipulate men into using their money on her so she can have a comfortable life for years.

She’s a big fan of Eddie’s

Millie only worked so hard to be Wally’s friend so she can hopefully get him to meet up with her youngest brothers who she used to watch WH with all the time

Millie originally planned to use Wally’s feelings to manipulate him into giving her everything she wants, but she caught the feelings before she could do anything (Wally was rude and cold towards her at the beginning so she saw this as revenge)

She at first declined Wally’s gifts for her because she was nervous she was accidentally manipulating him to think that’s what he wants to do (she wasn’t, he just loves spoiling her)

She has a list of “reasons why I love Wally” on her phone that she occasionally adds to

Egg was a gift from Wally, he’s their baby

Millie was engaged to a human once

Gothic/Punk

Doesn’t have a friend group

She roller derby’s

Everytime you see her she has a new bruise or scratch

She often gets into fights

She thrives in annoying people

Refuses to acknowledge that she has valid feelings

Her wings flap when she’s angy

She didn’t get as much as a height boost as the rest so she’s pretty small compared to everyone 😂

She teases a lot

She hates being teased though

She’s used to being described as hot or sexy but as soon as someone calls her cute she’s embarrassed and red faced

She’s actually pretty lonely, and despite how she acts, she really does care about what people say or do to her.

She’s very attached to her partners Susanna( @yami-xd character) and Wally. But mostly Susanna because she doesn’t call her mean names and is pretty nice to her

Is the most likely Millie to have 🔞 with you (if you’re around her age, 23-27)(she’s a ho)

Rainbow Factory

She’s by far, the loneliest Millie

Her parents death were later in life so she would of been at least 13 when it happened

She was never adopted

Her scars were caused by a chemical explosion she was too close to

Only Wally visited her in the hospital (that’s how she developed strong feelings for him)

She soon changed job titles and became his assistant

Even though she’s his assistant she does a LOT more then what is required of her. But she doesn’t mind.

She mixes coffee and energy drinks in a cup and chugs it down at once before working

She had extremely jealously over those who have things she doesn’t (friends, family, beauty)

She really despises Julie in this Au but doesn’t do anything about it. She only hates her because she’s Wally’s ex

She has a soft spot of kids, they remind her of herself before everything happened so she wants to protect them

She’s made fun of for her scars so often she doesn’t believe anyone if they compliment her for being “pretty”

She keeps trying to ask Wally out but backs out last second

She passes out often from overworking herself and starving her body

All the other Au’s I don’t have much put together to make fun facts about them yet so this is all I can give for now!

❤️

[autistic-katara]

ALL RIGHT! ANON FANDOM HOT TAKES!

eddie munson sucks

this one is utterly incoherent but bear with me - IF byler hadn't been planned from the start, el and mike's relationship would've worked IF hopper hadn't taken el in. hopper majorly fucked up a lot of her personal growth and her ability to function around people.

hopper should've died

the bungou stray dogs fandom is great actually

the kpop fandom is disturbing but fascinating and i want to study it

i have this insane respect for the marauders fandom cause like they built it from the ground up and if they changed the names and a little bit of the magic system it could be it's own series

yeah idk what this is sorry

THANKS FOR THE LONG ASK AAAHHH (accidentally made the reply super long srry lmao)

honestly i just dont give a shit abt him. like in a vacuum i like his character, yk he was kinda a pretty big asshole to my boy lucas and he sells drugs (idrc abt that one tho) but at the same time idk i do enjoy the idea of eddie being queer nd clocking will and/or mike nd trying to make them feel comfortable talking to him (even if that could be done just as well if not better with robin who is yk canonically queer and a way better character but idk) but all that is ignoring how fucking annoying his fans are like jesus christ why is he this fucking popular like half the fics in this godforsaken fandom r st€ddie (and look i am a shameless will-ship-smthn-based-off-of-one-small-momenter of the highest degree but i genuinely do not understand the hype for them like they literally looked at eachother twice and had eddie tell steve to get back with his ex how in the fuck is that romantic???) and yeah just he is insanely overrated in the worst possible way and the fact that this isnt even the worst case of this in this fandom just proves how much b*lly and his fans suck and yeah i did not expect to go on a huge rant abt this srry TwT

kinda agree kinda disagree. i do think it wouldve been possible for mlvn to work but i wouldnt say hopper taking el in is the problem i think ud kinda just have to rewrite alotta their interactions with some small things in the beginning but with a completely different dynamic in the later seasons (sidenote: honest to god if theyd just written hopper a bit better i would fucking love him as el’s dad like i love the found family trope and i do think they go well together but with the way he acts in s3 + the way their fight that culminates in el’s meltdown and him breaking the tv in s2 just yeah they rlly could’ve been done better)

no comment i dont rlly care (i dont hate that he survived but if he stayed dead i also wouldnt hate it)

yeah honestly while it has its problems ive been in waaaayyyyy worse fandoms and i do actually kinda like the vibe here (even if it has some of the dumbest shipping discourse i’ve seen. not the worst but the dumbest. usually surrounding my boy dazai which just bro that man is a whore ship him with whoever and no its not a proship to ship him with an 18yo bcz they have a kinda mentor/student relationship and no shipping him at 18 with a 24yo also isnt a proship bcz someone decided he was 16 or smthn which if u actually do the maths he was very much 18 and look i’m not a dazatsu shipper and odazai isnt my favourite dazai ship nor am i saying both ships r entirely unproblematic but dude this is why i dont wanna label myself an anti bcz u guys say shit like this anyways sorry that was a super long side tangent it will probably happen again)

again no comment, i know jack shit abt kpop

uhhh i hate everything related to hp so again no comment

again srry this turned out so long 😭

[gammacousin]

I think I’ve waited long enough at this point

Stranger Things rant

(Not hating, just chatting)

1) Why are we losing every NEW Stranger Things character?

2) What is the relationship status and why should I care?

——

Number 1:

Barbara

Bob

Alexei (😭)

Billy

Eddie

Max- no, she’s not dead but we don’t know her state for the final season

I don’t understand this choice to introduce characters just to kill them off.

So! Let’s talk Steve and Nancy then. Cause that was the alternative to our quirky nerd and guitar loving druggie.

Before you all call the Vecna on me, let me explain

We have had Steve since Episode 1 and his character was never supposed to survive this far into the series. He stayed because his actor is brilliant and because he works so well with Dustin. (I know his name, I’ll butcher it if I spell it so I’m not about to try. Much respect, not-so-small-anymore child.)

Steve has undergone a HUGE character arc at this point and gone from dude I want to punch in the gut to guy I’d trust to watch my puppy. Which is high praise believe me. I love Steve and I would’ve been BROKEN if something happened to him. BUT! We’ve had him for a while. We’ve had a chance to give him a full story.

Nancy: Nancy is another arc that has come full circle for me. She’s grown from this annoying teenager to a strong woman who defends her brother and his friends. Who cares about people other than herself.

When it comes to Nancy, I have much bigger issues in the back of my mind and the reason why I would’ve accepted her demise;

Her love triangle, doesn’t mean anything to me. And I wish she could be the strong female figure without this awkward push and pull of Steve and Jonathan. It’s ridiculous. I’m over it. It’s teenage drama that Nancy as a character would logically be so far above post enduring as much trauma as she has. She knows what she wants. So let the character follow through with it.

Either leave her with Jonathan and let’s move on, or kill her off in a noble way where she makes a sacrifice because she’s that strong and that brave.

Killing Eddie was so weak because imo, you didn’t want Steve to have a competitor.

Dustin belongs with the children. You’re aging him (traumatizing him) and maybe that’s going somewhere. Maybe he’s been apart from the other kids for a reason- but why pull away his new bestie and new mentor, when Steve almost acted like he couldn’t be bothered?

AGAIN! You kill Steve this season and I’m mad about but I feel something. We all do.

….And on the flip side, the fact that Eddie hurts so badly isn’t a shot at the actor or the writers- it’s literally the opposite. You made us care so deeply about this character in one season that we are …messed up.

My biggest issue that’s not even an issue, really, is you’ve done this before and it makes me want to stop caring about the new guys and anyone you introduce in Season 5.

And the only relationship I care about at all is Max and Lucas. (Joyce and Hopper but we all saw that coming. They’re endgame and it’s not a twist imo. Unless Joyce dies or is empowered or something wild, it can’t go anywhere than the obvious.)

So do something with Mike and El please. Will is an option! But commit to it or drop it.

And be rid of the love triangle with Nancy.

[thebadboyfanclub]

Sir, This Is McDonald's (Emmett Cullen x Reader)

DISCLAIMER! I TALK ABOUT JASPERS RACIST PAST SO IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY IT DON’T READ THIS CAUSE I AIN’T FORGET HE WAS A CONFEDERATE SOLDIER. Enjoy!

Having Emmett was like having a toddler in a big muscular body, so imagine how Carlisle and Esme felt when Emmett found out his mate was Bella’s childhood friend who came to visit her once, who in one (y/n) could be described as absolute chaos. (Y/n) was already a college student which means she runs on caffeine, has 3 am bursts of energy cause again... she had coffee at 10pm and blasts music around the cullen house cause she knows they don’t sleep so they can’t complain.

“JASPEEEEEEEER YOU RACIST BITCH WHERE ARE YOU?”

Edward had given up on reading her thoughts cause firstly they mostly did not make any sense but mostly because she is thinking a lot of explicit stuff about Emmett, so Jasper also did not like just feeling her Lust while she is just having dinner.

“(y/n) we’ve been over this, don’t call me that”

“Were you or were you not a confederate soldier?”

“Yes but-”

“So you are racist, that’s not the point, You took Emmett’s leather jacket? I steal that jacket?”

“I did not steal it and it’s literally right there”

Jasper pointed to it and (y/n) just looked at it and then took it from the couch. Everyone was pretty used to her overpowering pretty much everyone when it comes to energy so this was just a normal day.

“racist”

“wow, creative”

“Talk to me when you apologize to the black community for being a bigot”

She yelled back. Jasper and (y/n) had a love/hate relationship, they would bully each other but let someone talk badly and they are coming for them viciously, so them going back and forth was an everyday ritual.

“So where are we going?”

She asked coming closer to Emmett, Edward which was accompanied by Bella who still struggled to understand how their friendship still stayed strong through out the years, were sitting on the couch since Bella wanted to prep a bit more the upcoming test.

“(Y/n) this jacket is a bit too big for you”

Edward said knowing damn well he was going to get dragged. She did not even look at him,but he could hear her loud “oooooooooook” that she thought, she just opened her mouth and as she fixed her ponytail

“Ok what do you successfully? Other than being a 1000 year old virgin and child of God”

Bella had once asked her if Emmett and (y/n) had gone all the way which made her go into a laughing fit and call edward “virgin boy” as a cute nickname. Emmett though found it hilarious so he just gave her a high five as they both laughed on Edward’s face who did not look pleased.

“(Y/n) i really like your shoes”

Bella said trying to get over the second hand embarrassment of being called on not having sex while her friend was and bella quotes “getting railed” and everyone had the misfortune of hearing.

“Thank you, I just got them on sale”

“My baby always looks good”

Emmett was about to kiss when (y/n) moved her head back and looked at him straight on the face.

“Sir, this is Mcdonalds”

“babeeeeeeeeuhhhh”

Emmett was very affectionate, he loved (y/n) more than himself so he loved to shower her with hugs and kisses, which means (y/n)’s favorite thing was to tease him, even when she loved it herself. Emmett pouted at her and she just wrapped her arms around him, even when she was shorter than him she still could pretty much hang herself on him

“I’m kidding, come on you know I love you”

“We all know that”

Edward felt particularly brave today, he hadn’t seen her for a week since she had to go for some college stuff but now he was prepared for all the arguments she wanted to start. What he did not expect was (y/n) having the same mood as he did.

“Oh eddy boy, are you on your period today? don’t worry i’ll make sure to bring you pads and ice cream when we come back”

“you are so thoughtful (y/n)”

“I know I know, you know I was thinking of running for president, I mean Donald Trump did it so can I”

“Who will be Vice president?”

“Probably Carlisle”

“Heyyyyy what about me?”

“Emmett I love you but we need someone with brain cells”

That made Jasper burst into laughter.(Y/n) did not have eyes for another man, she adored the ground Emmett walked but her love language was teasing him, specifically about some epiphanies about how fairies exist and what type of drugs Santa was probably on to get through a full night of going to put gifts.

“wait a minute cause i thought we agreed on the idea that aliens exist”

“Yes, but not on the idea that aliens go on earth for vacation and disguise themselves as humans”

“who tells us they can’t shape shift?”

“Man you will need more than Carlisle to survive, you must share two brain cells”

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Runaway

Fandom: 911

Characters: Eddie Diaz, Christopher Diaz, Evan Buckley

Summary: Eddie picks Christopher up from Buck’s after the events of 4.08 “Breaking Point.”

                                      XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eddie knew fear. He’d survived shootouts, bombings, five alarm fires, near drowning, and the death of his wife. He knew fear. But all of that paled in comparison to how he’d felt when he’d seen Christopher’s empty bed.

It was God or karma or sheer luck that he didn’t get pulled over on the way to Buck’s because he made the twenty minute trip in less than ten, ignoring several stop signs on quieter streets and speeding through questionably yellow lights. He needed to be with his kid now. 

The elevator ride up to Buck’s floor almost killed him. He stood right next to the door, one hand braced on the paneling, the other punching the button repeatedly as if that would make the machinery move faster. 

Buck was waiting for him in the hallway, his face serious. “Eddie, wait a second,” he said, holding out a placating hand.

“Buck, let me in,” Eddie said through gritted teeth.

“Just listen,” Buck said. “If you go in there yelling it’s not going to fix anything. He’s upset—“

“I know he’s upset!” Eddie snapped. “I’m upset too! How do you think I felt, opening his door and finding him gone? Knowing that it’s my fault? That he’d rather come talk to you than me?”

Buck stayed calm despite the jabs. “He’s just a kid Eddie. He’s confused.”

Eddie shook his head. “Buck I swear to god if you start trying to lecture me on raising my kid right now—”

“I’m not, I promise I’m not,” Buck said. “I just…I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t have anyone to talk to. And I don’t want you to make a mistake you can’t come back from.”

“Buck.” Eddie blew out a breath, his already thin patience having reached the breaking point. “Just let me in.”

Buck eyed him for a half second longer, then stepped back. Eddie pushed past him, striding quickly into the apartment. Words like ‘grounded’ and ‘no TV’ were at the forefront of his mind, but they died on his tongue the second he saw Christopher sitting on the couch. He was here. He was safe. He wasn’t kidnapped or lying on the side of the road or wandering the streets by himself, all scenarios that had run through Eddie’s mind in the last half hour. 

“Christopher.” He breathed out his son’s name and dropped to his knees, pulling him into a fierce hug. “Oh my god Christopher. You scared me.” 

“I’m sorry Dad,” Christopher said, his voice muffled against Eddie’s shirt. 

Eddie’s tears were closer to the surface than he’d realized, pricking at his eyes and making his throat grow tight. “I’m sorry too.”

Christopher pulled back and looked up at him, worry pinching his face.“Are you mad at me?”

Eddie sucked in a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. There were clearly some things they needed to talk about. As much as he hated to admit it, Christopher wasn’t a baby anymore. 

“I’m upset,” he finally said. “I’m glad you felt like you could come talk to Buck; that you chose a safe place to go. But it really scared me to find you gone like that.”

“I was just really mad at you,” Christopher said, shifting back and forth restlessly. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”

“I know,” Eddie said, guilt chewing at his gut. “But relationships are a complicated thing. And I didn’t want to talk to you until I was…more sure about everything.”

“You lied to me.” Christopher said it accusingly.

“I did,” Eddie admitted. “And that was the wrong choice. I’m sorry. I will try to be more honest with you from now on. But I also need you to understand that sometimes I need time to figure things out before I talk to you.”

“Because you’re a grown up?”

“Yes. Because I’m a grown up. And grown up stuff is complicated sometimes.”

Christopher mulled this over for a moment and sighed. “That’s what Buck said too.”

“Yeah?” Eddie glanced toward the doorway but Buck had disappeared, apparently giving them some privacy, although with the loft’s open floor plan he had no doubt that his friend could hear every word. “What else did he say?”

“That it was okay for you to have a girlfriend and it was okay for me to be upset about it. And that it doesn’t mean you love Mom any less.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed. “Christopher, is that what you think? That if I see someone new I don’t love your mom anymore?”

“I don’t know,” Christopher said with a sniff.

Eddie could tell he was close to tears and he squeezed his son’s knee comfortingly. “I will always love your mom. Just like I will always love you. But I have room in my heart for somebody new. And I think if you try, you just might too.”

Christopher was quiet for a moment. “I think I could do that.”

Eddie felt a wave of relief crash over him. “I know you could. You are one of the kindest, most loving kids in the whole world.”

Christopher looked up at him from under his glasses. “Does that mean I’m not in trouble?”

“Oh no, you’re definitely in trouble,” Eddie said, amusement trickling through him in spite of the situation. “Grounded. For a week. No phone. No TV. No video games.”

“But Dad!”

“Uh uh, don’t even try,” Eddie said. “Choices have consequences kiddo.” He softened his voice. “Chris, the next time you get mad I want you to come and talk to me. But if you ever feel like there’s something we can’t talk about, you can tell me that you want to come to Buck’s and I’ll bring you. Please don’t ever run away like that again.”

“I won’t,” Christopher said. “I promise.”

“Good. Come on,” Eddie said. “It’s a school night. Let’s get home.”

“Can we say goodbye to Buck?”

“Of course.”

Buck reappeared at the sound of his name. “Hey time to go already?” he asked.

“Dad says we have to,” Christopher said. He walked forward and wrapped his arms around Buck’s waist. “Thanks Buck.”

“Anytime buddy,” Buck said fondly, ruffling his hair. 

“Hey Christopher, can you go wait in the hall for just a second?” Eddie asked. “I’ll be right out.”

Christopher eyed them both. “More grown up stuff?”

“Yes,” Eddie said pointedly. “Go please.”

“Fine.” Christopher turned with a sigh of long suffering and headed out the door.

Eddie stuck his hands in his back pockets and shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Hey, look, I’m sorry I came in here like that. That stuff I said…I know you were just trying to help.”

“It’s okay,” Buck said. “I get it. He scared the shit out of you. Heck he scared the shit out of me just showing up on my doorstep.”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing here Buck. He’s growing up. He’s almost a teenager. Sometimes it’s like I don’t even know him anymore.”

“Hey, you’re a good dad,” Buck said. “He knows that. He just…needed a minute.”

“Well thank you for being here. For both of us,” Eddie said. “I really—it means a lot to me that he feels like he has someone he can talk to.”

Buck put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Always.”

Christopher fell asleep on the drive home, which Eddie took at a significantly slower pace than his frantic journey to Buck’s. When they arrived Eddie gathered him up in his arms and carried him inside, heart squeezing painfully in his chest. How much longer until he couldn’t do this anymore? Until Christopher grew too tall or too embarrassed to let him help this way? He wasn’t ready to let childhood go. But the last two years had changed them both, and it was time Eddie stopped pretending Christopher was going to be a kid forever and started preparing to help him grow up. 

He laid Christopher on his bed and slipped off his shoes before pulling up a blanket and tucking it around him. He pressed a kiss to his son’s hair and then gently removed his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. He turned off the light intending to slip from the room and fall into his own bed. 

“Daddy?”

Eddie turned back to find Christopher’s eyes open, peeking up at him from under the blanket. “Yeah buddy?”

“What if your new girlfriend goes away too? Like Mom did?”

God, was his kid trying to kill him? Eddie was not prepared for this tonight. “I don’t think that will happen. But if it does, then we’ll be sad. And we’ll try to remember the good times we had together. Just like we do with your mom.”

“What if you break up?”

“That’s a possibility. You know sometimes things just don’t work out. That’s what dating is for. To see if you want to be with somebody forever.”

“If you break up, what if she doesn’t want to see me anymore?”

Eddie sat down on the bed. This was the crux of why he’d avoided this issue; he didn’t want to cause Christopher anymore heartbreak. “I don’t think there’s a single person in this world who would ever want to stop seeing you,” he said. “And I would never ask you to stop being friends with someone just because it didn’t work out between me and her.”

Christopher was quiet for a moment. “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Yeah buddy, of course.”

He nestled into the bed and Christopher snuggled close into his side. “I love you,” Eddie said. 

“Love you too,” Christopher mumbled.

Within minutes his breathing evened out and Eddie knew he’d fallen asleep. But Eddie didn’t move. Not yet. He wanted to hold onto childhood for just a little bit longer.

[curlymantis]

aaaa pls tell me stuff abt your ocs they're all so cool!! 🥺💚

Omg I finally finished answering this!!!!! 👀👀

Farcry 5: Zoë Seed!!

Omg that’s me 😏 she was an entomologist checking out the cool insects of Hope county and unfortunately for her she doesn’t believe in private property when it comes to discovering nature. One day chosen find her trespassing on John seeds property. They think she’s a spy for the resistance as she has a camera, binoculars etc. They take her to the main church (conveniently was a Sunday) once service is over shes handed over to the father and himself and John go through her camera. They only find insect pictures and omg wow she’s not a spy. She’s indoctrinated into the cult and ends up eventually becoming John’s right hand of god 😌🙏 sinners who happen to be an extra annoyance go to her where she makes them confess in whatever way possible. Or they die in the process, whoops 💅🏻 She’s polyamorous with all of the seed siblings including Faith cos like come on now let’s be real they all crave and need loving. However she’s married to John Seed because that baby boy is everything 😤❤️ She also likes to do cult posters and help write songs and sing them cos it’s fun as hell. She is closest with John and Faith Seed specifically out of the 4 Seeds. Other cultists are scared of her, or is it respect? Hmm who knows 😌 She also tortures sinners for fun and chases them around the forest making them as shit scared as possible. Oops 😏

The Magnus Archives: is my oc who is an Avatar of the eye and Rayn Porter is my oc who a avatar of the corruption. They both have the same last name as they are both the same person just if they had gone down different entity routes in their life. I’ll talk about Rose first! (I also have an avatar of the flesh and the vast but I haven’t worked on them yet or got them ‘fully fleshed out’ 😏

Rose Porter: avatar of the Eye, marked by the stranger, the spiral and the vast.

From an early age Rose always felt the need to watch people, to know, to understand. As she got older these feelings only became stronger and she begins to stalk people, not because she finds that person special for any particular reason they just happened to look to long at her and she saw them doing so. That just sets something off In her so now they must be followed, acknowledged, understood and scrutinised (me self projecting right into my ocs 😌). She found the Magnus institute one day as she started stalking Rosie. when she had seen the woman walking into a large glorious building she knew something was off, like the itching feeling you get, the feeling in your gut, the sensation of something important. She did not know what had over come her to walk in the building so quickly as that would ruin her chances of learning further about this person who dared make her feel so uncomfortable. But there she was. She was hired immediately of course as a librarian, then moving on the be an archival assistant, shocking to her. But obviously not to Elias Bouchard who knew just how useful her alignment to his almighty beholder. To say she had a crush on him would be an understatement. She can’t explain it. Some would call infatuation, some would call it chemistry, but smart ones say it’s because they are both devotees to the eye and she is in so much deeper than she has ever anticipated or even realises 👀

Rayn Porter: avatar of the corruption, marked by the flesh, the lonely and the stranger.

Rayn despises people (same queen 🙄) they put animals on a higher level of respect than humans. The corruption took ahold of them as a young child, they would always follow and play with cockroaches as a child. However their mother was to say the least an unempathetic, transphobic and cruel woman to say the least. Rayn was raised in a household full of scrutiny, hate and fear. Because of this had very little friends as the only social interaction they knew was their bitch ass mother they turned to the ‘pests’ of their home. Whether these were the slugs and snails in the basement of their home, or they were the cockroaches, house centipedes and rats that dwelled in their attic. They loved and appreciated them all, but their was still something deeper to it. A deep rot had started to form in Rayn and they hated their mother and family. They hated them for how they had cast them aside for not being female, they hated them for all the mistreatment they had faced as a child. The rot started small, a odd old smell that started to lurk around Rayn. Eventually others would notice the smell but would shrug it off as the smell would soon be covered by the smell of Rayns chain smoking. Then one day Rayn was staring in mirror poking at their face and squeezing. They found a sore on her face and squeezed it, pus comes out but something moves underneath. They squeeze harder and something wriggles forth, it’s a very small, juvenile cockroach, streaked slightly in something slimey. As you can imagine that fucked them up a bit, but they learnt to embrace it. Learnt to love that crawling away just underneath their skin are thousands of little legs connected to cockroach’s of many sizes. Sometimes if not managed roaches will find themselves sneaking out of nostrils, mouth and ears. Sometimes even out from behind her eyes. One way they feed the corruption is they set forth the filth at a selected location. All it takes is for them to place a cockroach down in a building and within a week there will be a infestation so strong causing the people in said building to be taken down with it. The Cockroaches will feed on those that they can over power and The Corruption always needs feeding... (Also just want to add cockroaches themselves aren’t actually dirty, they’re actually obsessive cleaners. the locations they live in are dirty)

Telltale Batman- Roz Traegers:

first encounter with John Doe (the eventually to be known Joker) was at the bar he frequented. They had never once seen him drink a drop of alcohol. He would order beer constantly for his alcoholic sure but never consume it himself. Aside from his alabaster white skin nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary to them. Well except the fact he liked to stare, a lot. You would constantly worry it’s because he was just judging you based on your appearance (a lot of people do) however John just likes to stare at people and found you interesting for some reason (cliches I know, but me and John Doe are basically the same person and I like to think he’d think I’m interesting). Roz has a great dislike towards the people John works with, they don’t appreciate how badly they treat him. Especially Harley. John is so obsessed with Harley and she treats him like absolute shit. Roz had a plan to get Harley arrested, however John found out and threatened to never speak to Roz again. Roz has a soft spot for Mr Freeze specifically from the gang also.

Vampyr: Rose Pine

works as an assistant to Camellia at the florist. Rose isn’t a very chatty person and has had quite a traumatic up bringing. Her mother, sister and father are all unfortunately deceased. Her father killed her mother, then sister, then Rose, then turned the knife on himself. Rose survived her injuries (hence the scar on her throat) and was put out into the adoption system. Roses father believed he had been doing his family a service by taking their lives before they could be claimed by Ekons. Roses father had been a vampire believer long before they had even breeched the city. Rose always waves hello to Jonathan Reid when she sees him galavanting around. He always waves back and occasionally they will exchange a conversation. One evening they exchange more than just brief chit chat when Jonathan is required to save her from a group of feral Skals. Rose is very badly injured from her encounter and Jonathan ends up having to change the sweet little florist he sees most evenings into a Ekon. Rose is also good friends with Charlotte Ashbury and Charlottes mother Elisabeth. I haven’t played Vampyr in a wee while, I want to get back into it soon so plan on adding more to her story.

Outlast: Rosie Porter

Rosie worked as a live in psychiatrist for those at mount massive asylum. She lives on the premises that way patient can be attended to at any time. Her experiences throughout life gives her empathy for those that are locked up, that the other guards and majority of other staff just don’t have. Rosie has always been able to empathise with those who would be considered ‘evil’ whether she empathised out of her own sick fascination or because of her heart hurting too much is another question. Rosies favourite patients are Eddie Gluskin and Chris Walker. She was hired after Jeremy Blaire forcibly admitted Chris Walker. Rosie is enamoured with Eddie and he knows it. Knows he has his little psychologist wrapped around his finger. However Eddie would be a hypocrite if he said he also wasn’t wrapped around her finger. Rosie is forcibly committed to the asylum by Jeremy Blaire they start Project Walrider on the patients. Rosie was against it and threatened to blow the whistle on the whole thing (dumb idea) and Jeremy uses her as the first female Walrider test subject. Rosie has engaged in an affair with her boss Jeremy Blaire when she first started working there. Due to their past ‘hands on’ relationship, Rosie is allowed more time with her patients and allowed to be alone with her patients. This has allowed for her to further her work with her patients, as they’re quite open when the know they aren’t being openly judged by the security staff.

Hannibal: Jessi Trees

is a forensic entomologist who works alongside Beverly, Jimmy and Brian analysing dead people n shit. Jessi first met Will Graham on the scene of a crime when they had both been called out. It was the mushroom killer from memory as the soil was packed with invertebrates filled with evidence. Will has just finished doing his whole ‘this is my design’ when Jessi walks up to him and stands quietly beside him, where they say: “These fuckers are filled with worms and I don’t know shit about worms” Will Graham turns and looks at them like what the fuck? Those are dead people. Jessi merely shrugs, smirks and walks off. Jessi can be described by a lot of people as ‘a cold person’ or ‘indifferent’ but passionate. They dehumanise the corpses they’re working with at that’s the only way they can get justice for them. If they get too caught up in all the sadness of it, they can’t move forward from it. Jessi has a crush on Will Graham and Beverly Katz. Jessi questions Will and Hannibals relationship quietly from the background but never really comments.

Bonus character!! Stardew Valley: Zoë

This bad ass came all the way from Zuzu city in need of a better and different life. They inherit their grandfathers old farm and get it up and running. The town is filled with wonderful, amazing people. But of course Zoë has to want to become close friends with the person who hates me everyone: Shane (they’re kindred spirits, Shane isn’t aware of this however because he seems to think he’s the only person who can suffer from substance abuse and sever depression haha.) Shane hates them of course until they keep harassing him and he reasilizes she’s a lot more screwed up than he was aware. Zoë is close friends with Shane (ends up marrying him one day), Linus (I would fucking die for him and anyone who’s cruel to him gets my foot in the butthole), Leah (they hang out frequently and like to paint in the forest together), Emily (I have a massive crush on Emily haha, she’s so similar to me it’s great), is also friends with Sam’s dad and Jodis husband Kent (Kent suffers from PTSD and I’ve developed a lot of my own techniques to help with my own PTSD so we help each other out. Also Jodi I’m stealing your husband, just kidding, unless). Zoë’s favourite animals on her farm are her blue chickens (raised by Shane) and her horse Aaron. Zoë’s favourite yearly event is the moonlight jellies festival!

[land-of-brains-and-chocolate]

fic for @bakageta, who made a VERY generous charity donation request for more meditations on human/symbiote differences! i always want to write about language and relationships, so i made eddie and the symbiote read poetry together. it’s set some time before the hunger. i hope it Scratches the Itch.

Wind roars through the streets. With desperate anger, it tears at clothes, sends litter flying. Rain beats down relentlessly. It claws at exposed skin, sharp and cold. Desperate, but directionless.

This isn’t the kind of rain that was sent in a biblical flood, terrible, but purifying, divine in strength and purpose. This rain smells foul. It can do nothing but rise from filth and return to filth, over and over, and the storm screams it for everyone to hear, but no one to listen. No one but Eddie, anyway.

Eddie lets it lash out against him, back to the wall. He can taste it, vaguely metallic, when he licks his lips. If it was the kind of rain that carries out a calling, it’d drown him, him and the rest of the rats scurrying through the gutters, but all it can do is run down his face, dripping from his chin.

Protest, at the back of his mind, as he watches water stream down the street. Nothing could drown them. 

Of course not, Eddie thinks. He does have more effective protection from the elements than the traditional bundle of newspapers. 

The rain doesn’t bother said protection - or rather, protector. It doesn’t need to be kept cool and wet, but it likes to be. It produces an excess of heat, and it has no skin to stop it from directly absorbing the water it needs.

Thunder is another matter. Far off, at first, an approaching rumble, and the mild anxiety it caused hardly registered. Coming in close, now, echoing in ways no one else can sense, crashing against the symbiote's exposed body. A wince, each time. Then, with another clap of thunder, a seizing of muscles, a grimace. 

“You’re right,” Eddie says, strained, in response to an unvoiced plea. “We should… We should go.”

He sits there. The next nearby lightning strike feels like it’s hit its target, the symbiote rippling across his skin. Resistant to any impact, but easily disturbed at the cellular level by sound and heat.

Eddie groans. “Right,” he says, again. Slowly, he pushes himself onto his feet. He’d probably slip and eat pavement if it weren’t for the symbiote’s grip. Been feeling kind of tired, lately. Can’t have been more than three days since he slept, either.

Eddie drags himself down the alley, gritting his teeth whenever thunder digs into their flesh with hot fingers. The symbiote hurries him along, taking on half the effort of moving. It's not injured, of course. Just uncomfortable. 

Memories burn through their body, prolonged exposure, dissolving biomass. 

“Alright,” Eddie mumbles. No need to remind him. He can feel it, too.

Soon enough, the symbiote stops them. The mental nudge goes unnoticed, but the tendril that wraps around the door handle yanks him back with stumbling steps.

It’s a public library. Quiet, warm, dry. Many qualities the sewers do not possess. 

Libraries have been a place of refuge to him throughout his life. One of the few places he could go to get out of the house without neglecting his work, back then. Now, one of the few places he can inhabit as an imposing, penniless, unwashed man talking to himself. Or growling to himself, admittedly, when they’re there to do research on some wretched waste of life's wrongdoings.

Most places, that doesn’t go over too well. A public disturbance, that's what they call someone trying to do some good. Tells you a lot about what the public's like, left undisturbed. Exactly why Eddie doesn’t like to face it, doesn’t want it to face him.

Fine, Eddie thinks. Fine. Just for a little while.

He opens the door. The foyer’s got some carpets to drip on, some people to get the stink-eye from. They’re far from the only ones seeking shelter from the storm. 

Eddie pushes past them. They don't need a fancy seating area, they only need some privacy. Try as they might, though, it’s impossible to escape humanity in here. It’s not just the students, writers, readers. They can avoid those by heading into the poetry section, practically abandoned at this time of year. No, it's that they’re still surrounded by culture, art, science, wherever they go. Things that used to mean something to him.

Still do, maybe.

It’s hard to tell, sometimes. 

Hard to tell what they’re here for, if not this, and not these people.

Not that he’s doubting their mission. It’s more that he’s underestimated how it would escalate, how far the rot has spread, how precious little there is left to protect. It’s them against the world, at this point. Bound in purpose, he thinks, and the sentiment echoes, drained of its satisfaction. Bound in purpose, still. Bound in purpose, at least.

Eddie stops walking, slowly, and leans against a bookshelf. Closes his eyes. Sweeps away the hair clinging to his forehead, then places his hand on the shelf, fingers catching on the edge. Stands there and breathes, and thinks, and knows that something’s wrong.

“We haven’t changed,” he says, tongue heavy. “The world has.”

But it feels like it. It feels like something’s changed between them. If Venom used to be a song they belted out together, joyful and sure, then now, it’s only background noise, easily ignored.

“Maybe,” he says, and swallows. He opens his eyes, takes a quick breath. “Maybe we should…” 

Talk. Connect. Take a break. It’s been rough, he won’t deny that. They’ve been working as one, too preoccupied with trying to survive to even try to make a difference. Tirelessly treading onward, even in the face of loss and failure.

Wistfulness, in response. Memories of when they first met, when they were foreign to each other, explored each other, discovered each other - and themselves. When he would focus on it, feverishly, and every thought drew it deeper into him. Into itself, given form by his attention. Into them.

It had so much to learn. He had so much to teach.

“We haven’t run out yet,” Eddie says, softly.

He walks among the shelves. “I used to have a penchant for poetry,” he says, out loud, just to be certain that it knows these thoughts are directed at it. “It wasn’t relevant to anything I had to do, but that made it… special."

In his journalism major, a flair for poetic language was largely considered inappropriate. Complex, ambiguous, emotional, opposed to reporting the facts. A small-minded view, in Eddie’s opinion. Any story is only as big as the words used to tell it.

Regardless, that disconnect could be liberating. Poetry was a reprieve, the one thing he didn't force himself to excel in, the one intellectual pursuit he took for inspiration, for escapism, for enjoyment, for what it was. He'd known that poetry was antithetical to everything his father stood for, that neither he nor his peers ever would’ve approved of that particular interest, so he never had to hope. It'd been liberating, doing something for himself. It'd limited the time he spent on it, of course. But it'd been liberating.

There's an undercurrent of care to these memories, and he recognises it as the symbiote’s interest, approval, affection, carrying them along. Eddie smiles. 

He’d bring a book home, now and then. Wrap up in a blanket with it, feel a little less lonely, or a lot more lonely, depending. And eventually, he even found someone to share it with. Someone to whisper to, curled up in his arms...

The current cuts off. It doesn't seem intentional, not like the warmth leaving him, but like the warmth leaving it. There’s no explanation offered.

Eddie clears his throat. "Well," he says. “That was then. This is now.” He forms a thought, hesitantly. "Would you like to… read something? While we're already here, I mean."

It pushes his own feelings back at him. Seems like it'd make him happy.

"Right."

The symbiote doesn't actually care for poetry much. Conceptually, it feels like it's developed out of limitations it doesn't experience. Something it transcends. It needs no words to express itself.

"You could appreciate it," he says, as he examines the line-up, "from a place of pity, at least." He thinks of writers it might enjoy, in subject matter, maybe in structure. Maybe-

Eddie's hand comes to rest on a book's spine. "This one," he says, "this one reminds me of you."

That seems to pique its interest. It probes at the nature of the association. 

“In a good way, of course,” he says, flipping through the book. “E.E. Cummings. The way he handles language has a certain… boundary-breaking character, but only in the service of truth, and love, and hate. As if the enormity of it cannot be contained, and he���s setting it free.”

In his mind, Eddie draws parallels to their bond. The symbiote follows each of them like it's being led through the dark, one hand warm in another. 

“He’s known for doing strange and untoward things to syntax. Very accessible, at the same time. Nothing like what I would write, but I appreciate…”

Eddie trails off, eyes drawn to a gap between shelves, where a woman stands some distance away, expression blank, lips slightly parted, and seems to be listening in. For a moment, they feel horribly exposed, and whatever shows in their face sends her off with hurried steps.

“I appreciate it,” he says, book in hand.

The symbiote, discreetly, raises a tendril from Eddie's sleeve, pointing at a page in the book. Let's read this one, it suggests.

Eddie blinks down at it. He does know that one. If they’re going to try to reinspire some faith in humanity, then he supposes they could do worse. 

They look around for a spot they'll hopefully be left alone in, some nook or cranny between shelves. They settle down, and the symbiote spreads out, cushioning him. Surrounded on all sides but one, they manage to stop feeling out of place by turning inward.

i-

Wrong, the symbiote balks.

"Wrong?"

Wrong! The I-letter is capitalised, always. The first letter is capitalised, always. If it turns out that those rules cancel each other out, it's going to throw itself into the nearest furnace.

“No, no,” Eddie says, amused. “This is what I meant. Boundary-breaking. Rule-breaking. Poetry gets to do that.”

And everyone still understands?

“Of course.”

Then what was the point in the first place?

“Well,” Eddie says, knees drawn up to his chest. “Rules do make things more understandable… More standardised. That’s just not the purpose of poetry. Well-tread ground needs to be dug up to be made fertile.”

The symbiote hardly follows. It's too busy experiencing visions of the book torn to pieces between its teeth, paper shreds flitting through the air.

“Alright, just listen,” Eddie says, undeterred, “or whatever it is you do.”

i thank You God

The symbiote is directly linked into his conscious and subconscious thought processes, so he’s doing the work of translation for it. There's the effect. The speaker, "i", small, insignificant, deferring. The addressee, "You", “God", standing tall and singular.

How is this supposed to feel? Comforting? Intimidating? Denigrating? 

Something about awe, Eddie thinks. But it’s up to you.

i thank You God for most this amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky;and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes

Natural-Infinite-Yes. That’s the closest he could come to transcribing the way it communicates emotions. It speaks to a web of associations, all the potential of the underlying concepts, disregarding the prescribed use of these words. 

The symbiote wonders: What about the spirits? Are they creatures he’s imagining, carrying his own joy?

“That’s… not bad,” Eddie says, head tilted. “Spirits are complicated. But you’re right to assume that it says more about his own than theirs.” He blows a strand of hair out of his face. “He just really likes trees.”

(i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay great happening illimitably earth)

The symbiote understands the what of it, if not the how. It’s swept up in the feeling of union, reunion. It can hardly imagine anything else it might mean.

That’s the thing about poetry, Eddie muses. It speaks to your personal experiences. Someone from a different background might take something completely different away from it. The writer certainly intended something else.

The symbiote grows pensive, faced with the uncertainty of human communication. One of them has to make signs from meaning, the other has to make meaning from signs. No direct exchange at all, no guarantee that their sign-meanings match up. They may not even want them to.  

Eddie hums. “Countless theories of communication start from that line of thought. Remind me to introduce you to Stuart Hall someday.”

That only spurs it on, digging deeper into his understanding of language. What Eddie thinks of as a ‘medium’, sound, writing, image, is actually something that encases and constricts, everything that stands between them in their permanent state of separation. How can they just accept it? How does any human cope with it, being unreachable?

It takes Eddie a second to respond, surprised by how easily he finds himself lost in the way the symbiote weaves an argument, as fluidly and formlessly as it moves. In response, it traces the shape of his own thoughts, edged and curved around the boundaries that words lay around concepts in his mind. They missed this, they realise.

Eddie runs his thumb along the page. “I suppose you understand why some of us resort to poetry, now.” If not for their bond, he might’ve been among them. But then- No. He would be dead.

how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any--lifted from the no of allnothing--human merely being doubt unimaginable You?

Though no human being, the symbiote can see itself in the speaker’s position, easily. Lifted from the no of allnothing, made real in an act of creation: Perceiving and being perceived. Given form, name, purpose. Someone to be. Brought into a richness of experience, a depth of feeling that can only carry the truth.

(now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

The kind of worship described here, though, seems intent on reducing the worshipper. Their worship never elevated one of them above the other. It elevated them above the world.

Eddie swallows.

At that moment, it’s not a connection to someone else he’s struggling for, but a connection to himself. There’s a feeling that should be available to him, but isn’t. Not quite. Like watching a lit fireplace, but finding it cold to the touch.

Well. What is poetry for, if not that?

Eddie flips through the book. Looking for something, this time. He finds it, and with it, a flash of warmth, recalling the words and the place they hold in his life. The symbiote seems almost taken aback.

He doesn’t even need to read this one to share it. It made him ache, but it was an ache for possibility, not absence. One soul, irreversibly marked by another, inescapably tied to it, and yet, unashamedly so, without regret or reservation. 

With something like a laugh, Eddie rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes. Tries not to let the tightness between them distract him, or the odd dryness of his skin, or the strange taste in his mouth. 

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

Eddie’s throat seizes, hot and heavy, and for all its lack of regard for words, the symbiote curls around my dear, my darling like a wounded animal hiding its underbelly, even the sound of it suddenly seeming sweet instead of clunky. It’s okay, Eddie thinks, it’s okay. Me, too.

They use those metaphors a lot, has it noticed? Someone running through their veins, carrying them under their skin, letting them inside their heart? Humanity may fear it, use it, scorn it, but unknowingly, without prejudice, they dedicate love songs to it.

i fear no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

The structure, the seamless transition from thought to thought, with concepts simply being available instead of being repeatedly reproduced to be put into sentences... Needless to say, that’s a lot like the symbiote, too. Beautiful, in an alien way.

Eddie blinks away tears. He realises, suddenly, that they aren’t his, and they aren’t the product of overwhelming emotionality. They’re tears of grief. Grief that reaches down deep enough to make him retch. What’s wrong, he thinks, what’s wrong, it’s you, it’s for you, listen.

here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

Something in the symbiote snaps.

It rises with a rumble threatening to turn into a roar, sharp-edged as if sketched in a hurry, with a set of talons that swallows his chest with ease. Eddie can hardly begin to worry about drawing attention before he’s paralysed by pained confusion. 

Why would he do this? It knows it doesn’t bring him any satisfaction to taunt it. Nothing seems to. They’re no longer what they were, when they were everything it ever wanted, and now he involves it in his imagination, his reminiscence, his lyricising? 

Eddie can hardly untangle the mess of emotions, and the symbiote hardly seems to slow down for him. He suppresses, just barely, the urge to tell it to shut up, get away, just until he knows what’s going on, and… 

You broke up with me and now you’re making me read romantic poetry.

Is that it?

That’s not…

That’s not true.

They stare at each other, dumbly. The symbiote deflates into something more like its usual form, letting Eddie push himself back up from where his neck was uncomfortably craned against an Emily Dickinson collection.

Approaching footsteps interrupt them, and the symbiote melts back into his clothes as if it was never there at all. A man comes around the corner, looking down the shelves to see… nothing out of the ordinary, apart from the man sitting on the floor.

“And what’re you looking at?” Eddie snaps.

The man looks him up and down, suspicious. Inspects the books for damage.

“This is a library,” he says.

“This is a patron,” Eddie replies, gesturing down at himself.

“Well, as such…”

“We’ll be quiet.”

The man stands there for a moment more, confused, then nods to himself, clearly wanting nothing more than to leave. Eddie mutters an insult under his breath.

Their mind feels like prickly static. Eddie looks over at where the book's fallen from his hand, still open on the same page, and sighs, deeply. He picks it up, rests it against one raised knee. He offers his hand, as if asking someone to dance - or to join him, rejoin him - and waits.

The symbiote begins bubbling forth from beneath the skin, then slides between his fingers, settling into a delicate, clawed hand. The imagery isn’t lost on it, nor the associated memories, and Eddie raises it to his mouth, slowly.

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

It churns with it, conflicted. Still?

“Of course,” Eddie says, brows furrowed. “If not anymore, I’d at least... tell you.”

The symbiote’s mass extends into an arm, a shoulder, enough of a torso to crowd him against the wall, and it thinks, very decisively: No. Those are words.

Words aren’t what makes a relationship. They can designate it, but they can’t create it. A relationship is real. It has a smell, a taste.

It’s a state of being. It’s who you are, together. 

If that changes, he can’t just tell it that it hasn’t.

Eddie’s expression grows dark. "So it's my fault," he says, and his hand clenches, dissolving the symbiote's mass between his fingers. "I'm not good enough for you, is that it? Not anymore?" His lip curls, eyes cast downwards. "You, of all people."

They sit in silence. 

No, it thinks. It’s not him. It’s the world. The rottenness of the world.

They were angry before, but it was anger that stoked, anger that drove. Now, after being beaten down time and time again, it’s anger that drains. Anger that drains him of love, leaking from him like a physical thing until there’s nothing left for it.

“Love’s more than that,” Eddie says, voice rough. “I know I love you. I swear, I- I love you in ways that make it seem senseless to even say it, to try to...” He tenses up, looking for the words, then releases. “It’d have to be poetry.”

Guilt washes the symbiote’s other emotions away, wave after wave. It soothes, settling back into him, around him. Pulls back his hair and drapes around his neck. Eddie nuzzles into his shoulder as it takes on the soft, fluffy texture of a scarf, hidden in plain sight.

“You know what a relationship is?” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “It’s a promise. It doesn’t end until that promise is broken.”

What promise?

Eddie exhales, half a laugh, half a grin. “You know,” he says, half desperate. “‘Til death do us part.”

[bapydemonprincess]

1 to 5 for all your OCs cause I can't tell what all your ocs are and too lazy to look it all up, sryy :P BUT I do like what you have made that i saw!!! jsyn

Well, I’ll see what I can do!! It’s.. all under a cut becayse god it got long. 🙈🙈🙈

Aarushi:

1. What is their gender? Nonbinary.

2. What is their sexuality? Asexual.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?Aarushi is Sanskrit for the first rays of the sun. Which makes so much sense as they are a baby created between Agni and female Sebastian :’) And it’s most likely Agni came up with the name mainly and Sebastian totally loved it immediately. 🖤 In most cases, people seem to like calling Aarushi Aaru for short, so there’s that, and I also headcanoned myself Agni calls his child tiger cub (there was Bengali for it but I can’t find it 🙈) Lastly, Sebastian calls both Aarushi and Ambrose their “kittens” and that sticks too. 🥰 (much to Ambrose’s dismay) 

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with? As stated above, Ambrose is Aarushi’s only other sibling. In general it was a miracle Seb and Agni were able to have another child after the first, considering the difficulties they endured the first time around, but definitely didn’t regret it! So Aarushi was much older by the time Ambrose was born, and had also likely come and gone to go explore the world on their own and make contracts (they need to eat souls like mama). As for closeness, Aarushi and Ambrose’s relationship is a mixed bag of love/hate. Aka, Aarushi adored their baby brother, no matter what, but Ambrose is always going to feel a bitterness deep down involving his older sibling, considering compared to him, Aarushi has LOTS of power inherited from both Sebastian and Agni’s hand of Kali, and yet.. they really are a peaceful sort and nothing like a demon of Hell themselves!

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Aarush loves both Agni and Sebastian and has a strong bond with both parents. The only thing they ever disagree on is Mama’s idea of eating souls and such. Aarushi is a pacifist through and through, much like Agni, and though this worries Sebastian because they do need to eat souls to survive, Sebastian cannot fault their beloved kitten for how they think of things. As for other relatives, Aarushi considers Grelle Sutcliff and Hannah Annafellows, who are most definitely together and (possibly..?) happily married their aunts, especially since Hannah helped Sebastian through the whole pregnancy in the first place.

Ambrose:

1. What is their gender? Male.

2. What is their sexuality? Bisexual.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

The name “Ambrose” is Greek, and means “Immortal” ..(I am so so sorry I cannot for the life of me remember why that was picked it was something to do with how ironically his life WAS almost snuffed out, or he was meant to be a powerful demon but didn’t/couldn’t become one.. I dunno! 🙈) And again, Sebastian calls him “kitten” and Aunt Hannah, Grelle and his father Agni call him a little raven or corvus. :3 Meanwhile his now boyfriend calls him “Rosie” as they can shorten his name to that 🖤

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with?

I think it’s basically the same answer as above :P

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Like the polar opposite of his elder sibling, Ambrose doesn’t get along very well with family. Especially Mum. Mainly due to Sebastian being the one he was meant to be given powers from but couldn’t handle it. Not to mention, with how independent Ambrose is, Sebastian’s motherly attitude constantly gets on his nerves from early on and many times he’d tried even running away from home out of frustration, wanting to be “free”, and of course rebellion in general. For some reason, though, when it comes to Aunt Hannah, Ambrose doesn’t mind her much.. She was the one to save the boy from death by Sebastian’s demonic essence tearing his soul asunder, and that involved her taking away most of the demonic parts of him.. But instead of also targeting her with his rage, Ambrose respects and admires her a little. She is a quiet, calm, knowing comfort. As if she too understands the urge for isolation and independence. 💜 And finally, as for Aunt Grelle, well.. as Hannah’s wife is a bit more hands-on, Ambrose isn’t that fond of her.. but despite that he does respect her fighting skills, as growing up, Ambrose had learned to fight with weapons with her, as well as her junior, Ronald Knox (who loves goading the half-demon on out of spite because he’ll never be a fan of Sebastian, of course.)

Ulva Gelzer-Michaelis:

1. What is their gender? Female.

2. What is their sexuality? Lesbian.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

Without even needing to look it up again, I know for certain Ulva means She Wolf in old German! uwu As for nick names, obviously most call her pup or little pup, especially her Dad and Mama!!

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with?

Ulva is an only child, as it was a miracle that Sebastian (while female of course) and Wolfram managed to have this little one by herself! However, since Wolfram considers Sieglinde Sullivan like a daughter as well, Ulva has come to know the young lady as like an older sister!

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Both Sebastian and Wolfram undeniably adore their only daughter, though the hyperactive little puppy girl does always give them a run for their money, and the demon’s Mother Hen instincts are very high where she is concerned, as Ulva always finds herself getting into things one way or another that she might regret.. other than that and perhaps the older servants of Phantomhive at that time and maybe the Earl too if still alive, no other relatives really.

Eddie the Demon

1. What is their gender? He/them for the most part.

2. What is their sexuality? Demisexual.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

As most demons under contracts allow their current masters to give them names instead of freely giving out their true name or, in this case, not even having a true name, Eddie let Ambrose decide on that, and thus the boy was like “Hm.. well... with that spooky Victorian Author look I’d say Edgar, y’know, like uh Edgar Allen Poe? But eh.. You don’t look serious enough or old enough to be an Edgar, so how ‘bout Eddie!”

Of course, Ambrose loves calling his imp turned lover plenty of nick names ;), including Ed, sugar, baby, babe, sweetheart...

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with?

Well, being a very young imp of Hell, it is unlikely Eddie has any siblings, or even knows about any :P (And the likelihood that any siblings they do have if any would come to kill them for the sake of getting more power and recognition is very high..)

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Like many, many demons of Hell, Eddie likely has no clue at all who exactly created them. :/ It may be unfortunate to us humans to be left like that, but demons really don’t care, especially after a few centuries of adapting to fend for themselves!

Aidan Astre Sutcliff-Michaelis

1. What is their gender? Male.

2. What is their sexuality? n/a as he was last seen/known as merely a toddler so I and @grelleswife would rather let that be until we eventually write something new in that verse where he’s grown older. :3

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

Aidan is a Gaelic/Irish name for “Little fire” and was thought of, of course, by his mother Grelle Sutcliff :3 And obviously both other parents Mey and Sebastian were in agreement. He is a little spark; a little flame they’d all brought to life with their love. 🔥 Besides that, Aidan is still called “baby” by his mama Mey, “kitten” by his papa Sebastian, and “little chap” from his mummy Grelle! 

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with?

He is currently an only child! However at the end of our Sebagrellerin rp, he did confess to wanting a sibling, sooo who knows ;3

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Aidan is very close with everyone, and not only his three original parents, but also now Miss Hannah Annafellows who kinda in a way has become a third mother too. >w< 💜

Amy Michaelis

1. What is their gender? Genderfluid, but usually favoring female.

2. What is their sexuality? Pansexual

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

I don’t believe it is possible to derive a nickname from the name Amy, but I think it’s important to note in her original story in That Butler Big Brother, Bard likes calling her “Madam President” in a tender/joking way. >w< (And i personally think after that, back in Hell, Amy INSISTS her subordinates call her Madam President TOO. (though they all find the extra madam part confusing..))

In the original article of Amy the Demon, their other names/other version of their name is Amii or Auns, Hanar, Hanni.

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with?

In every verse of this character, the one thing I think that will always be the same is she has an elder sibling named Naberius, who is the fourth Marquis of Hell in the Lesser Key of Solomon, and is who we headcanon Sebastian Michaelis as. Who knows if these two have any other siblings, but I personally like the idea of these two, being the weirdo outcast demons they are, are a rare breed on their own. While other demons in Hell would likely either immediately kill and/or leave any blood related demons to be forgotten, these two stuck together for some strange reason, and our best guess on the why is that as Naberius was much older, nearly an adult by the time Amy came into being, and something instinctively drove the crow demon to stay by her side, and raise her, despite.. the animosity they sometimes share towards each other...

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Neither Amy nor Naberius know or remember for certain who or what their parents are. Amy most definitely recalls absolutely nothing, while her older sibling only vaguely recalls someone very, very old holding them as a youngling close, and between soft, soft soft so soft.. black wings.... But that’s all.

Adam Borders

1. What is their gender? Transexual ftm

2. What is their sexuality? I am not completely certain if he is Bisexual or something else at this time, as all I know is story wise he fell hard for Amy, so he is attracted to her but I cannot jump to the conclusion just yet as to what that means.

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames?

Adam chose his name when he fully accepted himself as a transexual man, not only just because he liked it, but because of the Biblical humor only he’d understand behind it considering his dead name was Evelynn, similar to “Eve”. It is understandable that many wish to completely forget their dead name, but Adam liked doing this, as he has a rather dark, bitter sense of humor, especially regarding himself. 

As for nicknames, his current Senpai Grelle calls him “Handsome” or “Charming” like Prince Charming, and Amy herself just calls him Boy or “dear boy”. Amy also likes resorting to Ancient Greek or Latin with her terms as it gives her confused flustered looks. >;3

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger? Which sibling are they the closest with?

Most of Adam’s life before becoming a reaper is very sad and a bit left unsaid.. but I think he had an elder sister, who like most of the rest of the family, reacted very badly to uncovering what happened to their deceased relative and the why of it. :( So Adam would likely never bring up his older sister again.. except maybe briefly, but only maybe after learning of Amy’s relationship to the other demon Adam meets eventually, Sebastian Michaelis, who is her older brother basically.

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

Again, most of that is very depressing and dismal, as they never would have accepted Adam for who he truly was, and had tried forcing him to live a certain way he did not want to. :(

And so... that’s most of my OCs!! XDD @grelleswife and I have something else in the works involving our current RP, but i can’t spoil it right here so that’s all left out! And the only others were tiny characters like Sylvia the Angel from the RP, and my self insert that I don’t think i need to put down here. 🙈 Thank you though for sendig me this!!

[cirrius-akiyo]

HOLD ON (LET'S GO HOME)

"I kissed Ana." Eddie confessed.

Buck stopped arranging the pillows on the bed and shifted his body so he is facing Eddie. His face remains unreadable.

"Were you drunk?" Buck simply asked as if that will explain Eddie's behaviour.

Eddie tries not to scoff. Even during this moment Buck is still trying to find any loophole to excuse Eddie's behaviour.

"No, Evan. How can I get drunk at a parents-teachers meeting." There is no excuse for what he did. Ana leaned in and Eddie allowed her to. The kiss was chaste, more like a peck, but still a kiss nonetheless. A kiss that should not had happened because Eddie has a husband that is coming home tonight from a long shift. Although he literally ran away after admonishing Ana, he still can't help feeling like he had cheated on Buck. Maybe he already did.

"I wasn't thinking." Eddie takes a step towards Buck who is still remain completely stoic at the end corner of their bed. He pulls Buck's hands into his, intertwined their fingers together. "And I am so sorry. For my behaviour. For causing you pain. I don't know what got into me when she leaned in. I did not reciprocate but I did not stop her either. Not that excuse myself but I just..." His apologies fell short when he saw Buck's eyes are brimming with fresh tears.

At that moment Eddie resolute himself to make up to Buck for as long as he lives.

"Loving and fighting

Accusing, denying

I can't imagine a world with you gone

The joy and the chaos, the demons we're made of

I'd be so lost if you left me alone"

///

The day after his confession flees without any major event. Buck had cried himself to sleep while curling into Eddie's side that night and Eddie had hold him through it all, showering Buck with endless apologies and sweet nothings. Not that Eddie got much sleep himself. Partly because of the guilt, and partly because he is afraid that Buck might leave while he was asleep.

When the morning comes, Eddie kissed Buck awake. Trying to rewrite the foreign imprint of Ana's lips with his husband's. Buck had smiled softly at him, and for a while, Eddie believed that everything will be okay.

They still work seamlessly that morning, falling between peaceful silence and hectic small calls. Buck is still a constant presence beside him, putting hope in their relationship. Buck is not pulling neither is he pushing Eddie away and Eddie take that as a good sign eventhough he is still berating himself for taking Buck's kindness and forgiving nature for granted.

It was short moment, but sometimes Eddie can see his husband scrunching his eyes shut as if in pain. Maybe the night-long crying finally catching up with Buck.

"Are you okay, Evan?" Eddie coaxed. Hand creeping up to the crook between Buck's shoulder and neck, feeling the stiff muscle there.

He can see Buck wills the pain away again. "I will be." Buck assures him.

It's funny to see how now Eddie seems to need the assurance when he knows Buck must have felt invalidated. That Buck must have thought that his inadequacy that prompted Eddie to kiss Ana. Or letting Ana kissed him, but that doesn't matter. He's guilty and that's the fact he needs to live with from now on.

But the pain doesn't seem to go away. Buck looks paler as the day goes by, stubbornly evading any prodding from Hen or Chimney.

It all come down when Buck all but running towards the toilet stall, retching whatever lunch Bobby has whisked up that afternoon. Eddie stood vigil beside him immediately, hand hasn't stop stroking Buck's back.

After a while, the retching stop and Eddie helps his husband to the sink.

"Maybe it's migraine." Buck supplies after rinsing his mouth. He is leaning sideway on the sink with Eddie's firm grip still tight on hips.

Eddie might had agreed for a moment there, until Buck's eyes rolled back into his skull as he slumped forward, falling into a heap while Eddie barely catching him.

Eddie knows he yells and scream for help as soon as they hit the floor. But it felt like eternity from when the help arrives and him straddling his unconscious husband in his lap.

"You locked yourself in the bathroom

Lying on the floor when I break through

I pull you in to feel your heartbeat

Can you hear me screaming "Please don't leave me"

///

Time feels like it was stretched to eternity during the ambulance ride to the hospital. Buck was in and out of consciousness, alternating between throwing up biles, haze unresponsiveness and sudden screaming in pain. His pulse is getting weaker but they still don't know what is wrong with him. With his history of medical scares, it could be anything.

"Evan, can you hear me, sweetheart?" Eddie has asked when he saw Buck's eyes were opened albeit in small slits, searching for any sign of recognition. It was futile.

"Hold on, I still want you

Come back, I still need you

Let me take your hand, I'll make it right

I swear to love you all my life

Hold on, I still need you"

///

It was an aneurysm.

The MRI confirms it and in less than one hour, Eddie needs to sign the consent to surgery form.

Eddie knows fear. Eddie knows death. He had made peace with them even since he enlisted for the first time. It has been so long since Eddie feels this terrified. Terrified for his husband if something goes wrong, and if he survives, the complications that often warranted with this illness.

"A long endless highway, you're silent beside me

Drivin' a nightmare I can't escape from

Helplessly praying, the light isn't fadin'

Hiding the shock and the chill in my bones"

///

After four and half grueling hours, Buck is back in ICU. Now all they can do is to wait for him to wake up, and from there, Buck needs to reach a two weeks mark without any or minimal complication to be on the safe side. Even when they reach the point is still a no guarantee that his husband might come back scatheless from this.

Eddie tries to think to the moments that lead to this. Was he the breaking point of Buck's ruptured aneurysm? Had his confession literally killing his husband softly from the inside? Was it better to keep his mistake hidden?

Eddie slowly took sight of his husband still form. His sunken eyes. His pale skin. Had he caused that? If he thinks he feel enough remorse and guilt yesterday, he doesn't know what is he even feeling right now.

"Evan, I don't know if you'll hear me, but please, find your way back to me. Please don't leave me, darling." Eddie pleads and begs to every deity there is for his husband to come back home.

"They took you away on a table

I pace back and forth as you lay still

They pull you in to feel your heartbeat

Can you hear me screaming, "Please don't leave me"

///

Buck wakes up sometimes in the wee hours of the morning, screaming silently in pain while fighting against the tube in his throat.

Eddie continue to hold his hand afterwards, never letting it go. As if that would prevent Buck from slipping away because God knows he is not prepared. He'll never be.

Buck is still not lucid enough to hold a proper conversation. He is still high from the medications, but Eddie will take anything the universe throws at him as long as Buck's alive and awake.

"Hold on, I still want you

Come back, I still need you

Let me take your hand, I'll make it right

I swear to love you all my life

Hold on, I still need you"

///

Buck had showed signs of recognition of his surroundings. He hums when his name is called. He smiles when Eddie calls for him. Leaning his face into Eddie's welcoming palm when Eddie is caressing his jaw and Eddie could cry. Hell. He is crying for God's sake.

These few days is a rollercoaster of emotions. Eddie was literally shown among many ways he could lose Buck, be it from his stupidity or to this terrifying sickness. Proving the point that tomorrow is never guaranteed to any of them.

But for now, he is not letting his husband go.

"I don't wanna let go

I know I'm not that strong

I just wanna hear you

Saying baby, let's go home

Let's go home

Yeah, I just wanna take you home

Hold on, I still want you

Come back, I still need you"

(Hold On - Chord Overstreet)

The Parallel is here: 

https://cirrius-akiyo.tumblr.com/post/622092568072798208/unpack-the-baggage-parallel-to-hold-on-lets-go

Sidenotes:- I was finishing drafting a client's divorce petition when this song came up in the mix. It is so sad to see how couples drift apart to the point that they hate the idea of the other exist in the same space with them. It is an accumulation of small things that either strengthen the bond or slowly chipped it away. Hence, small things do matter.

[writeyourownlifestory]

L-I-G-H-T-S U-P

Chapters: 4/20 Fandom: IT Rating: M Warnings: No warnings at this time Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom Additional Tags: PunkRocker!Eddie, Writer!Richie, Beveddie!Friendship, No Clown Written by: myself & @ahardlife​ Tag list: @richietoaster, @beproudtozier, @that-weird-girls-blog, @s-onora, @s-s-georgie, @bellarosewrites, @iamcupcakefrosting, @reddieonwheels, @ghostnebula, @madidraw @madi-main, @gazebobullshit, @thoughtfullyyoungduck​, @airbenderking

Puff piece writer Richie Tozier is given the chance of a lifetime to interview his celebrity crush: Dr. K, the lead singer of punk rock band, Trashmouth. Dr. K is about to release his first solo album and Richie wants to get all the dirty details. But all is not what it appears to be and the two realize they know each other from a different time, in a different place, when they were both very different people.

Chapters one, two, three

Angels - Robbie Williams 

I sit and wait Does an angel contemplate my fate And do they know The places where we go When we're grey and old 'Cause I have been told That salvation lets their wings unfold So when I'm lying in my bed Thoughts running through my head And I feel the love is dead I'm loving angels instead

Richie felt like he was running a mile a minute, even when he was behind the wheel of a car. His throat was tight and his head felt it had been pound against concrete. He rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, trying to collect himself as he sat in the parking lot of the hotel. He couldn’t go in there looking like a deranged lunatic.

He had his badge from Paper Boat and made sure to dress appropriately before heading to the hotel. He didn’t want them to think he was some kind of crazed fan who had a weapon on him. And yeah, maybe he was partially a crazed fan, but he wasn't carrying any weapon. When he went to the front desk, asking for the room number, he showed everything he had to. After checking with Dr. K’s assistant (Beverly, of course) he was given access and lead up to the suite.

He knocked on the door, practically holding his breath as he waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. And for a hot second, he thought maybe he wasn’t even there. He was a fucking rockstar for God's sake, who fucking knew what he was doing with his time!

And then the door opened and Dr. K was standing there, looking as gorgeous as ever. He didn’t seem all too surprised to see Richie there, but he also didn’t look like he was expecting him either. “Richie. Hi.”

“Hey.” He breathed softly.

“What’s up?” Dr. K asked with a soft smile. And there it was… a glimpse of the old Eddie he used to love. Used to? Or still loved? Did love ever truly die or was humanity just too soft?

“Oh. I was just . . . in the neighborhood.” Richie said, rolling on the balls of his feet, setting aside the rambling in his head. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Dr. K stood there for another moment before stepping aside. The moment he was allowed access, Richie rushed right in, his fingers combing through his hair slowly. “I lied,” he said as soon as the door was closed behind him. “I wasn’t in the neighborhood.”

“I sort of guessed that Rich,” the other said with a slight chuckle as he walked up to him.

“I came here because you’re . . . you.”

“I’m me.” Dr. K breathed out with a shrug.

“You’re . . . shit, man.” Richie began pacing back and forth, breathing deeply.

He had thought about it over and over again in the car. All the things he wanted to say to the other man. All the emotions that he had pent up and buried deep inside since they were just kids. And now it was his chance to spit it all out, but he just couldn’t.

He didn’t look like Eddie. Eddie was short and wore bobby socks and short-shorts with a rainbow pattern. A polo shirt and bleached white shoes and always carrying around an inhaler. The little boy with the perfectly cut hair and adorable dimples. That was the Eddie he knew. The Eddie he loved.

This man wasn’t that kid anymore. He was in jeans and a black shirt. Muscles that could be seen through the shirt and combed back hair. He had tattoos and bags under his eyes.

Though that smile. That stupid fucking smile was the same. Richie knew it from the moment he saw it in person.

That beautiful, boyish smile. After a decade and a half that still hasn’t changed.

“I thought you were dead!” Richie snapped after a moment, turning to face the other man. “I thought . . . you just fucking disappeared, man. You were there and then you weren’t and I never heard from you again.”

“I said goodbye,” Dr. K mentioned somberly.

But it wasn’t supposed to be their goodbye. Eddie had snuck out one final time before his mother moved them away. They were just thirteen but so much shit happened between them. They were kids who were forced to grow up due to the hate that society wore as a badge of honor.

Richie thought about that night often, dreaming of it until it slowly began to haunt him like a nightmare it was. Living with the knowledge that he’d never see this one person again. Eddie was the only person who made Richie feel like he was worth something and then he was gone in a flash and all he had left were the memories he wished he could forget.

“I tried to find you, but nothing came up,” Richie confessed to him. “Eddie Kaspbrak didn’t exist anymore.”

“He doesn’t. Not really. I don’t have personal social media or any of that shit. Beverly keeps all my personal information under lock and key.”

“This is . . . I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone, man.”

“I know this isn’t ideal Rich, but I’m glad you know.” Dr. K -- Eddie, he was Eddie -- admitted. “The moment I found out that you’d be the one interviewing me. Rich, I thought I was losing my mind.”

“ You’re losing your mind?” Richie laughed aloud. “I’ve seen you over a dozen times in concert! I have shirts with your face on them. I’ve fucking jacked off to you dude, and now I’m finding out you’re my fucking childhood sweetheart or some shit.”

“Why are you mad about this?”

“I’m not mad!” Richie snapped. “I’m just . . . I’m not good with my emotions, okay?” He moved to plop down on the couch, hiding his face in his hands. “After you left, I had no one okay? It took a ridiculously long time for me to get around with being comfortable in my skin again. I tried to forget about that time, you know? I tried to move on, but it’s hard. And I thought I accomplished it, but now you’re back and all those memories and emotions are coming back.”

Richie didn’t know if he wanted to run away or vomit. Maybe a bit of both. He honestly had no clue, but what he did know was that he needed to focus on something other than the harsh reality, mostly because it wasn’t all that harsh, to begin with.

For years he had hoped and prayed that he’d see Eddie again and know that the other guy was all right. That his mother didn’t hurt him or send him somewhere that killed his beautiful spirit. Richie didn’t know how Eddie went from being the sweet little kid with the inhaler in his fanny pack to the punk rock God that was Dr. K but he was sure the transition was interesting enough.

Eddie was beside him suddenly, a hand placed on his shoulder as they sat together on the couch. “I missed you, Rich.” He admitted quietly.

“Fuck, Eddie.”

He was Eddie. He could call him that now. He could look to this guy and not only see this amazing rock star but also his childhood best friend all grown up. They were both all grown up and that scared Richie more than anything.

“I have like . . . nine hundred questions.” He admitted with a soft laugh.

Eddie smiled in response, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Well, I’m free for the rest of the night, so if you want to ask, lay them on me.”

Richie didn’t know where to start so he just started babbling out questions at lightning speed. What the fuck happened to him after he moved away? How did he survive his mother’s intolerance? How did he join Trashmouth? Fucking Trashmouth !

“I can’t believe my favorite band is named after me,” Richie mentioned quietly. “That’s like, a total mind fuck dude.”

“The label was putting it all together and needed something extremely alternative,” Eddie admitted, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

They were sitting together, face to face the same way they would on the old hammock in Richie’s backyard. Legs tangled, feet near the face.

“Trashmouth sounded so ridiculous and they ended up loving it.”

“I feel like I deserve some revenue or something.” Richie teased. “All right. One name down. Now I have to know the other. Dr. K?”  

“You’re the one who gave it to me,” Edde mentioned fondly. “Every time you’d wipe out on your bike or do something to get yourself hurt, I’d bust my ass to get you fixed up.”

“Dude, I was making a Kevorkian joke,” Richie admitted, laughing as he thought back to all the teasing he had done to the poor kid until their true feelings came out.

Of course, even when they were technically an item and disgustingly in love despite only being twelve and thirteen, they still teased one another. It’s just how they were. That was their thing and it worked wonderfully for them.

“Yeah well. Some people say I kill on stage, so it works.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Richie said, raising the tiny water bottle they had taken from the minibar and sipping at it. As it turned out, Eddie wasn’t a hard drinker. He had gotten over that part of his life it seemed. He confessed to Richie that he dabbled in the rock star lifestyle a little too hard in the beginning and gave it all up so he wouldn’t join the 27-Club.

Too many nights snorting things he shouldn’t be snorting and waking up in a bed with someone whose name he never learned left Eddie slightly scarred and he wanted nothing more to do than to grow from those experiences and be better.

There were still so many things that he wanted to ask him, so many answers that he wanted, but he knew they couldn’t go over it all at this moment. He tried to keep it slow, not wanting to bombard Eddie the first time they got to do this.

Eddie was moving then, suddenly sitting up so he was in the middle of the couch, resting in the entanglement of their limbs. “Did you see me sixteen times?” He inquired.

“On the third time I had the chance to go backstage, but I dipped last minute due to my nerves,” Richie admitted, quietly wishing he had something harder to drink.

“Seriously? God, if we had . . . Rich, we could have reconnected so much earlier.”

“Trust me, you did not want to know college-Richie, okay? My hair was greasy, and my face was all sorts of fucked up. I was in the closet and I desperately needed to be held.”

“Rich. I think you’re forgetting that I used to swap spit with eighth-grade-Richie, who sounds identical to college-Richie.”

“I can’t believe you said swap-spit without cringing. Where did my little hypochondriac go?”

“I think he died of a cocaine overdose a few years back,” Eddie joked dryly, going to lay back on the couch.

“So that’s really what rock and rollers do? Do drugs, sleep around, and drink until you can’t remember your name?”

“Something like that,” Eddie drawled out. “When they put the band together I wasn’t in a good place. I was good and I knew that. People told me that constantly. People said I was talented and put little white lines in front of me and offered me girls and when I said I didn’t want girls they offered me, guys. Some people were put off with the idea of a gay rockstar but others thought it would be a new wave or inventive. Woke or whatever.”

“Will you tell me about it? How it all began?”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

Richie raised a brow, taken aback by the question. “Wait you wanna see me again?” He asked dumbly.

“Hell yeah, I wanna see you! We have seventeen years to catch up on, asshole. I wanna know what else you’ve been doing up to this point.”

Richie snorted, really, really wishing he was drinking something stronger. “I can assure you, it won’t be half as interesting as everything you’ve been doing.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

Eddie had something to do the following morning but he’d be free the afternoon. Richie had already told Bill that he wanted to work in the article so he’d use that excuse to not show up to the office.

It was strange, making plans like these. With a friend. With Eddie. Eddie was his friend. Not a best friend like he had been years ago, but it was still something.

Richie left the suite wondering what in the hell just happened. After years of wondering and searching, he finally found that long lost best friend and there was barely an ounce of awkwardness to it.

Okay, maybe an ounce only because it was still so hard to see him as Eddie and not Dr. K. Richie was eager to know how he got from point A to B but he’d wait for that.

If Eddie stayed in his life then he’d wait forever.

[i-just-like-commenting]

“Venom” and Romance Story Structure

Given the structural mess of 2018′s Venom as a superhero movie (look in your hearts, you know it to be true) I thought it was worth taking seriously the idea that this works better as a romance. To this end I checked out romance author and editor Gwen Hayes’ Romancing the Beat: Story Structure for Romance Novels, part of her “How to Write Kissing Books” series. Her four-part structure is a modification of the traditional three act screenplay structure, with the lengthy second act divided into two halves, the development then the collapse of the relationship.

How well does Venom match her structure? The answer is that in some ways it actually matches quite well, since it is a story with two protagonists (Eddie and Venom) learning to overcome their aversion to each other and develop a partnership. However, Venom misses some key beats in her outline, and I think looking at these beats can give us an indication of how this movie might have been improved. (And as a side note, I think more writers subdividing their second acts into “it all seems to be going well” and “then it all falls apart” would help the weak second acts of many stories, regardless of genre).

Part 1: Set Up

Hayes subdivides this section into five beats. The first two are introducing your two main characters and their central flaws that they will overcome through their relationship together. To a certain degree, Venom actually does this in its first act. We establish Eddie, the successful and driven reporter who we see violate his fiancee’s privacy to get his story. Eddie can’t compromise on his ambition and goals, even if it hurts the person he cares about the most. Meanwhile, he is irritating and pushy with his coworkers and boss -- he needs to learn to work better with others.

Our introduction to Venom is unfortunately weaker, as we meet them as one of the symbiotes, and their weakness is the same general one as the rest of them: killing their hosts in order to survive. They need to learn empathy. But we don’t get to know Venom as a distinct personality until much later, and in general their development is weaker than Eddie’s.

What is missing entirely are the “meet cute” and “no way” beats where our heroes become aware of each other but reject the idea of a relationship. Instead Venom and Eddie never meet until the fifth beat, “adhesion,” where your couple becomes stuck together.

Imagine if, instead of Eddie’s career dying over a tangentially related  malfeasance, he instead actually encountered the symbiotes. He wouldn’t have to know what they were, just catch a glimpse of them, and be filled with a mixture of revulsion and fascination. Imagine if Eddie was discredited as the crackpot talking about aliens in the Life Foundation’s Labs, the symbiotes becoming his obsession even as he hates them, and then he gets infected by one once Dr. Skirth breaks him in.

Or, alternatively, eliminate most of the movie before the time skip, introduce Eddie already disgraced along with why, and turn the “meet cute” and “no way” being Eddie viewing footage of the symbiotes brought to him by Dr. Skirth. This would be my preference, as I felt the first act of Venom was overlong. Either way, however, it would help make the first act more cohesive than it is now.

Part 2: Falling Love

After the point of adhesion, however, Venom meets almost all of Hayes’ beats and structure point by point. We have “No Way 2,” as Eddie slowly realizes he’s been infected and looks for a way to get the symbiote out of him. This beat is more of a slow development than a one-point moment, but Hayes admits the structure can be shifted around and take several scenes.

We get our first “inkling this could work” from Venom helping Eddie escape the lab, and then shutting down his noisy next-door neighbor; we don’t have “deepening desire” because at this point Eddie isn’t aware that the symbiote is sentient and a part of this relationship. This, again, is where the lack of development for Venom continues to be a problem. It needs a few more moments of Venom talking to Eddie, to give us insights into how Venom’s conception of this relationship is changing, how their empathy for Eddie is increasing.

It definitely hits “maybe this will work” during the big action sequence where Venom and Eddie first start collaborating to escape Drake’s goons. Venom reveals themself to Eddie, explaining what their deal is and even declaring that “you are mine.” If anything, “deepening desire” gets shifted to this point, as they negotiate infiltrating the newspaper offices. Ideally this beat would have been more spread out over part 2 to ease up the suddenness of their relationship shift.

Because then we reach Hayes’ “midpoint of LOVE plot thrust.” This is when romance characters have their first moment of true intimacy (opening up about their feelings for the first time, having sex for the first time, having meaningful sex for the first time, etc.), where this becomes a real or serious relationship.

And so, “Mask on.” “Roger that.” Eddie voluntarily lets Venom take over, Venom refrains from eating the police officers when Eddie asks, and they work in sync, and start to say “we.” This is their midpoint, the false high that’s going to collapse.

Part 3: Retreating From Love

Our “inkling of doubt” and “deepening doubt” are also rather quickly back to back on each other. In spite of their established partnership, Venom sometimes switches back to “I,” which Eddie calls them out on. Is this partnership real or is Venom just parasitic? Eddie doesn’t trust Venom enough for them to get in the car together with Annie, and has to be reassured that, no, Venom won’t eat the woman he cares for. We as an audience are reassured that this relationship is good, however, by Venom convincing Eddie to apologize to Annie. Eddie has made Venom more empathetic, and Venom encourages Eddie to be more considerate and admit his past mistakes.

“Retreat” and “shields up” come into play when it’s revealed that Venom has slowly been consuming Eddie’s internal organs and killing him. Even though Venom intends to repair the damage now that they care about Eddie, Eddie isn’t willing to trust him and his defenses go up, demanding that they be separated, even using the knowledge of Venom’s weakness to sound against them. We have our “break up” when Venom and Eddie are separated.

This part goes relatively fast, but given the very real damage that Venom does to Eddie, I feel like this is justified. This isn’t just Eddie’s own failings leading him to think that Venom is betraying him, Venom did in fact betray him by not revealing that Eddie’s sickness was caused by them. That leads to a very precipitous collapse in their newfound relationship.

Part 4: Fighting for Love

The “dark night of the soul” beat corresponds to the low point at the start of the third act in a traditional screenplay structure. Venom is forced into the body of a puppy to survive, Eddie is captured by Drake. The “wake-up/catharsis” comes, I think, to Venom, though again their lack of voice makes the exact moment when they realize they need Eddie - not just as a body but as a partner - hard to determine. But given Venom’s immediate body hopping into Annie and then body-hopping through a kiss back to Eddie, then opening up about how seeing the world through Eddie’s eyes has changed him, it must have happened while at the hospital.

That kiss is the first of Venom’s two “grand gestures.” But since Venom is more at fault here than Eddie was. they make a second, final grand gesture through almost sacrificing themself to save not just Eddie but Earth in general. Venom really has changed, and has proven it to Eddie.

This is where there’s another big problem in the movie: we don’t get to see our couple reunite. The “grand gesture” beat is only complete, in Hayes; model, if you see it accepted. We got a resolve to grand gesture #1 through Eddie’s willingness to work with Venom again, even reuniting with him after their separation in the final fight, but we don’t get one for grand gesture #2. Eddie’s panic over Venom’s seeming death indicates that all is forgiven, but it’s missing the catharsis of seeing them get back together.

The ending of the film does, however, manage to absolutely nail her final beat: “this is what whole-hearted looks like.” Here you show the couple together and mirror scenes from earlier in the story, showing how much more whole and happy they are together than they were apart. We have an interaction between Eddie and Annie that mirrors their scene from the (post time jump) first act, now friendly rather than hostile. Eddie goes back to the same bodega as from the opening, and now with Venom’s help is able to stop the thug terrorizing the owner, whereas before all he could do was look on. Good echoing, good bookends, along with the well-written banter and camaraderie between them this is why the ending is the best part of the entire film.

Conclusion

Venom isn’t precisely structured like a romance, but it gets close, and its strongest moments are when it does. Of course, this structure can work for any kind of story where the central conflict is whether a duo can get along; buddy cop films often follow a similar structure, just centered on friendship. However you want to consider Eddie and Venom’s relationship, I do think viewing this as a relationship-centered story is to its benefit, and had the studio embraced that earlier on, it would have been a better structured film.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Trust Part 6

Summary: Jenna moves in across from Eddie and Venom after escaping an abusive relationship. Within hours of meeting the journalist, her ex-boyfriend winds up dead and she comes face to face with the creature terrorizing San Francisco.

Chapter Summary: The world is upside down.

Warnings: Grief, mentions of physical abuse

          Two days later, despite her warring thoughts, Jenna saw Eddie again. It was a sunny day and they went to get a coffee before walking through the park.

           They sat down on a bench to have a conversation, a continuation of their chat at dinner.

           “You’ve been well?” Eddie was concerned about how she was doing both healing her physical and mental wounds. He was also worried she was still getting death threats. Venom made sure to keep an eye out for suspicious people around her building. Of course, they couldn’t make certain of her safety unless they were glued to her side.

           “Uh yeah.” Jenna’s hesitation made the response sound insincere.

           Eddie glanced at her. She sat in a way that showed her wariness of the world. Her shoulder locked up and she appeared ready to react to anything negative that came her way. It was an instinctual defense mechanism. She learned that a person could blow up and attack at any moment for any reason they deemed reasonable.

           “You sure?”

           She swallowed. “There’s nothing to really say. “I’m just living day by day.”

           “She is sad.” Venom wilted at the observation.

           “That’s a good plan. I don’t wanna pry. Just wanted to check in because I know the threats shook you up.

           “Right.” She tilted her head up to watch little songbirds hopping around the tree branches above them. She wished she had been born an animal that didn’t have to deal with the human complexities. Although she was well versed in the survival mode.

           He followed her gaze but couldn’t read her mind. “Did you ask Anne for help?” He wondered.

           “Yeah, she’s looking at the screenshots I took. I guess she’ll see if it’s enough to bring to the police.” Her gaze returned to her coffee cup lid. She picked at the edge of the plastic with her thumbnail. “I know I can’t stop them from sending stuff to me.” I’m just so sick of looking over my shoulder. I thought I wouldn’t’ have to do that anymore I want to get out of that mindset.”

           Eddie and Venom both wordlessly agreed that those lowlifes would face serious consequences if they ever attempted to carry out those threats. “If you need to call or if you yell for us, we’ll be there,” Eddie promised.

           “Trust me, I know what you do to people who try to kick in my door.”

           He visibly cringed at the remark.

           She saw his discomfort and cracked a dry smile. “It was sort of a joke.”

           “Ha…”

           She sighed her shoulder drooped. “God…I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.” Her voice was defeated and tired. It only highlighted the dark circles under her beautifully tragic eyes. “I mean I thought the world was fucked before when I was going through all the shit. But now? Everything is upside down an-and I don’t know where I stand anymore. I’m confused and I just feel like anything I do will turn out to be a huge disaster.”

           Eddie recalled how he felt after losing everything. He felt so low that there was no chance anyone could find him and pull him back to the surface. Every step he took felt like a giant leap backward.

           “I think I know how you feel.” He hoped empathizing would benefit her. At least it would show her she wasn’t alone. “I lost everything basically within twenty-four hours. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. I was so alone and off track. Jenna, I know we’ve faced different challenged. You are healing and honestly, you’re a lot stranger than I could ever be in the same spot. You may feel like you’re off course but you’re getting through each day, just like you said.” He encouraged gently. “No one can take that away from you.”

           Jenna’s heel thudded rhythmically against the bench leg. She sucked in her lower lip and bit down to hold back tears. No one had ever been proud of her just for surviving. “My dad always said when I was older, I would understand why he punished me the way he did. But I never have. I know that’s not love and maybe I’ve always known but was too hurt. But I knew for so long that I could never do what they did. I never fought back. The thought of harming someone that I said I loved? Even if they did it to me I couldn’t give it back to them. Because then my view of love would be even more distorted.” Her voice caught in her throat. “Eddie, I want to believe love is out there. I want to believe that I’ll feel safe. But time and time and time again I’ve been proven wrong. It’s like God is looking me in the eye and saying, ‘love is out there but you’ll experience none of it’. And I can’t ask him why. He doesn’t have an answer.” Her eyes watered and she had to put her coffee down on the pavement to wipe the tears away.

           “Why can we not comfort her and heal her?” Venom was reeling at the thought that their beloved neighbor and keeper of their affection was in turmoil. She was hurting and they couldn’t beat up the bad guys or take her to the hospital to save her. They felt helpless as she cried.

           “Have you ever felt like you don’t deserve love?” She sniffled and felt so vulnerable it tore her to shreds.

           Eddie had to take a calming breath before he answered. Seeing her cry was throwing him into a heap of emotions. But he wasn’t sure if breaking down would help her or make things worse. He needed to try to stay strong and be her rock if she needed him to be. “Yeah, I have.”

           “I-I don’t understand it. It hurts so much.” She furiously kept drying her eyes with her sweater sleeve. Tears were weakness.

           “Jenna, you do deserve love,” Eddie told her with confidence. “You-you’re a kind of person that I’ve rarely come across. It’s kinda like when I was younger, the boys on my street would trap bugs and pull their wings or their legs off. I always hated it because they were taking apart this creature that never did anything to them. Those assholes who hurt you…they broke off a piece of you and you don’t deserve that. You never deserved that even if they said you did. But you can heal I know you can. And if I could do it for you, I would in a heartbeat. Ven and I hate seeing you in so much pain.”

           She sniffed and took a heaving breath. “I didn’t think you could be so eloquent with a New York accent.” She teased weakly.

           He chuckled. “Yeah, suppose it would sound better coming from a British guy or something.” The humor lifted the mood.

           She shook her head. “I like hearing you say it.” She picked up her coffee, eager to get past the heavy conversation. There was only so much she could handle at once. “Why did you move here?”

           “Well, Anne’s job.” He shrugged and watched a few people walk by.

           “The truth, Eddie.” Venom prodded him because they both knew that wasn’t the complete reason.

           “And I uh-got into some mishaps.” He stretched his arms and rested one on the bench back near Jenna’s shoulders.

           “Mishaps?”

           “You sound surprised.” He winced and shrugged with a shy smile.

           “I guess I just thought mishaps were a recent trend for you.”

           “No…” He shook his head. “Sort of a lifelong trait. Outta college I got attention for my work.” He pointed to his temple. “Let it go to my head, y’know? Butted heads with a few people at the Daily Bugle and got-”

           “Blacklisted.” Jenna finished for him. “So are you trying to make your way through all fifty states or are you trying to just hit all the major cities?” She feigned innocence.

           Venom and Eddie laughed. “She is witty. I like when she makes fun of you.” The symbiote chortled.

           Eddie smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Nah, I like it here. ‘Specially ‘cause you’re here. And next door at that, so why would I go anywhere?”

           Their eyes met and she studied his face. “Eddie, I want you to know that…I would love to fall in love with you.” She said steadily, not moving her gaze from his.

           The two perked up. “Yeah?” He was a little breathless because he wasn’t expecting the comment.

           “I just don’t know.” She admitted and swallowed. “I guess…I’m worried for you and about you. There’s a lot of different parts to it.”

           “What are they?” He hoped they could get past them and maybe her healing process could be helped along if he knew.

           She sighed. “That’s another day.” She told him.

           “Fair enough.” He leaned back in the bench and they fell quiet.

           “You’re soft, Eddie.” She said before standing up. “I know you probably don’t think so and maybe people don’t see that. But you are. That’s not a bad thing but…you can get hurt easily. I know how the world treats people who care.” She nodded and pulled her purse over her shoulder. “Thanks for walking with me.” With that, she walked away.

           Eddie tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The world really was upside down.

============

           The next day, Eddie walked up to his floor with a bag of snacks for Venom. It was date night, which meant lots of chocolate, a movie, and starting their sexual relationship.

           But plans would be delayed.

           The reached the landing and both instantly noticed Jenna’s door was wide open. This was alarmingly unlike her. They’d heard the number of locks she had when they parted ways after dinner. She wasn’t one to leave her personal space vulnerable.

           “Something is wrong.”

           “Jenna?” Eddie called as he cautiously walked to her doorway. He was about to knock on the doorframe just in case when he saw the state her apartment was in.

           It was as if a hurricane ripped through the small apartment. Her table was turned over, curtains ripped from the rod, and a metal baseball bat was lying on the ground next to a smashed mirror.

           “No, no, no, no.” He dropped the bag as his worst fears were realized and paralyzing anxiety hit him right in the gut.

           “Someone has kidnapped her!” Venom raged in a frenzied panic. Black armor threatened to take over, traveling up his arms and shoulders.

           “Okay, we need to call the police.”

           “The police?” Venom let out an aghast scoff. “They will be too slow. I will find her. I can follow her scent.

           “You’re not a damn bloodhound, Ven, we can’t just find her on our own. They could’ve gotten anywhere by now. We don’t know how long she’s been gone.”

           “The water glass on the counter.” Venom pointed out to him. “The ice cubes have not melted. They have not gotten far. Now can we stop wasting time?” He overtook Eddie’s body and leaped out of the window.

           Eddie felt glad that he let the symbiote watch forensic crime shows.

   Permanent Tags: @what-the-buckybarnes @captainmarmel

Tag list: @goddessofthunder112

Masterpost

My Masterlist

[boopboopbichie]

Hi, first of all, I looooove your writing!!! Your last work, I don’t think I love you anymore, literally killed me, like I’m physically dead. I was wondering if you could do some reddie angst, where like they’re having an argument and Eddie maybe raises his voice or moves his hands around and Richie flinches or something because it reminds him of his abusive parents?

Jesus, that is so sweet. Messages like that does nothing good for my ego wow. I love you ahhh So here you go, a little bit of reddie angst for a lovely anon. It isn’t very long but I’m happy with how it turned out, so I hope you like it as well. 

Eddie sighsas he walks into the kitchen. Dirty plates are spread all over the counter andEddie cringes, thinking about the bacteria multiplying on there. He pinches thebridge of his nose, counting to ten in his head. It doesn’t work. He is trying really hard not to freak out, to control his temper, but Richie ismaking it hard for him. When counting doesn’t work he takes a deep breath and then marches into the bedroomwhere Richie is spread across the bed, playing PlayStation. It smells bad inthere and Eddie knows for a fact that Richie has been in there all day. When hesees Eddie his face lights up and despite Eddie’s anger he still feels thelight tingle in his stomach from knowing that even after five years, Richie’sface still lights up like that when he sees him. The tingle is overshadowed by the anger burning in his stomach though and hecrosses his arms in front of his chest and Richie’s face falls again. “Hey baby. What’s up?”, he asks and sits up in the bed. Eddie knows he is tryingto play it cool. To act like he doesn’t know that Eddie is about to start afight. “Have you seen the kitchen Richie?”, he asks, his voice already a growl. He’shad a shitty day at the café he works at, shitty costumer after shitty costumerand all he wanted to do was to come home from work to a clean apartment andcuddle with his boyfriend, but as always, Richie had done absolutely nothing onhis day off, leaving Eddie to do it himself. “I.. Yeah, that. I thought it could wait till tomorrow”, Richie answers andshrugs making Eddie even more mad. “Richie! Do you know how many deceases could be spreading out there right now?Jesus Christ”, he sighs and rubs his temples, trying to calm himself. Richiegets off of the bed and walks over to him with an annoyed look. “Eddie calm down, we won’t die from not doing the dishes one day”, he says witha scoff and Eddie raises an eyebrow at him. “Calm down? I’ve been at work since you even got out of bed this morning, I’vehad the shittiest day ever and all I expect you to do is to make sure our homeisn’t disgusting so that I can come home, and we can eat dinner and watch amovie or something”. Eddie doesn’t even know why he is explaining this. Itshould be a matter of course that Richie would at least do the dishes on awhole day off. Obviously not. Richie just laughs in that you’re-being-ridiculous way and runs a hand throughhis hair defeated. “Why is it such a big deal? We can do it now? The day isn’t over Eddie”, he triesbut Eddie just shakes his head. “Why it’s such a big deal? Well I’ll tell you Richie. It’s a big deal becauseit’s 5:30 right? Doing the dishes would take at least 30 minutes, seeing as wedon’t own a dishwasher. Boom, it’s 6. Then dinner. Did you go grocery shopping?”,he asks, and Richie shakes his head, making Eddie nod. “Didn’t think so. So,either we’ll have to go buy something, which will take us about 20 minutes and I’mnot in the mood to go groceryshopping right now. Or we’ll make do with whatever we have, which will take usjust as long because half of the things in the fridge are expired and useless.When we finally do figure out what to make it’ll be around 6:30-6:45. Before weget to eat it’s 7:30. Then dishes afterwards. That means that not before 8:30will I be able to plant my ass in the couch to relax for the day. That does notwork for me Richie”. Eddie realizes that he sounds insane, but he knows that he’sright. Richie looks taken aback and he scratches his neck before speaking. “We could just order something?”, he suggests and Eddie sighs loudly. “With what money Richie? You do realize that we’re both paid minimum wage,right? That we’re literally almost drowning. We can’t afford to eat out”. Eddieis fuming. He doesn’t expect much from Richie, he really doesn’t, but hell doeshe expect him to take responsibility for this relationship and their home. Thisisn’t going to work if Eddie is the only one trying. Richie stares at him for a while and Eddie can’t control it anymore. He feelsthe tears prickle in the corners of his eyes and he wants to scream in frustration.He looks up at Richie and shakes his head disappointed. Then he walks out ofthe bedroom and into the kitchen to do the dishes. Even the thought of thebacteria makes him feel sick and he needs to do this. Richie knows this. Richieshould know this. Eddie has alwaysfelt this way, why can’t Richie just get over his disgusting habits and respectthat? 

Eddie sniffles, trying to hard to keep the tears from coming and when he hears Richieenter the kitchen he straightens his back. He is not about to look like he iscrying. He focuses on the plate in his hand and how the stains won’t come off,how the food is sogging up in the water and he gags slightly. Richie’s voicethen sounds from behind him. “Eds I…”. He doesn’t get to finish before Eddie snaps, turning around so quicklyhe actually feels dizzy for a second. “Fucking hell Richie, I expect so little from you! So little! All I want is ahome where I don’t feel like bacteria are crawling all over me! I just want thedamn kitchen to be clean Richie, is that too much to ask?! Jesus Fucking Christ,I’m going insane, why are you so goddamn useless all the time?!”, Eddie yellsand then drops the wet plate from his hand on the floor, the porcelain shatteringeverywhere. He groans loudly, almost a scream and swallows the sob stuck in histhroat. Then he sees Richie. Like really sees him. His stomach drops, and he wants to take back every single word he’s said sincehe came home. Richie has tears streaming down his face and he looks broken. Eddie knows why,he doesn’t even have to ask. He takes a step towards Richie and Richie flinches making every single fiber in Eddie’s body ache with so much pain. He hates Richie’s parents for doing this to Richie. He hates seeing Richie like this and he hates being the reason for it even more. “Rich, I’m…”. Richie interrupts him. “Leave me alone Eddie”. His voice breaks and he turns around and walks out ofthe kitchen. Eddie follows after him quickly, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Richie wait, I’m sorry!”, he yells and walks into the bedroom. Richie is throwingdifferent clothes into a bag. Eddie frowns and grabs Richie’s arm softly. “Babe…”, he tries but Richie just pulls his arm away from Eddie and zips thebag closed. Eddie knows that he has to stop him. If he leaves Eddie probablywon’t see him for days and he doesn’t think he’ll survive that. He grabs hisarm again, this time harder. “Richie! Look at me!”. This time Richie does, and Eddie somehow wishes he wouldn’tlook at him. Eddie has never seen this facial expression before and he prays togod that he won’t have to ever again. Richie’s eyes are filled with tears andhis lip is quivering, making him look so much younger, like a small boy. He imagines a small Richie looking like this at his father, making Eddie’s stomach turn with hate and hurt. He wants to kill those people. He wants to see them dead. For a second he is terrified of his own mind.Eddie’sbreath hitches in his throat and he feels his own eyes fill with tears as well.He slowly moves his hand to Richie’s cheek and wipes away some tears softly. “Babe. I’m so so sorry. I hope you know I didn’t mean that. I was… the dirt and…The shitty costumer who called me a fag and… That doesn’t excuse anything, whatI said wasn’t ok, I know that, please Richie I am so sorry”, he tries again, and this time Richie lets out a loudsob, making Eddie pull him into his arms. Richie buries his face in Eddie’sshoulder, sobbing loudly. Eddie feels his heart break, knowing that he is thecause of this. He made Richie cry this way. He feels a tear slide down hischeek and he quickly wipes it away. 

Richie then lifts his head and looks atEddie, eyes still blurred from the tears. “Please don’t ever yell at me like that again. Please”, he cries, and Eddiedoesn’t know what to say so he just nods, running his fingers through Richie’shair soothingly. Richie looks into his eyes and Eddie wants to take away all of the painbehind them. He wants to take away all the hurt Richie has ever gone through. “Promiseme”, Richie then continues and Eddie nods again. “I… I promise Richie, I am so sorry, I love you so much, I don’t know how I’d eversurvive without you in my life. Not seeing that smile of yours everyday wouldkill me, jesus”.

And hemeans it. Eddie means every word and he has a feeling that Richie knows.

[closingtheme]

HAUNT 1989

Rating: Mature (For Violence, Blood, Crude Language, ukw kind of like PG-13 but more gore is allowed.

Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: F/M, Other

Fandoms: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti)

Relationships: Stanley Uris/Original Female Character(s), The Losers Club (IT) & Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Original Hanlon Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) of Color, Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak, Beverly Marsh, Stanley Uris, Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom, Minor Characters, Bill Denbrough, Pennywise (IT), The Losers Club (IT), Henry Bowers, Henry Bowers's Gang (IT)

Additional Tags: Childhood Trauma, Childhood Friends, Childhood, First Love, Murder, Death, Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Siblings, Protective Siblings, 1980s, Adaptation, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Complete, Horror, Body Horror

Language:English

Summary: Shanice Hanlon and Her Brother Mike move to Derry after the death of their parents and encounter something that will change their lives forever.

IT.

As she navigates newfound friendship, deals with grief and trauma she tries her damnedest to survive this inhuman cause of the children of Derry disappearing.

William Hanlon was a murderer.

Shanice wanted to not believe it. She hoped it was a nightmare of some kind, a really messed up one. The day he was arrested, it’d been a particularly nice day; she remembered watching fondly at her parents as they danced to Prince. Mike had out in the park playing with neighborhood boys.

She sat to herself, on a brown, suede sofa, reading the newest issue of JET Magazine when she heard a knock--one that only she seemed to hear. Tossing her reading material to the floor, she walked from the living room to the front door, leaning up to look through the peephole.

Two officers, both white, looking very cold. Tilting her head curiously, she opened the door as the warm summer air hit her body. A brisk, balmy breeze blew her beaded hair, a feeling of nausea washed over her.

Shanice’s gaze diverts from their path with a small voice she replies, “What’s up, Officer?”

“Hey, Sweetheart. Do you know William Hanlon?”

“Yeah, that’s my Daddy. What’s this about?”

Something wasn’t right.

She could feel it.

She didn’t answer but her eyes darted to her parents who were laughing and smiling. When she doesn’t say anything, the officers glance over her shoulder at the cheery couple.

“If you stand there and stall you for his protection, you’ll be obstructing justice, young lady.”

“What, you can’t--”

She feels her body shoved out of view as the men rushed into their small two-room apartment. She could feel her mother yelling and her father suddenly burst into a rage. The sound of rushing blood flooded her ears, her wide, dark eyes glued on her father’s figure.

Chaos, pure chaos.

The memory she had of her father was nothing but a mask, a cover-up to who he was outside of their safe apartment.

Everything is a lie, nothing but lies!

“I ain’t goin’ to jail--that, that thing told me to do it. I ain't no murderer!” Tears started to stream down her cheek as--she wanted to holler, but she couldn’t utter a word or a sound.

“William!”

“William stop it, put down that gun!” Her mother runs over trying to wrestle the gun out of her father’s hands, which eventually goes off and causes a stillness to go over the room.

Her mother’s body fell first, her eyes wide and petrified. Her breaths were shallow-- her body twitched as she bled out on the floor. She seemed to mumble something, something Shanice couldn’t make out.

Then, she was gone just like that.

It was surreal, phantasmal to her eyes.

“Sir put down the weapon.” As the officers urged him to stop, her father just stood there with a smile on his face.

“Ain’t no way I’m goin’ down without my Baby Girl." His arms stretched out, he calls out to her.

"Shanice, Baby girl. Come on to Daddy, everything’s gonna be okay. We're gonna be--” With her body trembling, the teenage girl rushes out the door in a sprint, screaming. As she dashes through her neighborhood, she flags down her brother on his way back down the street.

“Hey, Shay, what’s up? Why are there a bunch of cop cars out here? Why--Shay? Shay, what’s wrong?”

“Daddy he...he shot mom, h-he’s coming for us--we gotta run--”

A resonating gunshot fills their ears before Shanice could finish her sentence. She dropped to her knees, not caring about the harsh sting on the sidewalk.

When she saw the officers rush out, she knew one thing--her father was dead. Unknown if by himself or by an officer

He was dead.

When it was discovered that her father murdered twelve children during his twenties--and more that investigators speculate, whose bodies hadn’t been found. Missing children, that will never see their families again.

Shanice and her brother Mike were another set of victims that suffered due to his crimes.

A man died the day her father was arrested, not William Hanlon, the murderer, but the man she thought was her father along with her mother.

Moving to Derry from North Carolina was a lot for a fourteen-year-old who experienced the tragedy of seeing both of her parents and a thirteen-year-old who feels he should’ve been there.

It was a place they'd spent their early years at, it is held with some sort of nostalgia.

After climbing herself into the bed of her grandfather's truck, Shanice peered over at her brother with a small smile.

“It’s gonna be okay Mike--alright?” The young boy nods--Shanice wonders if she said the words only to comfort Mike or herself. After a month of being in state custody, being petrified and scarred was the least of her worries.

She was afraid. She hated that part of her, the part that made her human.

Being afraid is time-consuming; being afraid gives way to cowardice. Being afraid stopped her from being by her mother’s side, being afraid stopped her from confronting her father.

Moreover, she’d be the one to look after Mike when her grandfather eventually dies too.

Shanice was wearing jean shorts and a white, polo shirt, indicative of the springtime, transitioning summertime heat. She hangs her head between her legs, the heaviness of her braids connected with her heart. Feeling emotional exhaustion, she curls up and forces herself to sleep on the bed of the hot truck bed.

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have a dream or a nightmare. What wakes her up is the sharp jerk of her grandfather’s truck and she finds him grinning a toothy grin at her.

“Alright Baby Girl, we’re here!”

A farmhouse, one she remembered playing in as a kid. Chasing around pigs and playing in the creek--she’d be happier to be there if it wasn’t for the circumstances. She quietly descends from the back of the truck, taking the bulk of their things. Her brother was as her grandfather described as ‘soft’ and the aforementioned man was already in his sixties, worn down from working diligently for years--she felt it was more than necessary.

“You shouldn’t  be carrying all those things, let Granddad take it.” Shanice waves off her grandfather’s helping hand.

“It’s cool, Texas built me well. I’ve got it.”

“Go on now. Pull it.”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“People need to eat.”

“But how would you feel? Raised for food...” Shanice, who was drinking a glass of Kool-Aid watched as her grandfather attempted to teach her brother how--slaughter a sheep. She frowned. Her brother was such a sweet boy, couldn’t harm a fly even if he was forced to--and this was the exact opposite of the Patriarch.

“Like I’d want you to get it over with is how I’d feel... Remember what I told you? You gotta do this quick. If the animal senses what you’re about to do, if it starts to fear you, adrenaline courses through its body and changes the taste and the meat winds up tough.” Drinking the rest of the red liquid, Shanice sets her glass down and makes her way over to the barn.

“Granddaddy, forcing him ain’t gonna do you no good.”

“Babying the boy ain’t gonna do you no good.” He then turns to the machine and without an inkling of hesitation pulling the trigger, killing the sheep it was aiming for.

“You need to start taking more responsibility around here, Mike. Your Dad was younger than you when he took this over--”

“But what if I can’t? What if I don’t want to do this, be here.” His words made Shanice frown--Watching silently as their grandfather spoke on.

“Look at me--you too Baby Girl.” The old man points to the sheep lined up to be slaughtered--quietly, patiently.

Waiting to be consumed.

“Let me y’all about being here. ‘Cuz you two need to understand something. There are two places you can be in this world. You can be out here, like us. Or you can be in there, like those eager bastards right there”

He continues with, “And if you waste too much time hemming and hawing, that choice is gonna be made for you. ‘Cept you won’t know it 'til you feel the bolt blast right between your eyes.” Shanice blankly stares at him, unaffected by the words while her brother trembles in fear.

“Ok, ok. Here." She hands then both sandwiches wrapped in saran wrap.

"A cheese sandwich on wheat bread for Mike and a Ham sandwich on rye for you, Granddaddy.”

....

....

‘ Van Gogh, and Rembrandt, don't be uptight, cause here comes KID DYNOMITE. ’

While the two men in her life sitting in the living room watching the Good Times , Shanice looks outside, at the forest outlining their house.

She didn’t hate Derry but something about Derry left her feeling like there was something outlining--maybe she thought too much.

A few weeks passed, today was Shanice’s last day of class. Mike remained home, homeschooled by their Granddaddy who said, "The boy needs to learn about the land."

Her baby’s face contorted, yet she doesn’t follow up his answer with another question.

Finishing off her bowl of cereal, her brother appears from his room.

“Remember to do that test so we wrap stuff off it mail it off, ok? I'll see you when I get home.” Shanice mutters to her little brother, giving him a tight hug.

“Ride safe--don’t speak to strangers.” Shanice blinks at her grandfather who has her blocked from leaving the driveway. It’s been a minute since they moved to Derry, but he still went over the same Spiel to her every morning.

“Granddaddy I’m already fourteen, you know?" Shanice groans, feeling as if she was practically ancient at that age, "You’ve been saying that since we got here.”

“And? You’re prey to anything out there.” Shanice rolls her eyes, beginning to ride away.

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

Shanice arrived at the school--preteens, teenagers fill the entrance like crowded in herds like those doomed sheep at the farm. She gripped her backpack, it being empty--her knowing it was the last day and that she wouldn't bother trying to stay in class.

Watching students dispersing in to clear out their lockers, walking, she overhears a group of boys talking.

“How’s it work?”

“They slice part of his penis off.”

“That can’t be true. He’d have nothing left...”

She grimaces.

Boys discussing circumcision.

Nice.

Shaking her head, she gets to the girl’s bathroom, where she planned to attempt to wait until the bell rung.

She pauses when she hears a commotion coming from the lockers around the corner.

“...I think I can handle this.”

There’s a bang as if something or someone slammed against it followed by mocking laughter.

“Sure know how to spread ‘em, slut!”

Her face tenses up. She quickly debates whether or not to get herself involved-- resigning to help the girl. She slams open the door she's cooped up, letting her presence known. At her reveal, the girls stiffen--one, in particular, stood with a hockey stick in her hand. Her eyes glance at another girl, a redhead who seemed to be shaking. Her pale knees were bruised, purple, and blue.

She glares at the girls, who quickly leave, like a gaggle of hens.

“Hey, you okay?”

When the girl nods, Shanice lets out a sigh of relief.

The last thing she could make out on the girl was her fiery hair as she ran off in the opposite direction, making her way to her destination.

It’s around four by the time Shanice leaves school. After picking up Mike and dropping off his test materials at the post office--she calls her grandfather at a payphone in advance that they’d be a little late.

Stopping and parking the car on the side of the street, there’s a woman frantically stapling a poster to a  light post. It was a missing child flyer for a kid named Dorsey Corcoran. Right beside it is a sign that says, ‘REMEMBER THE CURFEW, 7 P.M.’

She spots the two siblings running over to hand the older of the two.

"Please tell me if you've seen my son. Please."

Both of the siblings stare at her retreating figure in silent sympathy, heading into the grocery store after a beat.

It was such a sign of fleeting hope.

“What’s up?” He asks her brother as they make their way through the small grocery store. He seemed to be off in his thoughts, so she felt like something was wrong. Ever since the accident, he’d gotten quieter, and quieter.

It was concerning.

The boy looks the other way and mutters, “Nothing.” and she drops it, for now.

Riding home, she glances over at her brother.

“Try to put up with Granddaddy this summer, ok?” ‘We’re the only people he has left.’ She wanted to add but decided against it.

He nods and she adds, “I’ll do the farm work too.”

His face brightens up and it cheers her up as well.

The next day, Shanice decides to look for work and to drop off meat at the Butcher’s with Mike after he insisted on going--probably because he didn’t feel comfortable alone with their grandfather.

After finishing those duties they head out on her bike, Shanice has a feeling she can’t shake.

The feel of being followed.

“I think someone’s following us.” She could feel her brother’s confused expression through his voice.

“Who?” He turns around. She sees some sort of sports car--it starts honking at them, not letting off. It starts to increase in speed, edging on them as if to swallow them whole. Her brother frantically goes faster and faster until they manage to crash into a tree.

Laughter and mischievous hollering emerge from the car, as well as a taunt.

“Stay the fuck out of my town!”

“Hey! What the fuck is wrong with y'all?” Shanice yells at the car as it flies away, helping her brother to his feet. She looks at themselves--he wasn't hurt too bad, neither was she.

The real damage was her bike--it mangled beyond recognition.

“Let’s just carry this thing to the house, Mike.” She says, turning to her brother, who seems to be locked in a trance by something.

“Mike?”

“Huh?”

She frowns.

“Let’s go home.”

....

....

The two get home, both weathered and tired. Leroy spots them and smiles at them like an old, amused tabby.

“Long day, you two?” The two siblings stay quiet, sitting at the dining table in mutual silence.

“Something happened while y’all two were out on collections?”

He pauses as if he knew the answer once the question flew from his mouth and onto the cold, wooden table. Shanice’s and Mike’s eyes dart from each other to the elderly man.

“Saw Baby Girl’s bike. Y’all have a run-in with the Bowers boy?” Mike gazes at his grandfather, then nods.

“Yeah.”

“That’s it? Hmmm, thought it was something else...”

“Something else like what?” His words catch Shanice’s attention.

“Dunno. Y’all tell me.” Shanice holds his gaze, clearly unhappy that he might be hiding something from her, but doesn’t question further--hell, she wouldn’t even know where to start if anything. Instead, she elaborates on the whole Bowers interaction.

“He mangled up my bike and almost killed us with his car--he’s a total psychopath."

“Is that why do we live outside of town? Is it because of the Bowers?” Mike follows up, with questions of his own.

'Stay the fuck of out of my town!’ His words echo through her head, her hand makes fists. Licking her she asks,

"Granddaddy, are we outsiders?"

“No. We live out here because I want the best for my grandchildren." He says to his grandson, patting his shoulder before sighing at his granddaughter. "We're not outsiders. See, it’s not just the Bowers that ain’t right. It’s that whole town that’s wrong...”

Silence once again overtakes the three.

Inching, aching, catching them by the throat.

“Do y’all know what a haunt is?”

An unknown fear.

....

....

Shanice had dreamed later that night. It was seven years ago.

She still had her family together.

She was at a grocery store, with her mother, their hands clasped--her mother was glowing, her toothy smile made her so happy she was speechless.

As she reached out to hold her mother, everything disappeared around her--her mother glanced at her with crimson hands. She wore horror on her round face, her hands trembling, shaking with fright.

Her mother looks at her.

“My baby, why didn’t you save me?”

Then, she smiles. Her grin wide, unsettling--yet, it drew her in.

The false sense of comfort that caressed her, that infantile warmth.

Shanice, grounded, shakes her head.

“Mama I--” Her mother holds her face in her hands--dirty metal and aging rust fill Shanice’s senses, and she closes her eyes.

“Mama, I’m so sorry. I was so scared.” Her mother laughed, bringing Shanice's head to her chest--the smell of Swisher Sweets, the ones her Mama used to smoke, calmed her down--she breathes in, wailing as she stroked her hair.

"There ain't no reason to be scared."

Shanice weeps, now alone with nothing but a bright, red balloon in her mother’s place--yet, her voice is still heard light, her soft giggle giddy.

"Eventually, we all float, baby."

....

....  

There was something strange about Derry that Shanice couldn’t quite put her finger on. As she stood in the kitchen, frying eggs and stirring a pot of grits, she felt complex. She couldn’t sleep, the bags under her eyes were evidence of that. On top of everything, her monthly friend came around to give her terrible cramps. She’d be good for a day or before the red flood starts, but probably be better off She tries to get stuff off her mind by turning on her off-white boombox, with a New Edition song playing.

Mike appears. He looks as weathered as her.

“Hey, Mikey.” She finds herself calling him what she did when they were much younger. When everything had a sense of normality.

Shanice gives him a quick hug, planting a quick kiss on top of his head.

“You look like shit.”

“...you do too, Shay.” She shakes her head, tittering as a distant rooster sounds off.

“Imma go to the pharmacy--wanna come?”

When Mike shakes his head, she makes her way upstairs to change and go out. Her beaded, braided hair clinking and shaking as she looked around. settling on a pair of black shorts and a white t-shirt. After lacing up her red converses, she waves her brother goodbye with a gap-toothed smile.

She takes the long walk into town.

When she makes it to Keene’s Pharmacy, she’s sweating, a bit fatigued. She notices a familiar head of ginger hair and notices the girl she’d seen while working at the school looking at a shelf of tampons and pads like it was a guillotine.

“Hey.” She looks startled, turning her sight at the small yet imposing girl. She's short than her--her dark eyes are big, deep-set--her grin makes her seem approachable, her head cocked to the side with her hands in her pockets.

"Thanks, I'm Bev."

“Shanice. Periods, they suck right? You look a little overwhelmed. Your Mama never told you about them?” At the mention of a mother, the girl shifts in a pretty floral dress.

“My...my mom’s not here anymore.”

She gives her a small, toothy smile.

“Mine isn't either. Good thing she taught me about that stuff. You’re looking at a five-year veteran.” She watches the girl’s face pale.

“Five years...” The girl trails off, before looking and hiding behind Shanice. Shanice looks in the direction that she glances at and recognizes the girl’s voice--the girl from the bathroom. She finds a haughty-looking chewing gum quiet-loud before she explains, “Watch it, losers!” at a group of boys who pass her and her way out.

Glancing around the girl trembling behind her, with her voice dropped down to a whisper she asks, “Was that one of the girls from the bathroom”

She nods, only sighing relief when she realizes she’s gone.

“Are you ok?”

“Uh...I’m fine. So...when did you get it?”

Shanice gives her a confused look.

“Oh, the thing. Nine.”

“Really? I didn’t know people got it that early, that's gotta suck.”

They continue to talk until she notices the girl glance at the boys coming in. They’re all chattering, inspecting each other's monetary means.

An older man stares at them sharply--then, locks eyes with Shanice before grumbling.

Shanice finds some products with good absorption levels, the group of boys staring at her with curiosity.

“Who are you?” Shanice smiles at Richie who seems to size her up.

"The name's Shanice. SHA-Niece. You can call me Shay." she says with emphasis, adding. "My family used to live here, before...”

“I’m Richie, that’s Bill, Stan, Eddie, Ben--and she’s--”

"Bev, I know. We met earlier."

The teenager nods, looking over as the aforementioned girl knocks down a cigarette display--the next thing she knows they’ve run out of the pharmacy, like bandits. Shanice finds herself following them into an alleyway, where Ben is being patched up due to a gnarly injury.

"W-We're going the quarry, wanna come?" She looks over at Bill, who asks the question to Beverly, but sheepishly looks back at her

“Y-you should come too.”

Beverly smiles.

“Sure. See you around.” The two girls walk out of the alleyway, into the main street.

“Want me to walk you home?” Beverly looked at her with a flash of concern before nodding.

“Where do you live?” A breeze past them as they walk--as they stroll deeper, houses become noticeably different. A lot of them are older, abandoned, or hadn't been repairs in years.

It's a run-down area, neglected by the rest of the town.

“The outskirts.” She frowns.

“Why?”

“Dunno. The people in the town think my Granddaddy’s strange--but you know what I think? This weird town is mistaking who and what is really strange.”

....

....

The teenagers make it out to the quarry the next day. Shanice finds Beverly standing off to the side, now sporting a bob.

“New Haircut?” Bev, hearing her voice putting her hand to her hair absentmindedly.

“Yeah.”

“It suits you, I think it’s cool. You look a lot like Molly Ringwald.”

The boys, who have stripped to their underwear, are contemplating who should jump first.

“Who’s first?” Bill inquiries.

“Eddie?” The fourteen-year-old rebuttals, “Screw that.”

Shanice and Bev who stand off the shadow look at each other.

“They’re a gang of wusses.” Shanice stifles her laughter, before doubling over.

“Right? Inviting us over and acting like a bunch of wusses!” For a moment, silence befalls the girls, only the boy’s chatter can be heard--then, Beverly gives the girl a look, a wild one, dripping with adrenaline.

“Hey, wanna jump?”

Shanice grins.

“Why not?”

The two quickly discard their clothing--a pair of denim overalls and plain summer dress--before bolting as fast as their legs could muster, their hands clasped, jumping into the murky waters below.

After a while, everyone is out of the water, resting on rocks while Shanice finds solace in the sort of cool temperature of the water. On Richie’s boombox, a song, one that made her bob her head slightly, she finds herself singing along in a small voice,

“I’m alive, huh, huh, so alive...”

Her body goes deeper, the sound of the music becomes muted. She felt like she was being tugged, something was her pulling away--when she realizes, it's too late. She's seized, water begins filing her mouth, nose, the sight of a balloon rising above her field of underwater vision--Shanice wakes up, coughing up violently.

Her body’s laid flat out on a scalding rock, all around her are the teenagers, still soaking wet in their undergarments. Dread overcomes, her throat burns as if it’s been choked--the Stan looks over at her concerned, his curly hair puffy, tangled like a bird’s nest.

His cheeks are flushed--he looks frazzled if anything.

“What the fuck...” She mutters before coughing up more water.

“Are you ok?”--Stan asks, his face inches away from hers--they lock eyes for a moment before he looks away, even more flustered--the chain event leaves her puzzled as she tries to catch her breath.

“Not bad for almost dying,” She jokes, sitting up. Her head feels heavy as she’s coughing up more water, taking a few breathes before sighing in relief.

“Did you guys drag me out?”

"Nope, Stan the Man dived in when he saw you were gone." Richie quips--Shanice gives Stan a jovial smile.

After she pulls away and walks over to her backpack to pull out her bottled water.

“So? Aren’t we gonna talk about how Stan slobbered all over her li--” Shanice stops and looks over Richie with a raised brow.

“What?”

“Nothing--it’s nothing,” Richie says, drawing his attention to something else--with that something else being Ben’s backpack. Shuffle through it, he pulls out books--lots of them.

“You went to the library? On your own? For fun?”

“Oh, uh, when I moved here I didn’t have anyone to hang out with or anything, so I just started spending time in the library.” Shanice grins while Richie frowns.

“Seriously? You went to the library? On your own? For fun?”

“He's 'cultured' or whatever,” Shanice notes, shaking her drenched hair before continuing, “girls like that kinda stuff sometimes.” She gestures to him inches in for a better look at the copies of newspaper stories Ben had gathered.

“Derry’s not like any town I moved to. And we’ve moved a lot. Did you guys know people die violently here or disappear like six times the national average?” Ben states, gaining the wide eyes of the teens in the process.

“That’s just adults. Kids are worse. Way worse.”

“You know, my granddaddy said that.” The group's eyes glance at their oldest, with morbidly curious stares.

“Said what?” Beverly asks--Shanice reminds her of what they talked about on the way to her house.

“Like I said yesterday ...that this whole town’s wrong. He’s been here for a while. Seen things, probably.”

A unanimous shiver occurs.

“I’ve got more stuff if you wanna see it...at home.”

Shanice could call his room one thing. Messy--indicative of a boy. Covering every inch of his bedroom walls were more newspaper clippings--some dating back a whole century.

“This is pretty impressive,” Shanice croons, amazed, sipping on her bottle of water.

“Cool, huh?” Ben replies.

“No!” Richie yells with immediate denial.

Bill's off in a corner, looking at an ‘ancient’ paper--as Shanice looks closer, she sees it says ‘INCORPORATION OF THE TOWNSHIP OF DERRY’.

“What’s this, Ben?

“The charter for Derry Township--it’s kind of interesting, actually. Derry started as a beaver trapping camp.”

“Still is. Am I right, boys?” Everyone looks at Richie who grins--it’s quiet until Shanice retorts with a snort “That joke is almost as funny drying paint.” Beverly shakes her head, hiding her smile while everyone has a good laugh at his expense.

“So it’s a record of them coming over here--what makes it so special.” Ben raises his eyebrows, almost relieved the conversation managed to get back to its original point.

“Ninety-one people signed the charter that made Derry. But then, later that winter, they all disappeared, without a trace.”

Everyone stops--the only sound that could be heard was the breeze from out the house. Ninety-one people--gone, just like that. In Shanice’s head, possibilities run. Diseases? Famine? Sure, that can happen--but everyone--every last, single person?

Eddie looks particularly spooked by the information, cautiously asking “The entire camp?”

“There were rumors of Indians but no sign of an attack. Others thought it was a plague or something. It was like everyone just woke up one day and left. The only clue was a big hole in the ground where the wellhouse was.”

“Jesus, we could get Derry on unsolved mysteries!” Ignoring Richie’s quip, Bill asks “Wh-where was the wellhouse?”

“Somewhere in town, I guess...”

“What’s the point of all this? What are you gonna do with it?” Stan asks--Shanice herself wondered it too.

Truthfully, he shrugs, saying “Dunno. Just killing time I guess.”

....

....

“Can you do the deliveries by yourself today?” Shanice asks her brother, she stood beside the bathroom, brushing her teeth. The teenager gives her a glance, then nods his head. She smiles, taking her tired body back to the room, quickly slipping on her white summer dress and her sneakers--making her way down the stairs, stops her in her tracks at the sound of her grandfather's weary voice.

“Baby Girl?”

“Yeah, Grandaddy?”

“Be safe.” Shanice looks at him, before pecking his cheeks, hugging him tightly.

“Ok, I love you.”

“Love you too, Shanice.”

Later on that day, Shanice finds herself going about absent-mindedly. She had nightmares again--so many more since she moved to Derry--since everything happened.

There was a common theme with her nightmares--the inclusion of a red balloon--but what did it mean?

She follows until he finds herself in the neighborhood where Bev lived, when--she notices the whole group gathers on the sidewalk, in front of her place.

“Hey...what’s going on?”

“Bev called. She’s freaked out about something... Sh-sh-she told us to wait out here until--”

A door bursts open--it’s Beverly, out of breath, spooked.

“You made it. I need to show you guys something...Shanice you--”

“Uh, hey. I ran into the guys while I was out. What’s up?”

Ben follows her question with, “Yeah, what is it?”

“Did we just win the Publisher's Clearinghouse ten million dollar sweepstakes? If Ed McMahon is in there I’m going to lose my sh--” Shanice glances before giving him a sharp punch in the arm.

“Read the room, Richie!”

“I just need to know I’m not crazy. But my Dad will kill me if he finds out I had you guys over.”

“We’ll leave a lookout. Richie?” Bill says as he looks at the teen who’s still rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, whatever. Ed McMahon can wait...”

Shanice gives him a look before they head inside her house. The light shines through the desolate feeling house as they follow her--farther into the house--until she stops in front of a door.

“In there,” Beverly says, her voice a fine to a whisper. Stan, who was beside Shanice asks, “What are we about to walk into?”

“You’ll see.” She doesn’t open the door--she seems rooted in her place--instead, it’s Bill who opens the door with her and Eddie following after --and the smell hits Shanice like a slap to the face. Her eyes were wide, visibly shaken. She doubles back until her back is against the wall and she falls on her bottom.

“You see it?” Beverly asks Bill.

“What happened?”

“The sink. It came out from there. My Dad couldn’t see it. I thought I was going crazy...” Shanice looks over at Bill, breathing heavily.

“You’re not going crazy. I saw something too. I-I, I saw Georgie.”

“Like a ghost?” Eddie asks, trying to avoid looking into the room again.

“N-no. He tried to get me to go into the basement with him. It wasn’t just him either. I saw this other... I don’t know."

“What’d you see, Bill?” Stan presses,

“The Clown?”

“And red balloons?” Shanice says immediately after Eddie, loud enough for everyone to hear. Bill doesn’t have a thing to say, only his silence the answer. They both shake, Shanice is trying to keep calm, while Eddie full-on freaks out.

“Are you two okay?” Beverly asks, concerned.

“Go outside. Keep Richie company, okay?” Eddie nods, Shanice shakes her head.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I am. Look, let’s just focus on cleaning this blood up.”

“R-Right, we can’t leave it like this.”

....

....

Cleaning--cleaning, cleaning, covered in blood.

Bill, Ben, Beverly, Stan, and Shanice spent time cleaning the bathroom, full of blood only they could see. Stan crouches next to her and asks, “Are you really, ok?” the sixteen-year-old glances over him, continuing to clean.

“I’m ok, I said before. I’m just...tired. This town makes me tired.”

Soon after they’re finished and exit the building, going down to Kansas Street.

“All that blood at your place and you s-say your folks didn’t see any of it... Last night at my house, with Georgie and the water, my Dad just acted like everything was normal--I think if you’re a grown-up...” Bill trails off, looking off into the distance.

“They can’t see it.” Eddie chimes in, which in turn Richie questions: “Can’t see what?”

“It.” Beverly answers.

“That’s why the cops won’t help, our parents, teachers...”

The group of kids stops, while Shanice continues to walk until she sees it--her brother’s mangled bike in a bush.

“...that’s my brother’s bike.” She looks over at Bill, her face in a deep frown, rage bubbling in her chest.

"It’s..it's that Bowers guy again, that’s why y'all stopped, right?”

“We have to help him,” Beverly says, seeing Shanice runoff, already in hot pursuit of her brother and the gang of high-schoolers.

“We do?” Richie snorts, watching the same, to which Bill replies, “If we don’t, who will? That could be any one of us.”

Shanice runs and runs, only stopping when she’s greeted by the sight of her brother's face being shoved in the same meat they deliver every week.

“Hey, you fuck faces!” Shanice yells, her voice being drowned out by their laughter and tithers, she meets her brother's eyes as he tries to crawl to her--only yanked back by the boys crowding him. He’s the ground, one of their sneakers dig into the boy’s skull, then--

CRACK!

A rather large rock first hits one of the boys, straight in the face, leaving blood gushing from his face. The assailant is Shanice, who's backup came in the form of Beverly, Bill, Richie, Eddie, and Stan.

“Holy shit!” Richie exclaimed, staring at the girl who was still throwing blows.

“Nice throw.” Stan compliments, although the armed girl hadn’t heard him--she was busy trying to save her brother.

Seeing the bullies distracted, she hurriedly yelled, “Mike, run!”

The boy scrambles to his feet, into the arms of his sister, who squeezes him tight.

The two siblings seemed to have reunited, beside them was an all-out rock war.

Rocks fly in the air, everyone ducks, hoping not to get hit by the hail of fire. When they realize they’ve been outmanned, Bill, their unassigned leader, screams for them to run.

“Mike, get on my back.”

“But--”

“I said get on my back, come on!"

They race until they find themselves back on a residential street. Everyone’s catching their breaths, tired from the sudden encounter.

Mike looks at the teenager whilst standing beside his sister relenting, “Thanks but you shouldn’t have done that. He’ll be after you guys now too.”

“Bowers? He’s always after us.” Eddie says and the rest shrugs in reply.

“I-I guess that’s one thing we all have in common,” Bill remarks, almost with a bit of sarcasm, while Richie full-on deadpans.

“Yeah, welcome to the Losers Club.”

....

....

“I was thinking about It. Ironworks explosion in 1904. Bradley Gang in ‘32. The Black Spot in ‘59. And now with Georgie, Dorsey, and the rest--it seems like this bad stuff happens nearly every thirty years.”

Time’s passed, and the fourth of July is right around the corner--the town of Derry takes things quite seriously--patriotic imagery scattered everywhere, vendors selling brightly labeled fireworks. Her grandfather would probably be out at the farmhouse on the outskirts, burning meat while they celebrated in their own way.

The self-proclaimed, ‘Losers Club’ members sit near the Paul Bunyan statue in the central square. Stan rests his head on her shoulder, listening to Ben’s Ominous rambling with her. Her brother on the other side with a complicated expression, sunglasses perched on her head through her bushy hair.

Stan raises his head from its place with uncertain eyes trained on Ben.

“So what, this town is cursed?”

“That’s what my grandfather thinks...”

Stan questions and Mike answers--Shanice glances at Stan, thinking back to her grandfather’s choice words for the Town.

She glances at the rest of the ‘Losers’, raising the question, “Y’all know what a haunt is?” her voice is soft, childish but it gathers the group’s attention.

“You mean like in a ‘who-ya-gonna-call’ sense?” Shanice shifts her eyes to Richie, shaking her head.

“Nah, not like that. Haunt can also mean like a feeding ground for animals--or for something else. My grandfather told me he thinks all the bad things that happen in this town are caused by one thing. An evil thing, that feeds off the people of Derry--one that fed off of him.”

Feeling all eyes on her and Mike, urging her to continue.

“After that run-in with Bower’s gang--”

--Mike and Shanice make it home, black and blue.

The two siblings look as if they’d been run through the wringer--or under the siege of rocks and boot soles.

Their Grandfather, who was sitting in the living, itching to chew them out stops and rushes over to them after seeing Mike’s bruises.

“What in God’s name--”

“--it’s Bowers, again,” Shanice mutters, spitting out the name without reluctance.

Sighing, her grandfather states, “...at least you two came home in one piece. That’s all I care for at the moment.”

She nods, heading to the kitchen for a glass of lemonade while Mike quietly sits at the table. Her grandfather takes off his farming gloves, taking a seat next to his grandson.

“Aside from that, Granddaddy, you’ve lived here for a while, right?” Shanice asks, after a beat of silence, handing him a drink after she’d already poured her.

After another beat, he answers before downing the drink in his hands, “About my whole life.”

The siblings, Mike now taking a bit more confidence, “Granddaddy, have you seen the clown?”

He pauses but lets out an uncharacteristically jovial laugh.

“What clown are you talking about, boy?”

Mike glances at his sister, Shanice before nudging her.

“Granddaddy, we wanna know if you know ‘It’?”

The glass in his hand had fallen to the ground, shattering--the sound made Shanice flinches, unknowingly, goosebumps litter her skin. The Hanlon Patriarch sits, shaking a bit--Shanice quickly looks to see if he’s ok but stops after seeing his face. He shook, he looked, spooked--haunted, repulsed at the very mention of ‘ It ’.

“Now y’all listen to me and listen to me good. There’s a reason why I tell y’all this town is strange.” As the three of them sat down at the dining table their grandfather lifted his pants leg to reveal—a wooden leg. It was smooth, oak-toned, and worn down by time. As he silently lets his pants leg, his voice begins to tremble, deep and strained.

“Sixty-six years ago, I lost my leg to It. I was only a boy, a year younger than Baby Girl.”

The children clutch either, Shanice holds Mike close as they both sat in shock.

“He was right. It--It is somethin’ evil.” Shanice finally whispers, her eyes narrow, like slits to a dark abyss. The mood chills amongst the teenagers when they realize they’re dealing with big--that seemed to be after kids.

....

....

The teens sit in the Monument, they glanced at her with startled eyes.

“But It can’t be one thing. We’re all seeing something different...”

“Yeah, but I think that’s because It uses our worst fears to scare us...”

Bill begins to speculate, “I guess that’s why I’m seeing Georgie.” Eddie follows him by saying, “I saw a walking infection. What’d about you, Richie? What are you afraid of?”

Richie frowns.

“Clowns.”

....

....

Shanice yawns.

It was a Thursday, ten in the morning.

‘The Losers Club’ sat in Denbrough's garage. Facing Shanice is a map of the sewers, projected on the wall in front of her and the rest of the ‘Losers’. The lights illuminate the room, almost as if they were telling ghost stories under a flashlight. Bill looks over to Ben, questioning if he brought ‘the map’; that map being an old map to Derry.

“Look.” Bill addresses the rest of the group, “Th-there’s the Ironworks. There’s the B-black Spot. Everywhere It happened to be is all c-connected by the sewers and they all meet up at.”

“The wheelhouse,” Ben notes.

“It’s in the house on Neibolt street.” Shanice furrows in curiosity her brows at Eddie’s words.

“Neibolt Street?”

“You mean that creepy-ass house where all the junkies and hobos like to sleep?”

“I hate that place.” Beverly says with a frown, adding, “It always feels like it’s watching you.”

“That’s where It lives,” Bill murmurs, staring at the image projection, until--Eddie, wheezing, rips the map clean off the wall.

“Can we stop talking about this? This is summer -- we’re kids -- we’re supposed to be--” He says through pants with Richie gets up abruptly adding, “I agree with Eds.”

“No...put the map back, Eddie--”

Suddenly, the light isn’t shining against the wall, nor is projecting the map of Derry either--instead, it shines bright in Eddie’s face, like a truck's headlights with Eddie mirror the look of a Deer caught in them.

“What happened?” Bill begins to get up from his seat when he stops to stare at the image projected.

It’s vacation photos, showing a happy family. Shanice recognizes Bill in it, smiling, in what seems like hiking clothes. Beside him is a boy that looks about 70% similar to him--a lot like him, but not entirely. She could only guess it was Georgie, Bill’s younger brother that died.

The projector keeps going.

Next photo there’s one of the family swimming--then, the boy--Georgie is standing at the edge of the lake. When Shanice is morbidly expecting it to switch to another photo, it doesn’t.

It shows the same picture, of the same boy--again, and again, and again.

But, there’s something different--it was as if the boy was moving, like a video. And slowly, Georgie turns his face to view his audience--them--with his face is painted with terror.

“Georgie?” Bill implores, almost in a whisper as Richie mutters, probably to himself, “What the fuck?”

“Somebody, turn this shit off,” Shanice begs, her voice shaking as she locks eyes with the child. He begins to run to the camera as if to leap out to them. Tears run down her face, she feels rooted in her place.

She can’t move, she’s paralyzed with fear.

“I SAID TURN IT OFF!” Again, everyone is fixated on the projection--he looks as if he wants to plead for help--moving his mouth rapidly--but he can’t; there’s no sound.

Stan runs to unplug the machine--it doesn’t do anything--it was like it was being controlled by some sort of specter; a supernatural force. It's presence lights up the dark garage, illuminating with a forthright glow incandesce in combination with the flickering photos.

“Georgie!” Bill screams.

Almost immediately, Georgie ran out of the frame.

Then, what the boy seemed to have been running from appears.

A clown, standing in the water. A macabre figure off the shore, staring at the group of teenagers.

One with receding ginger hair, staring at them, the ‘Losers’ with the biggest smile on its face. Waving at them, holding an oddly familiar red balloon.

“It’s fucking looking at us. What the fuck.” Shanice mumbles her face still that of disbelief, not feeling Richie squeeze her arm.

“Holy shit...”

“That’s It. That’s him.” Stan declares, as if confirmation for their separate, yet united experiences. That the threat that terrorized the teens was real, and that it was out to get them--a vengeful spirit beyond their dreams and glimpses.

Its face grows more fluid, closer and closer--

When It appears right in front of the camera, contiguous and menacing.

Various high-pitched screams echo throughout the garage, the teenagers scattering farther from the wall--Mike runs up, kicking the projector off of its box-structured stand. Shanice follows her brother’s lead, as his action snaps her out of whatever hold It had on her--she grabs a baseball bat--a steel one leaning against the wall, grabbing it and smashing the vessel of their collective fear.

Over and over and over until there was nothing else projected.

Stan looks at Shanice, both amazed and terrified at the amount of strength shown in her short, stout body. Quickly, he seizes her arms, causing her to stop her movement--she stands, frozen, still holding the means of destruction in her hand. Her eyes have grown wide from shock. Teardrops still fell from her watery, dark eyes as she shook in the boy’s arms. Her throat felt raw, from her fright-filled vocalized pleads.

Her face the color of cool, raw umber--still plump from baby fat, emitting a dark russet-colored rogue flushed with dread.

She was shaken, and Stan in his own way attempted to comfort her. He, with as much compassion a thirteen-year-old could muster awkwardly pats her back before letting go.

He couldn’t help but question wearily, “How’d that even happen?”

Eddie, still scared, replies “It saw us. It knows who we are now.”

“It’s always known who we were, Eddie. That’s how It knows how to scare us.” Shanice says, panting.

“Yeah, it always did,” Bill agreed, his voice unusually rough and strained.

“--at least It’s gone now.”

Bev speaks, soft as a rushed whisper, “Uh, guys?” but no one’s paying attention.

They all were trying to process what they all just saw.

The Hanlon siblings stare at the smashed projector, then at each other--their expression complex as they ask, “Yeah, but for how long?”

“Guys?”

Silence befell them, only Bev’s voice remains.

“GUYS!”

Her abrupt scream got the group to turn their attention to her. They follow her eyes to the ceiling, where she’s gazing at something above. The smashed--almost obliterated projector, much wider the image that’s shown to them.

It.

Staring at them, with a hate-filled growl stirring from its throat. It’s fast at first, as instant as polaroid, then slow, as he was creeping up on them-- It’s white, gloved hand tick out as if to grasp Bev by her neck--Bill pulls her away, but Its arm seems to stretch, determined of Its target.

His hold tightens on Bev, with his resolve to not let It take her.

The room is suddenly flooded with sunlight--the garage door opens, with Ben ultimately being the one who deters It away from them. The image of It disappears, the two kids let out a sigh of relief.

For now.

“Yeah. Thanks, Ben, Bill. Good, uh thinking.”

Bill lets go of Bev, turning to the rest of them.

No one says anything. Everyone’s processing things, trying to process that what they saw was real. Richie looks particularly unresponsive--no snide remarks or quick jokes with god-awful punchlines. Just a pale face, his mouth open and aghast--the fact that his ultimate fear came to life clear as day.

“No jokes this time, Rich?” Stan’s question is as awkward as it sounds, in this kind of environment, but it cuts the tension, slowly.

“Not today Stan, please,” Shanice warns, watching Richie slowly shake his head.

Despite the summer sunshine, the mood in the room was heavy.

“Okay so...” Bill begins, making everyone look his way, “Let’s go.”

“Go? Where?” Ben, asking the question of everyone’s mind.

“Neibolt. That’s where Georgie is. We have to go--” Shanice cuts him off, still shaken by what she just saw.

“Are you shitting me, Bill? After what just happened? It’s real. It is going to fucking kill us!” Everyone nods, Stan mimicking her thoughts saying, “Shay’s right. After that? No. No way.”

“Yeah...I’m with them.” Richie says, still sounding small, defeated.

“Fine. Then don’t.”

Mike looks at his sister and Bill, shaking his head.

“Wait, Bill--”  

His words don’t reach him.

Bill hops on his bike, already getting ready to head to Neibolt.

“That thing took my brother. I’m going.”

The remaining ‘Losers’ watch as his figure gets smaller and smaller.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Shanice says, biting her lips, not releasing the hold till she tastes the iron of her own blood. Letting out a scream of frustration, she tosses the bat she used to crush the projector to Beverly, grabbing her brother's hand.

“Mike, let’s go get this boy before gets himself hurt.” Mike nods his head and the siblings heading off on his bike.

Stan casts looks at their fleeing figure, and makes up his mind to go after them.

Beverly and the rest of the ‘Losers’ follow suit, leading the way to the Neibolt house--an old, terrifying house, completely alien to all the other residences on the street.

“Bill!” Beverly yells after she spots him in front of the house, Shanice follows with, “What the hell are you doing, a suicide mission? Come back before you or someone else gets hurt!”

“Look, I already said you don’t have to come in with me. But what happens when another Georgie goes missing? Or another Dorsey? Or one of us? Are you just going to pretend it isn’t happening like everyone else in this town?”

“You know can’t. But this thing is going to hunt us down. Your parents only have one child, are you gonna take that away from them?” Shanice says, her voice cracking a bit. Shanice was small, about the same height as Eddie. But, she seemed mature, like an adult talking their child down from doing something idiotic.

“Y-You don’t know how it is...” Bill swallows his tears before continuing, “I-I go home and all I see is that G-Georgie isn’t there. H-His clothes, his toys, his stupid stuffed animals--e-everything but Georgie.” He turns away from Shanice, closing his eyes before opening them again.

“So, walking into that house--for me, it’s easier than walking into my own.” Bill’s voice was even, his normal stutter gone--he was serious, like dead serious.

“Wow...”

“What?”

“He didn’t even stutter. Not once.” Shanice glares at Richie, her expression only softening while she watches him follow after Bill, despite his words. Taking the bat she’d tossed in the basket of Beverly's bike, so does she, then Mike.

“Didn’t you hear him? Why are you following him?” Stan asked, to which she frowns.

“We’re just kids, Stanley. I’m the oldest, and it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still one. Bill is too. We all are. We gotta team up if we don’t wanna die.”

Stan runs to her side, with reluctance clear on his face. His Adam's apple bobbled, his heart raced loudly.

“We should just turn around. Bill’s he’s braver than us--”

“Brave? Bill’s not brave. He’s just dumb, Derry-dumb--and my mama used to always say if you’re gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough.” She says, dragging her sneaker-bound feet as she went up the steps. Stan didn’t say a thing back, choosing to stand closer to her to calm his nerves.

“I ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer, I was taught enough to know that much.”

All of them, one by one--until every ‘Loser’s Club’ member was on the porch of the ‘29 Neibolt Street’.

Dark and eerie, that’s what Shanice described as the small opening of the house as she stood on the porch. As if he was reading her thoughts, Richie whispers, “I can’t see shit.”

She looks over at him, frowning as she watches him take a huff of Eddie’s inhaler.

“Tastes like battery acid.”

“Really, Richie? Is this this time to swab spit with the remains of Eddie’s inhaler?”

“What no I wasn’t. That gros--”

Shanice rolls her eyes, snatching the inhaler back and tossing it to Eddie.

Just as he goes to open a door, she stops when a thought occurs to her.

“Wait,” She says, holding up the bat she’d snagged from his garage, “If we’re trying to go in there, everybody needs something to defend themselves with. Even Batman can’t fight bad guys without something.”

Everyone scatters, looking for anything to use as a weapon

For instance, Mike at his sister’s word, goes for an old, rusted wrench, holding it with a tight grip.

Shanice hears something shatter--turning around looking back at the yard, she sees Richie with a dumbstruck expression as she looks at the beer bottle he just shattered, perhaps hoping to be like those action stars whose scenes involve bar fights.

She blinks before shaking her head.

‘Idiot. ’

His eyes locked with her gaze and he quickly rushed up behind her.

“I’ll just stand behind you.”

After some time, the group of teens fully reunite with their various choices of defensive means. Shanice jerks her head in the direction of the underworld-like entrance saying to Bill, “Now, or never.”

Slowly, but surely, the vengeful boy opens the door.

....

....

A dump.

The Neibolt house was an absolute fucking dump.

Trash everywhere, graffiti covering the walls--magazines, newspapers what have you, stacked and towering at every corner like a hoarder’s paradise.

“This is some kinda hell...” Shanice says, her frown seemed to deepen as she took in her surroundings and the smell that came with it.

“This place stinks. I can smell it.” Beverly remarks, disgust in her voice.

“I smell it too.” Her brother agrees--Richie pinches his nose, warning “Don’t breathe through your mouth. It’s like eating shit.”

Shanice punches him in the arm.

“You fucking tell me AFTER I’ve already got the taste on my tongue!”

They continue to journey through the abandoned house, passing different gross and odd things. Bev finds a lantern, surprisingly which aids in their sight.

“If there’s a well here it’d have to be in the basement, right?” Ben says. Stan gives him a look, looking mortified to even be in a house this filthy. Shanice nudges him before taking his hand with the one not occupied with her stolen means of protection, giving a small smile.

“Come on, I’ll protect you from this big, stinking house.” He smiles at her, still distressed by the way he squeezes her hand.

“Does this place even have a basement?”

“I hope not.” Eddie chimes in.

“L-let’s find out.”

Bill heads in the direction of the kitchen--however, the group hears something that stops them dead in their tracks.

“Hello? Is someone here?”

A child’s voice--coming from upstairs.

“Georgie?” Ben whispers, casting a glance towards Bill, to which he denies.

“This is a fucking trap, don’t fall for it, Bill.” Shanice starts, hearing the child’s voice become louder.

“HELLO?!”

“Down here! We’re down here!” Shanice’s eyes give Bev a look of utter disbelief, hushing her with a ‘shhh!’.

“Help me, please...” The child’s voice a whimper--Bev moves, with the lantern in hand, up the stairs. The remaining ‘Losers’ climb the stairs after her.

“Bev, she’s right. We need to be cautious.” Shanice gave him a heated glance.

“Now you listen to me when we’re already knee-deep in this trash heap--”

“Hello?” The child’s voice continues, coming from down the hall. The floorboards whine and groan under their combined weight. Shanice hopes it wouldn’t fail them.

Not with how far they’ve ventured. Almost at the end of the hall, Mike pauses.

“You guys hear that?”

Shanice stays in place, contracting--when she hears it. A light hum, a buzz. Coming from a damaged outlet, near the direction of another hallway, their intended target is the door at the end of it.

Only their breathing could be heard as they ventured on--with something troubling following it.

Squeaking, almost like--a clown horn.

“ It. ” Shanice says, gripping onto the bat for dear life. It stops, before smiling at her, with a shit-eating buck-toothed grin.

“Why, I’m not ‘ It ’. My dear, I’m Pennywise, the dancing clown!”

Bill braces, angry flooding his haunted features.

“WHERE’S G-G-GEORGIE?!”

It--Pennywise, tilts his head asking in a childish voice, “Who’s Geor-- oh -- sor--” letting out a giggle before changing back to his original voice.

“-ry, who’s Georgie?” He laughs again, watching them--no, hunting them. Counting them.

“Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat. Boy meat.” He chants, salivating, casting a hungry look at Bev.

“Girl meat. Yes. Sweet, salty blood-engorged girl meat...”

He stops, glancing at Shanice, who’s struggling to calm down her heart.

Leaning in close enough, close enough for their hairs to touch.

“Oh? When did Maturin cough up something that smelled so--delicious! You smell much better than your brother. You’re just like little Willy, filled with so much tasty fear!” Shanice screams, swinging her bat as she backed away as quickly as she could.

“Sweet, tasty child...do you know what I’d like to do? Use your thin blue veins like straws, little ears like spoons...” The chaotic plug sparks, Pennywise casts a wayward glance before going on.

“...armpits and cowlicks, freckles and dimples, peachy fuzz, scabbed knees, squeals, and screams!” The spark continues with a similar hum from earlier, however, the Clown ignores it.

“They all reek so good.”

Only when the sound grows louder does he consider acting upon it. The group watches on, seeing him pull out a small screwdriver, attempting to repair it.

Nothing.

Squinting at it, Pennywise snaps his fingers, as if to say, ‘ aha ’--grabbing a bigger screwdriver, jamming it into the socket--electrocuting himself and committing self-immolation. His laughs become manic, demonic, staring at his prey. His eyes like liquid lava, his teeth sharp and multiple spikes.

“Shay!” The girl looks at Stan who’s still holding her hand and her brother who’s inching to join her.

She shakes her head.

“Go, Stanley. You too Mike.”

“But--” Her brother begins--heavily breathing, she pushes the two boys away.

“I’m older. It’s my job to protect you. NOW GO!” With hesitation, the teens run to the rest of the feeling kids.

Shanice holds up the bat, glaring at his face, feigning fright--finally, she starts landing blows on him. Striking over and over, the rest of the losers fled as the floor seemed to crumble under them.

While the others make it, Shanice falls--passing out after she knocks her head into the tiled floor of the kitchen.

The other Losers yell her name while she lies limp, her sticky blood calling the name of a certain predator.

....

....

“Wakey, wakey Tasty.” Shanice’s eyes flutter open to a horrifying site--Pennywise and his bashed-in the skull and looking at her body propped on an old stool. Her head throbs, she touches it gingerly--only to find blood gushing from it. Her heart is racing, she vomits at the right of the mangled clown in front of her.

What happened?

The buzzing of the broken outlet, the fiery terror, the ground shattering under them.

Her falling, passing out.

And now, she’s confronted by a salivating, deranged nightmare of a clown.

This whole house--this whole town was a haunt--a feeding ground. The missing kids, the missing settlers. All of them, devoured--used to satisfy the diet of It.

“--it’s as if you’re marinated in it, aren’t my dear? Aged and rare, just for ol’ Pennywise!” As her head throbbed, she still tries to defend herself, rising her feet, unsteady. Her glaring vision shows a grinning Pennywise.

He takes a hold of her finger, still covering her, lapping at, nibbling on it--eventually gnawing off her finger, crunching on it like a treat. As if a child with a delicious treat, his teeth bloody, settled a delighted grin.

Her slurred hollering echos through the old, decaying room

“That’s it, scream more. GIVE ME MORE OF YOUR FEAR!”

“Get...away...from...me! Someone...help...me..."

She cries in agony--her fourth finger, gone, only a blood-gushing stump remains. Her fresh blood running down her palm as she yells, still trying to get away, somehow, back to her brother and the people she saw as first friends visiting Derry.

Her fellow ‘Losers’.

Shanice drags herself up, to a direction of an opening, feeling It catching her retreating legs, dragging her back. Her nails scraped against the floor, tearing off as she clung on for dear life.

“That’s it, scream more. GIVE ME MORE OF YOUR FEAR!”

Her feet, scratched and bruised, she twists and kicks sluggishly, until her body stops. She felt her dragged back, propped up against the wall.

This was it, this was how she’d die--being eaten, in some decrepit house. Her body--anything left of it would be buried under the crumbling house. She’d be the model for a missing kid’s poster, her grandfather would be like that mother she saw desperately going around, asking where her child was.

Everyone but her brother, Stan, and the rest of them would know the truth.

She’d die, just like that.

“Hey! Get away from my sister!”

Mike was there thrusting the wrench in his head, completely splitting his head--behind him where the rest of the ‘Losers’, with their teeth, bared. Pennywise lets go of her, howling in pain. Shanice falls limp to the ground, the smell of blood in the air.

Mike grabs his sister, and the rest of the gang hauls ass into the living room, her brother and Stan dragging her body as they run from the Neibolt house, the gapping door vaguely taunting them as they escape it.

....

....

Beep, beep. The squeaking sound of slip-resistant shoes worn by nurses echoes throughout. Beeps, finger-hitting keyboard, the occasional laughter, and conversation.

Shanice lay unconscious in the hospital bed.

Their grandfather silently stared out the window while touching his wooden leg.

This girl--she was his first grandchild. Born premature, didn’t come home until much later. Yet, she looked so much smaller laying there than she did inside of an incubator. She was hard-headed--but he didn’t think she would seek It after he warned the two kids.

The gash on her head wasn’t deep. Between the mental trauma and her blood loss--the doctors aren’t sure when she’d wake up.

It was troubling.

Mike’s silent as he sits beside the bed and stares at the slow breathing girl. Her skin is black and blue, she looks more than worse for wear.

The rest, the loser club--minus Eddie who had suffered a sprained arm, stood outside the door looking in.

“We’ll need to go back. Prepared this time...” Bill begins, Stan cuts him off, his voice squeaking with accusation.

“Will you shut the fuck up, Bill--she’s in there not waking up because she tried to save you from your shitty choices!”

Beverly, in the defense of Bill counters, with “...he’s right. No one else is going to do anything.”

“Face it! Shay almost got eaten, fuck she did get eaten--” He looks into the paneled window the door at her hand, wrapped up and traumatized--

“--by some shapeshifting demon monster that almost killed Eddie and Shay!”

Bill counters with, “But she hurt him, we hurt him. That’s something, right?”

“What kind of bullshit consolation prize is that?” Richies says with a scoff, rolling his eyes.

“Great, so next time it will just be madder and bigger and not mess around to kill us. That’s why I’ll go away, and not come back. Not my problem anymore. You can’t wait to get out of this town either, you said --” Ben mutters, while Beverly gives him a sharp look.

“I want to run towards something. Not run away. That’s what cowards do.” Everyone is looking amongst themselves when Richie addresses Bill again, however, he stares at him with a pissed-off glance.

There’s a beat.

And another.

“Let’s face facts. Real-world. Georgie's dead. And you killed him.”

Bill flinches--the words cut deep, like a razor blade. Was that the truth? Did he send his brother out in the rain to die

“I didn’t get my brother killed--”

“You sent him out there by himself. And he died. Either way, you’re just a bunch of losers and you’ll get yourselves killed trying to stop this stupid killer when none of it makes any difference.”

As the bespeckled teen begins his departure, Bill moves to block his path. They stare down at each other. With a frown Richie, irritatingly yells, “Out of my way, Bill! You couldn’t save him but you can still save yourself.”

“I didn’t get my brother killed.”

The hospital room door swings open, it’s Mike. Everyone grows quiet as he stalks up to Bill, and punches Bill square in the jaw--hard enough that he falls onto the cold tiled floors.

“You don’t care about any but yourself. We all have shit going on. My sister was smart enough to try and stop you and you didn’t appreciate that.” Mike says, calmly, a bit too calm as it scares the rest of the ‘Losers.’

Beverly, helping Bill says with a shaky voice, “This, this is what It wants. It wants us divided. That’s what it was doing in Neibolt--separating us.”

Richie snorted, retorting, “Well It got what it wants. But at least I’m alive. And I plan on staying that way.” Richie walks off, Stan and Ben follow. Mike focuses his gaze on Bill.

“Shanice and I are outsiders. We don’t belong here and today proved that.”

Bill, wincing as he holds his jaw, shakes his head.

“B-But, we’re all outsiders.”

Mike turned his back to him. His eyes shifted to his sister, bandaged up, lying still.

“No, you’re not. None of you are.”

....

....

“--may’ansho sheh’la’zeh.”

Inside of a synagogue, a bat mitzvah is held for Stan--none of his fellow ‘Loser’ club members, including Shanice’s who’s still deemed as comatose. Stan, who had been preparing for the day, couldn’t help but feel driven by his nerves.

Dealing with trauma, barely coping on his own--the day they went to the Neibolt house, the blood he couldn’t forget that on his hand--her blood for that matter.

Scrubbing his skin, throwing the clothes he’d worn that day.

Nothing worked

He glances at his mother, who’s looking quite stone-friendly--his eyes then glance to Richie, seated far in the back--then to the Rabbi, his father who gives a nod to go on with his reciting.

Stan nervously begins, “Um, reflecting on what I just read, I like what it says about indifference. When you’re a kid...” he stalls, the air turns into thick scrutiny.

“Stanley,” His father warns, his tone deep and authoritative.

He can feel the sharp looks his parents are starting to give.

It was suffocating almost.

He takes a deep breath.

Slowly, he recalls the advice Shanice had given to him while devouring an ice cream cone.

“I’m nervous about this whole thing. It’s like my dad’s waiting for me to mess up the whole thing.” Shanice looked up at him, her eyes big and curious. Stanley felt his heart pound--he averts his gaze, his flushed face instead focused on his frozen. They sat inside of an ice cream shop, both eating rocky road and chocolate chip ice cream respectively. He explains his trouble, which mainly stem from his problem regarding his speech and his fears of fucking the whole thing up.

“Well, if you’re scared that you’ll mess up--just wing it.”

“Just wing it?” She nods.

“Just wing it and say how you feel. If all else fails, at least you won’t be up there, saying nothing--you wouldn’t wanna look foolish, would you?”

And so, he does just that--he speaks what he feels, in his heart.

“Well, when you’re a kid you think the universe revolves around you. That you’ll always be protected and cared for. Then one day, something bad happens and you realize that’s not true.”

After her hospitalization, Mike took up his sister’s farming duties. Partially out of obligation, partially out of guilt. He watches a sheep in it’s pen with his grandfather--it was separated from his herd, vulnerable. His grandfather hands him the stun bolt gun again, urging him to take his shot.

Stans takes a breath before speaking once more.

“Suns go out and animals go extinct and whole nations go crazy and kill people they don’t like and none of it seems to matter.”

Mike aims, shoots--and instantly, the sheep falls to the ground.

Bev stands in her bathroom, brushing her hair--from the corner of her eye, she can’t turn her gaze out of the window, in the direction to Neibolt street.

Her heartaches.

A tear falls down her cheek.

“That’s why our friends and faith and family are so important.”

Bill sits at the dining table at his house, alone-- as always, thinking--about a lot of things.

Things he can’t do over, mistakes he’s made trying to be brave. Not actually being courageous, but faking it and hoping somehow that everything would end, and they’d make it out alive.

But, like wanting to see his brother again, those thoughts were wistful feelings of a boy.

“We matter. Even if, to the universe--”

In the library, Ben studies a painting of the First Settlement of Dairy. At first glance, it’d seem the men in it--the fur trapper was in position. However, as he looks closer, he realizes something both morbid and fascinating.

They were dead, only positioned as if they were alive.

A chill ran through him as he stared wide-eyed at it.

“--we’re too small to notice.”

Unknowingly, before they could even scream, they had become the prey instead.

....

....

Lucid, yet anchored.

Shanice was awake--but her body wasn’t.

Her mind ran, she felt so alone in a black space--she felt cold, down to her blood and her bone.

At that moment, she finally managed to open her eyes--to a white, bubbled ceiling. The first thing she notices is the scent of artificial cleanliness, a smell that’s almost sickening.

It’s a constant beep followed by the sounds of a new report.

“Good morning. Today is July 18th, 1985. In today’s news...”

The IV runs with a soft, slow drip.

She breathes slowly and calmly under her oxygen mask.

Shanice feels a dull, aching pain and her body reacts and stirs.

She hears the door open--it’s her Grandfather, with Mike and a familiar face following.

Stanley, looking at her with the worst kind of look on his face. In his neat clothes, his shirt buttons up all the way despite the heat of the summer. His big, brown eyes heavy, gaunt with dark, purplish bags.

“You look like shit.” She mutters, her voice small and raspy--at that moment, she’s overcome with a tight embrace, followed by a wailing cry--by Stan. Her hospital gown had become damp from those tears, his head inside the crook of her neck.

“I thought you were going to die.”

“But I didn’t. This kinda thing ain't gonna kill me.

Her response only has him sobbing harder inside her grasp.

When he looks at her, she gives him a gap-tooth grin, brushing his curly hair off his face. Stan, who seemed to have short-fused at the sight, ducked his head once against her chest. The adolescent, the one-sided moment was broken up from the older, impatient man in the doorway.

“Come on boy, you're getting your snot everywhere. You don't want the girl you like to see you with like some sap, do ya?” Her grandfather says, glaring down at Stan until he moves far away.

Shanice raises her brow at the last bit of the statement but decides she's too tried to investigate at that point.

The patriarch sits down, with Mike opposite of him--his face is grave.

“I thought I warned ya’ll of It--and yet you sought It out.” Shanice, groggy, still flinches at his words.

“Granddaddy, it’s killing people!”

“Which is why you should stay away! You got out this time, but what about the next time? Are you willing to die?” The girl and her Grandfather stared in silence, them being the only two in the room after a weeping Stan was ushered out by Mike. She struggles to keep up with the staredown, her eyes lowered, swollen and throbbing.

She began to cry.

An aching sob, rattling her sore back and chest, rough on her throat.

“Now, why the hell are you crying girl?”

Grandpa Hanlon asks, careful taking her small hand into his larger, calloused one. He, with the gentleness of a grandfather, lends her his shoulder.

“If we don’t do this, who’s gonna save us? Every adult here except you act like ain’t nothing going on. It’s It versus Us.”

William purses his lips, stroking his granddaughter’s coiled hair.

“I know what it feels like to be helpless. Against that thing, against Derry. You're alone, fighting against something much bigger than you. You kids... I don’t know what to say. I ain’t gonna stop you, am I?”

He looks down at his granddaughter’s snot, tear-covered face, and decides he should go ahead and lend her his handkerchief.

He held it up to Shanice's face.

“Gon ‘head and blow.”

After cleaning up her face, her grandfather pats her shoulder.

“Whatever you chose to do, I’ll support you and help you the best I can, Baby Girl.”

....

....

After a week, Shanice was released from the hospital, back home to an unsure reality.

Later that day, missing digits, left still tired and out of it--dressed in a pair of overalls and Adidas, she planned on trying to find something to do to keep her anxiety at bay. She approaches the local arcade, with intentions of seeing if they had a Pac-Man machine in it.

Then, she realizes she’s missing, certain required parts to play a hands-on game.

Nevertheless, she still enters, hoping to kill a bit of time.

She encounters a familiar bespeckled boy, he seems completely focused on the at hand.

“Finally! Anyone wanna watch me--”

Shanice obviously doesn’t care about the fact.

“Yo, Rich!”

Richie’s eyes, a bit annoyed, slowly widens when he recognizes the voice calling for him. He envelopes her into a friendly embrace, almost knocking the breath out of her when he did.

“Dude! You’re alive!”

“Of course I am. A little banged up, that’s all.” She uses her good hand to high-five him.

“So...” He glances at her bandaged hand and forehead.

“How are you...feeling?”

She laughs.

“Richie, I’m as good as a girl can be with her fingers missing.”

Richie snorts.

“Richie!” The two teenagers pause, looking at the other familiar voice--they’re met with Bill, who’s running over to them, huffing.

“It got Bev!”

Shanice frowns, suddenly feeling fidgety.

“What do you mean ‘It got Bev’?” Bill whose face is panicked and flushed finally notices Shanice, now out of the hospital staring at him.

“Shay, I--”

“Bill. We can talk later. We need to get her back, right?”

He nods, the three teenagers look amongst each other, a beat passes, and Richie speaks up.

“I’ll call Eddie and Stanley. You get Ben--and Shanice go get your brother. We’ll meet up at the standpipe.”

The boy and girl nod, with the feeling of dread hanging in the air.

“Th-thanks.”

Richie gives him a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, what are friends for, right?”

The three split ways.

Shanice arrives home, she spots her grandfather in the living room, watching an episode of Sanford and Sons.

“Remember when you said you’d help, Granddaddy?”

The older man, with a Budweiser in his hand, looks a bit off in the distance.

“Alright. Get your brother.”

With them all together, Shanice gives them both a brief rundown of the situation at hand.

He gives Mike the stun bolt gun, and her a hunting knife. It’s larger than her hands, and it’s metal cool to the touch. She glances at its gleaming nature before folding it and putting it in her pocket.

“Now, ya’ll sure you want to do this?” Mike doesn’t say much, only glaring at the ground.

“Why should we help them?”

Shanice knows what he means--of course, she does.

Why should we, when we’re just outsiders.

Did they ever fit into this mess? They were never supposed to be here in the first place.

But things happened, and now they are.

“Friends help friends, Mike.”

The siblings walk in silence as they approach the monument square, as they all did before. The dire situation at hand, bringing them together again--minus Beverly. While her grandfather’s hunting knife was tucked in the pocket of her shorts, Mike clenched onto the stun bolt in his hands.

Richie’s eyes are glued to it.

Mike rolls his eyes.

“Better than a broken bottle.”

Ignoring the boy and her brother’s interactions, Shanice turns to look at Bill as he begins to speak.

“If anyone wants to back out, now’s the time.”

Ben shakes his head.

“No. Remember what Beverly said. We all go or none of us do. That’s the only way we can defeat It.”

“Then...let’s go to Neibolt.”

....

....

The group of teenagers arrives at the still decaying house. It seems much more frightening than their first venture there. Shanice feels trepidation, thinking back to their first time being there. But now, they know what’s there. That thing was there.

She feels something tug at her hand.

Mike grabs her hand, squeezing it tight.

Her brother and Stan give her wan appearance mirroring nervous glances.

“You good?”

Not really.

She felt like puking.

But she couldn’t tell Mike that.

So, she nodded her head.

“No, let’s go ahead.”

After a while, they enter, standing in the living room. Shanice scrunches her nose as the smell of rot and scum hits her again.

“Where do you think she’ll be?” Mike turns and asks Bill.

“B-Basement. The well. That’s where he was going to take Eds, right?”

The teen casts a glance at the aforementioned ‘Loser’ visibly shakes, the only one still standing at the entrance. Letting of her brother’s hand, trying to shake off her own fear, goes over to him.

Shanice pauses, her hand frozen in the stifling air.

Was she reassuring him, or herself?

She didn’t know.

She was confident in her decision at home, but now she felt the situation weigh on thick. Her body is rattled with tremors. She recalls her howls, trying to crawl away, trying to get away from It.

Her, ultimately failing.

Subsequently, while the girl’s heart felt contemplation, Bill’s voice disrupted her thoughts.

Without pause or stutter, addresses Eddie and the rest of the group.

“As long as we don’t let fear overtake us we can do it. But we have to do it together.”

She nods.

“Hey, you got all your fingers, don’t you?”

Taking a quick glance at her bandaged hand, bobbing his head quickly.

“Exactly. He’s not gonna get you--or us, today. You gotta be strong--we have to be strong; together.” Shanice says, trying not to let her voice betray her words.

She pats him on the shoulder, like something her father used to do to comfort her, albeit brashly.

Eddie with resolve as he looks amongst his fellow losers makes his way into the house with her.

The floors creak as they champion on--as if to say they were intruding on it’s space.

Suddenly, there’s a loud commotion coming from the kitchen.

Following it was a similar sound coming from the other side, coming from the basement.

Bills rush over to the direction, much to the dismay of the other ‘Losers’ in the house.

“Wait--” Eddie warns from beside Shanice.

Bill responds stubbornly, “It could be her.”

And immediately after tries to open the door. At first, it doesn’t budge, persisting in its door frame. Looking amongst, themselves, wondering if it could be Beverly, go over to try and help. With a reverberating clang, the door is forced open. Shanice stumbles back with the rest of them, falling back, looking back in horror at what emerges from it.

Bright, red balloons.

And beyond them, lingering darkness.

Almost inaudibly, Shanice mutters “Not her...it’s It trying to scare us...”

Bill takes in a deep, sharp breath, rising to his feet.

“C’mon. Stay close.”

With those words, he takes the plunge into the vantablack nihility. With uncertainty, they follow after him. The stairs wobble with their combined weight--Shanice, thinking back to when the floor stares into the darkness with her heart pounding.

Only, then, does she realize she doesn’t seem to notice where Bill anymore, even squinting.

“I can’t find Bill.”

Meanwhile, Bill is leered from above through the sewer gate, by Pennywise. Blood drips from his sharp, barred teeth, onto Bill’s face. Determined not to seem intimidating, he stares back at him as fiercely as he could with the clown drooling at the sight of him.

“Not yet seasoned. But I know some girl meat, that I’ve sampled--and boy meat that is fresh with fear--that is...”

While he walks away with his own giddy laughter, Bill’s eyes widen in realization.

Shanice, back the stairs, wonders if she’s imagining things when she hears the line.

“Shay!” Her suspicions are furthered when she hears him call out to her.

“...Bill?” She questions, cutting herself off as the floor below her opens up like a trap door.

She drops with a harsh thud--onto the rough carpet, the beige color evoking memories.

It was her parent’s old apartment. The old, brown recliner, which was her favorite place to sit was still there.

She looks down, her bandages were gone, her hand and finger intact.

Was everything just a dream?

A long, sick dream?

“Shanice, baby?”

Standing in the living room, she’s met by her mother.

With her arms crossed standing in her pink, satin robe, her mother calls out to her. Her voice to grown rough by nicotine, her tone concerned and maternal.

“Sweetheart, why aren’t you in bed?” Her mother questions, cupping her face. Shanice leans into it, soaking in the maternal warmth she’s missed during this nightmare. At the sight of her mother, alive and well, Shanice hugs her tight.

“Mama, mama. I was so scared...” She mutters in a silent chant, burying her face into her bosom. The smell of swishers fills her senses, mixed in with her mother’s soft rose-scented perfume.

It assured her that she was home.

“What’s wrong baby? Had a bad dream?”

The teenager nods, replying, “I really bad one. The...the police came to our house, and Daddy was gonna get arrested. I...I thought you died.”

Her mother laughs--no giggles, with fancy.

“But baby, I’m already dead. Don't you remember? You were the one who let me die.”

Suddenly, she starts to smell rust, while blood begins to smear on her childish face. She jerks away, looking at something, that her mother, smiling back at her, bleeding from the chest.

She starts to holler, uncontrollably, scrambling for exit away from the nightmare she was facing.

Meanwhile, her brother, who notices both Eddie and Shanice gone, with his thoughts mimicked by Mike.

“Where’s Eddie and Shay? They were just here.”

Stanley couldn’t help but reply, “It’s separating us. We need to get help for them and Bill...”

The four boys, Richie included, decide to move back the stairs, away from the pit below. Just before they reach upstairs, they see a figure of a person on top.

Mike, squint, clutching then stun bolt gun in his hand.

It was Henry Bowers.

Baaing like a sheep, holding a knife.

Unexpected, with a bit of lunacy.

“ Guys, it’s never good when the person with the knife starts making animal noises, especially--”

Mike glares at him reprimanding him--

“Now isn’t the time to be fucking making a joke, Richie!”’

--a bit like his missing sister.

They all freeze, trying to find a way away from the older teen a knife he planned to use on them.

“Here! Climb up!” Ben, who seemed to have found some sort of escape tunnel among debris and calls them over to it. Mike, being the only person of the group armed, guards the entrance as the others made their way in

“Mike! Let’s go!” Ben yells--with his eyes on Henry, he slowly climbs in--the others not fully out yet.

“Shit, Mike,” Stan says, the second to last of the escapees, looking at him with worry filling his chest.

The others have stopped as well, their movement stalling.

“Just go. Find the others--find my sister. I’ll hold Bowers off.”

Richie shakes his head his words, “Mike--”

Lifting the gun that never left his hand since they arrived at the decrepit house, he remarks with steady, surprisingly cooled confidence, “I came prepared, remember?”

With that, the teenager turns to face the boy who’s been taunting him since he came to town.

....

....

Shanice watches with her hand clenched as the illusion fades and her ‘mother’ transmutes into Pennywise. They’re kitchen, like before. She even sees her blood on the tiled floor, dried--having left a trail to where she tried to save herself.

“You’re not real, none of this real.”

The clown smiles at her, with its bloody buck-teeth.

“Your missing fingers beg to differ, do they not?”

In a soft, flamboyant tone he mockingly continues in reply, “ ‘Mama, Mama, I was so scared!’ The big bad pennywise was gonna eat meeeeee.”

She narrows her black, pit-filled eyes, her pounding heart betrays her defiant expression.

She clenches her teeth, remembering her knife that was thankfully still hidden in her pocket.

She convulses, choking back her trepidation. Her skin was covered in sweat, she felt as if she wanted to throw up.

Her heart is in her throat. Throbbing, pulsing.

This could be the reason for her death.

But she can’t go back now.

Not now, she wasn’t a coward, nor was she someone who would abandon her friends.

Taking a breath, she rushes and lunges at the clown in front of her. She impales the space of the creature’s skull once with the weapon in her hand--piercing it as blood-splattered and flowed--not waiting as she dashed away, using the distraction to escape. down to the uncertainty of the basement.

Shanice races, in pursuit of Bev, her brother, Stan--hell, anyone to make sure they were at least still alive.

She dashes down the stairs, feels her short legs trip and tumble--and despite pain, she continues. She pursues until she’s limping to the sound of voices. Shanice sees her brother--and Henry Bowers standing over him. It’s a scuffle, and her brother was obviously losing.

“I told you to stay the fuck out my town, didn’t I?” His voice drips with disgust, kicking Mike in the chest as he produces a knife with no gleam. She chokes down a sob before a scream rips through her chest.

“Hey Bowers!”

Henry’s head whips over to her, her brother’s eyes glued to her.

It didn’t matter if she was a girl who stood at only 4 ft 10 or if she was even smaller than Eddie, Henry had one thought on his mind.

Again, again, again, she’s knocked around and beat with persistent fists.

Kill her, get her out the way, and then finish off Mike.

Her breaths are shallow, her body feels ravaged.

He takes a boot-clad foot and kicks her in the chest to throw her back.

“You aren’t so tough now, are you?”

His wicked grin spreads as approaches her with her brother’s stun bolt gun in one hand, aiming right between her eyes.

“I’m going to kill you and your wuss brother and then I’m going to kill all your friends.”

“No...No, you won’t!”

There’s not even a whole beat before another voice interrupts the bully's speech. The rest is like a blood-soaked haze--Mike grabs the bully, away from his sister down the darkness of a well behind them.

“Mike!”

Shanice is panting, dragging herself against the structure, hoping to see what was occurring--not suspect she’s fallen herself to a harsh, bone-rattling thud. She watches in a daze as Henry lies still, seemingly rendered unconscious. Her brother, and the newly reunited Losers club attempt to help her up.

“Michael, why don’t you come with your old pops?” The teenage boy stops in his tracks as a hand jerks him away from his sister’s grasp. Roughly handling him is something that looks like his father, but not him.

“Let me go!”

He’s being pulled closer, into a mass of Dead Lights, a stunning death wish. He struggled, thrashing at the man’s grasp, letting out a voice cracking scream. He believes that isn’t his father, he knows that isn’t his father. Determined for it to not get him, he looks away from the illuminating accumulation, every word like a thrown dagger.

“Let! Me! Go!”

Only after that, is he truly free and brought back into the safety of his friends, his fellow losers.

Shanice, with a strained voice, weakly asks, “Bill...where’s Bill?” Beverly, who stood beside Stan holding the injured girl in his arms, looked around alarmed.

“We have to find Bill.” Stan, who opted to piggy-back Shanice, Mike searches for their leader who disappears. The room around them shakes and quakes, their calling becoming louder as the chaotic finally hits its peak until--Shanice sees a body drop from the squint of her drooping eyes.

It’s Bill.

Foolish, stuttering Bill.

“Are you okay?” Beverly asks.

The boy nods.

Shanice lets out a weak laugh.

She watches from over the shoulder of Stan’s shoulder, gripping tighter onto his clothing when he hands his gun to Bill.

Bill begins walking, stopping to turn to the Losers. His eyes are bright and determined.

Slowly, but with a common aim in mind, they hunt for Pennywise.  All along the way they are faced with their fears. The Losers, ignore them, as if they didn’t exist--Bill who stands in front of them with his head held high.

“A truce to be true. A deal to be struck. Ignore this, forget me, and I will let you all grow and thrive, living happy lives until you die happy deaths at age hundred and one.” Pennywise’s voice offers, clear and dark as if it were speaking directly to them--but, the clown was nowhere in sight.

Bill’s stuttering voice follows soon after.

“N-NO! No more...”

Silence follows it.

“Maybe we should have at least discussed the deal first...” Richie murmurs as they leave in the fright of the dark unknown.

The sewer gates, behind it was a child’s crying face.

Georgie, Bill’s brother, wearing a yellow raincoat.

Holding a soaked paper boat.

“Let him go, Bill. He said I could come back if you let him go... please, Bill!”

Bill hesitates. There his brother was, looking like he did before he disappeared. The same, childish smile.

“I want you back more than anything else--”

Georgie smiles, calling out him, “Hug me,”

He turns around. He sees the two Hanlon siblings, he glances at Shanice’s batter form, slowly trying to stand on her own--Mike’s steel gaze watching his every move.

He turns back to face his “brother”, stepping forward--and instead, raises Mike’s gun to him.

“But you’re not Georgie.”

Suddenly, enraged, the boy’s figure quickly turns Pennywise--whose teeth are bared like a rabid animal. As fast the Losers can blink, there’s seven of them instead of eight. They all are faced with a sight that churns their stomachs--the creature grins with bloody teeth as he gnaws once again at the girl’s injured hand--only spitting out non-tasty things like bandages.

Bill panics, looking between the girl and clown before he finally takes a breath and fires a shot. It lands right between its eyes, where Bowers had intended to shoot Shanice.

It lets out a shriek, engulfing itself as it transforms into something akin to a black hole...with the girl and boy she held to,  following it into its abyss.