#william denborough

[honou-izzu]

Beverly was elected to be the one to shoot the silver slugs

[heartthatwontquit]

He thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts.

- William Denborough, IT 1986 Stephen King

[tampire]

#Pettywise is unimpressed

[vegalocity]

So i just finished watching It:Chapter 2 and on a whim i decide to scroll through the tumblr tag.

And for like everyone whose not screaming about Reddie there’s people raging about Benverly and i’m here, a ho who read the book like,

[laynavile]

Being in two fandoms with characters who have the same names is so confusing 😂 Eddie Kaspbrak and Eddie Munson, Mike Wheeler and Mike Hanlon, William "Will" Byers and William "Bill" Denborough.. but I guess it is the 80s, of course they're gonna have common names. But then if I throw in my other fandom I've also got Stan Marsh and Stan Uris but also Beverly Marsh, so that's a double 😂

[unadulterated-syd]

October Loss.

Warnings: Mentions of death (Georgie's), Part 1 of more? , actually is edited for once!, Angst + Comfort. Idk if this is romance or not yet.

Synopsis: Y/n, babysitter of George, works with Bill to overcome his death, how will they cope?

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

The summer of 89' was a lot different than you had expected.

Dropping George Denborough off at home, a couple nights before Halloween, was nothing out of the ordinary. You would walk over to the Denborough house, get Georgie ready, walk him to school, then pick him up after school.

However, today William (Bill) Denborough was sick at home, so he was going to watch George after school. However you didn't think that would be the last night you'd see him.

You woke up the next morning, the storm still going, however having slowed down. You dragged yourself from bed, starting the shower when your downstairs phone rang. You're mom was off on a business trip, and your parents were divorced, so you had to be the one to answer it.

You picked up the phone, hearing sobbing in the background, whom you assumed to be Mrs. Denborough. "Y/n, can.. can you come here today. I know it's not your normal day but-"

"Of course, what's wrong? Is everyone okay?" He paused for a moment, "I'll tell you when you're here." You both muttered good-bye's as you ran back upstairs, showering quickly, and throwing on dirty clothes because that was the fastest option.

You threw your book-bag on, planning on going to the store later, and ran down the street on your way to the Denborough house. After roughly 10 minutes of sprinting, you slowed at the site of cop cars. It finally set in that something really bad occurred.

You ran to the door, through the lights and sirens, and knocked on the door, all the cops being inside. And when a cop opened the door and asked you to go away you knew it was really, really bad.

"No, no, that's the girl you need to talk to. She's the one who watched George." You flinched at the word watched. It was in the past-tense. "What happened? Wh-where's Georgie.."

The cop sighed, though most cops cared little for justice, they still had the soft side of seeing a little girl cry. "Hes gone, Kiddo."

You felt a tear escape your eye, as you glanced at the broken parents sat on the couch, god this was so awful. But why were you here? They deserved peace without you. And where was Bill?

The cops questioned you for awhile, revealing little to nothing about the actual case at hand, and eventually they told you to go sit upstairs and wait until one of them could drive you home.

You made your way up the stairs, ones you'd ran up millions of time, yet your side felt empty today. Vacant of the young, wide-eyed boy. You nearly walked to his room, to see the toys you'd once donated to him, but you couldn't help but see the older of the two sat on George's bed holding a Lego turtle they'd built together with you.

You quietly knocked, the door was open enough for him to see you, and pat the spot beside himself on the bed. You walked in, closing the door slightly behind yourself before sitting next to him.

"H-hey.." he whispered, not able to reach your eyes as he stared at the toy. "I'm sorry." You whispered, feeling his eyes instantly fall on you, no one had said sorry to him. His mother and father had grown distant, he felt he was the one to say sorry.

"F-for what-t..?" You turned your head to the side, looking at him. As soon as you'd seen the look on his face you knew he blamed himself. If he hadn't played ill, Georgie wouldn't have been alone, or so he thought.

But the mind played the tricks it wanted to, had you stayed over yesterday you and Bill would've built that boat, and then you would've let Georgie go play alone in the rain. Nothing would've changed the inevitable.

"Do you.. blame yourself?" You looked at him, sadness lingering on both of your faces, Georgie was the sun to both of your worlds. Sure you both had friends, but Georgie was the innocence to a cruel world, a world with Henry Bowers, murderers, perverts. Most importantly he was the reason you two met.

"H-hon-honestly?" He finally looked away from you, looking down at the turtle as he set it back on the night-stand. You looked down too.

"You're not alone, Bill." You offered, "I blame myself too. Maybe.. maybe we can share that blame. We can't change the guilt anyway." You felt his gaze return on you.

"Wh-why woul-ld you blam-blame you-yourself..?" You looked up at him, "The same reason you do. Because things could've been different if we knew what was going to happen. I should've stayed, but a part of me knows that wouldn't change what happened."

He looked down, he felt his eyes slicking again. His eyes were puffy and red, from obvious crying. "I-im so-sorry you-u feel that-t way.." He looked at you, seeing you in this state scared him as well

He'd never seen you cry, you were always the strong one, but now you sat next to him spilling your heart as tears spilled from your eyes. It wasn't fair, the two of you having to hide upstairs because no one thinks your impacted

You'd both stuck up for the world, you'd both stayed strong no matter what the world threw at you. He'd supposed if there was a god he was tormenting you both.

He wished it was him, and you wished it was you. You wished George Denborough could live a long and happy life, perhaps one day he could've retired on a beautiful old boat. 'S.S. Georgie.'

You both sat like that, reminiscing in what could've happened. You could've chased Georgie down the street, you could've made him a new boat when it washed down the storm drain, you could've walked him home and made him a snack.

Bill could've kept him in, they could've built an army of boats, Bill could've watched him race boats, and brought him home when they all inevitably washed away.

And, the both of you couldn't help but wish you'd both done something different, you wished whatever god you'd both been praying to had intervened. Not that either of you truly believed in that stuff anymore.

"You know.. on the way here yesterday he told me the two of you had secret cuss words, told me you say apple when you want to call someone an A-hole." You laughed at the thought, remembering the times the losers had teased him for mumbling that Bower's was an 'apple'

Or the time, the teacher had assigned Georgie so much homework that you both had to help him, so you didn't get to mess around at all that day. He'd mumbled 'Apple' and Georgie had laughed so hard you worried his voice-box may never recover.

It was a cute sentiment, and you knew that the only positive way to mourn was to think of the good things, celebrate all the silly victories you shared.

"Y-yeah. He-e used to ta-tattle ever-everytime-e I cusse-cussed." He smiled, a smile you worshipped in such a dark time. "H-he tol-told me you dr-drew hi-im Daffy Du-duck for lunc-lunch every Frida-ay."

You laughed, looking down, before leaning over Bill, and opening the drawer Georgie told you he kept them in.

You'd remembered telling him that the Friday-Flamingo always came and left him his favorite characters, though eventually he grew notice of your lies when Mrs. Denborough had no clue who Friday-Flamingo was.

He'd ran down the stairs that day and shoved Daffy Duck in your face, insisted that his mom didn't know Flam-Flam (that's the name he'd called it.)

You eventually came clean, and from then on every Thursday the two of you would run back to the Denborough house, and rush through homework, so you'd have time to draw. He'd drawn you and him once, it was something that meant a lot more now.

You later had it put in a locket. (You having found Georgie’s written down rules to cursing and gotten that made into one for Bill as well)

The both of you smiled and talked about the drawings for a long time, until it was time for you to leave. "Don't be too hard on yourself, Billy. He wouldn't have liked it if he caused that."

You wrapped him in a hug, him embracing you just as tight. Suddenly at 13, the two of you realized the importance of life. That hug was your shared understanding that it could be the last you shared.

But, even Georgie’s death didn't stop the world from torment. School was still in, and Henry Bowers so 'graciously' let Bill of the hook for awhile. Though, it didn't stop your torment, nor the beady eyes on the two of you constantly.

After people forgot about Georgie, the rumors started up again, and instantly you were a whore sleeping with every geek of your group. 

Truthfully there was no way to stop the rumors in Derry, and as soon as you’d been the target of torment you felt empathetic to Beverly Marsh. She’d been repeatedly bullied since she had matured a little in figure.

Bill told the 4 of you about his plans to go look through the Quarry and Sewers for Georgie. A part of all of you knew George Denborough was long dead, and you all knew if you found anything at all it would be his body. But, who was to tell a grieving boy his plans were fraudulent?

By the time summer came full circle, you felt your own life grow empty. No picking up, or dropping off the smiling boy. And every time it rained, or every Friday afternoon, you thought of the little boy. How scared he must’ve been when he died, how much more he could’ve been if he only had time. 

The boys and yourself had a plan to go down to the sewers tomorrow, but today all you did was sit on your bed and think about Georgie. This had become a routine for you, and you reckoned the only reason Bill didn’t think the same way as you was because he wasn’t past acceptance yet. He believed George survived last October, and you knew George had died the same night he had gone missing in October. 

But, before your thoughts could continue to haunt you, you heard a ringing from the landline downstairs, so you threw yourself up, and trotted downstairs. Every time you picked that phone up from its holder, you remembered the day you had gotten the call that crawled in your mind every waking day. Most importantly you thought of George. 

“Y/n? Y/n..? Are you there?” You snapped back to reality, hearing Stan on the other side. “Yeah sorry, what’s up Uris?” You hummed into the phone as you picked an apple up from the counter-top in front of you. “Bill wants us all over for the night, says we can all go to the Quarry tonight.” 

“Alright, I’ll be there. Anything else?” You bit into the apple, as you heard Stanley shuffle on the other line, telling his father he’d get off the phone in a moment. “No..Well, uh, can I ask you something?” You could hear the soft shift in his voice, from normal conversation to a nervous question. “Always, what is it Stan..? Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just... do you think Georgie is still alive? I mean..do you think this is a good idea?” You paused, sighing into the phone as you felt your heart swell. “I don’t think Georgie is alive no, but I think it’s worth a try for Billy. It might give him peace of mind.”

After a moment of silence, Stanley cleared his throat, “See you soon..?” You replied yes, and then both of you hung up. You knew Stanley cared deeply for Bill, he cared deeply for everyone though he didn’t say it much. If he thought this was a bad idea, you wondered how you were still put together.

You sighed, supposing you should pack if you're meant to stay the night. You climbed the stairs, charging your social batter as you did so. You never packed anything too extreme, but this time was different. A summer search-party.

[eddie-boii]

Never Let You Go (part 12/14)

Fic info: Both Eddie and Stan live because I do what I want. Multichapter.

Rating: Teen and up (may change). Language.

Pairings: Reddie, Benverly.

Ao3 link: here

Summary: The Losers prepare for a wedding. Bill’s big speech. 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

*

The Losers sat either side of Ben and Bev at the grand table at the head of the dining hall overlooking all the other guests, and Audra and Patty sat with them beside their respective husbands, honorary Losers in their own right.

Eddie was seated beside Richie, much to the amusement of the others who he still hadn’t forgiven for their little betting pool. As far as he was concerned, Ben, Audra and Patty were now his only friends. That was until Patty had quite seriously asked him how long he and Richie had been together and Audra had spat her drink all over his food when he’d said they weren’t dating. Ben was his only friend now.

Richie, for his part, didn’t seem at all embarrassed by the fact that the others had a betting pool or that Bill had revealed his childhood crush on Eddie. At least, he didn’t show it. He was too busy spouting off his usual terrible jokes to whoever would listen to him. He’d had a few drinks at this point, though seemed to have actually listened to Eddie’s rants about his liver for once as he wasn’t as drunk as he usually tended to get. Or maybe he just wanted to actually remember this day.

Eddie couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed that Richie hadn’t properly danced with him, but he was a little relieved too. Being that close to Richie after just finding out that he’d had a crush on him as a kid, plus the fact that the others seemed to think that crush was still ongoing, that Eddie’s feelings were actually reciprocated… It was more than he felt he could handle, honestly. He wondered if Richie would actually participate in that ‘talk’ Ben had mentioned, or if he’d chicken out as he usually did when things got serious. Part of Eddie hoped he would and they’d never mention it again, but another part of him wondered what would happen if they did, if it turned out mutual feelings really were shared…

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Bill standing and tapping a fork against his glass to get everyone’s attention, and Eddie guessed it was time for his big speech. He’d been kind of worried about it, honestly; Bill’s stutter still hadn’t gone away after returning to Derry and it tended to get worse when he was nervous, and he just knew this room full of uncaring strangers would think he was stupid or something because they wouldn’t understand. He didn’t want to have to watch the flickers of amusement followed by careful, polite blankness to pass over their faces. He knew Bill got plenty of that already.

But he should’ve known Bill wasn’t the type to let such things get to him. He smiled at his audience, standing tall and proud, the confident leader he always was.

“Hello, everyone. The b-b-bride asked me t-to say a ff-few words.”

Eddie watched the exact expressions he’d predicted flicker across the crowd and he scowled.

“Thh-thing is, I know n-no one wants to sit there ll-listening to me sss-st-stutter for an hour,” Bill continued and a wave of slightly hesitant laughter swept over the audience. Bill only smiled. “I ww-won’t make you,” he said. “See people like m-me, we have a way to cheat.” He picked up his drink and swirled it around contemplatively. “Some people d-don’t stutter when they’re d-d-drunk or alone or ss-singing.” He grinned. “But I won’t ss-subject you to that either. My w-wife will tell you I can’t ss-sing to save my life. There is one thing I can do ww-without s-st-stuttering, though, and that’s tell stories. So, h-here’s one I wrote specially for tonight. I just hope you like the ending.”

Here cleared his throat as silence fell over the room. No one cared about his stutter now; here was the famous author William Denborough about the tell a story he’d written especially for this night. An exclusive tale that would only be heard by the people in that room.

“A long time ago,” he began in a manner befitting many fairy tales, “back when TVs were boxes and shoulder pads were the epitome of fashion and people were really excited about the thought of Star Wars prequels, there lived seven kids. A kid with an awful stutter, a quiet Jewish kid, a little hypochondriac with an overprotective mother, a four-eyed weirdo with a loud mouth, an orphaned black kid in a town of white republicans, a fat new kid who looked like fresh meat to a pack of monsters, and a girl who people whispered nasty things about, who the men in her life saw as a toy.”

The Losers looked at each other as he spoke, smiling a little at the way Bill had described them. Characters in a story, heroes in a fairy tale.

“By all outward appearances,” Bill continued, “these kids were unremarkable. They were losers, in fact, something they heard shouted at them so often, spat in their faces as they were beaten down, that it was ingrained in their minds as simply a fact. 

“The town the kids grew up in was a place ruled by a monster.”

A chill went over Eddie as he realised where this story was going. He didn’t need reminding of those events, but the way Bill told it had him listening intently anyway.

“The monster was a terrible thing,” said Bill, “a devourer of worlds that knew every one of their secrets, all their deepest darkest fears. It lurked around every corner, watching and waiting to dig Its claws in and feast on the kids, feed on their fear. It changed Itself, shifted into the things they were most afraid of. A lost child blaming his big brother for his death, a warped and twisted painting with soulless eyes, a gruesome leper consumed by its disease until it was barely human, trapped parents screaming for their child as they burned in flames… So many things, but Its favourite form was that of a clown. You may think that’s far less scary than the other forms It took, but this looked like no ordinary clown. Its limbs were disproportionately long for Its body and Its head far too large, Its painted smile as dark red as blood and stretching up Its cheeks right up to Its bug-like eyes that never looked straight. And when It smiled, Its drool dripped like a waterfall down Its chin, so hungry It was for the kids, so eager It was to devour their delicious, terrified souls.

“But for all the taunts and threats and beatings the kids dealt with, it turned out that, more then anything, they were brave, and even braver still around each other. They grew close, fought off their shared enemies together, became friends, the kind of friends who leave a mark on each other, one that never fades. And they came together to fight this monster, to send it back where It belonged, where It couldn’t make them afraid anymore. They tried, at least. One got hurt-” To his right, Eddie felt Richie twitch ever so slightly, and when he looked over, his mouth was set in a thin line- “but the others made sure the monster didn’t get him. They fought It off and It slithered back into Its hiding place, but it didn’t go away, not completely.

“The kids may have won that fight, but they were scared and hurt and one had almost died. So they fought, and they split up, and they went back to being losers.

“Until the monster took the girl.”

Eddie glanced over in time to see Ben swallow thickly and Beverly took his hand, squeezing it gently beneath the table.

“It snatched her away,” said Bill, “and took her back to Its lair. But the girl was strong, stronger than the monster had bargained for, and she fought It. She told It she wasn’t afraid and It realised It would go hungry without the sweet meal of her fear, so It trapped her there, locked her away inside her own head, sleeping like a princess in a fairy tale.

“When the others found out, they put aside their differences and came together to rescue her. They stole away down into Its lair, defeating one of Its minions along the way, and they found the girl suspended in the air and gazing blankly into space like she was lost to the world. They pulled her down, but try as they might, they couldn’t get her to wake up. Then one boy, the little fat new kid who no one thought would ever have any friends but who had found them all the same, remembered the fairy stories of his childhood and how the sleeping princess could be woken with true love’s kiss.” 

Ben now smiled shyly at this, a light blush spreading across his cheeks which Bev pressed a kiss to before resting her head on his shoulder.

“This girl had been his first friend out of all of them,” said Bill. “The first one to be kind to him when no one else was, and he loved her dearly but knew a little fat boy had no chance with a pretty girl like her. Still, he was desperate, scared, in a horrible place where the monster could be hiding anywhere ready to pounce, and he needed to save her no matter what it took. So he pressed his lips to hers, and for a moment it seemed like it had done nothing and it was just a notion better left to fairy stories after all, but then the girl blinked, and the blank look faded from her eyes, and she looked at the boy and smiled, for she realised that in that town of horrible men who saw her as meat and treated her as such, this boy truly loved her.”

Bev smiled, little pinpricks of tears beading on her eyelashes and she looked down at Ben’s hand in hers, resting in her lap as she played idly with his fingers. 

“The kids were all together once more,” Bill continued, “and when the monster came for them, they were braver than ever standing together. It took one in Its clutches - the stuttering boy - and told the others It would leave them in peace if they went away and let It devour this boy alone, but they refused. They would not abandon him, for he was their friend, and when they were all together, they weren’t so afraid of this monster anymore. The loudmouthed boy attacked It and the others followed suit, and It had to let go of the stuttering boy to defend Itself, but it was no use. The kids were strong, they were brave, they were fearless. They’d been beaten down their whole lives, had the word ‘loser’ screamed at them, but now they owned it. They were the Losers, and they always would be, but that didn’t mean they were anything less than anyone else, that didn’t mean they weren’t smart and strong and beautiful and wholly, completely incredible.”

Every one of the Losers was looking at Bill now, up at their fearless leader as he effortlessly captivated the room, his words flowing from his mouth seamlessly as he spoke of his friends, his voice and expression filled with pride.

“The Losers fought the monster,” he said, “the embodiment of all their deepest fears, and they defeated It, of course they did, for the Losers could do anything when they were all together. And the monster slunk away into Its hole, into the darkest corners of the world where It would remain for many years, and where It would go hungry.

“The Losers stayed together afterwards, and they swore that if the monster ever returned, then they’d return too and defeat It for good. They’d defeated a great evil that day and forged something else in its place, something pure and wonderful. They were bonded, a bond deeper than most people could dream of. Even if they separated, even if the years stretched out and they forgot about each other, they’d never truly be parted from one another, and they would always reunite in the end. It wasn’t a friendship, not really. That word wasn’t deep enough for them, didn’t contain enough meaning. Family, maybe, but not quite. Their bond was something bone-deep, etched into their souls, stretching across the fabric of the universe no matter how far apart they were. They were the Losers, but that was the odd thing; they owned that term, accepted it as their identity, and it was a clear thing to everyone who met them. But the reality was, they never felt like losers when they were with each other.”

Bill smiled as he finished before taking his seat once more, and Audra kissed his cheek and squeezed his hand under the table. The audience before them wore a mixture of mild confusion and contentment on their faces, enraptured by the story but perplexed by its origin, before they all broke back into normal conversation or made their ways back over to the dance floor. 

But the Losers possessed no such blissful ignorance; they knew that story was no mere fiction, had lived it, but even so, the way Bill had woven the words and made them out to be heroes, people to be admired, it was… Eddie didn’t know the word for what he was feeling, but he knew it wasn’t bad. He thought being reminded of that time would be awful, would send him spiralling into a panic attack, but the way Bill told it, it wasn’t about the clown or the fear or the pain, it was about the Losers and the unbreakable bonds they’d forged together. He looked across at them all, at Bill, Ben, Bev, Mike, Stan, and Richie. His family, the people he loved most in the world, and who loved him. Who cared for him and looked after him more than his mother ever did.

“Not bad, Big Bill,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen across their table even in the midst of all the chatter from the other guests. “Not bad at all.”

“Yeah, the ending didn’t completely suck,” said Richie. “Wild.”

Bill snorted and punched his arm lightly. “Ss-shhut the fuck up, Trashmouth.”

“It was amazing, Bill,” said Ben.

“Thank you,” said Bev, smiling at him softly, tears still pricking her eyes.

“Wait a minute,” said Audra, frowning. “Who was the fat kid?”

“That was Ben,” said Stan.

“What the fuck? No way!” exclaimed Audra, turning to stare at Ben and his defined muscles. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I lost a few pounds,” Ben mumbled, blushing.

“He was just as handsome back then,” said Bev and Ben blushed even more. “Totally adorable.”

“I need to see pictures, stat,” said Audra. “I still can’t believe I was deprived of Billy’s friends coz of that weird psycho clown.”

“How long did it take you to believe him?” said Richie, and Eddie grinned at the thought of Bill trying to explain all that to Audra. He was very glad he never had to explain anything to Myra.

“Not long,” said Audra. “Mike came round and gave me some weird drug.”

“I still wanna try that,” said Richie. 

“Not a chance,” said Mike.

“I believed Stan straight away,” said Patty. “What’s this about a drug?”

“You don’t wanna know,” said Bill.

The last thing to do was cut the cake, a glorious, towering masterpiece of white icing with little models of the bride and groom perched right at the top. Bev and Ben smushed pieces into each other’s faces, smearing the creamy white icing everywhere, figuring they’d at least keep the fun wedding traditions. The guests started heading out one by one after that until it was only the extended Losers left in the grand room. They milled about the room, chatting away to each other with the same ease they always had. No one ever felt left out or uncomfortable when they were all together like that.

Eddie leaned against the wall beside Richie, sharing a slice of cake between them.

“What’d you think of Bill’s speech?” said Richie with a mouthful of icing. Eddie grimaced at the cake crumbs falling from his mouth. “Pretty sappy, huh?”

“Super sappy,” Eddie agreed. “But I don’t know, I kinda liked it. Sappy fits with today, you know?”

“Guess so,” said Richie, his eyes moving to Ben and Bev who had the dance floor all to themselves and were holding each other close, swaying slightly to the soft music that still drifted through the room. He watched them for a minute then turned to grin at Eddie. “Really think you and I have a bone-deep bond stretching across the universe?”

“All of us, not just you and me,” Eddie scoffed. “You fucking wish, Trashmouth.”

“Aw, you know you love me, Eddie-spaghetti.”

“Don’t call me that,” said Eddie, not bothering to deny the love part. He hoped Richie wouldn’t notice.

“So, what are the sleeping arrangements tonight?” said Richie. “Ya know, now you can’t hide with Bev. You gonna take Ben’s room?”

Eddie focused on getting a bit of cake on his fork to avoid looking at Richie. “Um.” He coughed. “All my stuff’s still in your room, and I’m tired and- I mean - The bed’s big enough for two, right?” He glanced up at Richie to find him staring at him, but then Richie coughed and looked away.

“Yeah, it’s huge. We’d still be miles apart even if we shared,” he said, speaking too quickly.

“Not really worth the trouble moving then, is it?” said Eddie. “Plus-” He paused staring at the ground - “we need to have that talk at some point, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” said Richie and his voice sounded a little hoarse. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

They wandered around some more but then decided that the wait was more agonising than the actual talk was going to be, so they said their goodnights to the others and headed upstairs to their shared room.

Eddie was filled with nervous energy as they walked side by side. They didn’t talk - they’d do plenty of that in a moment - but still, the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, even with the dread of what they were about to discuss. It never was uncomfortable with Richie. Bill was right; all the Losers shared a powerful bond and Eddie loved them all more than he loved his own family, but Richie was different. Richie was… more. More special to Eddie, even as special as the others were to him. He always had been. He was always the one who could make Eddie laugh even when he was feeling really low, who could calm him down from a panic attack, turning his fear to exasperated fury at the flick of a switch with nothing more than a simple inappropriate joke. Eddie would often find himself on the verge of having a mental breakdown only to have Richie say something that got him ranting instead, forgetting all about his fear as he watched that familiar grin spread across Richie’s face. Eddie had never been really mad at Richie - it was impossible - and as much as he acted like it, Richie always seemed to know that. He’d always known Eddie so well, better than anyone else. He’d always known how much Eddie itched to let off steam, to scream like he always wanted to while being suffocated by his mother, and he gave him an outlet in which to do that.

Richie let him be who he was. He never tried to smother him the way his mother or Myra had, didn’t think he was a fragile little child in need of protecting. He looked out for Eddie, of course. Kept him safe. But he didn’t suffocate him, didn’t squash him down into a box, he let him exist. He let him live.

He wondered if he’d be able to tell Richie all of this, get it out in the open. Tell him just how much he loved him. He wondered if Richie really did feel the same. It was only a matter of time before he found out.

They arrived at their room and stepped in together over the threshold.

*

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[christheodore-live]

Honoring Peace Heroes

This list of world peace heroes includes people who have proactively advocated diplomatic, philosophical, and non-military resolution of major territorial or ideological disputes through nonviolent means and methods. Peace activists usually work with others in the overall anti-war and peace movements to focus the world’s attention on the irrationality of violent conflicts, decisions, and actions. They thus initiate and facilitate wide public dialogues intended to nonviolently alter long-standing societal agreements directly relating to, and held in place by, the various irrational, violent, habitual, and historically fearful thought-processes residing at the core of these conflicts, with the intention of peacefully ending the conflicts themselves.

Jane Addams (1860–1935) – American, national chairman Woman’s Peace Party, president Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom

Eqbal Ahmad (1933/34–1999) – Pakistani political scientist, activist

Martti Ahtisaari (1937) – former president of Finland, active in conflict resolution

Stew Albert (1939–2006) – anti-Vietnam war activist, organizer

Widad Akrawi (1969) – Danish-Kurdish peace advocate, organizer

Suzanne Arms (1945) – anti-Vietnam war activist, draft counselor

Émile Arnaud (1864–1921) – French peace campaigner, coined the word “Pacifism”

Vittorio Arrigoni (1975–2011) – Italian reporter, anti-war activist

Pat Arrowsmith (1930) – British author and peace campaigner

Joan Baez (1941) – prominent American anti-war protester, inspirational singer

Emily Greene Balch (1867–1961) – American, a leader of Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom

Ernesto Balducci (1922–1992) – Italian priest

Archibald Baxter (1881–1970) – New Zealand pacifist, socialist, and anti-war activist

Harry Belafonte (1927) – American anti-war protester, performer

Medea Benjamin (1952) – co-founder Code Pink, author, organizer

Meg Beresford (1937) – British activist, European Nuclear Disarmament movement

Daniel Berrigan (1921) – prominent anti-Vietnam war protester

Philip Berrigan (1923–2002) – prominent anti-Vietnam war protester

James Bevel (1936–2008) – prominent American anti-Vietnam war leader, organizer

Vinoba Bhave (1895–1982) – Indian, Gandhian, teacher, author, organizer

Janet Bloomfield (1953–2007) – peace and disarmament campaigner, chair of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament

Vera Brittain (1893–1970) – British writer, pacifist

Elihu Burritt (1810–1879) – American diplomat, social activist

Helen Caldicott (1938) – physician, anti-nuclear weapon, initiator

Andrew Carnegie (1835–1919) – American industrialist and founder of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace

Jimmy Carter (1924) – American negotiator and former US President, organizer, international conflict resolution

Pierre Cérésole (1879–1945) - Swiss engineer, founder of Service Civil International (SCI) or International Voluntary Service for Peace (IVSP)

Cesar Chavez (1927-1993) - American farm worker, labor leader and civil rights activist

Noam Chomsky - American linguist, philosopher, and activist

Ramsey Clark (1927) – American anti-war and anti-nuclear lawyer, activist

William Sloane Coffin (1924–2006) – American cleric, anti-war activist

James F. Colaianni (1922) – author, publisher, first anti-Napalm organizer

Judy Collins (1939) – inspirational American anti-war singer/songwriter, protester

Tom Cornell – American anti-war activist, initiated first anti-Vietnam War protest

Rachel Corrie (1979–2003) – American activist for Palestinian human rights[1][2]

David Cortright – American anti-nuclear weapon leader

Norman Cousins (1915–1990) – journalist, author, organizer, initiator

Frances Crowe (1919) – anti-war and anti-nuclear power, draft counselor

Rennie Davis (1941) – American anti-Vietnam war leader, organizer

Dorothy Day (1897–1980) – American journalist, social activist, and co-founder of the Catholic Worker

David Dellinger (1915–2004) – American pacifist, organizer, prominent anti-war leader

Lanza del Vasto (1901-1981) - Catholic philosopher, poet, artist, and nonviolent activist

Michael Denborough AM (1929-2014) - Australian medical researcher who founded the Nuclear Disarmament Party

Alma Dolens (1876–?) – Italian pacifist and suffragist

Phil Donahue - Former talk show host, former television host

Élie Ducommun (1833–1906) – Nobel Peace Prize laureate

Mel Duncan(1950) – founding Executive Director of Nonviolent Peaceforce

Shirin Ebadi (1947) – Iranian lawyer, human rights activist

Albert Einstein (1879-1955) – Scientist, Nobel Prize laureate

Daniel Ellsberg (1931) – American anti-war whistleblower, protester

James Gareth Endicott (1898–1993) – initiator, organizer, protester

Amy Goodman - journalist, host of Democracy Now!

Jodie Evans (1954) – co-founder Code Pink, initiator, organizer, filmmaker

Jane Fonda (1937) – American anti-war protester, actress

Tom Fox (1951–2006) – American Quaker

Comfort Freeman – Liberian anti-war activist

Alfred Fried (1864–1921) – co-founder German peace movement, called for world peace organization

Arun Gandhi (1934) – Indian, organizer, educator, grandson of Mohandas

Mohandas Gandhi (1869–1948) – Indian, writer, organizer, protester, lawyer, inspiration to movement leaders

Leymah Gbowee (1972) - organizer of women’s peace movement in Liberia, awarded 2011 Nobel Peace Prize

Everett Gendler (1928) - Conservative rabbi, peace activist, writer

Allen Ginsberg (1926–1997) – American anti-war protester, writer

Arthur Gish (1939–2010) – American public speaker

Danny Glover (1946) – American actor and anti-war activist

Emma Goldman (1869–1940) – Russian/American activist imprisoned in the U.S. for opposition to World War I

Mikhail Gorbachev (1931) – Russian anti-nuclear activist during and after Soviet presidency

Dick Gregory (1932) – American comedian, anti-war protester

Woody Guthrie (1912–1967) – American anti-war protester and musician, inspiration

Tenzin Gyatso (1935) – current Dalai Lama, peace advocate

Otto Hahn (1879–1968) – nuclear chemist, Nobel Laureate, pacifist, anti-nuclear weapons and testing advocate

Judith Hand (1940) – anti-war writer, academian

Thich Nhat Hanh (1926) – Vietnamese monk

G. Simon Harak (1948) – American academian

Keir Hardie (1856–1915) – Scottish socialist, co-founder of Independent Labour Party and Labour Party

Václav Havel – Czech nonviolent writer, poet, and politician

Brian Haw – British activist, initiated and long time participant of the Parliament Square Peace Campaign

Abraham Joshua Heschel - (1907-1972) rabbi, professor at Jewish Theological Seminary, civil rights and peace activist

Sidney Hinkes (1925–2006) – pacifist, priest in the Church of England

Emily Hobhouse (1860–1926) – British welfare campaigner

Abbie Hoffman – American anti-Vietnam war leader, co-founder of Yippies

Margaret Holmes, AM, (1909–2009) – Australian activist during the Vietnam War, member Anglican Pacifist Fellowship

Julia Ward Howe – writer, advocate, organizer

Aldous Huxley (1894-1963) – anti-war and anti-conflict writer

Khawaja Zafar Iqbal – Pakistani

Wilhelm Jerusalem – pacifist, philosopher, progressive educationalist, worked at Vienna (Austria)

Jean Jaurès (1859-1914) – French anti-war activist, socialist leader

Muhammad Ali Jinnah (1876–1948) – Pakistani, founder of Pakistan, lawyer, organizer, inspiration to movement leaders

Pope Saint John Paul II – Polish Catholic Pope, inspiration, advocate

Helen John – first full-time member of the Greenham Common peace camp

Helen Keller – deafblind writer, speech “Strike Against The War” Carnegie Hall, New York 1916

Kathy Kelly (1952) – American peace and anti-war activist, arrested over 60 times during protests. Member and organizer of international peace teams.

Khan Abdul Gaffar Khan- Pakistani, called “Frontier Gandhi” by the Indians

Steve Killelea – initiated Global Peace Index and Institute for Economics and Peace

Adam Kokesh (1982) – American activist, Iraq Veterans Against the War

Martin Luther King Jr. – prominent anti-Vietnam war protester, speaker, inspiration

Ron Kovic – American Vietnam war veteran, war protestor

Paul Krassner – American anti-Vietnam war organizer, writer, Yippie co-founder

Henri La Fontaine – initiator, organizer, Nobel Peace Prize winner

William Ladd (1778–1841) – early American activist, initiator, first president of the American Peace Society

Bernard Lafayette – American organizer, educator, initiator

Grigoris Lambrakis – Greek athlete, physician, politician, activist

George Lansbury

André Larivière – ecologist and anti-nuclear activist

Bryan Law – Australian non-violent activist.

John Lennon – British singer/songwriter, anti-war protestor

Sidney Lens – American anti-Vietnam war leader

Bertie Lewis (1920–2010) – RAF airman who went on to become a U.K. peace campaigner

Thomas Lewis (1940–2008) – American artist, anti-war activist with (Baltimore Four and Catonsville Nine)

James Loney – peace worker, kidnap victim

Staughton Lynd – American anti-Vietnam war leader

Bradford Lyttle (1927) – prominent American pacifist, writer, presidential candidate, and organizer with the Committee for Non-Violent Action

Norman Mailer – American anti-war writer, war protestor

Nelson Mandela (1918–2013) – South African statesman, leader in anti-apartheid movement and post-apartheid reconciliation, founder of The Elders, inspiration

Mairead Corrigan Maguire – Northern Ireland peace movement, Nobel Prize winner

Bob Marley – Jamaican, inspirational anti-war singer/songwriter, inspiration

Eugene McCarthy – U.S. presidential candidate, ran on an anti-Vietnam war agenda

John McConnell (1915–2012) – founder Earth Day, and U.N peace proclamation

George McGovern – U.S. Senator, presidential candidate, anti-Vietnam war agenda

David McTaggart (1932–2001) – Canadian anti-nuclear testing activist, co-founder Greenpeace International

Rigoberta Menchú (1959) – Guatemalan indigenous rights, anti-war, co-founder Nobel Women’s Initiative

Chico Mendes (1944–1988) – Brazilian environmentalist and human rights advocate of peasants and indigenous peoples

Thomas Merton (1915-1968) – monk and poet, inspirational writer, philosopher

Barry Mitcalfe (1930–1986) – a leader of the New Zealand movement against the Vietnam War and the New Zealand anti-nuclear movement

A.J. Muste – American pacifist, organizer, anti-Vietnam War leader

Abie Nathan (1927–2008) – Israeli humanitarian, founded Voice of Peace radio,[3] met with all sides of a conflict

Paul Newman – American anti-war protestor, inspiration

Georg Friedrich Nicolai – German professor, famous or the book “The Biology of War”

Sari Nusseibeh – Palestinian activist

Phil Ochs – American anti-Vietnam war singer/songwriter, initiated protest events

Yoko Ono – Japanese anti-Vietnam war campaigner in America and Europe

Laurence Overmire – poet, author, theorist

Olof Palme – Swedish prime minister, diplomat

Frédéric Passy (1822-1912) - French economist, peace activist and joint winner (together with Henry Dunant) of the first Nobel Peace Prize (1901)

Linus Pauling – American anti-nuclear testing advocate and leader

Concepcion Picciotto – anti-nuclear and anti-war protestor, White House Peace Vigil

Peace Pilgrim – walked the highways and streets of America promoting peace

Lindis Percy

Jeannette Rankin

Marcus Raskin

Dahlia Ravikovitch

Henry Richard (1812–1888) – English minister known as “the Apostle of Peace”, was secretary of the Peace Society for forty years (1848–84).

Romain Rolland (1866–1944) - French dramatist, novelist, essayist, anti-war activist

Oscar Romero (1917-1980) – Venerable Archbishop of San Salvador

Arundhati Roy (1961–) – Indian writer, social critic and peace activist

Jerry Rubin – American anti-Vietnam war leader, co-founder of the Yippies

Bertrand Russell – British anti-nuclear bomb activist, philosopher

Carl Sagan

Ed Sanders (1939) – American poet, organizer, singer, co-founder of anti-war band The Fugs

Mohamed Sahnoun (1931) - Algerian diplomat, peace activist, UN envoy to Somalia and to the Great Lakes region

Mark Satin – anti-war proponent, draft-resistance organizer, writer, philosopher

Jonathan Schell (1943–2014) – American writer and campaigner against nuclear weapons, antiwar activist

Sophie Scholl

Albert Schweitzer (1875–1965) – German/French activist against nuclear weapons and nuclear weapon testing whose speeches were published as Peace or Atomic War. Co-founder of The Committee for a Sane Nuclear Policy.

Pete Seeger (1919–2014) – anti-war protestor, inspirational singer/songwriter

Jeff Sharlet – anti-Vietnam war soldier, journalist

Gene Sharp – nonviolent writer and academian

Cindy Sheehan – American anti-Iraq and anti-Afghanistan war leader

Martin Sheen – anti-war and anti-nuclear bomb protestor, inspirational American actor

Nancy Shelley, OAM, Quaker who represented the Australian peace movement at the UN in 1982.

Percy Shelley – writer, poet, nonviolent philosopher and inspiration

Dick Sheppard

Toma Sik

Jeanmarie Simpson

Ramjee Singh – Indian activist, philosopher and Gandhian

Samantha Smith – young advocate of peace between Soviets and Americans

Benjamin Spock – anti-Vietnam war protestor, writer, inspiration

Olaf Stapledon

Cat Stevens

Bertha von Suttner – writer, organizer, Nobel’s inspiration for Nobel Peace Prize

Kathleen Tacchi-Morris – founder of Women for World Disarmament

Tank Man – Stood in front of tank during 1989 China protest

Eve Tetaz

Thomas (1947–2009) – initiated, long-time participant, White House peace vigil

Ellen Thomas – long-time participant, White House peace vigil

Henry David Thoreau – American writer, philosopher, inspiration to movement leaders

Leo Tolstoy – Russian writer on nonviolence, inspiration to Gandhi, Bevel, and other movement leaders

Benjamin Franklin Trueblood – 19th century writer, editor, organizer, initiator

Barbara Grace Tucker – Australian born peace activist, long time participant of the Parliament Square Peace Campaign

Desmond Tutu – South African cleric, initiator, anti-apartheid, inspiration

Jo Vallentine

Mordechai Vanunu

Lanza del Vasto – Gandhian, anti-war, anti-nuclear

Sérgio Vieira de Mello

Stellan Vinthagen (1964) Swedish anti-war and nonviolent resistance scholar-activist

Kurt Vonnegut – American anti-war and anti-nuclear writer and protestor

John Wallach

Alyn Ware (1962) – New Zealand peace educator and campaigner, Global Coordinator for Parliamentarians for Nuclear Nonproliferation and Disarmament since 2002

Owen Wilkes – New Zealand peace researcher and activist

Jody Williams – American anti-landmine advocate and organizer, Nobel Peace Prize winner

S. Brian Willson – American veteran, peace activist and lawyer

Lawrence S. Wittner – peace historian, researcher, and movement activist

Walter Wolfgang (1923) – German-born British activist

Peter Yarrow (1938) – American singer/songwriter, anti-war activist

Adam Yauch – Musician, Buddhist, advocate for peace

John Howard Yoder

Neil Young – singer/songwriter, anti-war advocate, other causes

Edip Yuksel – Kurdish-Turkish-American lawyer/author, Islamic peace proponent

Alfred-Maurice de Zayas

Howard Zinn – historian, writer, peace advocate

[amvses]

          DESIRE TAG DUMP »

beth hudson: burrower .

bob newby: superhero .

bonnie harper: astral projection .

brea douglas: dragon lady .

clare rush: fire knives .

eli: two thousand years .

erin: swiss army .

gabby kinney: hero name .

george denborough: sewer float .

harry mackenzie: cannon foot .

henley queen: occultine .

holly sharp: invisible ink .

jackie: jackal mom .

james howlett: ronin .

janet: digital queen .

joyce byers: lights mom .

karen: the bulletin .

killian jones: hook .

linda martin: hell therapy .

luci: old scratch .

maeve millay: madam host .

michaela: archangel .

molly: specialist registrar.

toby shaffer: root hack .

willa hanover: garden spy .

william downing: gun hawk .

xiaoli zhang: shadow stalker

zero: mind flayer

[honou-izzu]

The 'legendary' Rockfight

The mini-series did this scene a little bit toned down but still much closer to the novel than the film, though both didn't mention how this happened near/on the Fourth of July. But I guess it's understandable, cos I don't think they could afford to use too much firepower to fully portray this whole chapter. Still, this scene was so epic.

That said, it's interesting how in the novel... Bill was able to sense the incoming danger and told the others to prepare some ammo ready. I mean, they did hear all those explosions... but rather than running away or just brushing it away as someone else having the same idea as they did (as in, to set off some fireworks), Bill told the others to prepare for battle. As if he knew that they needed to 'fight'... whatever was coming towards them.

And it's also interesting how despite this being their first time meeting each other, Mike instinctively addressed Bill to ask for help... as if knowing that Bill (and the others) had waited there to save him from Henry's group. Like as much as no one had officially elected Bill as their leader, they already assumed that Bill was.

Seriously, I love how so much was happening during this rock fight, and how intense the battle was... so much, that even Henry refused to recall it ever happening because the memory was so traumatic and embarrassing. For a big bully like Henry, obviously he'd be mortified to have the 'weak kids' standing up against him and actually got the upper hand in the fight. And even worse, to have the older kids losing out against the smaller ones...

Not to mention, how this incident actually strikes fear in the bullies, especially Henry.

Seriously, what Eddie sensed earlier was correct. They did end up having a 'Hiroshima time' at the Barrens that day.

[honou-izzu]

"Where did you get your ideas?"

[honou-izzu]

It's like a comic book villain...

[honou-izzu]

Eh, I never considered how Stan's obsessiveness about being clean (even more than Eddie) and his orderliness tied to the way how he chose to... leave -

- but I guess that explained that as much as Mike had wanted the others to recall their forgotten memories, he didn't try to rush or force it (it's not too obv in mini-series, esp with how the past and present scenes were told, and the news abt Stan's passing was known to the others much later than in novel), for fear of the others also turning like Stan.

But that made sense.

Yet it also made me wonder... like the mini-series put the flashback of the memories of the day the seven decided to attempt to kill It to occur before Stan's final end, does that mean unlike the other five who start regaining the memories of their first/earlier encounters with It after receiving Mike's call.... the memory that Stan recovered after hearing Mike's call was the actual critical memory of that 'last' encounter with It when they're still kids? Was that the reason for his abrupt decision?

Cos then Mike really made the right call to take it slow...

[honou-izzu]

He thought: That was the last time the seven of us were together... the day Stan made those cuts in the Barrens. Stan's not here; he's dead. And this is the last time the six of us are going to be together. I know it, I feel it.

William (Big Bill) Denborough, Stephen King's It

[honou-izzu]

The Fortune cookie scene...

It just struck me here that the 'surprise' everyone gets from their fortune cookies all relates to the stuff that each of the Loser members is currently afraid of at the moment - and the next few paragraphs proved me correct XD

And even if it wasn't explicitly pointed out for the others, it should also the same for the remaining three. Mike's fortune cookie spat out a bird embryo which should be a reference to the big bird that used to chase him... though for Ben and Richie, I wonder if it relates to a past incident or something else.

Regardless, It really was back to Its trick to scare them again.

(Also interesting that as much as the mini-series did change/leave out bits of the original plot details - Eddie's leper, Mike's bird, Ben's mummy from the bridge - this part of the fortune cookie scene remained mostly intact as in the book.

I say, mostly... since Bill's seemed to look more like a big spider's leg rather than a fly - though we didn't really get a proper look at it anyway. But it WAS hinted to be a fly under the covers.)

[honou-izzu]

Bill thought about Henry's craziness...