#so if you’re used to uri’s games ending well… this doesn’t

[tranquil-turbulence]

I know it’s really, really overshadowed by the “Strange Men” series, but… if you aren’t triggered by suicide/SA (not prevalent to the story but there’s one tiny part with attempted assault), then I recommend Uri’s game Pedestal. There’s an English release from last year and… just wow. I love twist endings, so I highly enjoyed it, but it is really dialogue-heavy (you have to ask a LOT of questions). No spoilers, but it doesn’t end the way, say, The Sandman or The Boogie Man would. Not horribly awful, but it is very bittersweet, so if you’d rather a truly feel-good end, I don’t know if you’d like it.

It just. Wow I have a lot of thoughts about it. Getting the true ending is more than a little annoying (especially without a guide) but it’s an interesting reveal.

[wqxian]

Firstly stating, I’m black & genderfluid. Anyone turning this situation to it being people hating black people for DISAGREEING with the things that Rose has said are fucking weird and I hate people like you. Why make everything about hating black people because you don’t like what a black person has said? You’re downplaying this important discussion by making it about “us attacking a small black trans artist” which is odd as fuck. We’re not entitled to be disrespectful, transphobic or sexist just for being black and/or trans. AND if you’re personally not apart of the communities discussed in this IMPORTANT situation, stay the fuck out of it, you have no right to speak on anything. Speak your truth on the parts you’re apart of and leave the rest to voices apart of the communities that were affected by the things said by Rose.

Moving on…

It’s kinda sad seeing you talk poorly about yourself in the beginning of that. Anyone can be understanding to that, that doesn’t mean we should use harsh words towards you because of that. Yeah, being upset about not having more body typed LIs in a game is fair but it’s not like it’s a new thing and you did what you felt you could at the time being why the fuck should we berate you for it when you’re expanding now? Reaching people farther and wider…?

“Fed up” is such a weird thing to say as well, it’s honestly concerning and makes this whole thing even more ridiculous to me. Rose’s job as a sensitivity reader is to be more mindful and point out things in a responsible, respectful manner. In the end, this isn’t THEIR game. You seem to be an open-minded person so I see no reason why they need to disrespect you in the way they do—whether you deny it and slide it off as a joke or not. You may not mind it but seeing that can be really jarring, plus reading the things on their BLOG before even being hired? About the game, about you, about male MCs now, about Terry, about Baxter, it’s all very fucking weird. My tags say it all but yeah.

Disagreeing on Terry’s design is absolutely fair, everyone is entitled to their own opinion. The design could have been better but it doesn’t stray from realism of how transmen wear clothes & how their body types are. They don’t owe you masculinity, to wear xyz to look MASCULINE to you. Especially opinions being stated by someone who isn’t a transgender man. Again, referring to my own identity I won’t speak much on Terry because that discussion is meant to be between transmen only.

Whole thing is disappointing, was hoping better after finding this out but the lackluster apology and response was just absolutely insane to read. If you… forgive Rose’s behavior and expect us to do the same, can’t so much as you’re the dev but this community feels a whole lot less safer and less comfortable. I’ll be keeping my distance in the meanwhile.

EDIT: Rereading the screenshots too, they’re literally giving you a bad look. (Rose and Uri for saying YOU picked them even though they’re the ones starting discourse). Really think you need to step back and think about this throughly.

GB Patch Games: Response About Sensitivity Reader

[Some of you might not have heard of this happening, but I wanted to address it across the board]

Hey everyone,

I want to make a post about the screenshots of comments from one of our sensitivity readers. The situation is that neither me or Rose want people to feel uncomfortable with Our Life: Now & Forever, but Rose hasn’t done anything terribly wrong and isn’t going to be punished.

The comment about OL MCs wasn’t meant to be genuine hatred towards all male players/MCs of OL. Rose wrote a reply about it-

"Hi everyone! This is Rose, I want to address the male MC comment since it was taken wildly out of context and without the lengthy discussion that was after it. I don't hate male MCs, in fact far from it, male MCs are integral to the story in OL:NF as female and trans MCs are. I think the relationship they could potentially have with Qiu could be a great asset in my opinion as they figure out their gender alongside the MC. The discussion itself was about how I noticed players were sticking to heteronormative norms by shipping Tamarack with a man purely out of societal norms than it was genuine thought into the characters and how I personally wished there was more sapphic relationships with Tamarack or just Tamarack with trans characters as a sapphic trans person myself. I didn't mean to offend anyone by it as no one but my friends who understood what I legitimately meant behind my message and it definitely wasn't meant to be seen seriously. I am sorry regardless to anyone I have offended and I love your male MCs regardless."

And most of the comments were about me. I’ve seen screenshots of the full conversations and they’re not as harsh as the cropped snippets made them out to be. It was longer discussions about not including Derek in any base game Moments for no good reason and not having any plus-sized love interests in OL1 because I was afraid players wouldn’t accept it. That’s not a lie, it’s what I decided for the game I created, and it is ridiculous of me. I’m the one who should be feeling embarrassed over how OL1 will forever be that way, not the people who remember that I did that. I’m not perfect and Rose actually cares more about the players than making me feel like I am flawless.

I also don’t want to tone police an employee venting about their boss in private, on their own time. Both the OL games deal with personal, important topics. This is sensitive work, and it can bring up frustrations. Sometimes people do use harsh words among friends, but they wouldn’t ever say it to a person seriously and directly.

I understand if you wouldn’t want to see anyone speak badly of a dev you like, but I promise it’s not a point of contention between me and Rose. I don’t feel mistreated in anyway. Rose genuinely cares about the Our Life series, and that’s why they get fed up with me over certain parts of the game.

Rose has never been unkind or unreasonable to me when working on the project, and their advice is detailed and well-explained. They do care about the game and want it to avoid having content that upsets people because of my own ignorance/shortcomings.

This being shared publicly from a private server is targeting Rose and seems to be a continuation of things that have happened before this. I don’t want this to continue happening. If you do still have concerns over the one comment about the community, you can let me know. But again, I don’t want people being mistrustful of Rose on my behalf for comments about me in conversations with missing context.

Do not send angry messages to Rose about any of this. We’ll do our best so that OL2 will be better than I was before. Thank you to everyone who reads this and participates in the community!

[ohlovelywar]

stan the gay’s wingman

you asked, and you shall receive…. a couple years later because i completely forgot that this was sitting in here everyone i’m sooooo sorry

now, it was no secret to literally anyone how annoying richie tozier and eddie kapsbrak could possibly be, much less the losers club

and it was even LESS of a secret how annoyed stanley uris would be by the two’s constant bickering 

the losers didn’t know what stan knew though

and BOY did that make things so much more entertaining 

ask anyone in derry, maine and they would tell you that richie and eddie argued like they were an old, married couple 

however, stan was the only human being to actually KNOW what’s hidden beneath the bickering 

the losers club all guessed it was some sort of love but it was never confirmed to them 

but stanley could SENSE it with his gaydar  eyes

the gay 

it all became crystal clear a few months before ben showed the losers his club house for them. 

after a rather unfortunate game of truth or dare, stan our local gay whisperer, ended up putting two and two together 

“holy shit, they actually like each other!” 

“what was that stan?” 

“i said your farm’s nice mike!” slight gay panic 

and after tracking the two down separately and having a long talk, they both admitted their crushes on each other 

“dear diary, i am a motherfucking genius! sincerely, stanley uris. p.s.: sorry for cursing!” 

now that THAT was out of the way, stan’s work was done…at least that’s what he thought

u see,,, richie and eddie aren’t just gay, no no, they’re gay DISASTERS

and since stan the man’s the only one who knows naturally he’s the one they come to for help

“i need to blow richie’s socks off with this date!” stan’s got the place “how do i get eddie a gift for his birthday that says i’m really happy you’re alive but you’re also the biggest pain in my ass most days” stan has that mostly to do with richie let’s just be honest here

stan was the super genius mastermind behind for the big moments in their relationship, as well as the one to make sure the two idiots didn’t go screwing up the great thing they have

“listen we all fucking know u use humor as a defense mechanism because you’re scared to get close to people just for them to leave you but if you could just pleaseee for ONCE in your life respond to a question like a normal human being so your boyfriend doesn’t ditch your ass for someone who doesn’t openly talk about fucking his mother every two seconds” “….an ‘i’m doing great richie’ would’ve been nice-“ “WHAT DID I JUST!2?3)2?2)2”

poor boy’s diary sees all the drama

“if eddie would just TELL richie that he actually doesn’t hate how much he makes fun of his asthma cause it’s the only time anyone believes he’s able to do anything a boy his age can do and won’t coddle him BUT NOOOOO NO ONE TAUGHT THESE TWO BASIC COMMUNICATION SKILLS”

he’s put his own blood sweat and tears into this relationship he’s not about to watch it fall apart cause their preschool teachers never taught them the “i feel” lesson

“listen you dumb asses we leave for college in TWO MONTHS! in two months we’re going to be adults so you both better start acting like it and start actually TALKING to each other instead of bitching about why you can’t appreciate your boyfriend to his face to me and my diary! I SAID ZIP IT RICHIE!!”

yes they made up and richie did make fun of stan’s diary

it’s not like his efforts went unnoticed oh no

the two may be gay disasters but they’re thankful gay disasters put some respect in their names🗣🗣🗣

the day after their anniversary richie and eddie make sure to give stan a gift every year as a thank u for helping them last this long

“really if it wasn’t for you his trash mouth would’ve stayed single years ago!!!” “WELL URE ONE TO TALK?!???” “i know…and i know…”

everyone stay thank you stanley uris!!!

BONUS!!

“now,,,, you think we can set him and mike up?” “stan got us together how are can it be!”

[simp4reggie]

Found Family

Reggie x Alive!Reader  

Word Count: 2,457 Words

A/N: Thank you so much to @shellbeerocks and @dr-rigatoni for looking this over and proofreading. Every comment was appreciated and I hope you enjoy the final product! <3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Julie is sitting in her chair getting ready for her performance at the Orpheum. The world (well the audience in Los Angeles) was about to get blown away by Julie and the Phantoms. While she seems calm, I definitely am not. See, Alex, Reggie, and Luke made a bad decision the night they were supposed to have a gig at the school dance. They ended up going to this ghost club and meeting a ghost, Caleb Covington, who, looking back at it now, was not a great dude. Now, a couple weeks later, they have three options. They can either perform at the Orpheum and hope they cross over, stay at the ghost club and be the house band for eternity, or get destroyed by these jolts that Caleb gave them to force them back to the club and that's the last thing they want. So, here we are. After some ghostly tricks, Julie was called to open for Panic! At the Disco. However, Julie has to go on in like 10 minutes and the boys are still not here yet. 

“Where are they? They wouldn’t do this to you again,” I say, walking back and forth. 

“It’s fine. Stop pacing you're gonna make me more nervous than I already am,” Julie replies.

“Sorry,” I said sitting down on the couch. “It’s just their jolts were pretty bad when we left. I know that they’re going to be gone after the show but it’s different knowing they won’t be in pain.”, I sigh. We never got to actually say goodbye to them. Sure, they had a band meeting and I had wished them good luck, but it wasn’t enough. Especially when I’ve fallen for a certain bass player. Reggie and I have gotten really close over the time they’ve spent in the garage. I’m not in high school so I was able to spend a lot of time in the garage hanging with guys. My days consisted of making sure they didn't get into any ‘trouble’. Our younger brother, Carlos, was suspicious enough after dad found three orbs in his picture of the garage. 

Anyway, being there all the time, I was able to get to know the boys and become close with each of them in different ways. Luke and I bonded over song writing and some guitar playing. Alex and I would go on little adventures whenever he needed to get away from the other two dorks. Reggie and I bonded the most, about movies and video games and...pizza. 

Now, you can understand why I am freaking out a little. Julie turned around in her chair to look at me.

“Okay first calm down. Sit.” I sit. “Now, breathe.”

“I should be saying this to you. You’re the one about to go on stage.”

“Like you said, the boys wouldn’t let me down again. We have to trust them.” 

A knock on the door interrupts us. “Julie, I got your roadie,” Rob, the Stage Manager says. Julie goes to open the door and Flynn walks in. Rob then says he’ll be back when it’s time to go on stage. Flynn doesn’t say anything until the door is shut.

“You see this backstage pass?! I had sushi with Brendon Urie.”

“Good for you. I threw up in the car on the way over here,” Julie says, reminding me of that disgusting moment.

“And you still look amazing. I made friends with the tech crew. You’re gonna love what we have planned.” Flynn looks around. “The guys are here right?”

“No. They're not,” I say, upset 

Flynn looks surprised. “Wait. You don't think they changed their mind and took Caleb’s over, do you?”

“No. That's the last thing that they wanted.” Julie looks at both of us sorrowfully like she’s trying to convince herself that too. 

Flynn stands next to Julie facing the mirror, “You’re gonna kill it,” she says. I stand up from the couch and stand on the other side of Julie. We all hug each other and go back over the couches to have a few snacks. Little did we know, shit that was going down on the other side of Hollywood.   

After about 10 minutes, a knock disturbs us, bringing us back to the reality of the situation. Julie and I look at eachother. 

“Hey Julie. It’s time,” We hear Rob say. 

“Just a second!”

“What are you going to do? They’re still not here yet. I knew something was wrong. They wouldn't do this,” I say, starting to freak out. I start to panic, thinking about how much pain the boys must be in. What if they're just sitting somewhere alone with those jolts, hurting. No one to call for help. No one to be there with them at the end. We should be there. What if they’re already gone? No. They can't be. Stop thinking like that (Y/N).

“(Y/N) stop you’re not helping anything,” Flynn looks at me sternly, nodding to Julie, who looks like she’s going to cry.

“No. She’s right. The jolts were getting bad when we left and they wouldn’t leave me alone again. They must be gone.” 

The idea of never seeing Reggie again set in and I broke down crying. I’ve never had a relationship with a guy like I've had with him. As much as I would love to hug him and kiss him, it was nice to meet a guy and just be able to talk to. He listened to me and I listened back. He told me all about his parents and their fights. I’ll never be able to hear him play his bass again, watch him go on stage doing the one thing he was born to do. I miss him so much already. I miss all of them. “Why did this have to happen? We didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

Flynn walks over to give me a hug.

“Hey, Julie. You’re on,” Julie then runs out of the room. Flynn lets go of me to run after her. 

I get up knowing I have to be there for my sister. As much as I want to sit here and cry over what I lost, she lost something too. These boys helped her through so much. I didn’t think I would ever see my sister sing and play piano again. I leave the room and see the stage manager facing the stage door. I go outside and see Julie looking up at the sky, crying and talking.

“...supposed to help the guys, we didn't. They’re gone and I’m so sorry. They were my friends, my band, my family. Why can't you just come pick me up and hold me in your arms and tell me everything's gonna be okay. That even though they're not here with me, they're still up there with you. I just wish you were here.”

I go over to her and wrap her in the biggest hug ever. For what felt like a minute, we were just there outside the theatre, hugging and crying together over everything we’ve lost. First, our mom, now, this found family we had. A woman walks by and hands us each a dahlia flower. We look at the woman then each other. I grab Julie’s hand and smile with her. She’s definitely listening and looking down on her girls. Julie squeezes my hand and then runs back inside. I try to keep up with her.  

We see Flynn and Rob standing near the stage. Rob starts to tell someone over his headset to tell Panic! to go on now. Julie goes up to Flynn, shows her the dahlia, says “Signs.” then marches right up on to that stage. 

“YES JULIE!” I screamed! Flynn and I walked closer to the stage, so we’re standing in the wings. 

“Hi I’m Julie. I would like to dedicate this song to my mom, who’s been with me every time I played and for not giving up on me. I would also like to dedicate tonight’s performance to three special friends,” Here come the waterworks, “who have changed my life completely, who have brought music back to me. It was their dream to play here; this is for them. This song is for anyone who’s lost their way. Step into your greatness. Don’t give up. Stand tall. Thank you,” By the end her speech I was full on crying. Flynn and I were holding on to each other for dear life. 

Then Julie started singing.

Don’t blink

No, I don’t want to miss it

One thing, and it’s back to the beginning

Cause everything is rushing in fast

Keep going on never look back

And it’s one, two, three, four times

That I’ll try for one more night

Light a fire in my eyes

I’m going out of my mind

Whatever happens 

Even if i’m the last standing 

Ima stand tall

Ima stand tall

Whatever happens 

Even when everythings down

Ima stand tall

Ima stand tall

I gotta keep on dreaming

Cause I gotta catch that feeling

Whatever happens 

Even if i’m the last standing 

Ima stand tall

Ima stand tall

I’ve heard them rehearse this song so many times I knew when everyone was supposed to come in, so when I heard the drums I thought I was going crazy. Then I looked up to see Alex smiling at Julie. After a couple more lines I see Reggie pop up. He looks at Julie and then looks over at me. We stare at each other for what feels like a century. He’s really here. My heart swells at just the sight of him standing in front of me. After I compose myself I wave at him. He winks back at me. If he wasn’t in the middle of performing and I wouldn’t fall through him, I would run up to him and give him the biggest hug. 

Then there was one. One more to complete the band. Then Luke starts to flicker, but he’s not staying. “C’mon Luke. C’mon Luke,” Then just when his line comes up. He’s there.

I’m going out of mind.

The crowd goes nuts. They're electric out there and they know it. Luke and Julie are feeding off of eachother like it’s the last time they will ever sing to each other. Which it might be. I couldn’t stop looking at Reggie. I went from thinking they were gone to them singing in front of me. I need to burn this memory into my brain forever, knowing they will cross over after this. 

When it gets to Reggie’s solo, we lock eyes and don’t let go. 

Whatever happens 

Even if i’m the last standing

Ima stand tall

Ima stand tall

He starts walking over to me still on stage. I take this as an opportunity to yell “I love you Reggie!!”. He winks and mouths  “I love you too.” 

At the end of the song, they walk to the front of the stage to take their final bow. Then in a flash, they’re gone. Julie looks around, thanks the audience, bows again, and walks off the stage. We immediately hug, our boys are gone. 

When we get back home, Dad, Carlos, Julie, and I are in a conga line singing Stand Tall. Julie and I say goodnight to dad then head out to the garage. We walk in tears already coming to our eyes. 

“I know I already said this, but thank you guys,” Julie started. 

“You really changed our lives,” I finished.

“You’re welcome,” We heard in the dark room. 

Julie runs to turn on the lights, and we see the boys lying on the floor, groaning and in visible pain. I run over to Reggie to grab his hand but remember that I can’t touch him.

“I thought that you guys crossed over. That your unfinished business was done,” I cry. 

“Well obviously playing the Orpheum wasn't it. We wanted you to think that we crossed over, so we pretended to. We just...we had nowhere else to go,” Luke says with red rimmed eyes.

“We thought you would go straight to bed,” Reggie adds.

“Yeah well, I knew they would come out here but nobody ever listens to me,” Alex groans.

Julie and I try to convince the guys to go back to Caleb’s club. It’s better than not existing at all. 

“Please, go. You’re just hurting yourself,” I say to Reggie.

“No. We’re not leaving. I’m not leaving you.”

I look over and see Luke and Julie by door and hear Luke say, “Music is not worth making Julie if we’re not making it with you.” I looked back at Reggie and he nodded. I went to grab him knowing that it wouldn’t work but I yearned for his touch. To my surprise I felt his hand. He looks down with wide eyes and doesn’t let go. A ring of light starts to glow around him and he stands up. He looked up at me and gave me the award winning smile I fell in love with. After a moment I saw him look behind me I turned around to see Julie and Luke hugging. I wrap my arms around Reggie and hold him as close as possible. He pulls away and puts his hands on my face. We lean in until his lips are on mine and it makes me think about what I almost lost. I almost didn't have this. 

“Aw, look at the lovebirds.” I hear behind me. I pull away from Reg and see Alex behind me,  smiling. I walk over to Julie and Luke. “Alex, Reggie, get over here.” We form one big group hug and see the purple signs on their wrists lift off and disintegrate in the air. We hug one more time and jump around for a couple seconds.

We stand in a circle and I look at each of them. I think of all the moments that we had and how one fateful night changed all of our lives. Who knows if Julie would ever have played piano and sang again? I think about the two new best friends I’ve made and how my life will never be the same without them. 

Finally, I think of Reggie and how even though he might be a ghost, some higher power beyond my imagination knows we should be together. Something caused us to be able to touch. I look up at him to see he’s already looking at me. I grab his hand and put my head on his shoulder. I never want this moment to end. I look at everyone again and feel the biggest grin appear on my face. 

Our little family is here to stay. 

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Thanks for reading! If you have any suggestions/requests  please feel free to send me a message!

- Maddie xoxo

[thebmatt]

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #10: Heady

Heady – (of liquor) potent; intoxicating. -OR- willful or rash

Note - This takes place during the finale of 5.0, after the little kid asks if the player is the Warrior of Darkness, but before the Scions gather in the Ocular and send the Warrior back to the Source. The Crystarium is throwing a giant party to celebrate their victory.

Rheika was being subjected to another round of hearty toasting. She’d had a few to drink, but she knew her tolerance well enough to know that she was slightly tipsy and planned not to go any further than she already was. With every toast she pretended to drink, and so far no one had noticed. She wanted to be mostly clear-headed for what had to happen next.

She spotted Thancred approaching the bar and waved him over. The assembled patrons then began toasting his virtues as well, but he managed to weave past them all to get to her.

“Enjoying the festivities in your honor?” he teased.

“Uugggh. Ordinarily I only want this much attention when I’m performing, but these people won’t even let me get a word in to start a performance! It’s a never ending stream of ‘thank-yous’ or ‘bless-yous’ or people asking me to bless them!” she replied, tossing her hands in the air in frustration.

“I notice you’re not partaking much” Thancred pointed out, glancing towards her still-half full tankard.

She scoffed. Of course, he’d notice. He’d probably been keeping an eye on her all night. This newfound protector role he’d adopted suited him well, she decided. It was also kind of, okay really sexy…

No, down, girl. Things to do. “Not yet. Can you gather everyone in the Ocular? The Scions, I mean. And the Exarch. Ryne, too, but I counted her in the Scions, but I didn’t know if you would, so…yeah her too.”

He chuckled. “Give me a little bit and I’ll send them all that way.”

“Thanks, Thancred. Meet you there.”

Reaching into her pouch, she palmed one of her smoke pellets.

A short time later, Thancred led the others into the Ocular. Rheika was already present, wearing the armor she wore as a Shinobi. Her daggers sat her side, and she smelled faintly of the smoke they knew she used to distract opponents so she could hide. She stood in front of the portal that led back to the source, the Exarch’s usual spot when he addressed them all

Everyone, almost by instinct, fanned out in a semi-circle around her.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. I wanted to get you all together before the night got any later. I’ve…I’ve got things I need to say to each of you. Stuff that I didn’t want to wait until the morning. Hell, most of it I didn’t want to even wait until now but…well we’ve been a bit busy.”

All of them nodded, waiting for her to continue.

Rheika walked up to Ryne and embraced her. When they finally separated, she kept her hands on her shoulders, looking her in the eyes, a wide smile on her face.

“Ryne, I love you. I know you had to accept a lot, being the Oracle, but you’ve never wavered in wanting to help, and you saved my life a bunch. I’m so thankful for you and we are gonna spend a lot of time becoming friends, okay?”

Ryne had tears streaming down her face, but she hugged Rheika again. “I can’t wait!”

Rheika let her go and walked over to Alphinaud. She ruffled his hair. “You, sir, used to be an insufferable twerp when I first met you.”

Everyone chuckled, even Alphinaud.

Rheika continued. “I said ‘used to’ and I absolutely mean it. You aren’t that kid and you haven’t been for a very long time. “

She bent down and put her hands around his shoulders. “You’ve had many more successes than you have failures, and they’ve been much more far-reaching. I want you to stop living in the shadow of your mistakes and live for your successes, past and future. Can you do that for me?”

Alphinaud sniffed and wiped a single tear from his eye. “I can. Thank you.”

She nodded, then walked to Alisaie. She also got a hug, but Rheika did not let go when she spoke to her, merely loosened her hold a little. “You’re so amazing, you know that? Trust me, I know Red Magic, and you’re utterly fantastic, and you’ve got a lot more growing to do, so just imagine how much more amazing you’re going to be. Tesleen was not your fault. Please don’t let guilt over her consume you. You have far too much life left to be eaten up by it, okay?”

Alisaie just hugs back harder, choking a sob. “Okay”, she says through her tears. “I’ll try”.

Rheika releases the hug and kisses her forehead. “All I ask, sweetie.”

She lets her go and looks over to Y’shtola, who has been smiling at the outpouring of love from the Warrior of Darkness. That smile fades when she sees that Rheika’s expression is no longer happy.

She looked upset.

Rheika approaches her, arms crossed. “I know you weren’t part of the deception. But you still held things from me. I know it wasn’t long before you did say something, but it hurt that you delayed even that long.

Y’shtola started to respond, then looked away, shame on her visage. “No, I will not defend my actions. You are right. I should not have. You are my friend, one of my dearest, and I treated you as a puzzle to be solved. Never again.”

Her eyes found Rheika again. “I am truly sorry for the pain I caused you, Rheika.”

Rheika smiled and reached forward to hug her. “Accepted and forgiven, Shtola.”

She grinned. “Oh, and do you recall what you promised me the night before we set out for Eulmore? Feel free to make good on that whenever you like!”

Y’shtola arched her eyebrows in confusion, then they shot up as her eyes went ride and she turned crimson. She quickly looked down, hoping no one noticed.

Everyone did, though no one had any idea what Rheika was talking about.

She walked over to Thancred, giving him a cool smile. “You know what I’m going to say?”

He gave a half smile. “I presume you’re going to chastise me for the way I acted these past few years, the way I treated Ryne.”

“And everyone else, too. You hurt more than you realize when you lash out rather than talk about your hurts, Thancred. We all realize how much we rely on you, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t able to have you rely on us when you need it, when you’re the one hurting. No more forgetting that, you understand?”

“I won’t forget anymore, Rheika. I promise” he says, solemnly.

“Good.” She gave him a quick seductive wink. “Remember what you lose when you do, pretty boy”

He also blushed and prayed Ryne didn’t notice. She did, but she wasn’t sure why he was.

Rheika then turned to Urianger. He noted with some distress that her expression had chilled to anger, and he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

She stopped in front of him. “This is twice now you’ve played a game without informing the rest of us that’s gotten people hurt, Urianger. First there was that double-dealing with Ardbert’s crew that got Alisaie poisoned by Renda-Rae, now this. So I’m going to ask you one more time; are you going to honor the promise you made before we dove into the Tempest? ‘No further secrets?’

“Aye, milady. No more. Mine strategizing alone hath proven a bane upon someone too many a time, and I wilt allow no persuasions of any kind, be they mine or elsewhere, to deter me from this.”

“Good. You’re not BAD at this, Uri, but as brilliant as you are, no one can see every angle. The best tacticians work in teams, so that others might see circumstances that we miss. You’re surrounded by some of the smartest people on two stars, don’t forget that. I forgive you, by the way. I don’t remember if I said that already.”

“My thanks, Rheika.”

She smirks at him. “However, you DO owe me, so here’s how you’re gonna pay me back. When we get you all home, you are absolutely not allowed to hide away under that hooded robe ever again. In fact, I hereby ban you from wearing anything with sleeves. Those arms deserve to be seen.”

Urianger looked at his arms, confused. The other Scions chuckled, with Thancred throwing in a “Hear, hear!” for good measure.

She leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “And we can talk later about whether or not you’d like to show me the rest of those muscles later. If you want.”

She pulled back and gave him a friendly innocent smile. Urianger, to his credit, managed to hide his blush short of some faint rosiness in his cheeks.

Rheika turned to the Exarch and frowned. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

When she re-opened her eyes, the others all took a step back. None of them had ever seen her this angry, a fury born of betrayal and pain.

“What’s coming next is not going to be pretty. If anyone wants to leave, I understand. No judgement. If you stay though…well, consider yourself warned.”

No one moved.

She panned back and forth to the others, then nodded. “All right, then.”

She stepped forward to G’raha and poked a finger at his chest. “You’ve talked a lot lately, G’raha Tia. You’ve always been gifted with a tongue of silver. But right now, I’m more than just a bit tired of it. So here’s how this is going to work. You are not allowed to speak until I’m done talking, unless I ask you a question directly. When you answer, you do so with one word. You say anything more than that, or take too long to choose your single word and I will put you on the floor. Am I clear??”

G’raha gulped, then said “Yes”. His voice was uneven. Scared, even.

Good, she thought.

“Did you think I didn’t know, G’raha Tia?”

He cocked his head in confusion. “Pardon?”

She turned and looked back to the portal. “Did you think I didn’t know that it was you under that hood?”

His head fell. “Hoped.”

She laughed. “If you didn’t want me to recognize you, you did a pretty piss-poor job of trying to disguise yourself. That hood didn’t always cover your eyes, you know. I glimpsed crimson under there, more than once. But even before that, did you think I wouldn’t recognize your voice?

He looked up, sadness on his face. “Years”

“NOT FOR ME!” she yelled, whirling on him. “Not for me. I knew, right away, that it was you. So many times you could have come clean, and you didn’t, so I never knew exactly how much to trust you. After all, why would my good friend G’raha Tia need to conceal himself and his intent from me?”

She paused, and begin pacing back and forth before him. Eventually she spoke again. “So why, Graha? Why lie to me?”

He swallowed. “Protect.”

She froze, then slowly panned towards his eyes, outrage practically pouring off of her. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘protect’? YOU DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT” she yelled.

G’raha reeled, catching his balance on a backstepped foot, before righting himself and returning his gaze to her, looking pitiful.

She continued. “I am SICK to FUCKING DEATH of people deciding what’s best for me and still asking me to risk my life to save their homes or people or the planet. I, and I alone, have the right to decide what I need protecting from! Especially from people who are supposed to be my friends! Instead, your so-called protection put me through an absolute hell to deal with on my own!”

She gestures to the other Scions. “I love and cherish these people and without them I would never have stood a chance in this fight, but they are not the Warriors of Light! They don’t have the Echo, or the Blessing of Hydaelyn. Do you have any concept of how much easier this could have been if you had thought to summon more than one of us?”

G’raha suddenly looked very afraid. “Un…undefended!”

She noticed. “Oh, undefended, I see! You were thinking of the Source, you didn’t want to leave no Warriors of Light to defend it. Fine, I’ll accept that. But there’s four of us, G’raha.” She held up four fingers for emphasis. “You could have grabbed me and Dahkar, or Franks and Fearless, or me and Fearless. Any combination of two of us! But you didn’t. No no, you specifically targeted me. Don’t bother denying it, I’ve seen enough of your past to know this. So here’s the million-gil question, G’raha Tia. Why. Me?”

He closed his eyes, tears streaming down. He opened them again, crimson irises meeting green. “L-love.”

Leather first met his face before he could even blink, impacting his crystal covered cheek. He remembered crying out in pain, and then the next he was on the floor, grasping his jaw. He heard Ryne gasp, then Alphinaud say “That’s enough, Rheika!” He regained his equilibrium in time to see that Urianger is blocking Alphinaud from physically interceding.

“Master Alphinaud, if thou valuest thine health, I beseech thee, be silent. These feelings must needs be aired.”

He turned to see that Rheika has not stopped glaring at him. “What did we talk about that second night at the find, G’raha?”

He tested his jaw. Not broken, thankfully. The crystal didn’t appear to be cracked, either. He wondered if her first is all right, then quickly remembered he was on a timetable. “You.”

She nodded. “So you do remember. I knew you were interested in me, so I told you all about me. I’m not shy about it, after all. Do you remember what you said in reply. Don’t answer that, because I don’t want to hear it from you right now. You said you understood. So you already knew there would never, ever be anything but friendship between us when you locked yourself in this tower, and then you turn around and bring me across the rift, alone, and ask me to save both of these worlds because you think you’re in love with me?”

He had gotten back on his feet, but let her unleash all of her hurt, because he knew he had misjudged her greatly, and he deserved it. “Shame.” is the one word he could think to say.

“What exactly were you thinking would happen, G’raha? That some grand romantic gesture would break through the stone of my heart? Do you think you’re the first person to think that they’re the ‘right one i’ve been waiting all my life for’?”

“No…”

She crossed her arms in front of him. “No, you’re not. Dozens of others before you have tried, thinking I just needed ‘fixing’. You know what happened to them? They have it made very clear to them that they are not to speak with me anymore. Because I do NOT. NEED. FIXING. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with me. And you lied to my face when you said you understood that, just like they did. But your lie? That nearly cost me my life and two worlds worth of others.

G’raha silently sobbed, eyes closed but tears streaming down his face.

“Look at me”

He opened his eyes. She looked back at him, her face neutral.

“The only reasons I’m not going to do that to you are because despite all of that, you did bring hope to the people of that undone future. You built this city as a bastion of refuge and safety to the people of this realm. You protected them for a century. And despite your massive fucking screwup bringing me here alone and lying to me about it, when I truly needed them the most, you brought my brothers and sister across the rift to help me kill Emet-Selch.”

“That’s a lot of good to weigh against the bad of you lying to me and ignoring my wishes, G’raha. And I think you realized how futile your hope was a while back. Am I right about that?”

He nods. “Lakeland.”

“When we spoke alone after the Eaters invaded it you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Got it. So here’s what we’re gonna do, G’raha. You’re gonna figure out how to get the Scions home. Without killing yourself. You’re gonna keep taking care of this city. You’re gonna be one of the voices that helps guild this realm into a bright new future. You do all that, and this godsdamned time you remember what I told you, and maybe we can fix our friendship? Think you can do that?”

He nodded and smiled. “Yes.”

“Good.” She walked past him towards the Ocular’s exit. The others all watched her. “That was it, I’m done. I’ve been holding back drinking too much all evening so that I’d have a clear enough head to say all of that, so now that it’s over, I’m going to drink a lot more. If you all feel like joining me, can’t wait to see you there. If not, see you in the morning.”

She strode out of the Ocular. The twins soon followed, then after a few gazes between each other, the other Scions soon followed, until only G’raha Tia remained.

Despite everything he knew he’d done horribly wrong, he counted himself fiercely lucky that it hadn’t cost him everything. And he looked to the future with a renewed determination to continue repairing that which he’d damaged.

[shadowheartwife]

Frozen 3: Melt (ACT 1: SCENES 7-9)

Scene 7

Elsa enters the castle courtyard and sees Anna, who is speaking to Mattias, his soldiers, as well as Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf. Anna seems to sense Elsa's presence because she turns to her with a huge smile.

“Elsa!” Anna rushes over to her sister, embracing her, as Kristoff, Sven, Olaf, and members of the castle trot up behind them.

“Elsaaaa!” Olaf body slams her in excitement. “Game night isn’t until next week! Why are you so early?” Obviously the snowman doesn't understand what's going on, or just hasn't been paying attention.

“I’m so glad you’re here but… how? How did you know?” Kristoff asks.

“Ahtohallan. I was in the glacier when... I suppose I felt that I needed to come. I can’t explain it, but it was like I was being pulled here.”

“Elsa, there’s something you need to know.” Anna grasps her sister’s hands. “Our dear friend Prince Hans -”

“Is here. I know. I saw him watching me.” Elsa doesn’t sound concerned. Confused, yes, but almost wistful.

Anna stammers. “Well, we’ve called the council, they’re gathering now. Hans reports that the Southern Isles are mounting an attack, planning to take the kingdom. I don’t know whether or not to listen to him after… literally everything he has ever done.”

“Lying to you? Faking his love for you? Leaving you to die? Attempting to decapitate Elsa? Having bad sideburns?” Olaf and Kristoff take turns roasting him.

Anna and Elsa are still holding each other, looking unamused. “Minus the sideburns, I don’t think that’s a technical crime,” Elsa jokes.

“Oh I think it is. A crime of fashion.” Olaf insists, little stick hands on his hips.

“So, how do we determine whether or not he’s telling the truth?” Anna asks as they walk through the palace to consult with the council, in the same room that Hans had sentenced Elsa to death in.

“Hans was there…” Elsa reveals.

“Hans was where? A pile of horse manure, among his own kind?” Kristoff scoffs.

Elsa waves Kristoff's quip away, focused. “No, he was in my dream… vision… memory... in Ahtohallan.”

Anna stops abruptly outside the council chamber. “What do you think that means?”

“All I know is that I sensed desperation. Not a greedy desperation… lonely.” Anna and Kristoff exchange glances. The three humans enter the room, Olaf and Sven outside the door. Olaf takes off his carrot nose and holds it to his ear, like he’s listening with it.

“Thank you for gathering so quickly,” Anna began as they all bowed to her. Mattias is there along with a couple of high-ranking soldiers. Anna takes a seat at the head of the table, Kristoff on her left and Elsa to her right.

“Do any of you have any intel on the Southern Isles as of late? Any small details that could point to hostility?”

There’s a long silence until one man stands. “My cousin is a blacksmith there, and we write to each other often. She said she’s been working to the point of exhaustion. They’ve upped their orders, though she didn’t specify on what. It was a short letter, which is unlike her. She’s working to the bone.”

“That’s something to consider, but not enough information,” Mattias declares.

“All I know is that you are in danger, Anna,” Elsa says softly.

“We do have an attempted murderer in the palace, so that’s to be expected,” Kristoff adds, clenching his jaw and holding Anna's hand.

“Do you trust me?” Elsa asks. Anna pauses for a moment, and takes a deep breath.

“Even when I don’t understand you, even when you make me angry… yes, I still trust you, Elsa.”

“Then let me talk to him. I’ll try to access his memories somehow…”

“Don’t you need water for that? Water is what holds memories, right?” Anna asks.

“Could you use his sweat like water?” Asks Mattias. Elsa and Anna grimace. “Sorry, just brainstorming.”

“We could make him, I don’t know, CRY, and use his tears,” Kristoff says.

“Tempting,” Anna admits.

“- but I don’t think that will be necessary,” Elsa says knowingly.

Scene 8

Hans sings a gut-wrenching, heartfelt song about growing up just a spare. Unwanted, unloved, willing to do anything to earn a place in his family, how his last chance was in marrying Anna or Elsa and becoming King. After that failure, he has no family. The song is very 2008/2009 emo. Like Brenden Urie would sing the heck out of it. There are tears running down his face when he finishes, and guards arrive outside his door.

Elsa enters the room, closes the door. She doesn’t speak, neither does he.

She doesn’t need guards. She calmly creates handcuffs of ice around Hans’ wrists and freezes his feet so he can’t run. He looks at her with fear and awe.

Scene 9

“Hans.” It’s all she says at first, before sitting next to him on the bed.

“Elsa, I would apologize but I realize that would be useless. So instead I beg that you listen to me.”

“Tell me why I should.” She crosses her arms and raises a brow.

“Because my brothers want to rule Arendelle, and I hate them. They made me into the person that I am.”

Elsa appears deep in thought. “So it’s their fault that you tried to kill Anna and me? It’s their fault you lied to my sister about loving her?” Elsa asks these questions calmly but firmly.

“No. That was all me. I acted at their behest but… it was all me. So now let me rectify it. If you don’t believe I’m doing this out of good will, that’s fine, it’s understandable. So believe me that I’m here to warn you of my brothers’ attack because I would love nothing more than to see them fail.”

Elsa considered for a moment.

“I believe you." Another pause. "I saw your memories.”

“You - you saw my what?” Hans shifts away, eyes wide. “You take up witchcraft in addition to your ice magic?”

Elsa half laughs. “No. My powers are more than I can explain right now. Believe me not because I’m trying to get a rise out of you, but because I… I felt the same pain once.”

“What pain?” Hans asks defensively.

“Loneliness. That feeling that it’s just you, in the middle of a blizzard that never ends, but at the same time a stillness, a silence, that blocks out all else.”

Hans looks at her, fascinated and sad.

“What… what did you see?” Elsa looks at his face and sees the streaks from his tears.

“May I?” she asks, reaching out.

“I’m your prisoner, so…yes?”

She touches his cheek and closes her eyes, he closes his, and a jolt seems to go through them both. When they open their eyes there is a frozen form of little Hans, around 6 years of age, reaching up to a gruff, well-dressed man.

“That’s… my father,” Hans whispers in amazement. He goes stiff. You can hear their voices echoing through the memory.

“Father, why won’t they talk to me? Why won’t they look at me? They act like I don’t exist!”

“That’s because you shouldn't, Hans! You’re a spare among spares. I’ve told you this. You weren’t supposed to be here. Yet here you are. Your mother gave her life to give you yours. You’re not even mine. You’re not truly a prince. Unless you earn our respect, you will never be one…”

A flurry of ice and snow shifts and we see a slightly older Hans, around age 12, working at the stables with Sitron as a foal. “Three, two, one!” His brothers sneak up behind him and push him into a cart of manure. Sitron whinnies angrily and tries to bite a couple of the brothers. “Whoa, pony boy, watch your pet, here!” They leave and Hans is still covered in crap, but Sitron comes over to nuzzle him.

Once more it shifts, and a figure of Hans as we saw him in the first movie stands before his brothers.

“It’s a small kingdom, but if you make it yours, you will be a king, and our brother. That’s what you want, yes?”

“What do you need me to do?”

“You’ve got it easy. All you have to do is marry one of the princesses. Elsa, preferably, but if you have to play the long game, the younger sister Anna will do. Now don’t let us down. You leave for the coronation in a week. Prepare yourself.”

Everything then whooshes away, the memories recede. Elsa and Hans sit in silence for a moment. Hans can’t look at her.

“Hans. Your brothers are attacking.” She believed him, felt his pain, and knew he wasn’t lying. “When are they going to arrive?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

[sunnygaybitch]

In the no Pennywise au, Patty starts a game of Spin the Bottle in college that reveals that Stanley and Richie were each other's first kiss, which in turn reveals that Stan had a month long crush on Richie after the kiss. Richie's response is basically, "we could've dated!" This is the aftermath:

"You're telling me we could've been dating for a month?"

"What?!" was the collective response, save for Patty's.

She gleefully said, "You're all my new best friends."

Stanley ignored this, deciding instead to put all his focus into not rolling his eyes as hard as he wanted to. "We were in Derry, Richie; no way could we have-"

He cut himself off as the full implications of Richie's words hit him. "Wait, what? No! For us to date you would have had to - had to..."

"Had to have liked you back?" Richie asked with a smirk. "Yeah."

"Oh my God." Next to him, Patty giggled, but he couldn't even appreciate it like he usually did because his entire worldview was being rearranged.

Around him, the rest of his friends were demanding to know details. He tuned them out in favor of goggling at Richie, who just kept smirking at him like this was the ace up his sleeve he had been waiting to reveal his whole life. After several moments of trying to speak but failing, he finally let out a strangled yell, which thankfully, seemed to be the key to being able to use words.

“I - what?!” Though maybe he wasn’t using them well. Whatever, he’d get there.

Richie simply nodded placidly. “You heard me.”

“What - why the fuck didn’t you ever say anything?! I was so fucking obvious!”

Richie snorted, and the others booed at him. Ok. Maybe not as obvious as he thought. It was kind of a relief, really. At the time, it had felt like his confusion and heartache were written all over his face; he had been convinced that there was no way someone could hide feelings so strong. Richie hadn’t been able to hide his own feelings for Eddie, in any case - not from his best friend.

He was brought back to the present by Richie loudly asking, “Why didn’t you say anything, you fucking hypocrite?”

Stan didn’t dart his eyes to Eddie, but it was a close thing. “You know perfectly well why, Trashmouth; don’t make me say it in front of everyone.”

This prompted a round of Oooooooh’s from the group - like they were thirteen years old again, Jesus fucking Christ - and a blush across Richie’s cheeks, which Stan tried not to find too satisfying.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Richie said, waving a hand at both him and the others, as if that could ward off their demands to know more. “But I think we could have made a killer couple, even if it was only for that month.”

Stan felt his smile turn soft and indulgent. “Yeah, Rich, we would have.” 

Richie smiled back at him, only his smile was more wicked than anything, and oh no, Stan was not going to like what came out of his mouth next -

“Well come here, Stanny my boy, let me show you some of that sugar you’ve been missing all these years.”

Stan wrinkled his nose. “Gross, don’t say it like that.”

“Yeah, asshole, Stan doesn’t want whatever shit you’re carrying around in your big mouth.” 

Oh fuck oh no, Stan thought. Once Richie and Eddie got started, it was near impossible to get them to stop. Predictably, Richie swiveled his head towards Eddie at the speed of light, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Been thinking about my mouth a lot, have you, Eds?”

Everyone else giggled into their drinks. Stan thought, Noooooo.

“Only because you never fucking know how to shut up! And don’t call me Eds!”

“I can think of a few ways you can shut me up, baby.” 

“YOU-”

“Enough!” Stan shouted, and blessedly, Richie and Eddie, those obnoxious fuckers, actually listened. He took a calming breath. “Either you can get over here and kiss me, Rich, or we can all go to bed.”

Bill tentatively raised a hand. “If he kisses you, does the game continue?”

“No.” Luckily, there were no protests. They must have all been more tired than they let on, putting on game faces in an effort to keep fucking around like they were kids with no responsibilities. Stan adored them. But the games ended here, at least for tonight.

Richie, for once, didn’t offer up any commentary, even though he clearly had a million suggestive somethings zinging through his head. But he kept quiet, crawled across the circle to Stan, and put a hand on his cheek and leaned in.

It was a good kiss.

When they broke apart, Stan said, with a completely straight face, “You’ve gotten significantly better at that.”

Laughter filled the room, and Richie shoved him lightly even as he joined in.

“How much better, Stanthony?” he asked with a flutter of his eyelashes.

“Wasn’t good enough to make your nicknames enjoyable,” he responded, though it was the worst-kept secret in their group that they all kind of adored Richie’s nicknames.

Which must have been why all Richie did was ask, “Buuuut...?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “If Patty wasn’t the literal love of my life” - he paused to let teasing Awwwww’s ring out, because he knew what his friends were like - “I guess I’d date you for the kisses and only the kisses.”

“You wound m-”

“You can date him.”

The room went completely quiet as they all turned to look at Patty in shock. For her part, she placidly took a sip of her wine and continued: “I mean, I’d be dating him, too, if he wants. He’s clearly good with his mouth.” She winked, and the room descended into chaos once again.

“H-holy shit -!”

“What the fuck -!”

“Get it, Patty!”

“No seriously, what the fuck!”

Mike and Ben were laughing too hard to talk, though Mike was giving them a very enthusiastic thumbs-up. Richie and Stan continued to stare at Patty. Richie was able to come out of his daze first.

“Uh - Pats, not that I’m not flattered, but um...I mean, you and Stanley over here are both very hot and very nice, don’t get me wrong. I just...” He threw a beseeching look at Stan, who made an effort to shake himself out of his own stupor. Stan cleared his throat.

“Babylove” - and for once, there were were no kissy faces and fake gags at the nickname - “I - what? Catch me up here. Is this...is this something you’ve been thinking of doing for some time?”

She shrugged. “Not really. But you know - he’s cute.” She gave Richie a charming grin, and he blushed. The other Losers watched with wide eyes. “And...I don’t know. I had a girlfriend, when I was in high school. A secret girlfriend, but still. A girlfriend who I liked and who liked me back and we were both aware of that. I think it’d be nice if you got to have that, too.”

“Patty, that’s really sweet, it is, but - Richie and I don’t have those feelings for each other anymore.” He narrowed his eyes at Richie. “Right?”

“Are you threatening me or asking me?” Richie asked with a snort. At Stan’s flat look, he stuck out his tongue and then said, “Sorry for trying to lighten the mood. But the answer is no. Those feelings were born and died somewhere in the summer of ‘91.”

Patty blew a raspberry at them. “I’m not saying you do, and I’m not saying you have to date. I just think it’d be nice for you two to get a taste of what it could have been like. ‘Killer couple,’ didn’t you say?”

Stan eyed her wine critically. “Does alcohol make you nostalgic about your bi awakening?”

“Not just my bi awakening.”

Stan snorted, half because he found everything Patty did endearing, and half because her idea was starting to sound better and better. Or, at the very least, not something that would have any bad effects.

He sighed heavily. “I’m too drunk for this,” he decided. “You guys can crash here, but only if you promise to try to sleep and not goof around. And we” - he gestured at Richie, Patty, and himself - “can talk about this...throuple thing in the morning, when we’re sober.”

Amid Patty’s delighted squeal, the Losers’ whooping, and Eddie’s indignant, “WHAT,” Stan heard Richie asking, “Wait - Stan? Staniel? What do you mean? Are you for real? Am I in some alternate universe? Stanley Uris, stop walking away from me!”

Stan simply waved one hand in the air, the other placed firmly on Patty’s waist as they went to bed.

“Good night, Losers!”

[a-completely-normal-writer]

WIP Hunger Games Pt1.

So I wanted to try the Hunger Games Simulator with Characters from my WIP. Some of them don’t have character intros yet, so I’ll tell you who they are here

Virgil: Adhara’s Brother

Skylar, Matthew, and Alex are the MCs for A is for Asteroid

Xan: Is an alien in my WIP The Space Exploration Association (and Adhara’s possible love interest)

Now that that’s out of the way, let the games begin!

Tw. Death, Violence, Cursing

Cornucopia

Xan, Onyx, Candy, Uri, Alex, Jax, Shelbee, Adhara, Trix, and Akari all run away from the Cornucopia

Skylar finds some explosives that she probably doesn’t know how to use…

Enya grabs a sword 

Ariel miscalculated and stepped off the podium way too soon

Melanie grabs some Sais to do the stabby stabby with

Sam and Michael stay at the Cornucopia for resources

Tyrell grabs a trident from the Cornucopia. Somebody finna get speared

Pyro flys over and grabs the first thing she sees, an empty ass backpack

Matthew and Virgil fight over a bag of supplies, before Matthew just says fuck it and leaves.

Peter grabs the fishing bait first, so in retaliation Rhistel grabs the gear so he can’t fish

Pumpkin grabs a cat sized Trident in his mouth before running off

Deaths: Ariel

Day 1

Candy goes stealth mode in the bushes

Sam remembers his sister telling him that fire is important, so he goes to find some wood 

Akari grabs some fruit from a tree!

Shelbee wasn’t watching were she was going and steps on a landmine, killing her (Nooooo)

Someone decides it’s a good idea to give Pyro (the dragon) an axe

Matthew eaves drops on Peter and Jax’s conversation (Rude)

Alex takes something from Trix while she’s otherwise occupied

Someone decides it’s a good idea to give Melanie a BOMB!!

Adhara goes looking for other people

Pumpkin goes looking for firewood, for some reason (doesn’t your fur keep you warm enough sir?)

Giresion tries to climb a tree instead of flying and falls. His thickness ends up killing both himself and Uri in the process. 

Rhistel murders Virgil for his stuff 

Michael gets high (*snickers*) up on a hill. 

Xan just decides to pick some Earth flowers for later

Tyrell goes on the hunt for firewood

Onyx growls at Skylar and Skylar dips

Deaths: Shelbee, Giresion, Uri, and Virgil

Night 1

Alex, a normal ass dude, takes on Rhistel and Enya, two magical beings, and kills BOTH OF THEM. 

Akari and Peter talk about the tributes still alive 

Xan and Trix both receive hatchets from unknown sponsors. Was it the same person?

Melanie wasn’t hydrating and dies from thirst. (Drink Water Kids!)

‘Michael sings some songs to try and get to sleep

Candy gets some clean water from a sponsor (Dang couldn’t have shared that with my girl Melanie)

Adhara sleeps like a baby 

Onyx questions her sanity… for some reason (guilt for scaring off Skylar?)

Tyrell gets really tired from chopping firewood and passes out

Pyro wants to win, maybe to avenge Shelbee?

Sam sleeps like a baby, unaware that more than half of his friends and his sister are dead.

Skylar helps Jax repair himself.

Pumpkin realizes he doesn’t have the opposable thumbs necessary to start a fire and sleeps without one. 

Deaths: Rhistel, Enya, and Melanie

Day 2

Pyro goes fishing with her claws

Tyrell get a hatchet from a sponsor to go along with his trident

Xan, Skylar ,Adhara, Candy, and Akari all go looking for other tributes

Sam, Michael, Trix, and Alex raid Pumpkins camp while the cat is trying to get food (Pumpkin just can’t get a break)

Matthew see’s smoke, but decides fuck it and doesn’t go investigate

Peter slices Jax’s head off-putting the poor android out of commission for good. 

Onyx finds a cave (You’re doing great sweetie!)

Deaths: Jax

Night 2

Pyro is the one who  can’t start a fire this time (ironic considering what she is) and decides to go to sleep without one

Speaking of fires, Candy starts one successfully!

Pumpkin has just been very unlucky and ends up stepping on a landmine, killing the kitty

Onyx, Skylar, and Trix sing songs together (Skylar and Trix sings and Onyx howls)

Tyrell sabotages Xan’s stuff.

Matthew, Peter, Adhara, and Alex all tell each other ghost stories to forget that they all might die

Michael, Akari, and Sam team up and sleep in shifts. 

Deaths: Pumpkin (T-T)

Day 3

Skylar makes a slingshot to protect herself

Tyrell makes some shelter for himself

Xan’s camp gets raided, after Tyrell destroyed his stuff, by Alex, Pyro, Micheal, and Adhara

Onyx tries to spear fish with a cat-sized trident she found. RIP Pumpkin

Candy snaps her wife’s neck.(…I-I’m speechless and hurt, and betrayed) RIP Trix

Sam stalks Akari (Sam just needs an adult ok, he’s not stalking her)

Peter goes hunting

Matthew tries to spear fish as well

Death: Trix

Night 3:

Candy, Akari, and Peter sleep in shifts

Adhara has gone a bit cuckoo and starts talking to a wolf, telling her her life’s story

Skylar is extremely overwhelmed and cries herself to sleep

Sam finally finds an adult that will take care of him. Matthew just wants to protect and comfort the small child (he’s a preschool teacher it’s what he do). 

Tyrell got infected by something and is trying to treat it

Alex made some food

Michael got hurt somehow and is healing up

Pyro makes a little dragons nest for herself

Someone takes pity on the poor alien and sends Xan some food.

[denbroughism]

━━  𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

It’s Lilia Barber ( @jaedenphy​ ) day and guess who’s making a fanfic masterlist for her?? That’s right, me! Okay, so I gathered together a bunch of fics I’ve read and considering that you’ve read the fics I sent you, some of these fics you’ve read before but are still godly. List under the cut for length purposes <3

My comments and reviews may contain spoilers and the ones without a specific chapter count are one-shots :)

The way making this masterlist made me reread the fuck out of so many fics smh

LAST UPDATED: 1 August 2020

Bill Denbrough / Richie Tozier

"Game Over, Bitch” by sweetpeacheddie | General

Richie plans a surprise date with Bill, but it doesn't quite go according to plan...

MY COMMENTS: smug Bill? yes. the Bill in this fic made me grin like an idiot just from how sneaky and attractive this little piece of shit is. Richie being soft and scared about Bill not having a good time is so adorable and the way Bill used it against him made me go jsjjdjsjd

Twister by @antisociallilbrat | Teen

Fluffiness, tongue twisters, and making out

MY COMMENTS: it’s short but still adorable idc idc. fics about love interests helping Bill with tongue twisters is adorable in itself and the flirting and the teasing in this fic made me scream from how cute they are pls

The Cruel Irony of Sunshine by @theflirtmeister​ | Teen

That’s when Richie spots him.

Leaning against one of the ridiculous fake palm trees, clearly not listening to the conversation he’s caught in, is Bill Denbrough in the fucking flesh. Richie could have picked him out from a hundred yards away, with his floppy hair, perfect eyebrows and jawline that could cut crystal.

Richie hates everything about him.

MY COMMENTS: the reason why i want to write bichie fanfics. the amount of angst and fluff mixed with longing and pining is godtier. the way they fell apart because of a fight and the first thing they do when they meet—after pining and longing mixed with anger—is fight made me cry :’)

Disciplinary Action by Apuzzlingprince | Explicit

He simply sat down on the end of Bill’s bed and patted a knee. Bill stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Bill,” said Richie, gesturing for him to come closer. “Pants down, over my knees.”

Bill balked. “Wait, s-seriously?”

Bill does something stupid and reaps the reward.

MY COMMENTS: i don’t think i’ve sent you this one because i remember i read it on my laptop instead of my phone lmao. this fic is the definition of “i’ll make it up to you with sex” fics but holy fuck this one is good. i remember reading this a while ago and yelling internally because wow this fic is so jsjsj

Dissolve by @wonderwheelzier | Explicit

After eight years of radio silence, Bill Denbrough finds himself at the same Hollywood party as his once best friend, and his first and only love, Richie Tozier. As adolescent memories come flooding back, Bill has to decide what he wants to do with this second chance.

MY COMMENTS: first off, the author is a brilliant writer so let’s put that out. second of all, this fic is 17K words long so that’s really fun. third of all, what the fuck? this fic is amazing and so well written, honestly. the way the pining and the smut were tied together wonderfully just blows my mind. this is such a pretty fic and the way the story ends with Richie leaving and BIll knowing that there’s no going back? that shit HURTED

If Your Love Was Bad for You by @perceabeth​ | Teen

Prompt: angsty unrequited type of situation with a happy and/or bittersweet ending.

MY COMMENTS: i gotta be real with you, i forgot about this fic whoops. but i read the last paragraph and i started heaving. i love this fic but i forgot the title and the way this fic started jsjfjsjf this fic is ends in a bittersweet tone holy fuck. the account on AO3 is an orphaned account, but i found the tumblr user of the author so here ya go

Soulmate AU by @perceabeth​ | Major Character Death

n/a

MY COMMENTS: i still think of this fic to this very day, this fic is the reason why i hate soulmate AUs oh my God. Richie and Bill’s dynamic isn’t too laid out in this fic, but the ending? God, the ending—absolutely wrecked me. I cried and I screamed and I couldn’t function properly after reading this fic. It’s one of the best fics I’ve ever read and deserves all the love you can give. I love this fic, I adore it, read it.

One Week Away by @trash-the-tozier | Teen | 2/2

School is out for spring break, and the Losers are taking a week long trip to visit Beverly in Portland. Could there have been a worse time for Richie to realize that he was in love with his best friend?

MY COMMENTS: I remember sending this to you but reread it. this fic is so soft and adorable my babies istg. Richie pining for Bill while Bill tried to stay away from Richie because he has a crush on him? God-tier trope. Put it in, roll it up, give it to me. The Stanlon in the background and Bev being the cheerleader she is? i love this

What We Built by @sinningtozier​ | Teen

each nail, each plank, the little scratches on the walls and the sloppily carved initials were a testament to them, a testament to their love and what they built.

MY COMMENTS: Soft boys in love that is all. The connections between kisses and hugs and the tears and pain was just adorable. Bill and Richie always being there for each other makes me smile and cry oh my God

Blood Brothers by @fairyling​ | General

bill and richie don’t say they’re dating but they kiss and they fight. their relationship isn’t one that the other’s understand or event try to.

MY COMMENTS: i read this fic once and i still cry about it <3 it’s just a really soft and adorable fic but then the ending made me scream and cry oh my God. Blood Brothers. The way Bill remembers vaguely even as all else fades away just hits hard. i love this fic so damn much and i think you would too

Eye On the Ball by @call-me-eds​ | Mature

Bill tries to cope with his role in his friend group and Richie can’t stand it.

MY COMMENTS: first of all, everyone say thank you to them for making Bichie Week and making fic hunting a gazillion times easier. Second, this fic is amazing i don’t care. the way Bill is so tight and Richie is trying to loosen him up is a concept that would first come to mind when you think of Bichie, but somehow I’ve rarely seen this put to work. This fic is amazing that is all

The Math Tutor by @sinningtozier​ | General | headcanon

georgie needs a math tutor, bill’s strong point is english not math, so his mom hire’s her coworkers son to tutor him three times a week 

MY COMMENTS: look, i know this is a headcanon but lol i love this so much. Bill is so awkward around Richie and i find that hilarious omfg

Like I Do by @thegreatwhiteferret​ | Explicit

Richie is feeling down on himself because of his ADHD and Bill jumps in and tries to teach him to appreciate all of his flaws for how beautiful they are.

MY COMMENTS: I’ve always been a sucker for Richie’s ADHD going feral and his s/o helping him calm down. This fic covers that part along with smut so bonus points on that

Bill Denbrough / Stanley Uris

Ain’t Eez-Eh by simplerplease | Mature | 17/17

Bill gets drunk, texts a number written on the club bathroom wall, regrets it, then falls in love.

MY COMMENTS: deadass the first thing that comes to my mind when anyone says Stenbrough. this fic is iconic and god-tier. I’ve read this a few times and I love it :’) if you haven’t read this fic... wow alright, cool. read it.

All My Little Words by jojenstarked | Teen

Stanley Uris never considered himself a jealous person. That is, until he met Bill Denbrough and suddenly he was jealous of the person getting songs stuck in his head.

Bill Denbrough had always wanted to meet his soulmate. Then he met Stanley Uris and he forgot all about them. All he wanted to do was get him to love him back.

Good thing they're soulmates.

MY COMMENTS: this fic is so adorable and so soft holy fuck i remember crying a bit after reading this from how sweet this fic is, i love this fic sm

More Like Baerista, Am I Right? by @billdensbrough​  | Not Rated

In which Stan is a fake black coffee drinker, Bill really shouldn't be a barista, and the rest of the losers just want them to get together without a counter in-between them.

MY COMMENTS: First off, this fic is 10K words long and contains slow-burn and a lot of pining so there’s that. Other than that, it’s really soft, adorable and fluffy. It’s just a really adorable stenbrough coffee shop AU, truly one of the best coffee shop AUs

Richie Tozier / Stanley Uris

Untouched (Need You So Much) by breathplayed | Explicit | 9/?

Stan Uris could’ve gone his entire life without knowing what Richie Tozier’s dick looked like.

(Or, Richie has a big dick and Stan the Man has a Big Crisis.)

MY COMMENTS: this is the abandoned fic i cried about the other day omfg i can’t believe i started an unfinished fic :’) but either way, this fic is so sexy and hot holy fuck, the pining, everything is godly. Richie singing a song for Stan and Stan being awkward about it?? amazing. last updated in 2018 and ends with a sort of cliffhanger, but still—

Stan My Man! Series by @birdboyinthedeadlights​ | Explicit | 4/4

n/a

MY COMMENTS: bitch you thought i wouldn’t add this fic on this masterlist when it’s the definition of goddamn iconic. you really thought i was going to leave the fic that pushed us both into the Stozier hole? as if. the was the Stozier friendship and dynamic is laid out is wonderful. The banters and the snark along with the lovely fondness is tied perfectly. i love this, you love this, we all love this, i’m dragging you back into the Stan My Man! series hole, you’re welcome <3

I Wanna Hold You Like You’re Mine by @birdboyinthedeadlights​ | Explicit

Stan's hand was moving before he could think better of it, wanting to touch the pleated navy skirt in front of him. God, it looked so soft, it must feel amazing. The whispered drag across his thighs -

“What’re you doin’?”

Stan’s hand froze, looking up at Richie’s unfocused gaze. No aide of glasses to let him see Stan’s heating face in the low light.

“Nothing.”

Richie’s eyes squinted, trying to make out the shapes around him until he looked to where Stan’s hand still hovered. The small inhale and grin let Stan know he didn’t need his vision clear to figure out what was going on. He always did know Stan too well.

“You’d look pretty in that.”

MY COMMENTS: Hello, yes, the author is so great at writing Stozier fics oh my God. The intimacy, the relationship, the pining, the need. Everything about this fic is brilliant. The way Stan wants Richie’s love and Richie wants to give Stan love but they’re both so afraid, so nervous. God, the way they dance around each other and when it’s time to take a dip, they were both to scared. Oh God, I love them so much and this fic ties the intimacy of pining and the ‘friends-with-benefits’ line so well, so perfectly. The mirroring between past and present? I love this and the author is a genius.

I Need You by @childrenofthe80s​ | Teen

Richie Tozier was a mix of emotions. He was absolutely miserable and it was all because of a motherfucking named Stan.

MY COMMENTS: the way the insecurity trope is flipped to Stan being insecure and Richie holding onto him and comforting him just makes me so soft oh my Lord

The Truth is That I Think I’ve Had Enough by @eddieeatsass​ | Explicit

For the first time since Stan developed feelings for his best friend, Richie was finally single on Valentine’s Day, and Stan was fully planning on taking advantage of it. He invited Richie on a camping trip, just wanting one night where he could pretend, but Richie had different plans.

MY COMMENTS: Yo, do you remember this iconic fic? Because I sure as hell do. The camping mixed with the repressed feeling and Richie slamming his head on the tent cover when he tried to strip? Amazing

why not me? by seeingredfics | Mature | 1/?

everything between stan and richie was supposed to be platonic, especially their secret hook-ups and longing stares.

MY COMMENTS: This is unfinished but even the first chapter has a satisfying end to it. Richie is so soft for Stan, Lord Christ and wasted!Stan gives off second-hand embarrassment like no other. But other than that, it’s amazing.

I Guess That's Love by @birdboyinthedeadlights | explicit

Stan shook as Richie held him.

Richie was used to this - used to the damaged boy with his fractured face and shattered soul. Used to playing clean up to his meltdowns and sitting with him through his dissociations. Richie knew he was a burden, wouldn’t ever say it, but Stan knew.

Stan was tired of knowing.

MY COMMENTS: I don't think this author can even write a bad stozier fic, this is so good as well tf? The angst is so wonderfully done and put together with a Stan Uris who's trying his best just mames it perfect

Bill Denbrough / Richie Tozier / Stanley Uris

Not Complete Until There’s Three by @thoughtfullyyoungduck | Not Rated

Mike’s call brings back some memories for Stan, more specifically memories about Stan and Richie. Stan is in for a rough awakening when he comes back to Derry and finds out Richie and Bill are married.

MY COMMENTS: see my reaction here :’) but other than the angst from Stan’s half, the fic is godtier. There isn’t much Stenbroughzier fics out there, but this one is so satisfying and the way everything falls together was simply perfect.

Sk8er Boi by @s-s-georgie | Teen

Stan and Richie are dating. It sucks that Bill likes both of them.

MY COMMENTS: Honestly the first Stenbroughzier fic I’ve ever read. This fic dragged me into the Stenbroughzier mess I’m now dragging you into, but holy fuck. This fic is really adorable and the pining—the lovely, lovely pining. It’s so soft and adorable aside the slight angst that is all

To Make You Feel My Love by @thegreatwhiteferret | Explicit

Stan takes care of his very neglected boys.

MY COMMENTS: i remember finding this fic and falling in love with it immediately. i know it’s on Tumblr somewhere, but I can’t find the author’s Tumblr (if you know, please respond so I can change it) and this fic covers the intimacy and the worry along with the love and fondness. Really cute, really smutty, threesome warning.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Uris by @thegreatwhiteferret​ | Explicit

Stan is always taking care of his boys and making sure they feel loved, so for his birthday Bill and Richie decide to show him how much they love and appreciate him by fulfilling his biggest fantasy.

MY COMMENTS: This is the second part to this series but it’s optional to read the first one. If you read this in order of the list, then you’ve read the first part lmao. 

Soulmate Tattoos AU by @peachyuris​ | Not Rated

stenbroughzier w/ soulmate tattoos!!

MY COMMENTS: The amount of pining here? Godly. Bill misunderstanding the situation? Stan and Richie feeling like something’s missing? I love this, I love them and I know you’ll love it too.

Milkshake Date by @winterstenbrough | Not Rated

stenbroughzier milkshake/diner date?

MY COMMENTS: Insecure!Richie is something used a lot, but never fails to warm my heart whenever his significant other(s) help him out. This fic also covers that aspect and is really soft, babies

[alo-piss-trancy]

Ok hi, I didn't wanna say anything, but please don't write knifeplay/bloodplay for Yuri. I def don't wanna spoil anything, but it's learned on a certain route that Yuri has a s*lf h*rm problem (I'll leave it at that).

You honestly seem like you're not trying to be a jerk with this ask, so I'm going to do my best to answer this as politely as possible without compromising my personal beliefs on the matter. This is going to be long and a little serious, but please note I'm not attacking you or trying to start a debate. I'm just laying all my thoughts on this down at once so I make myself clear, because a short answer would leave a lot of nuance out.

I understand what you're trying to do here. For the record though, I also considered that a pretty massive spoiler and I did not appreciate that at all. Even if you all think you're 'helping', don't do that again. Y/uri was pretty much the only character I'd managed to avoid most spoilers on and you killed the surprise for me. This game is already so full of fluffy 'filler' in the beginning that I don't have a ton of big plot points to look forward to in each route.

Now, I realise this is a very delicate topic and incredibly triggering to some people, especially with those two things combined. I am 100% willing to tag it with just about any variation needed to ensure you or others affected can blacklist/block it and never have to see a word of it in the future. I'd also be happy to go back and tag that original text post I made if needed. I mean that. You all are welcome to ask me to tag things anytime, and so long as you're polite about it I'm perfectly willing to oblige to the best of my ability in future posts! If I occasionally forget, just toss me a light reminder and I'll jump into editing and add it in.

That said, I want to make it clear that I am very firmly against censorship. I'm willing to take all necessary precautions to ensure people can curate their experiences on this blog and AO3, but at the end of the day I can still post whatever fictional stuff I choose to. As can anyone else. Same goes for more formally published media.

Now, it's entirely possible I would have gotten to that part of the game and decided 'oh dang, I'm not so enthused about that fic idea anymore...'. My whims and ideas change frequently, and what you mentioned is a heavy topic with a lot to unpack and process. It's also entirely possible that future plot would only provide more fuel.

Fyi, when I originally mentioned the knifeplay I was actually thinking a lot more along the lines of her doing it to the protagonist, not the reverse. But for the record, if I did choose to write it with focus on Y/uri, I would still be well within my rights to.

This next part of my answer is going to address some heavy topics, this is your warning!!!

Sometimes people's kinks are a way to take a thing that is personally scary or upsetting to them and find a way to reverse it. To find pleasure or power or get used to the idea of the awful thing in a safe, controlled fashion. I'm not going to go into the full details on this because there's plenty of explanation and research elsewhere already written up, as well as an excellent book on the subject, and I'm not turning this blog into a discourse debate. But I needed to mention it for my point.

There are plenty of stories that could be explored with Y/uri in this context. Did she have this kink before the self harm events started and it was completely unrelated, or did she develop it afterwards? How did she discover it beforehand? If developed afterwards, did it start out as another way of harming mixed with pleasure in a self-destructive way, often done sloppily and without proper technique? Or was it strictly used as almost exposure therapy to deal with those urges and thoughts in a safer, more contained scenario, maybe even allowing the partner she trusted to wield the knife to prove their bond/reinforce that she can be loved without being hurt deeply, that she is worthy of affection and trust and loyalty. Maybe this finally helps give Y/uri a tool to embrace her 'weirdness' without harming herself and others. Or, what if she thinks it can be a useful tool and is sure she's ready, but partway through the scene she gets triggered or has flashbacks... how does she deal with it? How does her partner? Can it be overcome with effort, research, and taking things slowly, or does she realize this kink is actually completely off the table for her?

What if she has this kink and is excited to try it, but her partner isn't? How does she take that rejection? Or do her poor social skills mean she skipped negotiation to begin with and attempted it in the middle of a vanilla session? Would her partner freak out or even get mad, or try to swallow their fear and let her do it so they don't hurt/offend her, even at the cost of their own comfort?

This topic also opens a ton of potential plots for darkfic, but I'll refrain from discussing that out of respect for you and others.

So as you can see, there's much more to explore than 'Knife=Hot'. I believe those discussions and ideas are necessary and provide important fuel for thought when explored fictionally, especially since mainstream media doesn't cover a lot of them.

~~~

I feel I should take a second to clarify knifeplay for those who may be unaware. It doesn't always equate to actual cutting/drawing blood. That can be an aspect, but usually only by those far more experienced and, you know, actually into that. A lot of participants don't actually go that far. Mostly, it's either about the physical sensation of the knife touching you at all, or the adrenaline/controlled fear and intimate trust of a partner bringing an object like that so close/teasing you with it.

In fact, it's frequently advised in those circles (especially to newcomers) to use a dull butterknife instead, because it simulates the same feelings of metal on skin/can dig in a little without any real risk of cutting/drawing blood. Even if one chooses to use a different knife, it's still pretty common to dull the blade, or some people even substitute with a closed pair of scissors (combined with the partner blindfolded, you can't really tell it apart from the real thing).

These versions of knifeplay are well controlled and ultimately pretty harmless, so long as both parties know what they're doing and stay alert. And more experienced players with sharper knives are even more cautious/have studied extensively to know where/how deep to go without risking scarring/serious injury.

Remember the golden rules of kink: Safe. Sane. Consensual.

With those in place, it is not nearly the same as self harm. Just as controlled, consensual, well-negotiated BDSM with safewords, respected boundaries and a trusted partner is never in the same league as abuse.

~~~

Now that that's out of the way, back to my point:

There's no perfect representation or narrative for everyone, in any group (be that gender/sexuality/triggered by certain things, etc). Every human being is different, everyone interprets media differently, and everyone takes away different elements from stories.

What one person in a particular group may find cathartic, relateable, or painful but necessary food for thought, another may find completely repulsive, personally hurtful, offensive, something they can't stand to hear. And guess what? Both of those can be true at the same time. One side is not immediately right over the other.

There are queer characters or interpretations of them in fics that I vehemently despise, might even find hurtful or sickening and think 'how can anyone create this, it's insufferable! People in 'my group' aren't like that, it's a horrible representation. I can't relate to it at all!' But you know what? Other people can and do, may find comfort in those exact narratives and experiences, may heal their pain instead of inflicting more. And that's great. It's what they needed or wanted and if I don't like it, I click away and do my best to avoid it.

There are specific tropes and narrative themes I personally cannot get through without being triggered into anxiety attacks or dragged back to bad times and places in my life. Sometimes I see them tackled in ways that are hurtful or seem insensitive to me. But I recognise that for someone else, it's exactly what they needed to see to get through that or come to terms with it, or see a way they wish that thing could play out. I would never dream of telling those people they aren't allowed to enjoy it, OR telling the creator of that piece of media or a tv show 'Hey ummm please don't use this plot because it turns me into a human wreck for a week'. Because it's not remotely my place to do so. They can create whatever they want, they have no responsibility towards me or my well being. A few might be kind enough to include a warning at the beginning of that episode or in the description, but they are in no way required to. It's up to me to curate my experience and try to keep my guard up/research what might have those tropes, and in the rare occasions I get blindsided, yeah, it hurts like hell. I struggle, I might even backslide a bit. But I just have to try my best to deal with it and make a note to be more careful next time. Because you can't control the world around you, not even the online world, and you have absolutely no right to. The only right you have is to protect yourself without infringing on other people's boundaries/rights.

And there's also another important point. There doesn't have to be a big important point or explanation for why a creator creates something, or why consumers can enjoy that creation! If someone wants to create a plotline with all of my triggers used in the most 'insensitive', 'wrong', pointless ways possible, strictly for Entertainment or pure kink material instead of some deep dissection of the issues involved? They can go hog wild!!! They are 100% allowed to do so on this earth, and I can't (and wouldn't want to) do a thing to stop them.

One person can read a kink fic and it hits a very emotional theme for them/they think it explores a deep topic well. Another person can read that same fic and get nothing out of it except their rocks off. Both of those readers are completely equal and 'allowed' to enjoy that fic. Both reasons are completely valid reasons for why the creator was 'allowed' to post/create that fic in the first place. Nobody needs permission, nobody has to answer to anybody except themselves. Period. This extends to any topic, any type of fic.

Yes, even for things I find absolutely abhorrent and insensitive and don't understand/want to read ever. I may resent everything about its existence, but I will defend to death the creator's right to make it exist in the first place.

It only affects me if I let it affect me. If someone's making content I despise or am upset by and can't handle, I can choose to ignore or avoid them, blacklist those tags, I can block them and move on with my day. I can do anything within my own bubble, but the second I consider going into their bubble and saying they can't make that thing, I am in the wrong. Because I'm not respecting their space and rights.

If someone makes cookies with ingredients I'm highly allergic to, pastes the ingredient warnings all over the box where I read them, and I still eat one, would anyone cheer me on for blaming them when I have a reaction? Would anyone think it was remotely okay of me to start calling up every bakery in town and saying they weren't allowed to bake those cookies EVER, because some people somewhere might be allergic?

No. They'd tell me I was crossing the line, because I'm infringing on other people's boundaries and lives. I'm expecting everybody else to take responsibility for something that, while horrible and painful, was my fault for touching.

Now, if someone sets out unlabelled cookies not realizing I'm allergic to something in them, and I eat it and have a reaction, that sucks. It's an awful experience. But is it the baker's fault? As long as they didn't do it maliciously, not really. They can be advised politely to label it in the future, and I can do my best to remember to ask/be more cautious next time I come across something I'm unsure of, but they're still allowed to bake those cookies for themselves and others.

Now, if I deliberately baked cookies with an ingredient that people are very frequently allergic to (ex. peanuts) and set it out in a crowded buffet without a warning label, that's a jerk move. That's intentionally trying to cause harm to others. But simply baking that flavour of cookies still isn't a crime or harmful by itself.

~~~

I'll be honest, I'm running out of steam and I think I've said most of what I have to say, so I'll wrap it up. I want to reiterate that I'm not ripping into you with this long answer, anon! I understand why you sent me what you did and I'm trying not to come off as harsh. I'm happy to go back and tag things and will tag anything else similar in the future!!! But at the end of the day, regardless of whether I personally end up writing that fic or not, or even want to after I get to that plot, I don't agree with telling anyone they can't/shouldn't write it at all. I wanted to try and explain my viewpoint thoroughly, and I hope you can respect that, just as I'll respect and try to accommodate you and other followers. This is the only time I'll really get up on a soapbox like this, and I have no interest in debating these things on my blog further, but it is a topic I've been passionate about all my life so I'm afraid I'm not budging on it.

[dreamdaydreamer]

27 Years [Adult Stan Uris]

A/n: This is over 2000 words, I got carried away, sorry about that! But anyway, hope you enjoy. Requests are open! :)

***

Twenty-two years. That’s how long it’d been since you’d last seen Stanley Uris. He left Derry in 1994, just like you, to go to university. You promised to keep in touch, to see each other as often as possible, you were in love after all. But for some reason that had never happened. At first you would call each other as often as possible. Then it slowly became less and less. Until one day you just stopped speaking. Stopped meeting up. Stopped everything.

Soon after you finished your degree, you ended up back in Derry, having to move back there when your father died and deciding to stay. Until then, you’d forgotten all about Stanley Uris, it was only when you had gone back to Derry that you started to remember. Started to remember him, and the days you would spend together, bird watching, playing board games, studying. You had a lot in common with him, at the time you had believed that you were soulmates, but you didn’t believe that anymore. You didn’t even believe in soulmates anymore. 

You’d tried to pursue some sort of happiness in Derry. You dated a few guys, no one special though, no one like Stan. You never fell in love with anyone like you had been when you’d been in love with him. So instead you settled by yourself, opening a little book shop in town, quite popular with the locals. You lead a quiet life, and for the meantime, you were happy with that. You attempted to push Stan to the back of your mind and, although you really did try, it proved very difficult, seeming to be able to relate anything to memories of him.

The autumn season had started to come into its own. The weather cooling down from the blistering summer, breezes whistling through town although it still wasn’t cool enough to wear a coat, orange and gold leaves scattered the path.

It was just a routine day in your simple life, stocking shelves and serving the few people who came in. It wasn’t really the shopping season yet, most of your customers came closer to Christmas, burdened with the rush to buy presents for others. And so today you mainly sat behind the counter, reading a copy of one of your own books, sighing to yourself from time to time when the reading strained your eyes too much and you had to put the book down, boredom overtaking you once again.

Stan made his way through the Derry streets, reminiscing about all the time he’d spent there as a kid. When Mike had first called Stan, memories of Derry had come rushing back to him. Mostly the Losers Club, what they had faced together, as well as the good memories they had made over the years. And then he remembered you. He wondered how he could have ever forgotten about you. You were his first love, his only love. Quite possibly his soulmate, Stan realised this was probably why he had never married over the past twenty-two years. He had tried to settle down, to be in a serious relationship, but he never could. The people he had dated were nice but there was always something that wasn’t quite right, Stan could never put his finger on it. Until now.

Throughout his short time back in Derry, Stan had wondered whether you were here. He knew that you’d gone to university, and he knew that you had bigger dreams outside of Derry, but maybe, just maybe you were here. Maybe he would get to see you again.

Derry hadn’t changed much since the last time Stan had been there. The shops were mostly the same. The antique shop, the pharmacy, the ice cream shop, all stood exactly where they had done twenty-seven years ago. It was like Derry was its own time capsule. History trapped in modernity. The buildings looked more derelict than Stan could remember, but the signs and decorations stayed the same, paint peeled off them now. There was something new though. A bookshop. A bookshop that stood on the corner of the street, the most recent shop to open judging by the appearance of it. The oak wood hadn’t faded, the windows were sparkling clean and the signs hadn’t started to peel off. Stan had to double-take when he saw the name of the shop. Y/n’s Corner. His mind instantly thought of you, you had always loved books. He crossed the road, moving to stand in front of the window, peering in. At first, he couldn’t see anything, and his heart sank. Of course, you wouldn’t be here, you were probably out living your best life, successful, married maybe, a family. The thought chewed Stan like a dog would a bone, sinking its teeth into his flesh. It’s not that Stan wouldn’t be happy for you, he would, he would just wish that it would have been him you had married, him that you’d chosen to settle down with. As he flipped the idea over and over in his mind, he caught a glimpse of someone at the counter of the shop, and with a closer look, he knew it was you. Even though it had been so long since you’d seen each other, he recognised you immediately, you were still the same beauty he had been in love with twenty-two years ago. You disappeared into the back of the shop as Stan entered, the little bell above the door chiming.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” God, Stan thought, even your voice is the same. Lilting, and made Stan’s heartbeat twice as fast. In a few moments, he would be face to face with you, after all this time. What would he say to you? He had too much to say, not sure where to even start. He wanted to apologise for being away for so long, for forgetting, he wanted to tell you that he’d missed you, even if he hadn’t remembered you, there was always a part of him missing, and that it was you, he wanted to tell you how much he loved, loves, you, and how, even now, after all of this time, his heart beats only for you. How when he hears your voice, a smile makes its way onto his face subconsciously, how when he sees your face, he can hear the blood pumping round his body, he becomes light-headed and his knees turn weak, just like they had done when he saw you for the first time. He feels like a teenager again, feelings all jumbled and messy but it’s perfect and he feels liberated for the first time in years. He’s planned a speech in his head of everything he wants to say and how he wants to say it, maybe it will be just him spilling out his thoughts and feelings into one big sentence, the words tumbling out of him before he’s able to pull them back into his mouth. But they’ll be there, out in the open, no matter how they get there, then you’ll know. You’ll know how much he loves you. But how will you react? What if you hate him? What if you resent him because he forgot about you? What if you don’t love him anymore? Stan wouldn’t know what to do. What would be the point in carrying on when all he’s lived for is gone. You’re the reason he forced himself to come back to Derry, to face this clown, the hope that he will finally be able to live the life he’d always wanted too, with you. Even so, he’s ready to tell you all that he feels, no matter the outcome.

But then suddenly you’re stood in front of him. And everything he had planned to say, everything he wanted to tell you, runs away from him so fast that there’s no point chasing after it. Neither of you say anything, there was no reason too. Everything that the both of you wanted to say hung in the air between you, hidden in the irises of your eyes, pushed out in the short breaths. You couldn’t believe that he was there, in front of you, and your face paled, like you were seeing his ghost. He’s looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. And to him, you are. You’re every star in the sky, every pearl in the sea, every flower on the land. You’re every breezy spring day and romantic winter night wrapped up into one, emitting warmth and light and love with every movement. He’s looking at you in awe, he’s making you feel like he used too twenty-two years ago. He’s making you feel loved.

Twenty-two years ago, you had been in love. Twenty-two years later, you were still in love. You wondered whether it was Derry, everything here always stayed the same, maybe that meant the people within it too, maybe the reason why you still loved him was because Derry had frozen you in time. Still ageing, but always the same. But you also wondered whether it was just Stan. Stan. The man you’d loved for so long simply because of who he was. Maybe you were still in love with him because it was too hard to fall out of love with a man like that.

Then he smiles at you shyly, almost like he’s embarrassed, and in that moment, he looks younger, much younger. Like when you first met and he was looking up at you from the floor of the school corridor, after you’d shouted at Henry Bowers for pulling Stan’s Kippah from his curls. Any thought that the man in front of you isn’t Stan, that he’s some kind of imposter, fades away from you as realisation sets in. It is him. For some reason the thought shocks you more than his presence, after believing for so long that you would never see him again, the fact that he’s here, before you, makes you violently shiver and you wrap your arms around yourself as a tear slips down your face. You don’t know why you’re crying; you’re feeling too many emotions at once. Elation, love, relief, but also sadness too, sad that you’d missed out on so much time with him.

Stan doesn’t know why you’re crying either, so he panics, maybe he shouldn’t have come back. Maybe you really do hate him. He’s hurt, of course, but he only wants the best for you, only wants you to be happy.

“I…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come. You must hate me, and I understand, I mean I…” Stan continues to ramble, listing all of the reasons why he should leave, and then he is. He is leaving and you’re pulled out of your trance. You can’t let him leave again. Stan makes his way to the door, but he’s stopped by a small tug on his woolly cardigan, when he turns, he sees you stood there, tears streaming down your face as you continue to cling to him.

“Please don’t leave me again, Stan.” You push yourself into his arms, burying your face into his chest and crying even harder than before. Instinctively, his arms come to wrap around you as he immerses himself in your scent. Your hair still smells heavenly and your scent takes him back to when he was young, warming him from the inside out and sending tingles down his spine, a feeling of safety blooming in his stomach. Stan doesn’t think he’s ever been as happy as he is right now, knowing that you’ve missed him as much as he’s missed you.

The past twenty-two years Stan had been frightened, frightened of his past. And sure, he has good reason, he was traumatised by a child-killing clown. He almost nearly skipped out on returning to Derry altogether, not sure whether he was brave enough to face his fears again, but now he’s glad that he did. Now, Stan’s more motivated than ever to kill IT, so that he can have the life he’d always wanted, with the person he’d dreamt about could never quite remember.

You and Stan spent the next hour catching up in the back room of your shop. It served as a mini kitchen, small but practical, with a little breakfast table pushed up to the wall. You both sat, sipping from your warm mugs, as your hands intertwined on the tabletop, neither one of you wanted to let go now that you had found each other. The way that you both talked, it was like you’d never been apart. Stan tensed up after you asked what he was doing back in Derry.

“It’s…a long story. A story I don’t think you would believe. Hell, I don’t think I believe it myself.” You nodded, in slight disappointment, Stan had never been the type to keep anything from you. “I want to tell you, I do,” Stan rushes out, “I just don’t want you to think I’m crazy!”

“You know I would never think that about you, Stan.” You try to reassure him, but he wouldn’t crack.

“When this is all over,” he starts, unsure that it ever would be over, “I’ll tell you, I promise.” You nod slightly. “I need to go. Duty calls.” A small chuckle escapes the both of you before Stan pulls himself out of the chair, reluctantly slipping his hand out of yours. He reaches the door, but then turns to look at you, a soft smile on his face.

“I’ll come back, if that’s alright with you?”

“Be careful, Stan.” You couldn’t explain it, but somehow you knew that this thing, whatever it was, was serious. Dangerous, even. “Promise me I’ll see you soon?”

Stan’s heart flutters, you did want to see him again. He nods,

“Very soon. I promise.”

[eternaljouska]

Days of Cats and Bears - Yoon Jeonghan

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort

Warning: Self-Harm (The harmful thought and action, please proceed with caution), several expletives

Word Count: 5,450 (It was supposed to be 3k-ish hehe)

Note: Short Term 12 came to mind while writing this. Happy very late birthday uri cheonsa, Jeonghannie~ Happy late world mental health day, and happy birthday, Jiminnie, you’re also an angel. I love the title header, I love this story, and I hope you love it too. Enjoy!

“I don’t need this,” you spit out, your bloodshot eyes piercing through your caregiver’s bored ones. Your teeth are chattering and your body is shaking from your burning rage. “I know you think I’m a lost cause, but you’re wrong. I’m not a cause. I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

Hyorin doesn’t say anything back. She turns around and leaves you with the echo of the creaking doors.

The next day, it’s Jeonghan who greets you good morning. Jeonghan is new in the facility; yesterday was his mini welcome party. But now they assigned him to you. You scoff, “You’re not Hyorin,” stating the obvious.

“You don’t like Hyorin,” he asserts as he grabs a seat on the edge of your bed.

Although that’s the truth, you brush his words away. There’s something more crucial than you disliking Hyorin, a question melding with the simmering anger inside your chest which makes your voice break at the end of your sentence. “Why, she gave up on me or something?” She’s not supposed to give up. It’s her fucking job. She’s not supposed to try and prove your point.

Jeonghan’s gaze captures yours for the long second it takes for you to look away. “No. I must tell you, she’s quite relieved that she’ll have a break, but no. I volunteered.”

He volunteered, and you don’t know whether to be glad or to be mad. Your thumbnail digs into the skin of your forefinger. And it only doubles the fury you’re curbing that the familiar act doesn’t give you any sensation at all. They’re blunt, your nails. Hyorin checks them every three days; she clips them too short for your liking. I’m not a cause. Does he think I’m some kind of a level-up challenge in a game that he needs to win?

“I know what you’re thinking. I—“

“You don’t,” you cut him.

Jeonghan closes his mouth, the gleam in his eyes undisturbed by your hostility. “Alright, I don’t. That’s true. Anyway, choose an animal.”

“What?” you mumble, his swift topic-changing catching you off-guard.

“Choose an animal. That’s how we learn about our mood from now on. For example, I’ll be a cat: belly full, lounging on the sofa, generally calm, and admittedly”—he leans forward, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper—“just a tiny bit sleepy.”

You scoff, more than a little bit amused by the new caregiver. The others are friendly—professional friendly, just a bunch of people slightly older than you who get a little cocky from the experience of being entitled to or responsible for something. But this guy, he seems to be actually enjoying his time, and that somehow calms the aggression flickering both in your chest and in your thumb. “That’s stupid,” you say briskly, and Jeonghan springs back up to his previous position as if your comment had physically slapped him on the face. “You made that? That’s even more complicated than the previous system.”

“I- I,“ he stutters, “I’m sad. I thought you would appreciate that.”

He’s dramatic, but that seems like fun.

“Appreciate the fact that you’re sad? Very much do,” you say as you bite back your smile.

“I want a cactus,” you confess. “I don’t need an ice cream cake.”

An ice cream cake was nice; it was good. And seeing that you’ve never had one in all these months you’ve stayed in the facility, you knew better to inhale it in one go before vocalizing your protest. You’ve always requested for a cactus before, but they deem it too dangerous. You know they don’t do their research this way. Even though your knowledge of the plant is rudimentary at best, you know that not all cacti are dangerous, as they put it.

It’s been only less than two weeks since Jeonghan became your assigned caregiver, and he’s managed to gift you an ice cream cake. He would give you all the credits, though. ‘Seven consecutive days of cats!’ he exclaimed as he made his grand appearance through your door less than an hour ago. A cat: belly full, lounging on the sofa, generally calm, and admittedly more than a tiny bit bored. So it makes all the sense in the world that you hang your hope of a cactus upon him. With the progress that you’ve made since his arrival here, they’ll certainly trust him, right?

And they do.

After a long—and unnecessary—discussion involving Jeonghan pleading and defending your case, he barges into your room five days later with a small box covered with white wrapping paper with chickens all over it. You’ve anxiously and expectantly waited for him and the news he’s bearing, and although it’s long since he threw away his modesty of knocking at your half-closed door, you find yourself jump from your seat in surprise when he does.

“What is that?”

“Hens-and-Chicks!” His face brightens, seemingly proud of what he has to offer you on his outstretched hand.

But you, on the other hand, are still having some difficulties to fully comprehend his blaring signals. “What?”

“You don’t know? You should know!”

“Again, what?”

“Hens. And. Chicks! A cactus,” he groans as he stomps his way to your bed. “For someone who’s adamant about wanting a cactus, you should’ve known what Hens-and-Chicks are. Argh, I’m so mad. I think I’m close to the bear level, oh my god, this is so disappointing. Ugh, you’re bringing my aggression level to the max.”

You snort, “You’re so dramatic.” You crawl closer to him and accept your present and carefully remove the tape from the wrapping paper. You despise it when people tear the wrapping paper almost as if they’ve buried a deep-running grudge towards it.

“That was supposed to be a good joke.” He nods at the wrapping paper that you set aside.

“What? This? This wrapping paper? Why, because you’re giving me Hens. And. Chicks! in a box wrapped in Hens. And. Chicks! wrapping paper?” You raise your brow at him, and when he feigns a scowl, you pat his head playfully. “A good one, Jeonghan. A good one.”

He watches you that afternoon. As you place the little pot close to the window and water it for the first time, you can feel his gaze that’s sticking to your back like your clothes on a summer day. You ignore it, too busy spooning waters for your new adoptee. You want to thank him, but what comes out of your mouth is a bark of ‘Why hadn’t this baby come sooner?’

Well, that’s the best he can get from you. But he’s fine with that.

Another week has passed, and you almost received the ice cream cake reward yesterday if only your cats hadn’t been interrupted by one dog. ‘It was one day, Jeonghan. One. Day. And that’s because Soonyoung was antagonizing my Henchi,’ you reasoned. Henchi, by the way, is how you call your plant—Hens-and-Chicks abbreviated, so creative.

Jeonghan had only chortled before he brought his hands forth from their hiding place behind his back, and you gasp, gleeful giggles bursting past your previously pouty lips. “I thought someone said ‘I don’t need an ice cream cake.’ Boy, oh boy, now that they have Henchi, I guess now we need the ice cream cake, after all. Anyway, what’s Henchi’s status?”

“Oh, so now it’s Henchi’s status all we care about? And for your information, I didn’t sound like that. Also, Henchi’s still a cactus, the last time I checked. And I’m still a cat.” You take the small plate from Jeonghan’s hand only to find out that something is slightly off from your ice cream cake. “No, scratch that. I’m a dog! Yoon Jeonghan, did you eat my ice cream cake? Ohoho, I think I’m gonna be a bear.”

The young man smiles triumphantly even though he realizes he might be murdered right on the spot because of what he did. “Yes, I—“

“What?! How dare you?!”

“Six-seventh of an ice cream cake for six of your cats. That’s what you—“ His words are interrupted by a shriek that quickly transforms into the laughter you’ve become familiar with—and extremely fond of if you have to add. “Hey! Stop hitting me! That will cost you your ice cream cake! Y/n!”

“No, I’m not gonna stop. You deserve this! You could’ve just cut it from the cake and ate it like that instead of eating straight from my cake.” You keep on hitting his back in spite of his numerous ‘ow!’ since you know that they are as fake as your attack.

“Y/n, stop it right now. I swear—“

“What is happening here?”

You both snap your head towards the door in the instant that you hear his voice, Mr. Choi, the facility’s supervisor. He and Hyorin are standing in the doorway, both giving you suspicious looks. “I’m sorry, we’re just playing games,” Jeonghan answers, immediate enough that you dare to hope they would believe him.

“You know we can’t have games that involve violence.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I will not use that game again.”

From the way he speaks, you know Jeonghan is nervous. And seeing that Mr. Choi only glanced at him once before continuously eyeing the melting ice cream cake atop your nightstands, you understand why.

Shit.

“You’re not supposed to give me the cake, were you?” you shout-whisper after the sound of Mr. Choi and Hyorin’s steps fade into the background as they walk farther.

Jeonghan averts your worried eyes and gives you the tiniest of a smile. “Just eat it, okay?”

Jeonghan is distant in the next few days. You change your animal daily, but he says nothing. So you spend all day sitting in front of Henchi, feeding it two spoons of water right after Jeonghan’s visit to clip your nails ends. Unlike Hyorin, he does it every four days.

You count Henchi’s bulbous leaves over and over again, every day, as you contemplate the changing in Jeonghan’s behavior. There’s no more cat day for you. It’s hard to feel full, calm, and bored when you’re a boiling pot of concern and temper. And now, dread also throws itself inside your pot, for you notice that when you’re about to water Henchi, the bottommost leaves are turning brown. The chair screeches at the haste of your standing up. “Jeonghan! Jeonghan! Jeong—“

“What happens?” he gasps out, breath heavy from the short run he obviously did to reach your room as soon as his legs allow.

“Henchi,” you sob. “It’s—it’s rotting. It’s dying.”

Jeonghan’s body sways out of balance when he takes his first step towards you. “Let me see,” he breathes out as he kneels to take a closer look at Henchi. He sticks his thumb and forefinger under the plant and pulls every brown leaf and tears them off the rest of your Hens-and-Chicks. You look at him warily but do not stop him, your thumb curling to dig its nail into your forefinger. And that action strikes you as familiar and at the same time, peculiar. You can’t remember the last time it happened. It’s been too long.

“Just, don’t water it for the next two weeks, and it’ll be fine.”

He disappears before you say thank you.

Six days after that, you are reduced into a quaking ball of sobs and whimpers. And that’s how Jeonghan finds you in the corner of your room behind the door.

“Y/n!” he calls out, terror dripping generously from his lips despite only saying a single word.

“Henchi… Jeonghan, Henchi…”

Today, you decided that you would water Henchi regardless of Jeonghan’s advice. Four days ago, you found the new bottommost layer of your plant to be rotting, so you plucked them off Henchi’s healthy body, leaving only four rosettes behind. Day after day, you worry your lips into the bite of your teeth and your skin into your nails. You haven’t watered your cactus in days, and the soil is visibly dry on the surface, so there shouldn’t be any reason for it to continue rotting.

Two days ago, Henchi has merely three rosettes left. That’s why when you woke up this morning you wondered whether underwatering could somehow be the reason why. But alas, when you picked up your glass of water and a spoon, you realized that there’s no plant to water anymore.

“Y/n,” Jeonghan coos after he saw that rot had successfully ousted the green flesh off Henchi’s rosettes. “Y/n, shh, stop crying now, it’s okay.”

You grit your teeth, preventing the scream imprisoned in your throat. “It’s not,” you seethe, trying to keep your volume low, lest other caregivers start to crowd in your room. “Henchi died because of me. It’s not okay.”

Jeonghan falls to both of his knees in front of you, his hands reaching out for yours, but you don’t let them. “Henchi,” he starts, “Henchi… you love Henchi too much it died.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, hear me, you- you watered it too much it died. See, water is your love, and the small plant could only take so much. Now, being loved is a burden, Y/n, even more than the act of loving itself.”

You know that those are white lies he’s using to assuage you. But somehow, you let yourself hung your hope upon him once again as you let his cold fingers grasp yours. You don’t need another death attached to your name. And right after that thought crosses your mind, your breath hitches.

“Have you been on Cocaine?”

“It’s none of your business, Y/n. Let me go.” Your younger brother has grown to be taller than you are, stronger than you are, but the hand that you hold is only shaking yours weakly, not enough to release it free. Little do you know, that is nothing but a camouflage for the tremble on his red knuckles. What you know is that the protective clutch his other hand has over his satchel must have hidden your answer.

“Give me your bag.”

“No, Y/n, let’s talk about this—“

“I said give me your bag!”

“Noona,” he pleads. He never calls you that, being only a year apart and so close to each other and whatnot. He only does it when he desperately wants something from you. “Please. I need to go. Let me go.”

“Jisung, how could you do that to yourself? To me?”

He cries. “Noona, please, we need to go. I’ll tell you later, I promise. I’ll stop. I’ll do whatever you want, but please, let’s—“

“Ya! Jisung, you bastard! Give me my money!”

Your attention moves from your brother’s wide eyes to the burly man calling out for his name. The man runs towards where both of you stand with overflowing vehemence, and that alone sends shivers down your back.

“Noona, run! Run, I said run!” Your brother’s urgency is clear through the way he speaks. You want to tell him that whoever that man is, he’s close, but then he shoves you with all of his might. “I’m sorry! I love you.”

The burly man surges towards your brother and punches him in the face. Again. And again. And you just stayed there, stunned. Until both men direct their attention to you and your brother cracks out, “Run!”

And you did.

You run to the nearest police station. But when the officer found your brother, it’s too late.

“Y/n? Hey, it’s okay, it’ll be—“

“Jeonghan?” You call him, the weight of your brother’s death growing bigger and bigger in your chest and the only thing stopping you from exploding is Jeonghan’s white lies you choose to believe. “Do you think that’s why he died? Jisung? Because I love him too much?”

Jeonghan reads into the line of your lips and the wide of your orbs, and he nods, smiling at the sliver of hope that he discovered there. But then your eyes are blinking, searching for truth on his gaze, and your lips are quivering, tears flowing freely until they disappear at the cusp of Jeonghan’s palms on your cheeks. “Is that why then?” Your voice is the weak flutter of a butterfly’s wings when you speak, and your face holds the agony of that same butterfly emerging from its chrysalis in the past, and Jeonghan wants nothing else for you to expand your wings and take your flight courageously already. “Is that why I’m not dead? Because- because—“

“Y/n—“

“No, listen, listen, that… I- nobody loves me. That- that’s… That’s why I’m here in the first place, right? Right?”

“No, no, no, Y/n, no. That’s not right. That’s not—“

“But that’s what you said earlier! Henchi”—you grab on the flesh of your arms and paw at it as you speak—“Henchi died—“

“Y/n, stop that, give me your hand. Y/n, hey, look at me. Look at me, I’m here. I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t die yet. We’re on the same page, Y/n. We’re still alive. But you know what, everybody’s gonna die. And I believe that’s because someday, everyone’s going to finally have it in their life. That person who loves you so much, you can’t help but share the burden of loving, together. And your brother, Y/n, he loved you so much and you loved him just as much, if not more. And let me tell you, Y/n, that much love is dangerous. You are loved, Y/n. You are loved.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” There’s something in his eyes that makes you want to sob even more—if only to prolong his stay and the comfort he offers. You’re certain; tomorrow he’ll be a stranger to the Jeonghan you first knew. “Come, give me your hand. Let’s clip your nails, alright? Trying to hurt yourself to quicken the arrival of death doesn’t make that person comes earlier to your life.”

Right before Jeonghan walks out of your room, you call him, “Jeonghan?”

“Yes?”

“Will you… will you wait with me? Will you stay with me until that person comes?”

Jeonghan only smiles.

It’s been eight days since they threw Henchi away; they didn’t let you keep Henchi’s plastic pot in your room. And you went berserk. Because Jeonghan didn’t even spare you a glance when that happened.

It enrages you, the way he only shows his reaction when you hurt yourself. You only want to know what happened—what changed so that he became so indifferent towards you. Was it the ice cream cake accident? Did Mr. Choi do something? You tried to confront him after they threw Henchi. And the next day. And the next day. But in the end, you got tired of trying. So you stop minding him. Or at the very least, stop minding him consciously.

It was two days ago that you got a breakdown. You bit your bottom lip through Jeonghan’s daily check-up, and he left after ten minutes of strangling silence. And when you set your lip free from your teeth, you dazed for a second from the metallic taste in your mouth. You laughed then. How stupid of you. They’ve clipped your nails blunt, but you’ve forgotten all about the sharp ivories stored behind the boundary of your lips. You latched them onto your arm, stronger and stronger until tears were blurring your sight and a purplish mark was left on their wake.

Jeonghan noticed the tremble on your harmed arm the next day he checked up on you, and although he was a ravenous, aggressive, and triggered bear, you were glad because he’s once again the man that you’re falling for.

And you’re sad. Because it seemed that the only way you’ll get to see the glimpse of that person was after you planted noxious violet on your skin.

You’re walking in the dim corridor to the kitchen to heat up a glass of milk in the microwave, trying to be as quiet as you can even though you know the microwave will surely kill the quiet you attempt for in such an obnoxious way you want to cease from existence. And yet, before the microwave has the chance to make true of your prediction, the creak of a door interrupts the silence first.

“Hyorin, did you hear yourself? Kissing in the facility would be strike one for you.”

Your heart beats violently at the sound of his voice. You hear it every day, but those words he utters on the daily, they’re like the voicemail greeting of a lost person. But more than anything, you want your heart to stop at the knowledge of who he’s talking to and what the conversation might be about. But in spite of your protesting heart, you tiptoe your way to the source of noise anyway.

“It’d be two for you, after that stupid ice cream cake,” Hyorin scoffs, “I don’t care.”

And you freeze, for Hyorin suddenly buries Jeonghan’s face in the shadow of her head, proving your latest prediction to be true. They kiss. And you thank all of the powers on the earth that you can still turn your body around not to witness your hope shrivels and dies in front of your eyes. You walk blindly back to the kitchen and slump down, leaning on the bottom shelf of the island as you cry. You bite the back of your left hand to suppress your sob. Burying your head on your knees, you clasp your other hand on your ear, refusing to hear the sound of the door opening and closing in a snap.

You don’t know how, but you made your way to your room. You blink. It’s funny. You feel more lifeless than any living person should be, but you can’t laugh, perhaps that’s the very first sign of death.

Jeonghan sees the bite mark, but he doesn’t bark. He whispers his questions, but you keep your silence. And that goes on for days. Until he explodes, and you shatter.

“What’s your status? Is it the bear?” It is clear that he’s trying to control himself, but his tone has long since mismatched the pastel color of his voice.

“What fucking bear Jeonghan? Polar bear? Sloth bear? Grizzly bear? This is fucking ridiculous, you know that?” Your eyes glint with fury, although perhaps it is your perpetual tears that catch the morning lights for the sake of giving out the illusion of life.

“What happened to you? Where’s this coming from?”

“I don’t know, Jeonghan. What happened to you?” He drops his gaze and falls quiet. “Oh, now you’re quiet.”

Your right hand is hiding under your blanket, blunt nail impressing crescents onto your skin. Jeonghan is hiding in front of you, and you want to find him, but one of your hands is too preoccupied and the other is too weak from the scar you inflicted.

“I don’t need this,” you mutter, your thought flying back to the time where Jeonghan had never set a step in your life. “Why don’t you just let me out? Fuck, you don’t even tell me what it takes to get out of this fucking facility.”

“We don’t want anyone to fake or manipulate their condition just to have us let them go.”

“But why? Why Jeonghan, why?” The first sob successfully tears itself out of your mouth, and you see a glimpse of the man whose hand you long to hold. Hatred is forming in your gut. Why? Why only now are you here? “Why am I here? Why? I want to go. I want to go!”

“Your parents want us to care for you.”

At his remote and mechanical answer, your nail digs deeper into your flesh, and in place of the scream bubbling in your throat, you laugh hysterically instead. “Oh, they won’t care.” You watch him watching you crumble. “How… How could I fucking live like this?”

“Y/n, give me your hand.”

“No. Tell me, how could I fucking live like this?” By now, you’re raising your voice since Jeonghan rushes to your side to uncover the hiding place of your furious fingers. “I said no! You think you’re helping, right? Right? Let me tell you this, you’re not! You made things worse! You made things fucking worse!”

Jeonghan catches your hand, and you scream, “Let me go! Fucking let me go! Let me out this fucking place! Why can’t you just let me out and—“

“Because you’re gonna fucking kill yourself, Y/n! That’s why!”

Silence falls with the weight of Jeonghan’s outburst. That’s true. You know that’s true. In fact, that’s the continuation of the sentence he interrupted.

The thin walls listen and words spread. Today is Jeonghan’s last strike.

The face that greets your day is not Jeonghan’s. It’s Hyorin’s. And you want to cry the tears your exhausted ducts can no longer excrete—after last night, you would think your body doesn’t have extra water to waste anymore. Jeonghan is gone.

You were about to close your eyes again, physically and mentally tired to deal with Hyorin, moreover since she only reminds you of that night in the corridor. But it’s the familiar image of chickens on a slick paper that rouses you up so quickly you could’ve collapsed back onto the bed from the pounding in your head. She tried to hide it behind her back, but it’s too late, you’ve seen it, a box very much like the one Jeonghan used to present Henchi.

“Morning. Let’s see your status,” Hyorin lets out, leaning her body on the wall just next to the door. Hyorin, she’s always so straightforward. You’ve always wondered why she works in the facility when she doesn’t seem to like what she’s doing—she doesn’t even bother to hide it. But in any case, you guess it’s good of her not to pretend.

Knowing that your status and the box she’s hiding must have a causative relationship, you decide to lie to her. “A cat. Just an exhausted cat,” you croak out.

But in turn, Hyorin frowns. “What do you mean a cat?” Her words are not hostile; they’re genuine confusion.

“What did Jeonghan say when he reports my status?”

“The usual one-to-ten scale. What do you mean? Did he not follow that method?”

You blink. “Don’t worry about that. He used the scale, but he had his additional method, just to make sure.”

Hyorin looks at you long before she hands the gift box to you, “From Jeonghan. Mr. Choi didn’t allow it at first, seeing how bad it was when your plant died. Doesn’t want to repeat that. But Jeonghan can be very persuasive,” she pauses, throwing her gaze away from you to the floor, “And I helped, too. I’m sorry. This is all my fault that Jeonghan’s gone. I’ve never really warmed up to anyone in this place, but it’s different with him. I think you’d agree to that.”

You nod. Jeonghan was different. But it doesn’t matter. He’s gone.

“And you’re right. This work is not for me. You’ve shouted at me, screaming all those words, and it’s only now that I realized the truth behind them. I’m sorry, Y/n. I guess I have a problem of my own. But anyway, this is my last day of work, and the least I can do for you is help Jeonghan convinced Mr. Choi about that present.” Hyorin tugs the edge of his lips into a small smile, and at that moment, your heart warms even a little. It’s like you’re seeing a different person standing in front of you. And suddenly, that warmth shoots up to your eyes, filling them with more tears you don’t know you still have. “Goodbye, Y/n. I hope you’ll find your peace within you.”

“Thank you,” you whispers, heart heavy with another farewell.

It’s another Hens-and-Chicks. You knew that from the second you laid your eyes on the wrapping paper. You sniffle, the memory only adds to your pain. There are two letters, one stamped with a cat sticker on the envelope and the other with a bear; you open the bear first.

Dear Y/n,

I have no idea what bear the bear on the bear sticker is. But it is a bear since it’s a bear sticker. And I wrote this because I’m half a bear, and I believe you are too. I’m sorry. I hurt you, and you hurt yourself because of me. I hope that doesn’t come out as cocky. But Y/n, I’m truly sorry. For the harsh words that I said and for the stranger that I’ve become. I’m sorry. Mr. Choi suspects that I treated you differently than the others, and I suspect that it’s true. I didn’t want to be relocated to a new facility because I want to be there for you. I want to wait with you. You asked me about it that day, but I couldn’t promise you anything because you see, here I am unpacking my stuff in a new facility (not now since I’m writing this, but probably at the time that you read this.) Despite wasting my time to be indifferent towards you, I’m still stupid enough to get relocated. You might be confused as to why everything happened. You know that we, the caregivers, have rules in the facility too, break three and you’re out. And you guessed it, I did. First is the ice cream cake, the third is the outburst, and the second involves Hyorin. She did something purposefully to add my strike; you never knew what a broken-hearted person’s capable of doing until they do it. But don’t be mad with her or yourself. It’s nobody’s fault but mine. Hyorin helped to get this confidential letter to go past Mr. Choi after all. She helps convince him about Hanchi, too, you see (for JeongHAN’s Hens-and-CHIcks—HA! I’m more creative than you!) I trust Hanchi in your care. I know you’ll do well (I printed out tips I found on the back of this letter. Also, Hanchi lives in Henchi’s pot. I saved it from the trashcan.) But don’t get too heartbroken if things don’t go the way you want them to be. Be gentle with your heart, Y/n. Be kind to yourself. Don’t bite, you don’t want them to start pulling out your teeth (I’m sorry, I’m laughing at the image of a toothless Y/n.)

The other envelope is your key. I can’t elaborate on that, but I know you’ll understand. This has been a long letter. I hope what I wrote here calms the bear in you, Y/n. See you on the other side. I’ll be there when you finally spread your wings and fly.

Sincerely,

Jeonghan

You bring the letter close to your chest before your free-falling tears manage to land themselves upon Jeonghan’s handwriting and ruin it. You want to revel in his words, read it over and over again and save it in the locket of your heart. You don’t want to open the other envelope, not yet. You don’t want the moment to end, but you know it’ll never end—not if it’s Jeonghan. He stays; he will stay with you no matter what. Through the letter he promised you he’ll wait with you, and you trust that he will. So you let your bear go into the wild and his letter back into its home.

The cat envelope saves one big folded poster, and you understand why the cat sticker is there. The envelope—or the poster—is a sanctuary for seven columns and fourteen rows of various cats in various poses. Several cats are missing from the first and last row. Frustration slowly crawls alongside the flow of your blood at your failure of comprehending Jeonghan’s words at the end of his letter. The other envelope is your key. You begin counting the number of cats modeling on your poster by then; there are ninety of them all. Ninety cats are your key.

The other envelope is your key. See you on the other side.

Ninety cats are your key.

And then it occurs to you just what Jeonghan means. You snort, eyes glimmering with both tears and newborn hope. That man and his wit.

That night you dream of your brother, a white cat sleeping on his lap. He strokes her clean furs lovingly, and you raise your head when he suddenly stops. He sees you and smiles. And you aren’t awakened with a jolt or a scream or a sob. That morning, you wake up with a smile. And you share the rare crescent of your lips with the new face who greets you.

Wait for me, Jeonghan, wait for me.

Note again: Is this the longest fic i’ve written so far?? This is how things turn out when you take your time on them, people. Also, Leo, if you read this, I freaked out when I saw that succulent ask you rb, but I didn’t tell you because I was writing this at that time and I give out no spo hehe.

Thank you for reading!

[the-sarcastic-trashmouth]

How can I love you when I can’t love myself? (Request)

Prompt: Oh man i loved the silence of nothing. can i request something with some more soft stozier snuggles? maybe something addressing richie's neglect.--Anonymous

Summary: “Richard?” Stan called, thumping up the steps as the others followed him. He could hear the sound of David Bowie coming from Richie’s room as he cracked open the door. “Richie--What the fuck?” He asked. /

Richie was laying on his bed in just his boxers with the half-drunken bottle of vodka cradled in his fist, hanging off the side of his bed. Richie’s head sluggishly picked up as he looked to the others with a huge grin when he immediately sat up. 

“Staniel the manual! Welcome, I didn’t expect you today! Oh shit, you even brought some of the motley crew!” He laughs before he stood up and turned down his music. “Sup my dudes, what brings you over to mi casa?” He asked with a huge grin.

“Richie, what in the world--are you drinking? You’re underage!” Eddie exclaims before covering his mouth and nose at the pungent smell of alcohol on Richie. “Age is but a number, dear Spaghetti.” Richie grins before handing over the bottle when Bev walked up to him. “And Jail is just a place.” Eddie resorted, making Richie snorts.

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Stanley Uris

Warning: Contains underage drinking/smoking. 

Richie loved to make his friends laugh. It made him feel like he was doing something right whenever any of the losers would laugh at his dumb jokes. Because if they were laughing… they wouldn’t find him annoying and they wouldn’t leave him.

Now, his parents were a sensitive subject for him. So he didn’t really care to talk about them. There was a part of him that was envious of others, seeing as they had parents who loved them. Richie’s parents tolerated him if they really had to, but most of the time they’d leave town for Wentworth’s job for months on end.

Richie was currently laying on his floor, staring at the ceiling. He was glad that it was summertime so he didn’t have to go to school. His parents had just left, saying they’d be gone for a least two weeks with some money on the table. So now he had the house to himself which depending on who you asked was a good or bad thing.

He waited a few more minutes after they had left to make sure they didn’t have to come back for anything. The moment he knew the coast was clear, he stood up and went downstairs to raid the small liquor cabinet. Today was one of those days that he really needed something to stop the buzzing in his mind and alcohol was the best solution.

Snagging the bottle of vodka from the wooden chest, Richie thumped back up the steps to his room before shutting the door. He pulled out his cassette player and popped in one of his mixtapes before flicking off the top of the bottle. He thumped down onto the edge of the bed as the music began to pour out from the speakers.

The alcohol burned going down his throat, but god, did he love the warm feeling that bloomed throughout his chest. It replaced the cold dread that had been growing larger since his parents popped into his room this morning. It replaced the want for his parents to even pretend to act like they even cared about him once in a while.

Richie fucking hated this feeling. It was so stupid how it affected his daily life because his parents wanted a girl and got a Richie instead. It was one thing to be ignored by them but it was an entirely different thing when they spoke about how beautiful a daughter would be. It was like they did it to get a rise out of Richie when in reality… It just made him upset.

He didn’t tell the losers because he didn’t like to discuss personal shit… I mean he used humor to block out all the negative thoughts that tried to weasel their way into his head. His jokes are what kept him floating, kept him from breaking down because if they were laughing no one could see the tears in his eyes.

Richie winced before taking a huge gulp of alcohol before coughing violently. He wiped at the moisture around his mouth before thumping the bottle onto the floor as he stood up. He looked around his room for the other cassette tapes unaware that he was going to get some unsuspected visitors.

Stanley knocked on the Tozier’s door with Bev and Eddie behind him. They were going to invite Richie out to do some stuff, but no one had answered when they called earlier. So here they were, waiting for someone to answer the door but there was nothing.

“Maybe he just doesn’t want to hang out today.” Ben offers gently.

“Trashmouth, open this fucking door, you ass!” Eddie shrieked beating on the door.

Suddenly Stan reaches up for the small porch light, flicking open the small door and snagging the spare key Richie had told him about. He glanced at the losers who stared at him in shock before he unlocked the door and went inside.

“Richard?” Stan called, thumping up the steps as the others followed him. He could hear the sound of David Bowie coming from Richie’s room as he cracked open the door. “Richie--What the fuck?” He asked.

Richie was laying on his bed in just his boxers with the half-drunken bottle of vodka cradled in his fist, hanging off the side of his bed. Richie’s head sluggishly picked up as he looked to the others with a huge grin when he immediately sat up.

“Staniel the manual! Welcome, I didn’t expect you today! Oh shit, you even brought some of the motley crew!” He laughs before he stood up and turned down his music. “Sup my dudes, what brings you over to mi casa?” He asked with a huge grin.

“Richie, what in the world--are you drinking? You’re underage!” Eddie exclaims before covering his mouth and nose at the pungent smell of alcohol on Richie.

“Age is but a number, dear Spaghetti.” Richie grins before handing over the bottle when Bev walked up to him.

“And Jail is just a place.” Eddie resorted, making Richie snorts.

“Yeah and your mom is the perfect woman to fuck.” He comments as Eddie murderously glares at him.

“Beep Beep, Richie!” He hissed as Stan walked over to Richie’s player and shut it off.

“Hey, I was listening to that!” Richie frowns when Stan crossed his arms over his chest. “What?” He questioned before huffing as he walked over to his dresser so he could get a shirt on… It was cold in his room anyway.

“You gonna tell us why you’re drinking?” Stan asked quietly, tilting his head to get a better look at Richie.

“Same reason every teenager drinks. Because I was bored and wanted to have some fun.” He points out before slipping on a t-shirt as he snags up the jeans he wore yesterday.

“You wanna smoke?” Bev asked, pulling out her pack as Richie immediately snagged it off her.

“What is wrong with you two! You’re gonna get lung cancer and die!” Eddie threw his hands up with a huff.

“Shit maybe then my parents will actually care.” Richie laughs before lighting the cigarette as he opened his window.

Everyone went dead silent at that.

“What?” Stan asked as Richie took a puff before feeling the wave of calmness wash over his alcohol riddled mind.

“The old man and the old lady. They don’t give a fuck about me. Why do you think they’re always leaving? I mean shit… I’m sure they forget about me while they’re out there.” Richie snorts before glancing out the window. “I’d wanna forget about me too if I was them.” He laughs, tossing his head back as it bumped loudly against the sill of the window.

“Jesus, dude,” Bev comments with a frown. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She questioned as Richie glances at her.

“Music.” He comments, standing up again when Stan grabbed his wrist before he could turn the cassette player on.

“Richie, talk to us. You can’t move past this if you don’t.” Stan comments when Richie laughs.

“Ah, Stanny, I’m one hundred percent fine. I don’t need to talk about anything. Come on. Let’s listen to music or go do something!” He grins when Stan plucks the cigarette from Richie’s lips and put it out on the sill before tossing it out. “Hey!” He huffed.

“I’m done playing this game, Richie. I’ve waited for you to come and tell me on your terms, but you won’t. I know you don’t like to talk about your parents and I get it… I do, but Richie making light of this situation isn’t going to help anyone.” Stan comments when Richie swallowed thickly before moving away.

“Dammit… Why do you have to fucking sober me up like this you asshole?” Richie demanded before thumping down onto the edge of his bed. “Well, I don’t know what you want me to say. My parents leave all the time and I am left with nothing okay? I can’t function like a normal human being sometimes because they decided that since I’m not a girl they can just throw me to the wind.” He snorts, reaching for the bottle as Stan snags it.

“No, you need to be sober,” Stan explains before dumping the rest outside as Richie grits his teeth.

“You know what, Stanley! Fuck you! Okay! Fuck you for being so perfect and having these parents who love you! Fuck you because my parents think the world of you! Think the fucking world of all my friends!” He spat and pushed at Stan who let Richie’s hands continue to make contact with his chest.

“Richie--” He’s cut off when there was a sob. “It’s not good for you to hold this in,” Stan whispered when Richie slumped against Stan as his body started to shake.

“I hate you so fucking much… I hate everyone that has parents who love them… Fuck them… Why can’t… Why can’t they love me? What’s wrong with me?” Richie sobs out as Stan’s fingers slowly raked through Richie’s hair.

“No, Richie. It’s them who have something wrong with them.” Stan comments before looking to see Bev and Eddie standing there. He gestures for them to come over as Bev was the first one to wrap her arms around him when Richie flinched before relaxing into the warmth Bev provided.

“I’m sorry… I just fucking hate talking about this. I’d rather just ignore it.” Richie murmurs, voice muffled since his face was buried in Stanley’s sweater.

“I know, but… sometimes ignoring it only makes it worse.” Bev comments as Eddie wraps his arms around all of them. “Come on, let’s go meet the others. We can all go do something fun!” She grins excitedly as the three of them pulled away from Richie.  

“Yeah, get your mind out of this spiral and away from this empty house!” Eddie points out when Richie scrubs at his curls.

“Yeah, let me get ready. I’ll meet you guys at the clubhouse.” Richie grins.

“We’ll meet you at the clubhouse.” Stan corrects as Richie glances at him before looking to Bev and Eddie with a nod.

“Alright, don’t be late. If you aren’t there in two hours I’m coming back to kick your asses.” She calls as she and Eddie head out.

“You don’t have to stay with me. I was just gonna take a shower and--” Richie’s cut off when Stan looks to him.

“Richie, do you think we don’t love you?” Stan asked instead as Richie blinked for a moment.

“Why do I need you to love me when I have your mom to do it instead?” He grins, earning a glare from Stan.

“Richie, don’t… Look at me. I can’t help you if you push me away.” Stan comments before crossing his arms as Richie glanced down to the floor.

“Look, can we please just drop it?” Richie begged before Stan walked forward and smashed their mouths together before backing them up until they hit Richie’s closet door. Richie’s eyes widened at the feeling before Stan deepened the kiss, making Richie moan from surprise. “What… What the fuck was that?” Richie asked breathlessly.

“Something I’ve been wanting to do for a very long time,” Stan whispered, throat tightening as Richie’s face flushes.

“You… You kissed me. You actually wanted to kiss me? But… Why?” Richie’s voice cracks when Stan looks at him.

“Why else would people kiss?” Stan demanded.

“Well in my case, probably to shut me up. Which… you succeed.” He laughs awkwardly.

“Apparently not. Richie,” Stan’s voice was soft as he cupped Richie’s face gently. “Listen to me.” He begged quietly before smiling at the sight of Richie leaning into the soft touch. “I like you, Richie.” He whispered softly.  

“You… You like me? But I thought you liked Bill?” He questioned, making Stan snort.

“I thought you liked Eddie.” Stan resorted with a quirk of his brow.

“Eddie-Spaghetti? I mean… I think my feelings for Eddie were a crush. I think they died when he admitted he might have felt something for Bill.” Richie explains when Stan started to laugh. “But… Did you mean it? Like you like me like me?” He questioned.

“What are we five?” Stan quirked an eyebrow as Richie huffed. “Yes, Richie, I like you like you. I actually love you. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you, but I never could. I guess this is a good of a time as any.” He explains when tears flooded down his face as Richie’s hand slowly reached up and took Stan’s wrist in his hand so he could keep the hand on his face.

“Holy shit…” He laughs before looking to Stan with a wobbly grin. “Is this what love is supposed to feel like?” He asked quietly. “I like this feeling. Kiss me again.” He leaned forward as their lips brushed together.

“I’m guessing that means you like me too?” Stan snorts when Richie nods and kisses him over and over again.

“I do, I love you,” Richie promised before Stan’s other hand came up to cup Richie’s face. “So fucking much.” He smiles at Stan.

“Good,” Stan smiles back before biting his lip. “Can we hold off on telling the others?” He asked as Richie nods with a gentle frown. “I just… I want you to myself until we figure out how to tell the others about us.” He explains when Richie smiles.

“Fucking sap,” Richie comments before going to pull away only for Stan to tug him against his chest. “St-Stan! I have to go get a shower! We have to go see the others!” He laughs when Stan groans.

“Can’t we just call Bev and tell them you got sick?” Stan asked as Richie gasps.

“Staniel! Are you suggesting lying to our friends? Oh my god! You’re corrupted! And now you’re corrupting me too!” Richie swoons loudly, making Stan roll his eyes before dropping Richie onto the floor. “Ah! Okay, let’s call her you dick. But you’re talking to her. I’m supposed to be sick.” Richie sing-songs.

“Get in the bed you fucking little gremlin.” He huffs as Richie laughs before crawling onto the bed before looking to Stan who went downstairs and called Bev.

About three minutes later, Stan came back with a smile on his face. Richie glanced up when Stan flopped down onto the bed with him as the two boys shared a smile. Richie moved before laying his head against Stanley’s chest as Stan watched the ceiling, taking comfort in the silence.

“Thanks for… for everything. I know I’m a handful sometimes.” Richie mumbles.

“No, Richie, you’re not. Whatever your parents taught you… they’re wrong.” Stan murmurs, running his fingers through Richie’s hair as Richie’s eyes fluttered at the tingling feeling on his scalp. “And I’m gonna make sure you know that you are loved… even if it takes me the rest of our lives.” Stan promised when Richie’s eyes squeezed shut.

He didn’t want to cry anymore… but God… He has no idea what he did to have Stanley actually love him back… but he definitely wasn’t going to complain. Richie smiles softly to himself as Stanley’s fingers continued to comb through his hair when suddenly Richie fell asleep, safe and sound in the arms of someone who loves him.

[loverontheleft]

The Honeymoon One (3)

Part 1 -||- Part 2

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: language, sexual tension, alcohol.

-||-

“It’s all going to be okay,” Brendon says softly, taking your hand in both of his. “I know you’re not a good flier but it’s all going to be okay.” He squeezes your hand gently. “We’re gonna take off and then the flight is about 15 hours. When we land, we’ll get a towncar to the hotel. It should be about 20 minutes, maybe. And then we’re there.” You nod, eyes shut tightly. “Hey, Y/n. Hey. Will you look at me?” You open one eye and he grins. “Both eyes, smart ass.” You oblige and open the other eye. “Thank you. We’re gonna be fine. I promise. We’re in these lovely first class seats and I can get you a drink now if you’d like.” You nod eagerly and he laughs, nodding as well. “Cranberry and Tito’s?”

“Cranberry and Tito’s,” you confirm in a hoarse whisper. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You’re my best friend. I’m gonna take good care of you.” He turns to order from the passing flight attendant and before too long, she’s returning with a large can of cranberry cocktail and two mini-bottles of Tito’s. She sets it all down in front of you and hands you a plastic cup before handing Brendon another plastic cup with what you can only assume is bourbon. He thanks her and hands her some folded bills before turning to you. “Let me make that for you, darlin’,” he says with a smile and you feel yourself melt a little. He pops the tab on the cranberry cocktail can and pours a bit into the cup before twisting the lid off of both mini-bottles of Tito’s and pouring freely. The resulting drink is pale pink- it’s the perfect blend- and you beam at how well he knows you and your preferences. “There we are. To us, taking care of ourselves and finally going on vacation.” You tap your plastic cup against his and he takes a quick sip as you take a long slug. “Atta girl. You’ll feel better,” he says with a chuckle as you take another sip.

“Mmmmm,” you agree, already feeling the warmth of vodka spreading through your body. “Yes. I don’t feel half as nervous about takeoff as I did.” You take one last sip from the cup before setting it, still half-full, on your tray.

“Good. Want you to be totally relaxed,” Brendon says, taking only his second sip of bourbon. “But,” and he eyes your cup, “you’ll have to finish that before takeoff. Because our trays have to be stored in the upright position.” He grins at you. “I suppose though, you could just hold the cup…”

You mime spilling a cup all over yourself and roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’ll go well.” He laughs and you lean in closer. “I think I’ll just finish it off before we have to stow our trays.” The side of his mouth quirks up in a small smile and he settles in his seat. “But how are you feeling?” You nudge his shoulder and he meets your eyes.

“I’m okay. A little tense,” he admits. “Nothing the rest of this bourbon won’t fix.” He plasters on a smile and you sigh, implying that you’re not buying it. His smile falters. “I’ll be okay. Just - you know. Everything feels - strange. Like an alternate reality. Yesterday should’ve been my wed- and - I mean...I’m okay that it wasn’t- I don’t even miss her as much - at all, honestly - but it’s just - weird and well...I’m glad I’m not alone.” He pauses. “I’m glad you’re here with me.” He places emphasis on the you’re and it sends another totally non-vodka related rush of warmth through you.

“Brendon,” you say softly. “It’s going to be okay.” He nods resolutely and you drain your drink, indicating he should do the same. He follows your instructions and you nest the empty cups together. “And we’ll get another round as soon as we’re wheels up.”

“That sounds like a great plan,” Brendon says with a weak, but genuine, smile.

-||-

The flight attendant is looking at you both like she wants to cut you off, but you’ve both always been very coherent drunks, so she doesn’t really have any outward evidence to support that inclination. You’ve been snuggled into Brendon’s side since your third drink and his arm around you feels so nice. You’re sharing a pair of headphones and you’re pretending to watch some in-flight movie, although Brendon might actually be watching it - you aren’t sure. His fingers are stroking your waist idly and his eyes are focused on the screen. He takes long sips from his Jack and Coke and you work steadily on the sixth cranberry and Tito’s he’s mixed for you.

You’re reaching that warm, fuzzy, unfocused point of inebriation when you lift your head to look out the window. Brendon’s turned slightly and appears to be intending to kiss your forehead in that sweet, affectionate way he has that you adore. You smile and glance up, intending to make it easier for him.

-||- POV shift to Brendon -||-

In hindsight, you really should have been able to stop it from happening. But she lifted her head ever so slightly at the most opportune (most inopportune?) moment and maybe you subconsciously wanted it all along- either way, your lips don’t collide with her smooth skin, but with her soft lips instead.

It feels like the plane is spinning and you’ve gotten the breath knocked out of you; it’s everything you’ve never known you needed and wanted, her mouth on yours like this. Her hands are in your hair and you’re clutching her, hands roaming up and down her arms while her lips part and she sighs your name into your mouth. It’s when your tongue brushes hers that it’s game over for both of you. She’s whining and clawing at your back and just the taste of vodka and cranberry mixed with her mouth has your head spinning. You realize that if this keeps going, if she keeps kissing you like this and letting you kiss her back, you’re going to be very hard in a not so very private place. But, you realize, based on how she’s tugging your hair and exploring your mouth, she might not be entirely opposed to - whatever you might be able to make happen. “Y/n,” you groan, tangling a hand in her hair and pulling gently. She whimpers and your cock throbs at the sound. “You’re driving me crazy,” you say softly, gesturing down. Her eyes follow your hand and then they snap back to yours. She starts fumbling with her seatbelt, telling you she wants you, and you’re breathing hard, trying to figure out how you can get her in your lap without anyone noticing. You’re thankful for the lapse in your self-consciousness courtesy of the alcohol; normal you would never even consider this, but right now, this seems like an amazing idea.

It’s only a few moments later when she must realize it’s futile or at least impractical because she stops trying to get unbuckled but instead runs both hands back through your hair and down your neck. It calms you too, and you realize that while you absolutely want her- “Not here, not like this,” you murmur to her. “I want you but - not like this.”

She seems to agree by the way she pulls you closer and you let her; she’s whimpering every time your tongues meet and you could listen to her like this forever. You’re awkwardly twisted in your seat but it’s worth it- she’s worth it. It’s the best kiss of your life and you don’t want it to end. She’s just as enthusiastic as you are and she’s clinging to you and kissing you in a way that makes you so very glad you’re not actually married right now. “Everything,” you mumble, rubbing your hands over her back and down over her hips. “You’re everything,” you manage as she whines and brings your mouth back to hers.

“Not everything,” she replies knowingly, and you pull away to look at her, unsure of what she means. You can still taste the sharp bite of cranberry and Tito’s from her mouth. “I’m not -“ but she cuts herself off by pressing a hand to her mouth and closing her eyes.

“Y/n?” You’re studying her closely now. She doesn’t normally get nauseous until she’s past her limit and you didn’t think she was there - not yet. This could be bad - if she’s past her limit, then that kiss - “How drunk are you?” You knew she was definitely drunk; you’d been making her drinks the entire flight, but you didn’t think - not that drunk. Not yet. But - you feel the guilt start to rise in you. Are you taking advantage of her? She’s drunk - but you are too - but...

She yawns, gives a little hiccup, and snuggles against your shoulder. “Pretty drunk,” she finally mumbles, flailing her hand out at the window beside her. “Need a lil nap I think. Love making out with your face-” she pauses here to stroke your face - “but - need a lil nap.” You’re relieved - pretty drunk isn’t gone, wasted, blacked out. You know her and you know her limits. Pretty drunk is okay. You lean over her and pull the shade down and the flight attendant moves in swiftly with a soft blanket. You drape it over her and smooth it down over her body, trying not to focus on how warm and soft she is under your hand and how badly you want to touch every other inch of her body. “Thank you, Bunny,” she whispers and yawns once more before falling asleep.

“Bunny,” you groan to yourself quietly. The words slam into you. It hurts. She’s not just pretty drunk, you realize. She’s blacked out, wasted, absolutely trashed. Early in your college career together when you were stumbling home from a party, she read the name tag on your door - B. Urie - as Bunie, and it gradually morphed into Bunny. Whether through genuine habit or drunk amusement, it became her pet name for you whenever she was absolutely out of her mind drunk, but you absolutely loved it. She’d claim your extra-long twin bed but pat the bed beside her and coax you into bed with the name until you climbed up next to her. She’d cradle your head in her lap and stroke your hair, cooing that she loved her Bunny “s’much,” and you’d fall asleep to her soft touch and the sweet smell of her perfume mixed with the leftover aroma of whatever party you’d both been at prior to making it back to your dorm.

In the morning, she’d clamber over you to bolt to the bathroom where she’d, as she always announced triumphantly while you pulled a pillow over your head, puke and rally. “Come on B,” she’d beg, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to your bed, like she hadn’t just been sprawled over your mattress, hogging the blankets. “The dining hall is going to run out of waffles.”

“They’re definitely not but you might not get one if you poke me one more time,” you’d retort grumpily. “Because I’ll kill you.” She’d just laugh and become your pain-in-the-ass best friend again, no longer the snuggly, drunk, affectionate girl you had no idea how to approach with your long-stifled feelings.

“Oh Koloa,” you sigh, reverting back to your own drunk nickname for her and kissing the top of her head now as she presses her face into your bicep. “My sweet little duckling. What am I going to do with you?” You run a hand over her hair and she sighs in her sleep. “I guess we’ll see if you remember anything when you wake up and go from there,” you murmur before draping an arm around her protectively while flagging down a flight attendant for another blanket. You know her. She needs two blankets to sleep really soundly. You’re going to get her that second blanket.

[glazslippers]

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

Pairing: Stanley Uris x OC (female) Warnings: cursing

Summary: Quinn had spent her whole life protecting other women from the dangers of men. When she met Stanley, she thought he was just like every other boy she had come across, sex craved and egotistical. Although one of those was correct, that didn’t stop the feelings she felt towards him form.

A/N: this is my first fanfic i’ve posted on here and i honestly feel like a mom on snapchat. if you like it please let me know and i might continue writing things like these in the future! (i’m really sorry if this sucks)

Even though Quinn Macey had moved to Derry less than three months ago, that didn't stop her from making tons of friends. They loved her outgoing and sarcastic personality and the fact that she didn't take shit from anyone. She wouldn't constantly stick up for them at school and in town if there was a guy trying desperately to get into their pants. She was often nicknamed spitfire or hot head or a string of other names, drawing inspiration from her short temper and red hair.

It was no secret that in the three short months she'd lived in Derry, she gained a string of female friends partly because she refused to talk to any of the boys at school or on town. It was her own personal grudge that she held against every living male. They didn't cause anything but trouble in her opinion and the only thing on their mind was sex.

Because of her refusal of boys, many of them and even a few girls had coined her as lesbian, not that she minded. She dressed girly enough, but when she wanted to she could get down and dirty, playing a variety of sports. In her old town, she played on a softball team that won a few state-wide games. She had also dabbled in football and soccer. Though soccer wasn't her favorite, she played it anyway.

When she moved to Derry, she had to quit her team and say goodbye to her friends, which she probably won't hear of again. Starting at the end of the school year might have been hard for anyone else opposite of Quinn. She decided to start out nice, warming up to everyone but when a few guys tried hitting on her, she quickly put her in their place and made it clear she wasn't interested. They had bugged her over and over. If it was just some one time thing she might have looked passed it but since they kept on pestering her, she had to take matters into her own hands.

The last day of school was nearing an end and Quinn found herself eyeing the clock. Her reasoning behind staring at the gadget was nothing more than "maybe if I stare hard enough it'll tick faster." It obviously didn't get the memo, and continued ticking at its agonizingly slow pace.

Maybe it was the sun shining from outside through the classroom window onto her skin, or the fact that she couldn't wait to get out of the retched classroom and was bouncing her leg up and down so much that she had broken out into a small sweat but one thing was certain: today had to be the hottest day of the year.

Quinn thought of the regret she had for wearing jeans and had her hair down while she fanned herself off with her right hand. She had already tied her shirt up as high as the school would allow but it didn't help because of the broken AC system in the class she was in. She looked outside, seeing the seniors leave school early, being dismissed by the teachers because they were upperclassmen and did the calculations in her head. If the seniors already walked out, they must have been released by the teachers, like everyday, five minutes before school let out. Quinn started counting down from 300 in her head.

297, 296, 295.

She couldn't focus on whatever the teacher was saying. The small heat stroke she was having didn't help with focusing either.

230, 229, 228.

She leaned her head back, fanning her neck and wrists. Her once ice filled water bottle became a lake of boiling lava in her metal cup.

134, 133, 132.

Quinn wondered if she had gotten to the halfway mark or already passed it while she was counting. She didn't think she could take one more minute of being without air. Black spots clouded her vision and she lied her head against the window.

97, 96, 95.

She was getting so close. Less than a hundred seconds to go until she could escape the body heat filled room and into the hot summer air. At least she would feel something other than hot.

Quinn was two seconds away from ripping her shirt off and using it as a noose when the bell rang. She sprung up as fast as she could and bolted out of the door. One of her friends, Savannah, walked by her and Quinn grabbed her arm.

"I'm dying," she said in between pants.

Savannah raised an eyebrow at the dramatic girl in front of her. "You good?"

"Do I look good?" Quinn retorted. "I am the definition of lava. If you look it up in the dictionary you'll see a picture of me melting."

"I take it you're hot?"

"How are you not? It's literally two hundred degrees out!"

Savannah rolled her eyes and closed her locker. Ah head just cleaned everything out and placed it all into her book bag. With an amused smile, she looked down at Quinn who had her head against the tall blue lockers. "Wanna go swimming?"

The words sparked energy into Quinn's body. Suddenly, she didn't realize that she had drops of sweat rolling down her face or the bottom of her hair had stuck to her neck. All she cared about was the cool release of hitting the cool body of water and cooling off.

At the mention of swimming, Savannah watched Quinn's eyes widen and laughed. "I'm guessing that's a yes?"

"That's a hell yes!"

Quinn and Savannah hopped out of Savannah's car and Quinn had never undressed herself so fast in her entire life. She stripped down to her underwear and immediately ran and jumped off the cliff that towered over the river. Savannah looked over the edge, worried when her friend didn't pop back up but let out a sigh of relief when Quinn's head poked its familiar red hair out of the water.

"Come in it feels so nice!" She yelled up at the brunette looking over the rocks.

"I don't know, Q. It's pretty high up."

"Just jump! It'll be over in an instant!"

Savannah shook her head and backed away from the edge. "I can't do it."

Quinn rolled her eyes and swam to land. She crawled out of the water and hiked back up to where Savannah was standing. Her wet body weighed her down but the second she rang her hair out it felt as if she lost five pounds.

"Here," Quinn grabbed Savannah's hand. "I'll jump with you."

"Quinn," the brunette whined.

"Don't whine, you baby. It's just a few feet."

"A few feet?" Savannah yelled with wide eyes. "Girl, that is at least three hundred feet."

"Maybe, but once you jump you'll realize it's not that high at all."

"Yeah, but I'm not jumping."

Quinn groaned. "Sav, I'm gonna day this in the nicest way possible: stop being such a pussy and jump."

Savannah frowned. "That was you being nice?"

Quinn shrugged and cornered Savannah where she was back to the edge. "You're either gonna hump or I'm gonna push you. You're choice."

"Quinn," Savannah warned. "You better back up." The ginger smirked and an evil glint shone across her eyes.

If it weren't for a group of teenage boys pulling up on their bikes behind them, Savannah would've been done for. The girls' head snapped around to see who had joined them. There were four boys, obviously outnumbering them and probably had the same idea they had after school let out. They threw their bikes to the ground and some removed their shoes while the other removed their shirts, obviously not noticing the two girls half naked in front of them.

Stanley turned his head to the direction of the cliff, sprinting over to it but stopped when he saw the girls. "Um, what're you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Quinn said with a little more attitude than she meant.

"Well, obviously we're gonna swim. So, why don't you too head home and play with some Barbies or whatever."

Quinn scoffed and Savannah sighed, knowing what her friend would do in this situated. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Stanley rolled his eyes. "Get lost."

"I'm sorry, who was here first?"

By now, the rest of the boys came over to their friend, backing him up against the girls or one girl in particular. "We come here every summer so it's our hangout," Richie said.

"Oh, sorry. Well just be on our way then."

Stanley crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows when she didn't move.

"What, you thought I was serious?" Quinn bitterly laugh. "I knew boys were dumb, but I didn't think they were that dumb."

"W-We're not d-dumb!" Bill replied.

"Well?" Stanley said.

"Well what?"

"Leave already!"

Quinn put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "No. We were clearly here first. Doesn't matter if you guys come here every summer or not."

"You must be new around here cause this is our space," Richie spike.

"And so what if I am? I don't see your name on this cliff."

Stanley glared at the girl in front of him. "Who do you think you are?"

"Quinn Macey." She smiled almost taunting him to keep bugging her, which he gladly did.

"Well, Quinn Macey, why don't you and your friend head home before you get yourself jumping off this cliff."

Quinn grabbed Savannah's hand protectively. "Her name is Savannah and I've already jumped it. But you pretty boys are probably too chicken to jump aren't you?"

Stanley scoffed and walked forward, making the friends behind him walk forward too. "You think we can't jump it?"

"Nah I don't think that's it. Maybe it's the fact that you're just threatened by two girls who rightfully deserve to stay at your precious little river."

Stanley laughed. "You think we're threatened by you? A spoiled brat that can't stand not getting what she wants?"

"You little-" Before Quinn could get close to Stanley, Savannah held her back by her arms. Quinn obviously struggled against Savannah's grip but the brunette wasn't looking for a fight, she just wanted to swim.

"Stan, maybe we could just share it," Eddie whispered to the curly headed boy in front of him. He also wasn't looking for a fight and wanted to remain peaceful, knowing Stan was too stubborn to give up and Quinn probably was the same.

"Share? Ed, have you gone crazy? Why would we share the river with some random girls?"

"Well, I don't really wanna fight over it and it seems like the best option. We both get what we want," Eddie shrugged.

"I-I'm fine w-with sharing," said Bill.

"Not you too," Stan sighed and looked at Richie. "Rich, tell them sharing's not an option."

Richie looked away from Stanley, kickoff the dirt underneath him. "I mean, all I want to do is swim. I guess it wouldn't matter if there are chicks in the water or not."

Stanley groaned. "Fine."

"So you guys are leaving?" Quinn asked, crossing her arms.

"No, we're gonna share," Eddie explained. "That way we both can swim."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "No way. There's no way-"

Savannah cut Quinn off. "We'll take it!" At the ginger's gaze she shrugged. "What? I want to swim."

"Good." With that the boys finished taking off their clothes, leaving them in only underwear.

"So, are we swimming with strangers or..." Savannah trailed off.

"That's Bill, Eddie, and Stanley," Richie introduced, "and I'm Richie."

"Savannah and Quinn," the brunette formally introduced.

Stanley and Quinn kept glaring at each other during the introductions as if the first person to look away would lose their little mind game between just the two of them. During this time, Eddie, Bill, and Richie had already jumped from the cliff. Quinn obviously had no intention of moving her gaze until Savannah grabbed her arm. She cursed herself when her head turned to meet Savannah's gaze. Stanley held a satisfying smirk on his face because he had won their staring contest.

"Q, I'm just gonna take the long way down."

Quinn frowned. "No jumping?"

"You know I'm terrified of heights."

"Fine. I'll be down in a minute."

Savannah walked away leaving Quinn alone with Stanley. Stan walked up next to her and got into position for a running start. Quinn followed his actions, giving him a challenging smirk. Stanley narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze ahead. They took off at the same time, another wordless challenge adapted to see who could jump the farthest.

Quinn thought for sure she jumped farthest and swam back up to the surface with a satisfying smile on her face. That was until she saw Stanley pop his head up and flip the hair out of his eyes. He was just a few feet in front of her and a frown formed on her face when she saw the teasing glint in his eyes as if he was dying to annoy her by saying he had gotten farther than her.

With a huff, Quinn swam over to where Savannah had gotten in at and began chatting with her, occasionally swimming further out to get away from the boys.

Stan tried his best hiding the looks he gave Quinn from afar but the boys had caught on since he wasn't that good at hiding. Richie splashed Stan's face to stop him from staring.

Stanley wiped his face and glared at Richie. "What was that for?"

Richie smirked. "You were staring."

"Was not."

"We're to."

Eddie joined in. "It was kind of obvious that you were staring, Stan."

"Stan l-likes Q-Quinn," Bill teased.

Stanley splashed Bill in the face to shut him up. "No I don't. I'm just annoyed that they're here."

"I'm not," said Eddie. He turned to the girls that were a little further out than they were. "Hey, guys!"

Their heads turned to the voice shouting at them. Stan's eyes went wide as he hit Eddie in the arm. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

Eddie shrugged. "Inviting them over for a game." He turned to the girls that started swimming over, led by Savannah. "Wanna chicken fight?"

"How do you play?" Savannah asked. The boys stood on the shallower end so when the girls came up, the water was up to their chests. Quinn stood behind Savannah with her arms crossed, not particularly wanting to be around Stanley.

"One person gets on another person's shoulders and fights the other team. The first first to knock the other off, wins," Eddie explained.

"Okay, who's gonna get on who?" Quinn questioned.

"We'll switch it up so it doesn't really matter right now."

"Okay, Savannah. Hop on." Quinn went under water and let Savannah climb on top of her shoulders. When she was on, Quinn went back above water and grabbed onto Savannah's thighs so that she wouldn't go anywhere.

"How the hell did you-" Richie started but was interrupted by Quinn.

"Sav's a twig. She weighs, like, two pounds."

Richie got on Bill's shoulders while Eddie and Stanley watched. Richie and Savannah grasped hands and started fighting. Bill and Quinn navigated to help better their team's chances at winning by moving from side to side or forwards and backwards. It was a tough fight, but eventually Richie was the victor. Richie yelled how proud he was and Bill shook him off his shoulders.

"Who's next bitches?" Richie asked, ready for another round.

"I wanna go," Quinn announced. Savannah seemed to have a lot of fun and it would be extremely satisfying to knock one of the boys off. "Sav?"

Savannah's eyes widened. "Um, no offense, but I'm not as strong as you."

Quinn playfully glared at her. "Are you calling me fat?"

"Don't worry, Quinn. Stan's pretty strong, he'll be able to hold you," Richie winked.

"I'm not fat!"

"Alright, Eddie get your ass over here so I can get on your shoulders. Quinn you get on Stan's shoulders," Richie instructed. Stan and Quinn's eyes widened at the boy's words.

"No way!" They yelled in unison.

"Everyone else has gone. Stop being losers so we can play the game."

"Fine," Stanley huffed and went under water so Quinn would have an easier time of getting on. After a few seconds, he still didn't feel her weight on his shoulders and popped back up. "You just gonna let me drown?"

"That was the plan," Quinn admitted with a smirk on her face.

"Will you just get on, brat?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist." Stanley dipped back under water and Quinn crossword over his shoulders. He came back up and placed his hands a little too high up for Quinn's comfort. She smacked them away but the second she started falling back tugged on Stan's hair. His neck got hot and the tips of his ears went red. "Got a thing for hair pulling, pretty boy?"

"I won't hesitate to let go," Stanley warned.

The truth of the matter was that Stanley was beet red. Only Eddie and Richie could see him like this and to anyone else they would've thought that Stan was just having a tough time keeping Quinn up. Except that was the opposite of what was happening. Stanley was quite strong as he used the muscles in his legs to hoist them up out of the water.

It just so happened that the mix of hair pulling (one of his turn ons), the fact that her stomach was up against his head, and the his touch on her thighs made him blush all over. Oh, and also because her crotch was sitting on the back of his neck.

Quinn and Richie joined hands and the boy knew that if Stanley was in his place he would've had a field day at what he was witnessing. Because Quinn was bent over and her arms had squeezed to the sides of her breasts to meet Richie's arms, her boobs had smushed together. Richie didn't dare look but he could still see them from where he looked on her face.

They fought back and forth, Quinn pushing at Richie and the other way around. She would occasionally grab onto Stan's head to regain her balance and when she did, Stanley backed up so that Richie wouldn't take the opportunity to knock her off. After a few minutes of struggling on both ends, Quinn eventually pushed Richie off Eddie's shoulders.

The boy went down with a loud yell and defeated, emerged from the water with a frown. "I really just got beat by a girl."

Quinn had a proud smile on her face. "Don't take it personal, I'm just stronger than you." She patted Stanley's head. "You can let me down now."

Stanley went under water and released his grip on Quinn's thighs. Once he didn't feel her on him anymore, he returned to the surface, almost bumping into her. Neither said anything, but both had a small blush on their cheeks as they swam to their separate groups.

Savannah didn't miss the pink tint on Quinn's cheeks and shared a knowing look with Eddie. She and Eddie walked onto land that was about two yards away to get away from the others.

"So, are they in love or are they in love?" Savannah laughed.

"All of the above," Eddie responded with a smile similar to the girl in front of him and looked at Quinn and Stanley who were hiding behind both Richie and Bill.

"And what are we gonna do about it?" Savannah asked, rocking on her feet.

"What do you mean?"

Savannah rolled her eyes. "Well, if we're gonna set them up we gotta have a plan."

"Oh, right. How about we all go to the movies and make them sit next to each other?" His eyes suddenly went wide at the thought he had. "And they can share a bucket of popcorn!"

"Shh," Savannah shushed him. "That's a good idea. But what movie are we gonna see?"

"How about a horror movie?" Eddie suggested.

"That's genius! I know Quinn and she gets scared easily. A scary movie will have her jumping into his arms."

"The theater's doing a rerun of all the eighties scary movies on Saturdays. So tomorrow they'll be playing A Nightmare on Elm Street."

Savannah nodded. "We'll be there."

"Are you gonna be scared?"

Savannah laughed at his question. "Hell no. If there's one thing I have over Quinn it's scary movies. I love them, she hates them."

"Alright, we'll meet you guys there at six, okay? By the time we get out, it'll be dark."

"I'll make an excuse on why I can't take her home and then Stan'll have to walk her." She wiggled her eyebrows.

After a few more hours in the water, it started getting dark out, which meant it was time to leave. Quinn decided against putting on her jeans and instead slipped her shirt over her head and put on her socks and shoes. Her shirt was rather large because it was her mom's so it came down a little above the bottom of her butt, still showing the underwear underneath.

Savannah didn't miss Stanley's stare directed towards Quinn's body and held a big smile on her face. Once in the car, Quinn questioned why Savannah was smiling so large.

"Cause I have a huge crush on Stanley Uris."

Quinn didn't sense the joking tone in her voice and replied with a simple, "Oh."

Savannah snorted at her friend who stared out the window like her soul had just collapsed. "I'm just kidding, he's all yours."

Quinn's head snapped to the driver and scowled. "I do not have a crush on Stanley. Did you not witness what I witnessed today? He was an ass."

"Or maybe, he was having a bad day."

"Or maybe, he's an ass."

Savannah rolled her eyes and continued driving. "Wanna go see a movie tomorrow with the boys?"

"Is-"

Savannah interrupted Quinn's question. "Is Stan gonna be there? Yes."

Quinn glared. "That's not what I was gonna ask. Is someone gonna pay for my ticket? Cause I don't have any money."

"I'll pay for you, sugar baby." Savannah winked.

"Thanks daddy." The girls erupted into laughter.

The next day, Savannah showed up at Quinn's house just before five. Quinn was still getting ready as Savannah walked into her room. She was contemplating whether or not to wear her smaller hoops or go bold and wear larger ones. "Which ones?"

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Quinn's attire. She wore a short blue sundress that had no sleeves and reached just above her mid thigh. It might have been one of the shortest dresses she owned but it definitely wasn't number one. She didn't wear any makeup, like always, but had lip gloss on her lips.

"The small ones," Savannah decided and watched Quinn put them on in the mirror. "Is all this for Stanley?"

"Will you shut up? It's hot outside and I am not making the same mistake as yesterday."

"I'm guessing that's the same for the earrings, lip gloss, and perfume?"

Quinn have her a look. "We're going to the movies with a group of people. Why not get a little dolled up?

They hung out for awhile at Quinn's house until it was time to leave. They both hopped in Savannah's car and drove into town where they would meet the boys at the movie theater. Savannah had yet to tell Quinn what movie they were going to see but she could only assume it wasn't something sappy if the boys were tagging along. Or maybe they were tagging along with the boys. Either way, they were going to see a movie and Quinn hoped it was going to be good.

The boys were already waiting for them as they pulled up and parked. Quinn noticed there was one less male from yesterday and furrowed her eyebrows as they neared the group. "Where's Stanley?"

Eddie and Savannah looked at each other knowingly while Richie responded. "He's inside away from the heat. We've been here for awhile."

"It is pretty hot out," Quinn admitted. "How long have you guys been here?"

"Since four thirty. Eddie forgot what time we needed to be here so we've just camped out waiting for you two," Richie explained.

"Well, lets go in and buy our tickets."

Savannah bought her and Quinn's ticket while the boys bought theirs. When it came to who was getting popcorn, Bill and Richie would share a bucket, so would Savannah and Eddie and Quinn and Stanley.

"Wait, why can't we share a bucket?" Quinn asked Savannah as she took the bucket of buttery popcorn in her hands. Movie theater popcorn was her favorite kind of popcorn. It was popped fresh in front of you and you could determine how much butter you wanted on it.

"Cause I'm not sitting next to you. I'm sitting next to Eddie," Savannah said as they walked into the theater where the movie was playing.

Eddie sat next to Savannah, who was adjacent to Bill and Richie. Quinn found herself sandwiches between Richie and Stanley. A duo she didn't know if she could handle without her open minded friend. Reluctantly, she handed the bucket of popcorn to Stanley. If she wanted some later, she'd grab it herself. When she usually shared, Quinn would set the popcorn on the arm rest but right now she wanted to rest her arm on it.

After what seemed liked a thousand previews of every movie other than the one they were watching, the movie started. The theater went black and the only lights were the emergency ones and the big screen in front of them. Quinn grabbed popcorn and shoved it in her mouth, almost chocking when she saw the title come up on the screen.

THE NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET

Quinn watched in horror with wide eyes then turned to her left, looking over Richie and Bill and scowled at Savannah who was happily eating popcorn. Resting her back into the chair, Quinn sank down and mentally groaned.

"What is it?" Stanley whispered.

"I wouldn't have come if I knew we were watching this," Quinn responded. She would rather puke her own guts out than watch anything gruesome or filled with jump scares. Unfortunately for her, it would be a long night full of violence and scares.

Quinn wasn't expecting a sex scene to show up and the moment it did, she immediately became uncomfortable. Thankfully, it passed by quick enough and she was left with more agonizing jump scares. One scene in particular made her grab onto Stanley's hand that was resting on the arm rest.

The movie continued with little touches like that. Sometimes when Quinn stuck her hand inside the bucket of popcorn, Stan's hand would be there too and they would brush up against each other.

Then there were times when Quinn got really scared and hid herself in Stan's shoulder to stop herself from watching the screen. Stanley was more than okay with the times she got scared. He didn't want to seem too forward and comfort her back but he let her continue hiding in his shoulder.

When the movie ended, Quinn bolted out of the theater to finally get air and leaned against the wall, the rest following shortly after.

"S-Scared of a m-movie, Q-Quinn?" Bill teased.

"Not at all. I was just getting a little hot," she lied. The group walked to the front of the theater and Quinn looked out the windows with wide eyes. "Oh, it's dark."

"That a problem?"

"No," Quinn snapped a little too harsh at Richie's taunt. "I think we should head home, Sav."

"About that, mom said I needed to be home at eight and it's already seven fifty-two. Could you walk home?"

"A-Alone? Out there?" Quinn's gaze went from Savannah to the pitch black outside.

"Stan can walk you home," Eddie suggested and nudged his friend. "Right, Stan?"

Stanley's head shot up at the mention of his name. "What?"

"You'll walk Quinn home, right?"

"Uh," Stanley looked at Quinn who seemed nervous about walking home alone. His expression softened. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay, well I had fun guys, but I should go so my mom doesn't rip my head off and feeds it to the dog." Savannah waved goodbye and got in her car and left. Richie, Eddie, and Bill all left together, leaving Stanley and Quinn alone.

"So, did you like the movie?" Stan asked.

"Hell no."

Stanley laughed and Quinn felt her heart beat a little faster when he did. "I take it your not much of a horror fan?"

"I avoid them like the plague." Quinn crossed her arms and continued looking outside, almost as if she was looking for any supernatural creature or serial killer hidden behind street lamps or alleyways.

"Where do you live?"

"The culdesac off Baker Street," Quinn responded. When they started to walk, she noticed her shoe was untied and told him to wait as she bent down and tied it. "Okay, we can-" Quinn gasped and froze when she felt a hand come in contact with her bottom.

Stanley's eyes widened and his head shot to the culprit. It was some teen who didn't go to their school. Luckily, he was Stan's height so when the Jew grabbed hold of the boy's collar and lift him up, he didn't have to move far. While up in the air, Stanley pinched him in the face and threw him on the ground. Some of the people in the same area witnessed it happen and also saw that when the manager came out, Stan grabbed Quinn's hand and ran outside. They didn't stop running until the theater was out of sight.

Quinn was in shock and confusion by what had just happened and who she had froze instead of beat the boy to a pulp then and there. Maybe when you've defended other girls your whole life, it comes as a shock when it actually happens to you. Quinn was extremely lucky to have had Stanley there beside her in her vulnerable moment and snuck a glance in his direction.

His forehead glistened under the lamp's light because of the sweat from running and he stuck his hands into his pant pockets. He looked down and tried to regain his breath. They walked in silence for a few paces until Quinn finally spoke up. "Thank you."

Stanley looked over at her. He wasn't going to push the subject on her so he let her speak first before asking any further questions. "It was nothing. Are you okay?"

Quinn nodded and frowned. "I should've chopped his dick off and made him eat it right there." Stanley raised and eyebrow and Quinn huffed. "All I've done my life is try to protect other girls from men like that but the second it happens to me I freeze? It's pathetic."

"It's not pathetic. It's just different when it comes to protecting yourself. Instead of an offense attack, it's defense. Two different tactics."

"Then I guess I need more practice on defensive strategies."

They walked through the dark with only the light of the street lamps over their heads. From her left, Quinn heard a bush shake quickly and pounced onto Stanley's side, grabbing onto his arm for dear life. He looked down at her and the second she realized there was no danger, she looked at him. It was only for a second before she jumped back to where she was beside him earlier.

"Sorry," she muttered.

"I-It's fine." He looked down at her and bit his lip. "If you weren't just sexually assaulted, I'd ask to kiss you."

Anger rose in Quinn's body until his full sentence registered in her mind and her face softened. "Y-You would?"

"Yeah. You're pretty and confident and when you jump into me it makes me feel more like a man."

Quinn rolled her eyes with a smile. "I guess I wouldn't mind if you asked."

"Really?" Quinn nodded. "So, can I kiss you?" Quinn nodded again and Stanley bent down and placed his lips on top of hers. Even with the limited knowledge about these encounters didn't stop her from kissing back. Her hands made their way up his neck and while one stayed there, the other trailed up into his hair and twirled it around her finger. Stanley placed his hands on her sides and pulled her in closer so that their hips were touching. He was bold enough to run his tongue along her bottom lip, asking for entrance and she was fine with it, letting him in.

Their little kiss had turned into a make-out session in the middle of the sidewalk until a sound from behind Quinn made her break away and dart her head towards it. It was just a bird flying out from the bush but that didn't stop her heart from pounding fifty miles an hour. Stanley's puffy lips turned up into a smile as he grabbed hold of her hand, reassuring her that it was alright.

"Sorry," Quinn apologized and under his gaze, blushed. He was the only one that had ever made her blush and she didn't know how to act.

"It's fine. Come on, we're almost there." They continued to walk, neither one talking about their shared moment just a few steps ago and fell into a silence before Stanley broke it. "You know, as a man, I don't claim him as part of my gender."

Quinn chuckled. "'As a man,' huh?"

Stanley scoffed in shock. "I am eighteen. Legally I am a man. And I look like one, too." He flexed his muscles.

Quinn let her eyes sweep over his body. "Whatever you say, pretty boy."

"Pretty man," Stan corrected with a smile and Quinn just rolled her eyes.

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

You can’t wake up this is not a dream

Summary: The Winchester siblings have always relied on each others for years. But has the years passed they made a small family. Years and years of fighting monster have brought them to the town of Derry. With fight a creature that is not of this world have to the Winchester finally met their match?

A/n: A part of this chapter was inspired by a scene from a nightmare on elm street

The ride to Richie’s house took about ten minutes. Once we all arrived at his house I got off Bill’s bike as he parked his bike. “Richie did you tell your parents I was coming?” I asked. “Yeah of course hot legs.” Richie said. “Don’t call me that Richie unless you have a death wish.” I said. “Please you don’t look like you will harm a fly.” Richie said. I glared at him. “Come on guys let’s get inside.” Stan said. I followed them inside Richie’s house. I was the last one to go inside but Stan stayed by the door holding it open for me. “Thanks Stan.” I said smiling as I walked inside. “You’re welcome y/n.” Stan said smiling back at me following me inside. “Oh come on please don’t make out in my house. Mom we’re home!” Richie said. “In the kitchen dear.” Richie’s mom said. We all followed him to the kitchen. “Hello boys. Oh and who are you dear?” Richie’s mom said. “Y/n Winchester ma’ma. I guess Richie didn’t mention I was coming. My brothers are working late tonight and they didn’t want me to be home alone.” I said. “Oh that’s quite alright dear. Please call me Maggie. I hope pizza’s ok for dinner.” Maggie said. “Pizza fine mom we’ll be in my room. Come on guys.” Richie said walking out of the kitchen. “Keep your door open Richie.” Maggie said as we followed Richie upstairs to his room. “So what was that again Richie about letting your parents know I was coming?” I asked. “Oh fuck off y/n.” Richie said. “Do you kiss your mom with that mouth?” I asked. “I hate you.” Richie said. “Awe you love me.” I said. “So y/n where exactly did your brothers go?” Stan asked. “Just out of town. They really didn’t tell me anything else really.” I said. “Do they do this often?” Eddie asked. “What? Get called in for their input on cases and having to go quickly without telling a lot?” I asked. Eddie nodded. “Yeah all of the time.” I said. “Doesn’t that bother you?” Richie asked. “No not really. I just gotten used to it.” I said. “I’m sorry that you have to go through that y/n it must be very lonely.” Stan said. “It can be but I’ve learn to live with.” I said. We spent an hour talking until Richie’s mom yelled that Richie’s dad was home with the pizza. Richie, Bill, and Richie raced each other down the stairs while Stan and I walked down the stairs. “I’m guessing they like pizza.” I said laughing a little. “Yeah they do.” Stan said. Stan and I walked into the kitchen and the boys were already eating. “There you two are. Wentworth this is Richie’s new friend y/n.” Maggie said. “Good evening sir thank you for letting me stay after figuring out Richie said nothing about me coming over.” I said. “Well Maggie and I didn’t want you to be by yourself with all of the children that have gone missing.” Wentworth said. “Do you have a safe way to get home sweetie?” Maggie asked. “Yes Mrs. Tozier my mom said that she will take Y/n home.” Stan said. “Oh that’s good. We didn’t want you to have to walk back home alone in the dark.” Maggie said. Stan and I grabbed some pizza and we joined the boys at the table and ate together. After we ate we handed back to Richie’s room and played some video games. Well mostly Bill, Richie, and Eddie did Stan and I watched. It was close to nine when everyone else’s parents started to picked them up. “Y/n come on my mom is here.” Stan said. I nodded getting up and grabbed my bag. “See ya Richie.” I said.  “Bye hot legs.” Richie said. “Are you ever going to call me something other than that?” I asked. “Why do you hate it?” Richie asked. “Yes I do.” I said. “Then no I’m going to keep calling you that.” Richie said. I just rolled my eyes and left Richie’s room with Stan. 

When we walked down stairs we saw that his mom was talking to Richie’s parents. “Oh there you kids are come on let’s get home.” Stan mom’s said. We followed his mom out of Richie’s house and into the car. “Thank you so much for driving me home Mrs. Uris.” I said as I bucked up. “Oh don’t mention it sweetie. Now where do you live sweetie?” Stan mom’s asked. I gave her the address of where we were staying and she started to make the drive there and about ten minutes later she pulled into the driveway. I noticed that Sam and Dean weren’t back yet. “It does look that anyone is home yet. Are you sure that you will be ok sweetie.” Stan mom’s said. “Yes Mrs. Uris I’ll be fine. My brothers are probably on their way home and they forgot to let me know.” I said. “Ok sweetie. Stan why don’t you walk with her to the door.” Mrs. Uris said. “Yes mom.” Stan said. We both unbuckled. I grabbed my bag form the floor and I pulled out a mini flashlight. “Of course you would have a flashlight in your bag.” Stan said. “Hey always got to be prepared.” I said. We both got out of the car and I turned on my flashlight. We walked to the front door together and I handed Stan the flashlight so I could get the keys from out of my bag. I unlocked the door and Stan handed me back my flashlight. “Thanks for walking me to the door Stan.” I said. “You’re welcome y/n.” Stan said. “Are you sure that your brothers are on their way?” Stan asked. “Well they haven’t texted or call me yet saying that they were on their way home yet but please don’t tell your mom that. She would probably take me to your house and make me spend the night.” I said. “Yeah she would. Don’t worry I won’t tell her. Well I should get back in the car before she suspects anything.” Stan said. “Yeah that would be a good thing.” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow y/n.” Stan said. “See you tomorrow Stan.” I said and walked into the house. I turned on a few lights so I wouldn’t be in the dark. I pulled out my phone to call Sam and asked them if they were on the way back yet. But he didn’t pick up. That when I decided to call Cas and ask him if heard anything from them. “Y/n what’s wrong are you hurt?” Cas asked as he answered. “I’m ok Cas. Have you heard from Sam or Dean today?” I asked. “No I haven’t. Is something wrong?” Cas asked. “Well they went to Ludlow to look into a wendigo case and they told me that they should be home around nine and they are not home yet. I’m just kinda worried.” I said. “Would you like me to go check on them?” Cas asked. “Would you Cas please?” I asked. “Of course y/n.” Cas said. “Thank you Cas.” I said. “You’re welcome y/n. Once I check on them I’ll make sure that one of us calls you back.” Cas said. “Ok I’ll be waiting by the phone.” I said. “Good bye y/n I love you.” Cas said. “I love you two Cas.” I said and hung up. I went to my room and sat on my bed waiting on someone to call me back. I waited about thirty minutes and I saw my phone light up with Dean’s name. I quickly picked it up answering it. “Dean.” I said as I answered it. “Hey kiddo Sam and I are on our way.” Dean said. “Are you guys ok?” I asked. “Yeah we’re ok. The case went a little south but we’re ok.” Dean said. “And the Creed family?” I asked. “We still need to handle them. They all seem to be under the wendigo spell.” Dean said. “Even the little boy?” I asked. “We don’t know for sure yet. We might call in some more back up.” Dean said. “Ok. Have you guys ate anything yet?” I asked. “We’re going to pick something up on the way back. What about you kiddo have you ate yet?” Dean asked. “Yeah I have. I went over to Richie’s after school and his parents got us pizza and then Stan’s mom brought me home.” I said. “Alright we’ll be home in about forty five minutes.” Dean said. “Alight I’ll see you guys soon.” I said. “See you soon kiddo.” Dean said then hung up.

After waiting thirty minutes I decided to go take a bath. I grabbed a change of clothes then headed to my bathroom. I put my clothes on the counter and I decided to out my towel on the toilet. After getting the water in the bathtub I got I and started to relax in the hot water. I was in the bathtub for ten minutes then I heard Dean yelling that he and Sam were back. As I yelled back at him saying I was in the bathtub I felt something brush against my leg. I found it odd since there was nothing in the water. Then I felt something tug my leg. I let out a shocked gasp as I grabbed on to the side of the bathtub. Then I was pulled completely under the water. But it seems like now that the bathtub was never ending. I struggled to get back to the surface as I felt myself get pulled farther down. I managed to grabbed ahold of the side of the bathtub pulling me up enough to scream. “SAM!! DEAN!! HELP!!” I screamed before I was again pulled under the water. I finally came face to face with whatever pulled me under the water and it was the clown that I saw outside my window last night. I screamed and struggled to get out of its grip. I kicked it and it let me go and I quickly made my way back to the surface. I could hear that either Sam or Dean was trying to break down the door. I quickly grabbed my towel wrapped it around me as they finally got the door open. “What happened kiddo?” Dean asked as he came over to me. “Something pulled me under the water. The tub it changed. It was like in was never ending.” I said as I started to cry. “It’s ok kiddo.” Dean said pulling me into his chest. “Y/n what happened to your ankle?” Sam asked. I looked down and saw my ankle was bleeding. “That must have happened during the struggle.” I said. “Ok. Get dress real quick and I’ll patch you up.” Dean said. I nodded and he and Sam left so I could get. I quickly got dress making sure not to get any blood on my underwear or shorts. I heard a knock on the door. “You dressed kiddo?” Dean asked. “Yeah dean I’m dress come in.” I said as I hopped on the bathroom counter that was closes the toilet. Dean opened the door coming in the bathroom carrying a first aid kit. “What exactly happened kiddo?” Dean asked as he sat down on the toilet. “Well when I was taking my bath I felt something brush against my leg. I found it weird because there was nothing was in the water. Then I felt something pull my leg then I was pulled under the water.  That when I noticed that the bathtub was never ending. I struggled against to get back to the surface. I managed to break free long enough to call for you and Sam before I was pulled back under. That when I noticed that the clown that I saw last night outside was the one that pulled me under the water.” I said as Dean started to clean the wound on my ankle. “What do you mean it was the clown?” Dean asked. “I know what I saw dean. It was the clown. I don’t know how to explain how it all happened.” I said. That when Dean and I both saw what looked like claw marks on my ankle. I let of a gasp. “Looks like the clown got you good kiddo.” Dean said. “Do you think it needs stitches?” I asked. “Afraid so kiddo. Sam come help!” Dean said. Sam rushed in. “She needs stitches Sammy and I just need you to help her keep clam.” Dean said. “It’s that bad?” Sam asked. Dean nodded. “Why don’t you just call cas to heal her. “ Sam said. “Just stitch me up please. I love you all but three grown men all in the bathroom is too much.” I said. Dean nodded and got put a needle. Sam grabbed my hand and I got ready for Dean to stitch me up. “You know the drill kiddo.” Dean said. “Yeah I know.” I said. Dean started to stitch up my wound and I squeezed Sam hand when it really hurt. Seventeen stitches later the wound on my ankle was stitched up completely. Then Dean wrapped up my ankle with gauze. “There you go kiddo. You’re fixed up.” Dean said as he started to put the rest of the stuff back in the first aid kit. “Thanks Dean.” I said. Dean smiled and kissed my head as he got up. Sam picked me up from the bathroom counter and carried me back to my room laying me on my bed. “I could have walked Sammy.” I said. “I know. I just didn’t really want you to just yet.” Sam said. I nodded. “Get some rest it’s the last day of school tomorrow.” Sam said kissing my head and left my room. I got up from my bed and went to turn off my lights. I went back to my bed getting under the covers and fell fast asleep. 

I woke up by myself in the morning. Usually Sam or Dean had to come and wake me up. I got up from my bed and went to get clothes to wear for the day. I wore a tank top and shorts. I decided to wear Vans instead of my boots so it wouldn’t tub against my stitches. I left my room and headed to my bathroom to brush my teeth and brush my hair. Once I was done I went back to my room to grab my bag and my phone. I headed to the kitchen where I was meet with a shocked Sam and Dean. “What?” I asked. “Well you woke on your own. Usually Sam or I have to come to wake you up.” Dean said as I sat down at the table. “Well looks like you didn’t have to today.” I said. “Well it’s the last day of school how do you feel about that y/n?” Sam asked. “Well it’s not like I went to school here for the entire school year. I was only in school for three days.” I said. “Well let’s eat breakfast then get to the school.” Dean said. We ate breakfast then Sam and Dean finished getting ready. We they were done we left the house getting in the Impala and headed to the school. “So are you going to hang out with your friends after school?” Dean asked as we pulled into the school parking lot. “I don’t know. I might want to go back to the house after school.” I said. “Just let us know what you decide to do.” Sam said. I nodded. That’s when I saw a few Derry police cars pull up. I watched as the officers got out of the cars and I saw officers Bowers get out of one of the cars. “Why don’t you go ahead and get inside kiddo.” Dean said never taking his eyes off of officers Bowers. “Ok.” I said grabbing my bag and left the impala and headed inside of the school. 

Supernatural taglist: @darkqueennox

Overall taglist: @the-broken-halo-writer​​