#So that these fuckers can stop denying it. Make it so they can't ignore it like they can with flags please

[batfamfucker]

Spiderverse Spoilers Ahead - Trans Stuff.

The amount of people saying that believing Gwen is Trans is 'reaching'- As if her and her dad don't both have Trans flags, her colours aren't literally that of the Trans flag, and that every Spiderman reveal speech feels like a goddamn coming out coded scene- Is insane.

As if the Spiderverse creative team didn't plan and animate everything to the last detail.

I've seen people saying her owning the flag could just be an ally thing. Which is true, but how many people own pride flags for allyship compared to just. Being actually queer? I swear the transphobes are delusional.

Like. They way they (The animators) plan colours and set designs and costumes and colour coding is so detailed. You want me to believe they had Miles wear a BLM pin because it was relevant to him personally, but then not believe that Gwen's dad wore a trans pin and she had a 'Protect Trans Kids' (People keep saying it could be the dad but keyword: Kids) flag in her room because they were personal to her, too?

The same team that hinted 42 Miles as the Prowler by having our Miles put on a green and purple hoodie? So we know they code with colour. But saying Gwen could be Trans because her designated colours being symbolic of the Trans flag is a reach? As if the Spiderverse team wouldn't know that (After they added the flags none the less), and don't foreshadow/hint at things with colours throughout this franchise? You genuinely think it's a 'reach' that the same people that took THREE YEARS to figure out how to animate Hobie alone, wouldn't realise how using those colours would be interpreted (Especially next to the other subtext and design clues)? That they what? Didn't do research? As if they haven't been excellently representing communities this entire time and clearly putting all their love into clearly researching and showcasing the beauty of diversity? Be so for real.

I've seen people complaining that 'we do this with every movie'. Name one Trans animated movie character. Or one Trans movie character at all (That doesn't die, or go through something horrific for no needed reason, or isn't built from harmful stereotypes, etc).

The levels people will go to to deny queer existence and queer characters is ridiculous. You don't have to like it. I don’t care. She's not Trans for you, she's Trans for the Trans people watching this movie. The same way that Miles is Black, or that Pavitr is Indian. Anyone can be Spider-Man, that's the entire point. It's not 'forced diversity', it's just diversity. Trans people exist, the same way that straight/cis people do. You'll hype up Miles as a step in a progressive direction, then shit on Trans people for clinging to Gwen for the same resonation?

If you want a cishet white Spider-Man, go watch all the other medias that exist. We're allowed this one. The creators made their message very clear, Spiderverse is for everyone. Spider-Man can be anyone.

[archangeldyke-all]

you can go ahead and laugh at this all you want, but I could totally see Sevika with a chihuahua.

this is stupid but i can't stop thinking about it

enjoy! love,

angel

men and minors dni

she's one of those people who claims to hate animals. she says pets are a pain in the ass, just another mouth to feed. she shoos away strays on the street and stares down gaurd dogs until they run away with their tails between their legs. she doesn't mind cats as much, but she gets a scratchy throat and itchy eyes if she spends too much time near them, so she avoids them.

but one night walking home from work, she trips over this itty bitty puppy. it squeaks in fear and curls into a little shaking ball to hide and Sevika grumbles about it until she gets a good look at the tiny dog. It's not even old enough to walk straight, vision probably still developing, and Sevika tries not to melt. she really does.

but the little puppy is so pathetic, and as she gently kicks away the garbage bags it was living in, she can't find it's mom. she rolls her eyes and looks down at the little black and white furball, cursing it's watery brown eyes, and scoops it up in her arms. "c'mon jackass. i've got some salami at home you can eat."

she tries not to fall in love when the puppy falls asleep curled in her arms. she tries not to fall in love when the puppy scratches at her door that night until she lets it in to cuddle with her on her bed. she tries not to fall in love as she tucks the puppy into her side satchel on her way to work. she ignores the breaking in her heart as she shoves the little gremlin in Silco's arms.

"what's this?" he asks. she shrugs.

"something for Jinx."

Silco raises an eyebrow. "Jinx is allergic to dogs." he says. Sevika huffs as he hands the puppy back to her.

"well what the fuck am I supposed to do with this thing then?" she asks like she's not relieved to have her little buddy back in her arms. "i don't have time for a dog." Silco sees right through her, raising an eyebrow and trying to bite back his smirk at the sight of his best brute gently scratching underneath a 2 pound puppy's chin.

after a week of halfheartedly trying to pawn the puppy off on her coworkers, she finally gives in and accepts that it's hers now. she takes it to the vet, gets it spayed and vaccinated. when they ask for a name at the front desk, she panics and picks the first thing she can think of. "uhh... Slayer..." she says. she ignores the judgmental look the receptionist gives her.

she'll deny it to her grave, but she spoils the little fucker to no end. it's a tiny little chihuahua, always shivering and whining, and she can't fucking help herself from buying Slayer festive sweaters and onsies. she keeps the puppy dressed to the nines, changing out collar colors to match the sweaters. the dog has a bigger wardrobe she does.

Sevika's apartment, once barren and simple, is now littered in dog toys and plush beds. and she is a sucker for puppy eyes. she doesn't even try to discipline little Slayer, always giving her baby a bite of her food when she begs and letting her up on all the furniture.

Slayer tries to be as tough as her momma, seemingly unaware of the fact that she's not, in fact, a wolf. completely in tune with Sevika's emotions, Slayer growls at everyone and everything Sevika doesn't like. she loves to bark at big dogs on her walks, always looking for a fight. it always makes Sevika chuckle to see her little fur baby pick fights with dogs that could kill her in an instant. she scoops her up in her arms and kisses her on the head, admonishing her and trying to explain the food chain to a chihuahua. Slayer, for her part, always watches Sevika intently while she's getting lectured like she actually understands what she's saying.

never in a million years did Sevika think she'd have a pet. But as little Slayer buries herself under the covers beside her human companion every night, Sevika can't find it in her to be too upset about the little addition to her life.

[hello-nichya-here]

Here's a thought: in the show, we never see Azula doing anything for Ozai that she personally disagrees with (iirc). Now, considering Zuko was never meant to return and regain his status as crown prince, what does this mean for the line of succession? Wouldn't the poltically savvy move be to have Azula set to be married to ensure family claimants and reassure the strengthen alliances? Would Azula marry someone and have children if Ozai needed her to? Would she be too afraid to deny him?

There WERE plans for Azula to have an arranged marriage in book 3, but that's all I know about it, so sadly I can't give you the writers' idea of how she'd react to it, nor say if I agree with said idea.

However, I can still give you MY take on it.

Considering her father, a second son who wasn't mean to inherit anything, was still expected to get married and have heirs, just in case. It would make sense for Azula herself to be expected to have children once she was old enough to do, even though she was the second born of a second born.

Zuko's banishment/decision to join the Gaang also made her Ozai's unnofficial AND official heir a few times, including in the finale when she was given the (now less important) title of Fire Lord. If she doesn't have children of her own, the Fire Nation wouldn't have a ruler, meaning that either Zuko (or a descendent of his), who is seen as a traitor, would take the throne, or there'd be a powe struggle, and possibly even a war, between Fire Nation nobility to choose an heir.

Azula is smart. There's no way she didn't realize all of this, so I think the idea of having to find a husband and have a couple of kids with him someday was something she kind of accepted as part of her duty to her father and to her nation.

HOWEVER, that does NOT mean that "anyone will do." Azula is a perfectionist, does not tolerate incompetence from anyone, and even though she has a ton of insecurities, anxieties, and self-loathing, she still has her pride.

Let's not forget that, even though she was scared, even though she wanted to please her father, and even though she (eventually) stopped arguing when Ozai screwed her over in the finale, the fucker still had to find a way to placate her so she'd follow his orders.

Azula puts up with a lot of Ozai's bullshit, but she is only human and there are things she won't accept (and Ozai knows that, hence his manipulation of her).

If he ever tried forcing her to marry a guy she did not consider worthy of being her husband, it will NOT work. Even in the event of Ozai completely ignoring her thoughts and feeling on the matter, I can see Azula paying her fiance a "special visit" to make him understand that, if they get married, he WILL regret it (and it is canon that she already scares guys away without even meaning to).

Ozai is gonna have to find his daughter a new match, because the one she wasn't fond of suddenly decided to left the Fire Nation in the middle of the night for some reason...

[kenmolly]

Can you make a part 2 of that dazai x reader angst one shot? That broke my heart i need some comfort 😔

part one | part two

𝄰 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤᎓ Nakahara Chuuya x gn!reader

𝄰 𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢᎓ angst to comfort ‹3

𝄰 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤᎓ non proof read, mentions of fighting

𝄰 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢᎓ this will be a chuuya x reader from now on! i got so many requests for a pt 2 and got multiple ideas for it 💪 HAHAHHA anyways I'm excited to write this, hope you like it!

you can't even keep track of how long you've been staring into space anymore. you didn't even realize that the sun is starting to set, and a bike has parked right beside your car. that person was busy with his phone but soon realized your messy figure leaning against the car window. slowly, he approached your car and knocked on the window, startling you as you quickly look at the person.

"hey uh, you alright in there?" your mind was so blank that it took you minutes to finally realize who it was.

"chu.. chuuya? what are you doing here?" you quickly fixed your hair and lowered down the window, head slightly poking out of it.

"i could ask you the same thing, y/n. it's pretty far away from the agency, so why are you here?" the ginger head crossed his arms as he awaited your answer. you stared at him with lifeless eyes, before opening your mouth to answer his question.

"he cheated." your voice was so soft, that it was only loud enough for you to hear. chuuya flicked your forehead and places his hands on his waist.

"talk louder, you're not talking to an ant here, y/n"

"i said he cheated, chuuya! he slept with the fucking nurse!" eyes widen, the male looked at you as he processes your words.

"you mean that fucker; dazai?"

"who else would be, you short fuck?"

"i'll destroy your car right here right now if you continue calling me that. don't fucking test me you pea brain"

"who are you calling pea brain now?? do you want to fucking di-"

"alright, alright. let's put that aside, wanna go for a ride?" chuuya softly chuckled, his thumb pointing towards his precious bike. you looked at it and turn your attention back to him, raising a brow.

"why so sudden?"

"i don't know, maybe to let you feel a little better? i'm being nice here, you accepting or nah?" you scoffed with a shrug, exiting your car and looked at the ginger head with crossed arms.

"who would deny a free ride? let's go quickly, it's fucking hot here" you both got on the bike, your hands grasping the tail to avoid falling off on the ride. chuuya started the bike and took off; it was alright at first, but the ride slowly becomes faster and faster, to the point where you had to hold the ginger's shoulders.

but it wasn't enough to keep you from feeling that you'd be safe. the ride felt like you could fall off the bike any minute due to the immense speed.

"you fucker, why are you going to fast? i could fall off any minute you little shit"

"if you're really that scared, just fucking hold on to me."

"you serious right now?"

"am i laughing or smiling?" you rolled your eyes, ignoring him. 'i'm just thinking too much, as long as i don't move too much i'll be safe.' that's what you thought to yourself. but minutes passed the anxious feeling continued to build up. 'ah fuck it, it wouldn't hurt to hold him anyways.'

you wrapped your arms around chuuya's waist, head resting on his back as your face eventually heats up. you closed your eyes to stop your thoughts, but you soon found lots of things about chuuya that give you comfort. his warmth, his cologne, his hair that gently touches your face from time to time.

for chuuya on the other side, his face was heating up as well. he didn't actually think you'd do it for real, but here you were, your body holding tight onto his. sighing, he focused this attention back on the road as you admired the sky.

oh, how beautiful it is. the stars shining as bright as ever, the moon being the only source of light to this unknown road. what does this remind you of? the day when dazai confessed. how serious he looked, how sincere he was, how sweet he sounded. 'the days are over, y/n. get over him, a guy like him doesn't deserve you.' you thought as you buried your face into chuuya's back.

years have passed, and what you didn't think about was you ending up with chuuya. the both of you have been dating for two years now, and he treats you like an absolute queen of his. always giving you what you need, or want.

"so you say that you're going to new york for a mission? that far away, my dear?"

"yeah, stupid I know. but I can't possibly do anything about it, right?"

"I fucking told you to join the mafia, it's so much better than your little agency's job."

"pssh, you sure? at least I have good friends, you know"

"oh shut up" chuuya grunted and took a big sip of his drink. you burst out laughing to the point where your stomach hurts. the male hushed you and told you to finish off your food before it gets cold.

"since it's so far away, I'll get a private jet to go with you."

"not gonna stop ya. i'd love your compan-"

"hm? is that you, y/n? and.. chuuya?" oh, you know exactly who was it. you turned around, eyes meeting a pair of hazel colors. he rushed towards you, hands immediately grabbing yours.

"oh, you're looking as beautiful as ever, belladonna! your hands, they're as soft as I rememb-" you pulled your hands away, placing it in your boyfriend's. dazai's eye widened, looking at your connected hands.

"go away, dazai. i don't love you like I did anymore. i have chuuya, and it's more than enough."

"but- listen to me, y/n! i'm sorry for what I did, I really regret it. i didn't know what I was thinking, leaving someone so breathtaking like you. so would you please, come back-"

"you heard them, you fucker. they told you to go away, they don't like you anymore. i won't hesitate to fight you here and now, dazai."

"so it's true.. that you're with chuuya now."

"yes, now if you don't mind, please fucking leave. go to that nurse you loved so much." dazai sighed and left, knowing he couldn't have you back no matter what now. chuuya cupped your cheeks, face plastered with a gentle smile that's only for you to see.

"let's quickly finish our dinner, we still have a ton of stores to visit."

© cara (@kenmolly). all rights reserved. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[severelytalentless]

History Part 1

Jealous!Gojo x F!Reader x BadBoy!Getou

I got tangled up with this yarn ball of a love triangle for a hot second. It's long and a little angsty, I'm not completely sure I like it.

But here it is. Hope it hits well.

18+ content: sexual scenarios & strong language, exhibitionism, dubcon, public fingering, semi-public sex, dirty talk, angst

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(don't leave - (throttle remix) snakehips x MO)

"Oh shit, I'm so late.."

The sound of your alarm clock melded with your dream and failed to wake you up. Instant panic jolts through you when you see the time, you rush to fling yourself out of bed.

“FUCK!”

You yelp as a strong arm wraps around your waist, yanking you back. You collapse on top of him and proceed to smack and pry at his forearm to let you go. His mischievous giggle under the covers only makes you more frustrated.

“I swear to God! Satoru! Let me go, I am so late!”

He squeezes harder and begins dragging you under.

“Late for what? Makin’ me breakfast in bed? Oh bunny, you're so thoughtful!”

You try to hide your giggle with an aggravated groan and an elbow thrown somewhere near his ribs.

“You're such a shit! I'm serious let me go, NOW!”

You don't have time for this. It's like he's been on a mission to make you late in one way or another to every class these days. Trapping you in bed all morning, kidnapping you for lunch, holding you hostage between classes, keeping you up way too late for extracurricular activities. You really can't complain, you have so much fun with him, but your grades are starting to catch up with you.

He'll try to convince you it's no big deal; that slacking off is what seniors are meant to do. But it's all gotten really stressful. Especially the History test you've spent zero time studying for. It's all fun and games until you have to answer for late assignments and failing marks.

You tumble off the bed as he groans in dramatic agony and releases you. You flail around the room collecting your things and dressing all at once.

“You're no fun..who needs History anyway? The past is boring, you should be living in the present..with me..in this bed..” you roll your eyes at his wiggling brows and his attempt at a sexy pose. In all honesty, it's not a bad attempt. His messy bed head and half-covered naked body are very easy on the eyes. But damn it, if you miss one more class because of this handsome fucker, your GPA is completely screwed.

“Toru, I have to go to class...where are my glasses?”

You button your shirt and pull your hair into the best bun you can. He sighs and points to your dresser. You snatch them and run for the door, hopping as you pull your shoes on.

“Call me when you're done being teacher's pet.” You shake your head and squint at him as he winks and blows you a kiss. You rush out the door leaving him to flop down on your bed alone. He frowns at the ceiling.

Why do you have to be so perfect and responsible? Why do you have to take such early classes? Why can't he have you all to himself? And when the hell did he get so tightly wrapped around your finger like this?

Something changed at the party. After he saw the effect Suguru had on you. He's felt this need to keep you closer. To somehow win you over. If he just stays present in your life. Maybe you'll want to stay a little longer. Maybe you won't choose him instead...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(you get me so high - the neighbourhood)

The bell rings as you're halfway up the stairs. Shit, you hate walking into class late. Especially since it's become your new habit. You get so flustered when everyone turns to look. You straighten your outfit and fuss with your hair before opening the door.

All eyes are on you. Deep breath. You quickly scan for an open seat and try to look casual. Fuck. Usually, there are a few to choose from but since the test is next week all seats are taken, except for one. And it's in the back...next to him.

You try not to make eye contact but it's unavoidable. He's already looking at you with a smirk and pats the seat before you take it. You quickly pull out your notes and get down to business, pretending he doesn't exist. He snaps his gum and leans on the table, turning his head to obviously look at your averted gaze.

“Do you mind?” you whisper sharply, jotting down a note.

“Not at all, I like the view..” he snaps his gum again. You huff and keep writing. He leans over, looking down at your notebook. You look up and furrow your brows at him. He raises an eyebrow and your cheeks flush immediately, mind flashing back to what he did the last time you scowled at him. How firmly he yanked on that leash...

His grin pulls wider and you turn away quickly.

“Please..I really need to focu-”

“You missed a button..” he slips his finger between where your shirt is parted and your hand flies up to stop him, tossing your pen in the process. He hums as he reaches down to retrieve it. You rush to secure your shirt closed and huff a sigh. You really really need to focus.

He taps your pen on your notebook and mutters in your ear.

“You really shouldn't let him keep you up so late. You're gonna fail the test..” he drops the pen and looks forward to the lecture. You snatch it back.

He's not wrong. He leans sideways to your ear again.

“But we both know you can't get enough, can you..” his words bring the vivid image of his heavy cock laying hard on his abs to the front of your mind and you shift in your seat to try and ignore the sudden throb in your core.

Fuck. This is exactly why you've been avoiding him since the party.

Gojo is enough of a distraction for you. Throwing Getou into the mix would be completely disastrous.

Yet...

You can't deny what the thought of him does to your insides.

You had always been into the dark intellectual guys before Gojo fucked his way into your heart.

But Gojo had been adamant that he didn't want anything serious between you from the start of your fling.

So perhaps getting to know Getou a little more wouldn't be-

Holy Fuck.

His hand is on your thigh...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(champagne & sunshine - PLVTINUM)

You stifle a gasp, train of thought being forcefully derailed by his touch. Your heartbeat pulses in your cheeks at the intrusion, and it only gets worse as he starts to tease the hem of your skirt up your leg.

Panic sets in and freezes you to your seat, eyes darting around faster than your racing heart, just waiting for someone to take notice. But all you see are the backs of heads, and your professor is busy writing on the board. You're fairly secluded in the back of the room, the tables are all two seated. He's got you right where he wants you. He keeps his eyes forward and whispers to you.

“Shh..settle sweetheart..don't fuss...they'll know..” you clutch the top of your notebook, keeping your heavy breaths as quiet as you possibly can while he feels his way to the heat beneath your skirt. He leans his elbow on the desk and rests his chin in his palm, examining the fluster in your eyes. He hums and rubs his middle finger along your clothed slit. Your teeth dig into your lip to trap a whimper.

“You’d better pay attention..I bet this’ll be on the test..” an evil smirk crawls across his face. He watches your brows furrow, desperate eyes begging him to stop. He shakes his head and rubs in on your clit. Pleasure spurs your core, helping to release your jaw and the hot breath that follows. You drop your head to suppress your arousal. It doesn't work.

“Open your legs..” his gentle voice is laced with some kind of poison, something that just makes you weak. You hum a little moan and stare at your notebook, shaking your head as subtly as possible.

“Suguru...please..” your whispered plea is met with a low chuckle, his fingers push in harder, you whimper.

“Spread. Your. Legs.” he growls through his teeth, the pressure is just too much, you exhale and slowly widen your knees under the table. Your cheeks are so hot you must be glowing at this point. He can feel your slick wetting your panties.

“Good girl. Now. Keep taking notes..” he smiles and nods to the lecture as his fingers pull aside your panties and gently touch on the soft skin beneath. He taps your pen on your notebook and raises an eyebrow.

“Fuck..” it's so hard to keep your composure, or your legs spread like this. How does he expect you to take fucking notes?!

“Oh, don't worry, I'm gonna fuck you later..but right now you need to focus..” the words make your walls clench and you hide your moan with a little cough. He lays your pen into your hand and helps you position it on the paper, all the while teasing his fingers around in your slick, just playing with your arousal.

This is all just a fun little game for Getou. Watching you struggle to contain yourself is really turning him on. Even more so since you could get caught. You've been playing so hard to get since the party. But the cat is out of the bag, he knows there's a kinky little freak underneath this teacher's pet facade you've got on. He saw the lust on your face when he and Gojo fucked you raw, relished how you sank to your knees and swallowed his cock. You're a good obedient slut and he intends to treat you as such, regardless of how Gojo feels about it.

You manage to spell out a few words before he starts rolling your exposed clit around under his finger.

"Oh my god!" The hushed moan comes out a bit louder than you thought it would. You grip the pen while your other hand flies over your mouth. You lean on the table and try to hold still, but your flinching hips give you away. You hear your professor stop talking and clear his throat.

"Excuse me, Ms. L/N, is there a problem?"

Fuck fuck fuck...his fingers are pressing harder.

Adrenaline mainlines through your system and your stomach twists up into a sickening knot. You smack the table and look up in a panic. Getou gives your poor clit no relief as you force out a response.

"NO! No..I'm..fine..just need to go to-unh-the restroom..please.."

You squeeze your knees back together just as everyone turns to look at you. He finally removes himself from between your legs, leaning back in his seat, smiling while he watches you quickly stand and flatten your skirt back down. You hurry down the aisle past the curious faces of your classmates, escaping into the hallway.

You fall back against the door and pant. You've never been so flustered. You take a deep breath and walk to the bathroom where you splash some water on your face and look hard at yourself in the mirror.

What the fuck was he doing? Why were you letting him do it? What the fuck has gotten into you?!

Who are you fucking kidding?

You liked it.

For all your protesting and fear of being caught, that made you so fucking wet, made you feel dangerous and naughty. You reach down and smirk, feeling how damp you are, rolling your eyes at yourself. Damn it, he's so bad.

You walk back into the classroom and try to ignore the prying eyes that follow you to your seat. You stare him down as you approach. That smirk pulls onto his mouth again and he pulls out your seat. You huff a breath and get back to your notes.

"That was close, huh?" he whispers after a few minutes. You keep your eyes on your notebook, surprising him with your little smile. He knew you fucking liked it.

You both sit through the remainder of class, sexual tension bristling between you, thick up to your necks. You look up at the clock, the bell is about to ring. You have a free period before your next class. You place your finger on his notebook and drag it away from him. He tilts his head and gives you an amused curious look as you jot something down. The bell announces the end of class and chairs begin to scrap on the floor, books rustling into backpacks. You slide it back to him and stand up quickly with your notebook in hand. He watches you saunter down the aisle and out the door without another glance his way. He huffs a laugh and looks down at what you wrote.

west wing hall closet. right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(over - honors)

“Does Satoru know how bad you want me?” he growls the question into your neck. His hand catches your throat, and he thumps you back against the door. You bite into your grin, shaking your head.

"You're so fucking naughty.." he squeezes a little harder, he leans into you, licking up your neck. Your head falls back and you giggle.

"He doesn't need to know." you hear him groan and he bucks his hips against you, his other hand tugs your skirt up. You help him by hooking your fingers into your panties, pulling them down, smile still plastered on your blushing face. He lets go of your throat.

"That's my girl.." the purr in his low voice tickles your throbbing core, you moan and run your fingers up into his hair while he kisses down to your collarbone. He quickly undoes his belt and you land a kiss on his neck, sucking and biting down a little, making him grumble as his buckle hit the floor.

Suddenly, you hear your phone ring in your bag on the floor. You pull your mouth off him and realize immediately who's calling. So does he.

"Answer it.." he smirks, stepping back and nodding down at the bag. You drop and pull it out. You hesitate, settling your breath before opening the call.

"Hi Toru," Getou palms his bulging erection. You try to keep your voice calm and natural, but you're immediately distracted by the heavy cock that falls from his briefs before you.

"Hey bunny, are you done with class?" Getou strokes it, staring at your reaction.

"Uh..yep, all done.." his cock is so hard and swollen, precum is already leaking from the tip. Your walls tighten inside and you absent-mindedly lick your lips.

"Come meet me at the cafe, I owe you coffee after keeping you up so late..” you can hear the playful smile in his voice as Getou starts to close the distance between you. He grabs your leg and lifts it up to his hip. You grip his shoulder to steady yourself. You feel the tip of his cock prod at your slippery entrance and gasp.

“...hello? Y/N, what's wrong?” Getou’s grin widens, hearing Gojo’s voice through the phone. He pauses to let you come up with a reply.

“Nothing, I just..left something in the classroom, I'll meet you for coffee in-” your knees go weak as Getou cuts you off by driving his cock up inside you with no warning. Your head thumps back into the door and you cuss at him silently, shuddering as your unprepared cunt struggles to adjust to his abrupt entrance. He just grins and leans his hips into you harder, pinning you to the door with his cock.

“Hey I think you're breaking up..when will you be here?” you're too focused on the sweet stretch to answer and Getou plucks the phone from your hand.

“She’ll be there when I'm done with her..”

Your heart drops to the floor, your phone quickly follows. The look on his face is far too satisfied. He pulls back and ruts into you, punching your cervix and rattling the door, you let out a helpless mewl. Guilt and anger curdle with the arousal inside you and make you feel sick.

“What the fuck Sugu-oh!” he fucks into you harder, not giving you permission to admonish him.

“Shut the fuck up...don’t act like you don't want this...you fucking asked for it.” the door shakes on its hinges as he rails up into you, fucking you off the floor. You can't help but wrap your legs around his waist and claw at his shoulders as you sink down around him.

You wanna be mad, wanna tell him to fuck off and leave you alone. That was totally uncalled for. But the way he's plunging into you, fucking you absolutely senseless has you exchanging all your protests for moans. Everything about this is wrong, you just don't have the will to stop it. You feel your gears shift up closer to your orgasm and groan as he pummels you against the door.

“You like being a bad girl..It's written all over your fucking face..” he takes a mental picture of how the stain on your cheeks compliments your gaping drooling mouth and rolling eyes. He feels your cunt squeeze his cock, willing him to give you more.

“Admit it, you're bored of his dick, he can't stretch you like this..” he throws his weight into you forcing you to squeal and nod, you can't deny it.

"Sugu-ru..I-I..'m gonna..oh fuck I'm-ha!" your hair comes loose from the bun and tumbles down around your shoulders.

He rocks his hips and stirs your insides, pressing his pelvis tight against your clit. The pressure makes you weak. Fuck, you're close. Your nails dig into his skin through his shirt. He leans in, breathing heavily over your ear.

“I know you're about to cum..I can feel it” that growl just makes you want to scream, but you've gotta keep quiet, who knows who might pass by the other side of this door. He keeps grinding into your clit, digging the head of his cock deep against your cervix. You slap your hand across your mouth for the second time today, muffling your own lusty noises. You're so fucking close.

“Should I let you..” he stops moving and you whimper, moving your hand off your mouth, squirming to continue the friction. He runs his fingers through your hair and grips tight at the back of your neck. Your strained desperate little sounds are so cute. He clicks his tongue.

“No..I think I'll keep this one for later..” your cunt clings to him as he pulls out his still hard cock, leaving you needy and vacant. He drops your legs from his hips and you're left panting against the door, watching him casually buckle his belt and tuck in his shirt. You don't know what to do. You feel a rush of shame. He doesn't care about you. He never cared about you. He just likes playing with you.

“Better pull yourself together...Satoru is waiting for you.” his wicked grin sends heat to your face and you pull your panties back on, straightening your skirt. He picks up your bag and you scowl at him, snatching it back and turning in a huff to leave.

This was a huge mistake, and now you have to come up with something to tell Gojo. Your heart sinks like a rock in your chest as you open the door. Getou reaches from behind you, pushing the door closed and leaning over your shoulder. He curls your hair behind your ear and you flinch away.

"Fix your hair.." you hastily spin the bun back on your head.

"Fuck you.." you curse him under your breath and storm out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(woman - harry styles)

"Toru..I-" he scoffs into his coffee cup before you can even start your sentence. He leans back in his chair and avoids your eyes. You stand clutching your notebook, heart racing, palms sweating. You hate this so much.

"No, it's cool..Did you have fun with him? I bet he had fun with you.." the sharp sarcasm stabs at your heart, but more than that, it makes you prickle with anger.

"How dare you.." you're seething mad, but he can see the tears welling up in your eyes.

"I'm allowed to do whatever the fuck I want with whomever I choose! This isn't a relationship, so don't act like I'm yours!"

You've never seen him blush before. Never seen pain in his eyes like you're seeing now. You just saw the sparkle go out. He remains silent, choking on the hard but honest truth of it all. You're not his, as much as he's been pretending you are.

The seconds pass like hours. Your breath gets heavy trying to hold back the tears. The guilt is eating you alive. Being with Suguru made you realize that your feelings for Satoru are so much different than you thought. So much stronger. And you just threw it all away for some stupid little thrill in the hall closet.

He stands from his seat. Your heart feels crushed and you huff a whimper. You shut your eyes, pushing tears over your lashes. This is it, he's gonna walk away. You don't wanna see it happen.

You pull in a sharp breath at the feeling of his arms around you. He sets his head down in the crook of your neck and squeezes you into his chest. Tears stream down your face, you can't stifle your cry.

You hear him take a deep breath...

"Then I'll make you mine.."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@himiko-omikami @darkrose1989 @angelalje @ambiguous-something

[shoyothemoron]

Cerulean Butterflies

Dabi x Good Girl Reader

You just can't help but let him in when Dabi comes calling, even though he's definitely out of place in your perfect little life

Angst? Idk kinda ,more like one sided pining

Words- 1.4k

Warnings- Sex is kinda eluded to but nothing graphic, just Dabi being a brat

A/N- Oh ho ho I finally posted some original work and OOP MY SECOND FIC. Anyway I’d love feedback. And I hope I got his personality right <3

You sighed, throwing your laptop off your lap and on to the other side of the couch. Looking around your neat apartment you were pleased at how productive you had been today. The group presentation that was due the next day was turned in. The assignment due next week could totally be put off until tomorrow. Your laundry was tumbling in the dryer, and you had meals prepped, so no more worrying about cooking for the next few days

Rubbing your eyes you decided could go on your phone or read a little bit before going to bed, so you hopped up to put on your pjs. But before you could reach your bedroom, you stopped at the open window in your living room. You covered your eyes and groaned.

You shook your head trying to undo your thoughts. Tonight had been going SO well. Of course he had to worm his way into it. For some reason, nights like the ones outside your window would always remind you of him. Nights where the moon was full and the sky wasn´t black but indigo. And you could see every cloud illuminated.

You needed to stop thinking about him. You knew men like him liked to chew up and spit out girls like you. He knew what he wanted, and there was a reason he was so good at it. But you couldn't help it, he could deliver you to heaven and cradle you as you fell back down. Dabi was addicting.

You made your way to your bedroom, trying to stop yourself from thinking of him. But as soon as you had put on your pajamas, you heard a knock on your door. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, and the most devilish motherfucker you knew was standing on your doorstep. You sighed and pulled on a cardigan, trying to come up with a good reason to send him away.

Opening your door, you lean against the doorway to block him from entering.

“What Dabi?”

You watched his eyes as he racked them up and down your figure, and suddenly every bit of confidence you had melted away. His gaze just held that type of power over you.

“Aw, no hello kiss?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

You blush, and can´t meet his eyes. Pouting you say “No, I only give kisses to good boys.”

He scoffs. Yeah that was to be expected.

“Listen Dabi, I really can't help you with whatever you need this time...” You still cant meet his gaze, and you just hope, by some miracle he´d maybe turn around and leave.

He signs “Doll,” His sudden change of tone makes you look up in concern, and he meets your eyes.

His eyes always shocked you, the cerulean made you question how eyes that beautiful really existed. You shifted your gaze to his scars and staples, and you felt a pang in your heart.

No! You couldn't get soft now, not when you almost had a strong start.

“I'll spare you the details, but things haven't been going well for me recently, and I know you don't like when I steal...” Now he's the one who can´t meet your eyes.

Steal? What was he… Oh, he was hungry.

Well, now you felt like a dick. Looking in his eyes you tried to come up with a reason to say no. Really you did, but you couldn't deny him. So you move out of the door to let him in

He bussels into your home, suddenly a new man, “So what's for dinner?”

You purse your lips staring at his back. Fucker, he knew you couldn't say no when it came to stuff like that.

You made your way to your kitchen, rolling your eyes as you say, “Whatever I decide to make for you.”

“Aw is someone pouting? Just admit you can´t resist me.” He says the last part in a sing-song voice and you want to kick him out right then and there, he could go hungry for all you care. But when he looks away, his smirk drops and suddenly your ache to cradle his face and kiss every inch of it. He looked so tired.

Deciding against punching his already imperfect face, you start working on his meal. It feels like it takes forever as you cut food and stand in front of the stove, you can feel his eyes on your back the whole time. You try to ignore them and act natural, but it wasn´t until the very end when you were standing in front of the stove stirring the food when you suddenly felt a presence behind your back.

“So,” Dabi says as he wraps his arms around your waist and presses himself against you, “how will I ever repay you?”

“Don't go acting like a gentleman now Dabi,” you slap away the hand that was getting a little too close to your chest, “I know when I´m being exploited.”

“Good them we’re on the same page.” He chuckles and smacks your ass, making you squeak.

He moves to lean against the counter a few feet away, and you will yourself to not look up into his eyes until the food is ready.

When you finally hand him the plate, you sit side by side at the island. After a few moments he asks “What are you thinking about?”

You immediately look away from him. You had been thinking about something, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him. You were even having trouble telling yourself.

In reality you were scolding yourself, telling yourself to stop thinking about what this thing right in front of you meant. Because it could never mean what you really wanted. Because what you really wanted was to turn to him and scream that you loved him. You wanted to shake him and yell hysterically and maybe just hurt him a little. To say ‘Can't you see that when you're here you're my everything. Can't you see me falling right in front of you, won't you catch me?’ But you didn't think you would ever be able to tell him.

You were also terrified to fall in love with him. Because even though you might love him, loving and being in love were separate things. And you knew that if you fell in love with him and he adored you like you wanted to be adored, he would have to ask you to do things you didn't know you could do. Things that any self respecting girl with a future ahead of her would run from as fast as she could. And you couldn't blame her. You could never abandon the future you were so delicately building for yourself.

So you would pretend that you couldn´t understand your feelings, that you didn't know how you felt about Dabi, that everything was a bundle of hatred, guilt and lust. But you knew yourself, and knew it was pretend. But how could you tell him? How do you tell someone like him you loved him?

So instead of telling the man you loved the truth, all you said was, “How obnoxious you are.” As you stole something off his plate.

“Me? The obnoxious one? Well that's certainly out of charter for a good girl such as yourself...” He began as you giggled, bumping his shoulder.

And so the night would go. It would go like every night before, and every night to follow. Unless one day you had the nerve to ruin it all. You would talk with him while he ate, making each other laugh, and roll your eyes. You would end up a blushing mess every now and then. Eventually you would fall into bed, where he would make you feel SO good, good enough to forget, to let the butterflies in your stomach consume you, to enjoy their frantic wings and how brave they made you feel. You would go back and forth from bed, to the kitchen, to bed. Until finally he would keep you warm as you fell asleep. He would warm your bed for long enough. And you would wake all by yourself, only to remember him in flashes that would make you blush. You would remember him until you could will yourself to stop, until you organized your life again, into its neat clean rows. But sometimes you´d slip up, remembering, leaving you alone with only a feeling. He would leave nothing but a storm of cureulian butterflies.

[cavariously]

[Trying my hand at a fan fiction.

I love to write but I have never done anything like this before, so all feedback would be extremely appreciated (Grammer, Plot, Characters etc.).

I love Tokyo Ghoul so I really hope I don't fuck this up 😅. A big thank you to anyone who reads this ❤️]

Caution: Agressive Swearing, Offensive Language, Graphic Violence.

Notes: Takes place post end of TG:re, Reapers = Marshall version of Doves.

1. Crow - 24

City lights and the rushing motions of the landscape turn the 24th ward into a blinding and blaring circus. Humans. They crawl through this city with the assurance that they will be here tomorrow. They will be here a year from now. They will be here forever. They are the only lifeform with this assurance. All other creatures in this world live with the knowledge that their making it to the next moment is a fifty fifty

It is certainly a miracle that they last, noticing absolutely nothing at all. They don't see the effects that the fumes of their veichles have on the planet that they grip so tightly to. They can't begin to recognise that they are being continually watched and targeted by devices that could wipe them from the face of said Earth in less than zero. They don't even notice the apex predictor observing them from less than a mile above.

Humans simply move from one spot to another, only stopping to cause irrevocable disaster and reduce their surroundings to less than ash, and then move on to the next target. Someone said that humans are Parasites, and although it may be naive to believe this was wholly correct, it would be complete ignorance to dismiss it entirely. Ghouls do not indulge in such ignorance. Parasite is an apt description for a human, from the perspective of a ghoul, that and food.

The figure stands tall, wind rushing rapidly through their tied up hair. They can smell the putrescence of man-kind as they go about their sweaty and arrogant business. They would laugh if it wasn't so tragic. What do humans amount to? They are greedy and bloody bags of meat that fight and hate more than any other being, yet they are allowed to multiply and just be. It could be argued that ghouls are the same as humans in this aspect, but most abide by the one meal a month agreement, even though this arrangement can be hell for some. Unlike humans, who see violence as their God given right, when ghouls fight, it is rarely for anything other than survival. Perhaps this view doesn't take all ghouls into account, but all humans gorge themselves on everything, and fight for any fucking reason they want.

Twenty years ago, a disaster was meant to end this disparity. For the first time ever, ghouls and humans fought together to save the world they shared from the monster that had been designated 'DRAGON'. The defeating of this enemy was meant to end in equality, where ghouls and humans shared the world equally. Scientific leaps had been made. Synthetic meats that ghouls could eat, so they wouldn't have to harm humans. The corpse of Dragon even lead to dramatic advancements in the medical field. Humans were now benefiting from ghoul DNA, as it allowed them to combat most illnesses and increase their lifespan somewhat. After all that ghouls had done for them, weren't humans grateful? No. Ten years, then ghouls were back to being vile creatures to be hunted, and were forced back to living in the sewers. The deaths of so many perfectly good and innocent ghouls, just so that humanity could screw them all over again. What a funny tragedy.

Another figure appeared from the shadows, stepping in line with their comrade. Neither looking at the other, they both silently watched the ferris-wheel turn round and round. A world that they saw as rightfully theirs. They were hungry for it and they would have it. No matter the cost. In fact, the more human casualties... the better.

"Are you ready to go?" the newcomer asked, never taking their attention away from everything below.

"Yeah. Any longer and I might have to eat you."

"Like you could" came the cold, arrogant response.

"Just because you got five inches on me now, doesn't mean I can't still beat your ass Da..."

"Don't fucking call me that. While we're out here you call me Kuma and I call you... Blindfold, or Eyeless. Something like that." Even though his response had been quick and sharp, neither his tone nor his concentration had wavered.

"Eyeless" they conceded.

"Fine, Eyeless it is. Just don't go shouting our real names out in public. You're enough of a liability as it is without giving our fucking identities away."

Eyeless finally turned to look at their brother. They couldn't help feeling a pang of nostalgia. He had been so small once, constantly hanging onto their shoulders and making paper birds that he place all over their home. Those memories hurt, especially when they remembered what came after. He used to smile so much and now he's a moody little shit. They'd never been like that at fourteen, they thought smugly.

"Fine. Let's go KUMA before I rip your snarky head off." With that final retort, Eyeless turned and stepped off of the roof.

Kuma watched them drop six stories, landing with grace and poise. Why were they always so aggravating? Maybe he was jealous of their natural ability, or perhaps they were just a pain in the ass to be related to. With a sigh and a wandering look to the night sky, he followed suit.

* * *

The Marshalls finished up disposing of the ghoul. Bikakus are a pain in the ass Haruto thought, but it's better than a Ukaku. Haruto loved the fact that he was an intimidating figure. The ghoul had basically shat itself as soon as it had seen his large muscular frame, and cruel bearded face. The black trench coat they wore, that often announced the end for ghouls, probably didn't hurt either. He nudged the face of the corpse with his foot. He reckoned it wouldn't even be worth removing his Kakahou to get a new quinque. Taking into account the short amount of time it had taken him and Kenji to bypass his defences and cut him through the middle, he was a B rated ghoul maximum.

"Right, time we get back" Haruto sighed.

"Mhm" Kenji agreed. He never said much.

"Did you bring the body bag? You never know, you might be able to upgrade that piece of shit you call a quinque." Haruto laughed loudly. He loved taking the piss out of Kenji, especially when he knew his only retort woukd be 'mhm'.

As expected, Kenji responded with a grumbling "Mhm", and moved towards the body.

Haruto, turned to walk away, lighting a cigarette and beginning to inhale deeply. That Kenji was going to marry his sister. What's he gonna say when the priest asks him if he takes her to be his lawfully wedded wife? Mhm. Haruto chuckled to himself. All in all Kenji was a good guy, and one hell of a Marshall. He could use that crappy Ukaku quinque pretty damn well, even if it did come from a C rated ghoul. Kenji also took Haruto's kids to the beach when he and Mrs Haruto wanted a quiet weekend. He might be an ugly fucker with next to no hair, and a face that made you want to split him down the middle, but he was clean and sometimes smelt nice. Yeah, Kenji could marry his sister if he wanted. She could do a hell of a lot worse.

A loud splatter sounded out behind Haruto. He spun on his heels, instincts flaring immediately into action. Where the fuck was Kenji? Where his partner had been attempting to fit the ghoul into the black bag, there was now the cut in half corpse of his future brother in law, fallen to the sides with a blindfolded figure standing in the middle. His entire being twitched in anticipation of this thing making a move to kill him, but all it did was leasurly bend down and scoop something up from the gore beneath. As the creature straightened up, he saw that it was simply sucking on one of Kenji's bloody fingers. To others, this might signify a psychotic animal, but to a seasoned Marshall, this was a confident and calculating killer plain and simple. A powerful one at that. Their clothes were indistinctive; clad in thin black leather and fabric, however, their mask was a completely different story. Almost the entirety of its face was covered. Its mouth had a tight black fabric wrapped over it, with a skeletal smile that would open, revealing the snaking pink tongue underneath. The huge back leather collar surrounding it could be zipped up to hide all but the eyes from the world. Not that the eyes could be seen either. A bone white blindfold shut them off from view. Foreign symbols were drawn in deep black on either side, with the a closed eye taking centre stage. Although it was just a drawing, that closed eye was unearving, as if the lack of sight heightened its ability to see, instead of impeding it.

Now this was a ghoul. Just by its sheer presence Haruto could tell this one was rated A, or more likely >S. Haruto couldn't deny to himself that he was intimidated, but he was a senior Marshall, and always backed himself in a one on one. He looked down at his fallen partner and gulped. First things first, get into this guys head. Haruto scanned the ghoul, looking for weaknesses that he could exploit verbally. If he was lucky, the reaction could lead to him obtaining an edge. He noticed that this ghoul was slight in stature, maybe five foot five all told.

"You wanna end up like this other piece of shit, you fucking dwarf."

This garnered absolutely nothing.

Haruto couldn't take it much longer. This creature continued to lapp at the guts of his dead partner, that were splattered over its fingers. It obviously didn't give a shit what it looked like to others. It reminded him of a cat, publically cleaning its fur and genitals with no concern for the world. It was fucking reveling in its feast, and it made Haruto's blood boil.

"You killed an innocent man. He was gonna have a family and you ripped him apart. You monsters have no fucking souls and you all belong in hell. That's where I'm gonna send you. I'm a fucking senior Marshall you stupid shit. You have no clue how badly you've fucked up."

Again, the ghoul made no sign of changing emotion, continuing to dip its fingers in Kenji and take its time eating. Haruto knew he needed something else to get into its head so he scanned again. 'Shit' he thought, as the ghost of a smile passed over his lips. The majority of its body was covered in black that mostly obscured its shape, however, his keen eyes saw that although its grey hair was tied up, it was probably quite long when undone. At its chest area, although it was probably bound, there was the hint of a slightly tented structure. The hardest one to spot was the hips. Despite them being covered by black leather shorts, those hips were a tad too wide to be a man's.

"Alright you sick fuck. I'M A COMMIN FOR YA!"

With one last drive to uncover more courage, Haruto raised his Kokaku quinque and lept towards the ghoul.

"I'M GONNA FUCK YOU UP FOR KENJI... YOU BITCH!"

As Haruto closed the distance with extreme speed, to less than two meters, the shadow of another figure dropped from the sky, landing directly next to the first. Haruto skidded to a halt, taken aback by the new masked creature. This one was certainly taller, and its face was covered by a red, horned mask. It was only as his attention slipped completely that he realised his final mistake. For the first time, the blindfolded ghoul smiled widely, the skeletal mouth parting to reveal massive bloody teeth.

The next thing Haruto knew was that he was laying down on the ground, face to the sky. His neck was warm and dripping wet. He raised his hands to his throat as the oxygen escaped his body, feeling the deep gash that was releasing his blood. The ghouls started conversing.

"Which one you want?" the first asked the newcomer.

"I don't care. You killed 'em both so you choose" the other responded dispondantly.

"Well, you're the growing boy so you take the ghoul and the first Reaper."

"Damn, well fuck me if you ain't the best big sister" uttered the male ghoul sarcastically, as he casually walked over to Kenji and the dead ghoul. "Why you taking you're mask off you sicko? The guys not even dead yet."

"I like it when they watch me" the female ghoul giggled.

Haruto saw the shadow of something passing over his head. "Ken...Ke..ji" Haruto gasped.

Suddenly, from below him came a the same giggle. "Awww dude, I think these guys were close."

"Eyeless, eat the fucker and let's go" came the voice of the male.

"Hey buddy boy, look at me will you" said the female from his feet.

Haruto craned his neck, scared of what he might see, but thinking 'fuck it' to himself. What's did he have to be afraid of, he's already dead. When he finally focused on the face he was confused. She was chewing on a leg. His leg. When the fuck did she get her dirty hands on that? When she'd finished on his leg, licking the tips of her fingers with delight, she bent down and hovered over him. Eyeless? That's what the other one had called her, but that wasn't true at all. Now that her blindfold was off he could see the entirety of her murderous giddy face.

"You're very funny" she said. "Innocent man. Gonna have a family. Its really fucking funny."

The last thing Haruto would ever see would be a testimony to her names innacuracy. Staring at him excitedly was one grey eye, so remarkably human looking it was weird. The other eye was a pool of darkness... with a violent, blood red pupil that seemed to be trying to force its way out of its black prison. She snapped up the rest of him.

"Sicko..."

End

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 8: Somebody's Watching Me •

     Since the day of the rock fight, the Losers had been inseparable. And not only had that day come to be known as the day their bond had been forged but the day they had found a place to call their own: the clubhouse. A small subterranean dugout that Ben had found while playing in the Barrens one day. After many a reinforcement, he had transformed it into a habitable space for him and his six, now seven best friends. After their defeat of the Bowers gang, Ben had taken them into the Barrens, and just across the Kenduskeag Stream to the aforementioned fort where their bonds were furthered forged.

     And apart from their dark confessions at the park and the overcast of fear looming over their heads, Y/n had suggested another trip to the clubhouse as a morale booster. They each found themselves there with one another quite a bit, particularly when things were looking gloomy. It had quickly become a sanctuary for the children. And since their taking residency, the dingy little dugout had filled with trinkets and treasures of their own, slowly but surely growing far more homely with each visit.

     This particular trip to the clubhouse was less than exciting, everyone was still fairly unsettled from their conversation at the park earlier that day. And the journey through the barrens and across the Kenduskeag was considerably silent apart from the trickling stream and the singing birds. And every so often they would hear the scuffle of Ben readjusting his backpack over his shoulder.

     When they had left the park, he had suggested stopping by his house to pick something up and the others complied, curiously. Before they could debate on whether or not to follow him inside, he had returned from his house with a thick brown burlap cloth folded up under his arms. He was unzipping his backpack as he walked across his front lawn, tucking some more unseen things inside before storing the large piece of cloth and ropes in as well.

     "What is that, Ben?" Y/n had asked, balancing herself on her bike as it stood still on the pavement, her toes reaching for the concrete.

     He had closed his backpack and threw it over his shoulder before grabbing his bike.

     "Oh, it's our old hammock." Everyone's face's lit up at his words, the first they had perked since the park. "We had it at our old house, but, we don't really have a good place to hang it here, so I figured we could find a spot in the clubhouse."

     "That's a great idea," Mike beamed.

     Ben smiled at the comment and turned a little pink. He had always found it odd his interest in architecture, the kids at his old school always gave him grief for it. And over time it became an instinct to bury his interest, to never bring it up. But when he showed the Losers the clubhouse, they were enthralled. With the structure and his abilities. Ben was still getting used to their fascination and support in his passions, but he sure did enjoy it.

     And soon enough, the eight Losers found themselves descending the ladder into the place each and every one of them could call home. From the moment they entered, their noses were filled with the overwhelming and concentrated aroma of dust, and fresh layers of earth still damp from previous rains.

     It was intoxicating to the Loser's as it became the smell they associated with the clubhouse, their hideaway. Their hideaway from the Bowers gang, their hideaway from the world, and if they believed hard enough, a hideaway from It. A place where they could be stronger than the world told them they were, a place that reminded them that they were stronger than the world told them they were.

     But even this trip didn't seem to quite do the trick for each of them.

     "I don't see why we're here," Richie snorted, waltzing over to the crooked beam and slapped it gently - learning from Ben's mistakes. "Unless this fucker is demon proof or whatever the fuck that thing is I don't see how this is gonna help."

     "Doesn't mean we can't try and have fun while we can," Y/n argued. "Or at least try and clear our heads, calm down a little bit and collect ourselves. We can work something out some other day if we want, but not today. I mean, look at us,"

     Y/n gestured around the small circle the Losers had formed at the center of the clubhouse. Apart from Y/n, everyone was quiet and closed off, arms either tucked at their sides or they were wringing their hands. It was not the same seven misfits that stood together against Bowers, but the seven lonely children that were isolated and afraid when It had found them.

     "Look, I'm scared too. But somethings telling me we need to enjoy this while we can."

     Y/n sighed, her waving arms falling to rest at her sides in exasperation and her eyes fell to the dirt floor. For some unfathomable reason, she would never be able to explain, the turtle from that day at the quarry popped into her mind, and a faint ghost of a smile dusted her cheeks. She looked around at her friends with a reassuring sense of confidence and some of them seemed to take to her words.

     A similar thought crossed Beverly's mind and she smirked at her best friend and nodded, hands now tucked into her back pockets.

     "Y/n's right, let's just enjoy the rest of the day while we can. It's summer!"

     Bill fought the urge to roll his eyes at the familiar argument, but even he couldn't deny the whole idea of forgetting sounded tempting to him.

     Poor Eddie - who had been clutching his inhaler tightly to his chest in between puffs of the device - looked around the circle, then up at Richie. Richie looked down at his best friend and shrugged, slapping the kids back and the inhaler nearly flew out of his tiny grasp.

     "Whatdya' say, Eddie Spaghetti, you up for some good ol' fashioned repression and denial? Shouldn't be too hard for ya pal, that's what - every Wednesday night for you huh?"

     If Eddie wasn't still holding the albuterol captive in his swollen lungs, he would've snapped at Richie for saying such things, and above all that God-awful nickname again! But instead, he rolled his eyes and looked to Y/n, ignoring that his heart was beating just a twinge faster, and hesitantly nodded.

     "Great" Y/n smiled, relieved Eddie agreed.

     She less than gracefully twirled around - her ankle ached in reply - to look for the boombox Bill had brought last time. Swallowing a wince, Y/n reached the boombox and turned the radio on, giving the room a lighter ambiance already. They soon quickly recognized the song New York Groove, by Kiss as it was fading out.

    Y/n turned to Ben and gestured to his backpack.

     "So, should we hang up the hammock?"

     "Oh! Uh, yeah sure."

     Ben took the faded backpack from his shoulder and unzipped it, retrieving the thick burlap cloth as the radio station announced the next song of the previous decade.

     The Losers dispersed, making room for Y/n and Ben as they unfolded the hammock, the ends of the ropes trailing in the dirt after them. From the boombox in the corner, came the gentle tune of a piano, and a soft voice spilled into the atmosphere as the last rays of the sun shone through the entrance to the clubhouse.

     Ben gestured between two beams structured across the room and the pair made their way over as the song, Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young swelled, giving the rest of the Losers the sense of home and comfort.

     "I'll light the fire

You put the flowers in the vase that you bought today"

     "Come to me now and rest your head for just five minutes, everything is good"

     Ben began instructing Y/n on how to hang the hammock, and the two set to work. Stan and Bev had begun gathering stray leaves that made their way into the clubhouse while they had been gone and set to tidying up. Between the two, it wasn't long before a competition formed to see who could get the most leaves and twigs out.

     Meanwhile, Eddie, Richie, and Mike had begun playing a game of cards with a deck that Richie had left last time. Of course, a game hadn't been decided yet. The three boys - mainly Richie and Eddie - had begun arguing over what to play. It was between Bullshit, Sevens and Mike just wanted to play Palace.

     "Such a cozy room, the windows are illuminated by the

Sunshine through them, fiery gems for you, only for you"

     Ben, Y/n, Bev and Stan had finished with their respective tasks before the trio could decide on a game. Everyone's attention was drawn back to Y/n and Ben when they put the finishing touches on the hammock.

  ��  "Our house is a very, very, very fine house with two cats in the yard,

Life used to be so hard,

Now everything is easy 'cause of you and our—"

     "Alright," Y/n said, dusting off her hands after pushing herself off the dirt floor. "The hammock's all-"

     Before she could finish her sentence Richie had leaped to his feet - cursing profusely under his breath when he bumped his head on a low beam - and ran for the hammock. Making sure to go out of his way to shove Eddie to ground for no particular reason and his small frame hit the dirt with a rather loud 'umph'. Protests were thrown across the room but Richie merely stretched out his long lanky legs and rested his head under his folded arms, sighing in content.

    "Welp," Richie sighed, popping the 'p'. "You were right, toots. Coming down here wasn't so bad after all. And good thinking with the hammock, haystack. You got a good nugget in there."

     Richie winked at Y/n and nodded firmly at Ben. The Losers rolled their eyes in near-perfect sync - a feat easier around one another than one might think - and Richie closed his eyes, ignoring their glares. Eddie was extra furious given he was still feverishly dusting several spots of dirt off himself.

     "Alright, wake me when It's dead."

     "Enough, Richie." Y/n warned, before turning to Ben. "Ben, what I tell ya? Within the minute."

     Ben chuckled and Stan stepped forward.

     "Richie, we're sharing the hammock, you have to get up one way or another" He warned.

     "Yeah, yeah, sure thing, Stanley the Manley." Richie retorted, still never opening his eyes.

     Stan rolled his eyes and stepped around the hammock. Catching Y/n's eye, he gestured silently to the hammock and an unsuspecting Richie. Smirking, she made her way around the hammock and gestured for the others to continue talking. About what, she didn't care. They caught on almost immediately, but Eddie choked. Mike was quick to cover.

     "Eddie, if you really want we can play-"

     THUMP

     "THE FUCK?!"

     Stan and Y/n had flipped the hammock and Richie was pulling his dirtied face from the ground with a wince.

     "The fuck was that?"

     "We all know you weren't m-moving otherwise, Richie." Bill shot.

     "Hey, don't throw a fit just cause you guys were too slow."

     Richie turned to see Stan sat in the hammock, smirking at him.

     "You were saying?"

     "Oh, come on! That's not fair!" Richie gestured widely at Stan, looking desperately around the room for scraps of sympathy.

     Ignoring Richie's protests, Y/n turned to the others and raised a brow.

     "How about we each have ten minutes? That way it's fair."

     The Losers looked at one another and a chorus of agreement rang out.

     "S-s-sounds good."

     "Okay." Mike nodded.

     "Yeah, alright."

     "I call next!" Bev called.

     "Oh, for fuck sake! Don't I get a say in this? Wasn't I the one just violently thrown from the hammock? Eds, come on! Back me up!"

     Eddie wore a deadpan look as he met his best friend's eyes, bits of twig that Beverly and Stan had missed unknowingly caught in tufts of his hair.

     "Oh, don't try that with me, dickhead!" Eddie shot back. "You're the one who threw me in the dirt, why the fuck would I help you, and for fuck's sake stop calling me Eds!"

     Eddie took a deep breath after his small rant and glared at Richie. Scattered chuckles bounced across the Losers, Y/n's loudest of all.

     "Good for you, shrimp" Y/n giggled.

     "So just fuck me then, right?" Richie grumbled from the ground.

    Richie was not quite expecting a chorus of agreements echo off the Losers though he couldn't say he was surprised.

     "Pretty much."

     "Yeah,"

     "Uh-huh,"

      "Yep,"

     Huffing, he sat near the hammock and began finding ways to make Stan's turn in the hammock unpleasant. Stan didn't take this, of course, having many years under his belt of dealing with the loudmouth. Y/n looked at the pouting Tozier boy and felt a smile creep up and a twinge of guilt. She maneuvered around the hammock, and knelt down next to her friend, resting her ankle on the dirt floor where it wasn't strained.

     "Oh, don't look so glum, Tozier. It's not a good look on you," She rested her elbow on the boy's shoulder and he quickly scoffed, brushing off her words.

     "Oh please, everything looks good on me, toots, and you know it." Richie shot back, turning to meet her eye. "And I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted a piece of this either."

     Y/n guffawed, grabbing the attention of the Kaspbrak boy across the room, who was now watching them curiously. Her laughter bubbled into a small chuckle that would be bouncing around Eddie's head for the rest of the day like a catchy song. He watched fondly as the two engaged with one another and he noted how well they always got along.

     Y/n shook her head, trying at no avail to shake the smile from her lips. "You wish, Tozier."

     Richie held a smile of his own as he looked to her, that was until he glanced past her head and across the room to see the captivating gaze Eddie was held in. His big brown eyes focused on the girl beside him and that familiar pang that always returned when he caught Eddie staring at her like that. Richie swallowed thickly, his quick wit and sharp tongue taking over and he returned his attention to Y/n as if nothing happened.

     Richie shrugged, clicking his tongue. "No need to be shy, babe. Everybody wants a slice, and there's plenty for you."

     He puckered his lips and exaggeratedly smacked his lips at her and it was enough to do the trick. Her smile was gone, quickly replaced by her lips pressing into a firm line as she shoved his head away playfully. The Losers chimed in almost immediately. Various disgusted and disgruntled 'Beep beep, Richies' rang out after that comment and Y/n finally rose to her feet with a simple grunt.

     "Ech, I told you not to call me that, you dick." She grumbled, though she bit back a defeated smile, as she walked away.

     "That's my name, don't wear it out-" They said in sync, Y/n joining Bev on the bench on the far wall. "Yeah, yeah, I walked right into that one."

     Richie sniggered triumphantly, and with his new burst of confidence, he returned to his attempts to aggravate Stan. Ben meanwhile, had begun making plans for another seating arrangement in his head, to divert some attention away from the hammock. He remembered he had some spare rope he kept with him in his backpack for such occasions - spur of the moment projects - and there were some sturdy enough boards laying around the place. By the end of the day - hopefully, with help - he could fashion a small swing seat for him and his friends. Not to swing, of course, there wasn't enough stability for that, but for sitting.

     He shared his plan with Bill and the two got to work. Bill thought it was a terrific idea, given how much fuss was being made over the hammock. Occupying the far corner of the room, was Mike and Eddie sat at the low coffee table the Losers had found last Wednesday. Mike had made the discovery, passing through one of the smaller neighborhoods in Derry when he saw someone had left it out on the street for the taking. The Losers gathered that morning and hauled it to the clubhouse, took all day to get it there but at least they had a surface for cards and such. Between Mike and Eddie, it was a bit easier to decide on a card game. They landed on Palace, and Eddie was finding he was having loads more fun than he did with Sevens.

     In between turns, he would find his eyes wandering past Mike at the bench on the wall. Y/n was thoroughly invested in Beverly's story, she was nodding along eagerly with a smile creeping up on her face. Eddie hadn't realized one was creeping up on his own, but he jumped slightly when she burst out laughing. Perhaps he was startled by the noise or he was just on guard from staring. Eddie looked away but he cursed himself when he realized she was looking at him.

     She had seen it.

     As for Y/n, she felt her stomach do a small flip when she felt a certain pair of brown eyes on her. Still smiling, she looked past Beverly, and on the ground, sitting curled up on a mat at the coffee table, blushing profusely and attempting desperately to avoid eye contact was Eddie.

     A small hum of a laugh vibrated through Beverly's chest, and without looking at him, she knew.

     "Is he looking at you again?" A smirk painted her face.

     Y/n hummed a response she knew Eddie wouldn't notice. With a fleeting burst of confidence, Y/n looked at the small boy, meeting his eye, and winked. She returned her attention to Bev, smirking yet she couldn't help but keep an eye on him. The poor boy blushed instantaneously, his neck and face grew hot and when Mike returned his attention to his friend - he had been too caught up in what cards to play - became very concerned. Eddie was now completely red. But this time he didn't look away, and despite his racing heart and raging blush, he allowed himself to meet her eye once more and much to his surprise, the ends of his lips even twitched into a smile.

     Y/n was attempting to hide blushes of her own, but not much time passed until the topic had changed along with the music. Each of them was swept back up in their own conversations in no time, though their minds replayed the small moment over and over. By now, several songs had come and gone, filling up the minutes of the time that wasted away in the company of the Losers.

     The eight misfits were not fully immersed in their own activities, but still very much engaged with another. And it wasn't long until the looming threat of their previous subject at the park was briefly forgotten. For now, they were safe, tucked away in their own private corner of the world, lost in the blissful moments of childhood.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

     Bill inserts the last tack into the wall, the large map reading 'DERRY SEWER SYSTEM' now hangs in the garage. As usual, the Losers had arrived at slightly different intervals. Mike and Stan arrived first, and Mike helped set up the projector while Stan was hanging blankets over the windows to prevent as much light as possible from entering. Ben had arrived shortly after, be had brought the slides that Bill had requested, and the last to show was Bev and Y/n who had left their complex together and ran into Richie and Eddie on the way.

     He could hear their conversation coming up the driveway, and the sounds of Bev eagerly greeting Ben and the others - seemingly happy to get a break from being the fourth wheel.

     "What's the matter, Eddie? Don't tell me you're afraid of the shape-shifting clown, are ya?" Richie spoke, as the three came to a stop near the garage where they discarded their bikes.

     "Oh, fuck off, Richie!" Eddie huffed.

     Y/n laughed, but it was very weak and sounded almost forced. "Don't worry Eddie. Richie and I have your back. Right, Richie?"

     Instinctively, her hand found Eddie's back and she pats him gently. Y/n smiled weakly, and it was clear she was just as nervous. Her hand fell from his back and immediately, Eddie missed it being there. Eddie didn't know how to respond, all he could muster was a shaky smile in thanks. It wasn't much, but he knew she had gotten the message.

     In turn, Richie began ruffling Eddie's hair and the boy flinched trying to escape his friend's grasp.

     "Hey! Hey, what the hell are-?"

      "Why, of course, we got to protect ol' Eddie Spaghetti! In fact," A light bulb went off over Richie's head and he looked to Y/n who was listening amused. "Y/n and I, are the proud co-founders of... P.E.K.S"

     Eddie finally manages to escape from Richie's torment and he huffed, attempting to adjust his hair. Eddie looks up at Richie, giving him an odd look, unknowingly Y/n was just as taken aback.

     "The what? What the hell are you talking about?"

     Richie swung his arm around Eddie and the three continued their journeys into the garage, finally joining the others. The rest of the Losers were just finishing laying out chairs and pillows for them to sit on.

     "You don't know? It's P.E.K.S, that is 'p', 'e', 'k', 's' my friend, P.E.K.S. Protect Eddie Kaspbrak Squad and we take our job very seriously, don't we toots?"

     An honest laugh escaped Y/n and for once she was relieved she had stayed quiet and went along with Richie's antics to find out, cause she agreed wholeheartedly. Swallowing her surprise, a smile found it's way onto her face and she looked to Eddie.

     "Damn straight, shrimp."

     Mike reached the garage door and reached for the handle, he paused taking one look around the room at his friends.

     "Everyone set?"

     Mike was met with scattered confirmations and with one swift tug of his arm, he pulled the door shut. All remaining sunlight - apart from a few weak rays peaking through the roof slats and the edges of the blankets - had vanished. All that illuminated the garage was the pale white light of the projector where Bill had just put in the slide Ben had brought of Old Derry. The same slide he had found in Ben's room the day they had gone to the quarry.

     The group dispersed, getting situated around the projector. Unfortunately, they weren't able to find many seats so that left Mike and Bill standing near the back and Y/n opted for a floor pillow in front of the projector where she could see.

     It also didn't hurt that she was near Eddie. But she did feel a bit exposed, she was front and center and the others were tucked in with one another in a way. However, it did give her the benefit of stretching out her bad leg. And yet, Y/n could not quite shake the feeling rooted deep inside her. To her it felt eerily similar to a common phenomenon experienced by millions of people around the globe, to her it felt as if she - and her friends, in their anxious huddle - were gathering around preparing themselves in front of their screen. Accompanied by the sickly feeling of dread and anxiety, mere butterflies - the special kind of butterflies - in her stomach that migrated only when a scary movie was about to start.

     And decades in the future her brain would tell her it was nothing more than that. That that awful, nauseating feeling that had bubbled in the pits of her stomach that day was nothing more than a product of special effects and a cheesy plotline. And anytime coworkers would talk about movie nights they had as kids, and engage with her about such things, her mind would show her nothing more than a hazy ersatz memory it had painted for her.

   Of her, under blankets and pillows, surrounded by kids - she would never stop to realize the faces were fuzzy, people she didn't know, she always felt alone in these memories. Her at the front of the pack, all crowded around a white television screen, her and the blurry kids, jumping back in fright at the blank white picture of static. This is all she would come to remember. A scary movie, with some blurry faces, five or six at least - one of the faces always stuck out stronger than the others, just a little bit clearer and wildly familiar but the thought would never linger long enough for her to recognize them. Y/n wouldn't remember that she was in fact with Stan Uris and Beverly Marsh, or even Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon, and Ben Hanscom all stuffed in Bill Denbrough's garage on a hot summer day in July, investigating the darkest mystery of their small hometown.

     But at the moment, all Y/n knew was that they were simply looking at Bill's projector, and he was sharing his theory and where It lives. Truthfully, Y/n did not know what to expect beyond that, but she could not shake that pit in her stomach. The pit that reminded her of the sickly feeling one gets when they are about to watch a horror movie. When the harsh violin plays, and the thunder strikes and one can feel the adrenaline coursing through their veins and they're trembling in all the excitement.

     Y/n didn't like that she felt this way, but she tried to dismiss it. Even if there was credit it to it - she didn't want to admit there was but if she did at least she was surrounded by her friends. The slide came into the focus, and the words 'MAP of the city of DERRY' appeared in the corner. Suddenly, all the details of Derry were splayed out perfectly in line with the Derry Public Works system Bill had hung up. The children could now see the entire town of Derry, including the interconnecting pathways and tunnels below, represented by a strangely ominous bright red line. It branched out from the far left corner of the map, skewing off into many different branches, touching every corner of Derry.

     "Look," Bill said, gesturing to something he had scribbled on his map. "T-T-That's where G-G-Georgie disappeared."

     Everyone's eyes fell on the small 'x' marked on a red line on Jackson street. Scratched in black ink next to it were the words, 'Storm Drain'. Bill gestured to another familiar location that overlapped a red line.

     "There's the Ironworks. And The Black Spot."

     Sure enough, sprinkled across the map of Derry were the mentioned locations of Derry's biggest disasters. Each of them bordering the sewers.

     "Everywhere it happens, it-it's all connected by the sewers," Bill said.

     Every red branch, every red line, all came from one spot, one source on the map where everything overlapped. The pits in everyone's stomachs bloomed and they all knew.

     "And they all meet up at the-"

     "The well house." Ben realized aloud.

     Eddie looked back slowly and tentatively towards the screen. Much like his friends his heart was pounding faster and faster. But Eddie could feel the familiar grasp around his lungs, and it only tightened at Stan's words.

     "It's in the house on Neibolt Street," Stan said, in a similar realization.

     Eddie remembered all too well the last time he had been there. But part of him had hoped it was all a nightmare. Some sick and cruel elaborate scene his mind had conjured up.

     "You mean that creepy-ass house where all the junkies and hobos like to sleep?" Richie asked.

     Shakily, Eddie pulled out his inhaler and gave it a good shake before bringing it to his lips. He tried his best to keep the medicine in his lungs long enough for it to take effect but he choked down a gasp, as he hunched over. Y/n moved closer to Eddie and her eyes fell to his free hand. Cautiously, she took it, looking to him for silent confirmation, he seemed too involved with steadying his breathing to notice it seemed.

     "I hate that place," Beverly mumbled nervously, unaware of the pair in front.

     Y/n assumed he was too frightened to notice her acts of comfort. That was until she felt the muscles in his hand relax, only slightly, and gave her palm a gentle squeeze in thanks.

     "It always feels like it's watching me." Bev continued.

     Letting out a shaky breath, and slowly but surely regaining his composure, Eddie sat up. Though he neglected to release Y/n's hand, and he was sure in any other moment he would be a blushing mess but this felt stable to Eddie. It felt like a lifeline, a reminder he wasn't alone. Not like Neibolt.

     "That's where I saw It." He gulped. "That's where I saw the clown."

     Y/n hadn't realized immediately that she had been tracing circles into the back of his hand with the pad of her thumb. It was a habit she had developed since that first night of summer, anytime she was nervous she would tuck in her legs against her chest, and her fingers would absentmindedly find their way to her bandages. The pads of her fingers fidgeting with the frayed ends just to satisfy the creeping feeling of restlessness.

     "Tha-That's where It lives," Bill said.

     Eddie took another sharp breath of his inhaler, and this time around had better luck holding his breath. Y/n continued to stare at the big red dot on the map, it almost felt as if she were to look away it would disappear. Like finding a spider and leaving the room to find something to kill it with, only to return to find it had crawled away.

     "I can't imagine anything ever wanting to live there," Mike said shakily.

     Eddie jumped from his seat suddenly, his hand leaving Y/n's and they all watch as he scrambles to front, the projector illuminating his small frame.

     "Can we stop talking about this?" Eddie yells, gasping for air his arms waiving desperately as panic overwhelms him. "I-I-I can barely breathe. Th-This is summer. We're kids. I can barely breathe, I'm up here having a fucking asthma attack. I'm not doing this."

     Eddie whirls around and grabs the map of Derry's Sewer System and rips it off the wall.

     "What the hell? Put the map back." Bill snaps.

     Eddie shakes his head firmly. "Mm-mm."

     A loud click grabs their attention, and the screen over Eddie darkens briefly before it changes to another slide.

     Y/n turns around to look between Bill and the device.

     "Bill, what are you doing?"

     "N-nothing, that w-wasn't me."

     Another click.

     And another.

     The projector began clicking forward on its own, and it had now reached the beginning of the reel. Photos of the Denbrough family on vacation began to play, the photos changing at a regular pace.

     "What's going on?" Stan asked impatiently.

     Eddie backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving the projector. Y/n cautiously shifted back on the pillow, farther away from the wall.

     "I got it. Hold on." Mike offered gently.

     He fiddled with the projector, he pressed every button several times but it was no use. It must have been jammed. At the very least, he hopes it was.

     "Guys," he mumbled nervously, words dying on his tongue.

     Several photos had come and gone, and the projector now focused on a shot of the four Denbroughs in their Sunday best. They were all holding hands and Mrs. Denbrough's red hair was being whipped around in the wind, blocking her face.

     The projector clicked again, but the scene did not change. The shot was brought closer to Georgie, and Ben was instantly reminded of his trip to the library before he met the rest of the Losers.

     "Georgie," Bill croaked, as the image zoomed closer and closer to boy's toothy grin.

     "Bill?"

     By, now Y/n had risen from the pillow and scrambled back into the stool Eddie had previously occupied.

     The speed picked up and the pictures grew faster and faster as the projector flew through the slides. The picture moved more like that of a stop motion animation than a movie, every other movement caught on film. The camera angles itself up and changes focus to what is supposed to be Mrs. Denbrough. The red tendrils of hair begin to move, rapidly increasing until it isn't every other fragment but more like a regular picture movie.

     And to their horror, the hair is cast aside and underneath is the painted white face of the clown. It's unnaturally buck teeth sinking into the flesh of It's own bottom lip. A wicked smirk drawn all the way up to past It's yellow eyes.

     Y/n jumped back, her arms outstretched behind her and she began herding Stan, Eddie and herself away from the wall.

     "What the fuck is that? What the fuck is that?" Richie hollered, pulling Eddie and Y/n toward him.

     Eddie nearly tripped over Richie's chair as he was pulled into his grasp and Y/n still had her arms out herding them backward. She could hear Eddie's shrieks clearly from behind her.

     "I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"

     "Stan!" Y/n cried.

     Stan had somewhat frozen in place, much like Ben, Bev and Bill had but even they were backing away slightly. He didn't seem to hear her and looked around frantically at her friends. Beverly, Stan, and Richie had not seen the clown before even though they had each encountered it. It had never appeared to them before as a clown and if she wasn't in immediate danger Beverly would have stopped to think about how this thing was in the living room with Y/n while she was asleep.

     "Turn it off!" She shouted quickly. "TURN IT OFF!"

     Y/n's top priority was ensuring Stan's safety, so she lurched forward and grabbed Stan by the back of the shirt, and yanked him back. He crashed into Mike and Eddie she glanced at the projector, trying desperately to bury the overwhelming thoughts and possibilities. Her eyes landed on the cord and she ripped the plug from the socket but the picture kept moving and she could feel the clown's eyes smiling at her, smugly. Her now in It's direct sights, It began to mimic that night, the clown blinked and the white's of It's eyes had disappeared. Nothing but dark chasms and two glowing yellow irises floating in the center.

     It all became infinitely more real to Y/n. And It pissed her off. She raised her good leg, and with a forceful grunt, she kicked the crate and the projector toppled onto the ground. Light from the machine had bounced all around the room on its journey to the floor and it landed upside down, picture crookedly aimed at the wall behind her and to the right of the four boys.

     Everyone froze, too fearful to move. Y/n most of all. She had gotten Stan to safety - she could only hope - but now she was in his place when another click echoed throughout the silent room. Frozen on the screen was the clown. It was blurry and It almost looked stuck but all Y/n could do was try and catch her breath, and calm her racing heart. Another click. She felt as if she was stuck, her body not her own and just like a nightmare no matter how much she was begging her legs to move they wouldn't budge. Another click. The image went blank, and several shaky breaths were released.

     Another slow click and the gigantic clown popped out of the picture, barely missing Y/n. She shrieked, and only then did her limbs catch up with her brain's signals. She cursed herself and her dumb fucking luck when she felt her footing slip out from underneath her. One of the dozens of slides had scattered the garage floor around her and caused her fall. She landed squarely on her backside and she scrambled back as far and fast as she could as the clown crawled forward after her. It's unnaturally giant size took up the entire garage.

     There wasn't a Loser who didn't scream after her. Richie snapped into action and while Y/n had made it pretty far on her own for It's speed and her aching leg, Richie quickly hooked his arms under hers and dragged her across the garage, not bothering to waste time by stopping to drag her to her feet. The others were tumbling across the garage to get the door tripping over one another as they ran and Y/n watched in horror as the clown reached out it's long and thinning twig-like arm after her. It's sharp talon-like claws soaked with her blood - as it had been that night - reached for her and as her legs were scrambling across the pavement. Trying desperately to retract them from his grasp and the last thing she saw before a flood of light engulfed her vision was the clown's black eyes glaring at her as it reached for her legs.

     Y/n felt as if her lungs might explode from how fast she had been inhaling air. Before she could process what had happened she found herself looking up at the ceiling of Bill's garage, several faces looking down at her. Sunlight was flooding into the room and she could barely register that the garage door was now open.

     "Y/n!"

     "Oh, my God"

     "What the fuck was that?"

     "Y/n? Y/n!"

     "I don't know, man!"

     Y/n could feel herself shaking horribly, and she suddenly noticed several hands on her shoulder and back and she realized she was sitting up. She flinched at their touch and she looked around the room quickly, afraid she would find It lurking somewhere.

     "Y/n, are you okay?"

     "Jesus, fuck!"

     "Y/n?"

     Blinking several times she looked around and saw the scattered faces of her friends. Everyone was panting heavily. Her face collapsed in the palm of her hands and she was breathing frantically, reminding herself to at least try and slow her lungs and heart. Her body rocked back and forth slightly, her adrenaline still pumping, needing an outlet. Needing to move. Finally, her breath began to slow and she looked up, nodding at her friends to ease their minds.

     "Thanks... Richie," she managed between breaths.

     "No problem," he panted, just as jarred. "Just for fuck sake, run next time, will ya?"

     Beverly and Eddie came into view and extended their hands for her and she gladly accepted both. Y/n hissed slightly at her aggravated leg and when she looked down she was relieved to see no further damage had been done. Shakily, Stan spoke up.

     "T-thanks, Y/n," His eyes held relief, but also a hint of guilt.

     A weak and broken smile was all Y/n could manage. Eddie had finally gathered enough air in his lungs to speak and he did just that, albeit quite shaken.

     "It saw us." He panted. "It saw us, and it knows where we are!"

     "It always did," Bill said, striding out towards the pile of bikes in the driveway. "So, let's go."

     "Go?" Ben asked, dumbfounded.

     Bill turned to see his friends still in the garage, rooted in place and looking at him incredulously.

     "Go where?" Ben asked again, this time his voice wavering.

     Bill couldn't believe what he was hearing.

     "Neibolt." He shot. "That's where G-G-Georgie is."

     Stan angrily threw his arm back, gesturing to the remains of their previous encounter.

     "After that?"

     "Yeah, it's summer. We should be outside." Richie said timidly, a tone they had scarcely heard him use if at all.

     Bill felt anger boil up in his chest at the words, his stutter flaring up with it as it usually did.

     "I-If you say it's s-summer one more f-f-fucking time..." He snapped, and he felt the anger redirect itself.

     Neibolt. He was going to Neibolt with or without his friends. He was going to get his brother. Bill shook his head, dismissing the conversation. He picked up his trusty bike and hopped on. He took off down the long driveway, leaving his friends behind.

     "Bill!" Beverly called. "Wait!"

     The seven friends look around at one another in disbelief, as Bill disappears around the corner on the back of Silver. He was going to face it alone, and in turn, he gave the Losers no choice less they surely lose their friend.

     They had to follow him.

+++

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[indoafrikanqueen-blog]

I can't "Get Out" - This is my life.

Spoiler alert - come back after you've seen it. So I saw get out this weekend and not only am I shook as fuck, it is hands down the best horror movie EVER - I mean within the first ten minutes the soundtrack featured Childish Gambino's Redbone. I mean COME ON. Yasssss. More seriously, however, the reason it's so good is because of how real it is. I am no expert on film or the arts but as a PoC I can tell you that this movie is the track and redemption song to every PoC's life. And these are the reasons why:

The Micro Aggressions are so real. Such an integral part of the existence of being black is the emotional toll that microaggressions take on us. Microaggressions are ways in which people are racist but they are unaware of this racism, and it is this unawareness that makes it so difficult to bear. Microaggressions strike at any time and always tend to catch you with your defenses down making them all the more impactful at chipping away your humanity. Then, if you confront the perpetrator they can't see anything wrong with what they've said since they're ignorant, and you are erased further in your identity as a POC. Get Out portrays these so well, and in a way that we know resonates with all of us.  The main microaggressions that validated our trauma in get out are as follow (to be fair I'm working from memory because I don't want to read other critiques and be biased in what I write so this is list is by no means comprehensive):

When Rose's brother talks about how Chris could have been good at UFC because he's black, then goes on to say that jujitsu is a different game, because it uses strategy implying (1) that because Chris is black he is going to be a good fighter, (2) that Chris is dumb and only defined by brawn, (3) making the link that black men are intrinsically violent. NO. NO. NO. Can not. 

No. No. No. 

No more microaggressions says Georgina.

Related to that point was the consistent reference to black genetics as being superior for manual labour - linking back to the objectification of black bodies from the time of slavery. DISGUSTING. 

The overt sexualisation of Chris at the lunch party, and the implication that he may have a big dick but also the crude assumption that he will be into getting into a threeway with a horribly unattractive couple. This eroticisation and  fetishisation of black people is neverending. I mean come on. The movie couldn't have made it more explicit. We don't want to be your sex slaves, BLACK PEOPLE ARE NOT FUCKING NYMPHOMANIACS. 

We have all experienced this one to some extent: The comments on Chris's skin colour being a result of the turning of the tables of power dynamics changing. No white people, white skin was in power and will always be that way. Stop saying black is in fashion and in vogue, or that everyone will be beige one day. Stop denying how you fucked us up based on the colour of our skin.   

Wah, wah, wah. No microaggression is clearer than the policeman asking for Chris's ID on the way out of town, then being challenged by a basic white woman who commands respect just by the colour of her skin. 

The continual mentioning of Obama as if support for Obama automatically implies you could never be racist.

The unsolicited defensiveness the dad makes about having black people on the grounds and the way he feels the need to be a white saviour for giving the housekeeper and groundskeeper jobs, like he is a benevolent god. 

Tiger woods! Why you mentioning him yo? All black people don't know each other and don't care what you think of the one black person you know who is your only reference point to blackness.

The judgment of Chris's smoking habit, I don't know if this is reaching but it felt like they were implying he has control issues and is less of a person for that dependency.

The Gaslighting!! Rose unconsciously gaslights Chris by denying that any of these microaggressions are real and he is made to feel he is going crazy!

The Not-so-micro Aggressions: This was deep. The  extent of  the overt racism in this film was unreal.

There was the scene where the mum sends Chris into a state of altered consciousness without his permission. Can you tell me about something more violent, entitled than this? Chris then sinks into a deep state of helplessness

This is a metaphor for what it is like to be a person of colour living in a white society. You feel helpless, like you're sinking. You're not heard, you're not seen, you're not given the space to exist. You are floating in some kind of limbo, a fresh hell.

Then there was the scene where there are a whole lot of white people and one japanese guy, and the japanese guy, who you think would know better being of a persecuted minority groups asks chris to answer a heavily loaded question on the plight of black people in America? Like as POC tell me you have not been here? I was at a lunch date at a table of black girls a  couple of weekends ago when a white women steps up, doesn't greet and says "What do you all think is going to happen to the future of this country?" We were stunned into silence. One friend literally burst out laughing. Moral of the story - hold up and check yourself,  I am not the representative of all black people, the president of the association of blacks. Fuck sakes. Also, and importantly other non black POC can enforce microaggressions too.  

The part where the mother asks Chris where he was when his mother died!!! I was not ready. This bitch is implying that he may have had something to do with it, you know black kid and all. This isn't a microaggression to me. Its EXTREME racism. And what will a white person say to this, "you don't know that that's what the mother meant?". Well this is my lived experience and I think I know when I am being profiled. Thanks.

Other reasons that this movie is a stellar representation of the lived experiences of POC are:

The accuracy of the depiction of the  characters. Can we just talk about how realistic this all is? The dad is the classic intellectual white liberal who uses intellect to be "above" racism. The mom, who is passively aggressively racist and tries to protect her daughter from the black man. The brother who wants to assert to Chris, that he is superior, physically, mentally and intellectually - who wants to show Chris that he (the brother) will come out on top no matter what. 

The perfect depiction of the way in which white families treat black significant others! The constant undermining and double checking, and the piqued interest, trying hard to box you, and the innumerous and unpredictable microaggressions. The family members who won't stop pushing buttons no matter how much your partner asks them not to. 

The way in which whiteness is depicted in general. Especially with respect to Rose, the girlfriend  - at the beginning of the movie you are convinced that she is woke, and then just when you think you have a bond that transcends race, boom - race strikes. You can never transcend race in an interracial relationship. 

At the lunch party there is this way in which the numerous white people all merge into one. This actually happens when you are the token person of colour in an environment. The constant microaggressions and violence become too much to handle and you eventually can't distinguish between who said something worse and what's okay and what isn't.

Another thing I noticed, before the big plot twist at the end, was the way in which all of the grounds staff and domestic help was expected to assimilate to whiteness and not ruffle feathers. In so doing they lose track of who they are and become complicit in their own oppression. 

Linked to this, is the way black people have to constantly fucking play up to whiteness. You don't have the choice not to and it becomes exhausting.

God damn, I could write a thesis about the universal black truth about this movie.

It is a masterpiece. It is a validation of the literal horror of black existence, black beauty and black creativity like no other. What an excellent year for black cinema!

The social commentary is excellent too, for instance the way in which the role of police is seen. At the end as the viewer, you resign yourself to the fact that this black man is FUCKED when you see that cop car roll up! This is huge. If you are white, what you should be asking is, why am I scared for this innocent black man's safety when I see this cop car?

Other poignant themes, that were revealed later were the way white people prey on black people for their own benefit. This you see most clearly when Rose's modus operandi is revealed but also at the end when the grand plan of the family is uncovered.  We are consumable to them.

Speaking on the uncovering of the grand plan, there comes a point where Chris asks "Why us?", as in, why black people? The man answering says "it's not about race, it is because black is in fashion" but when in actuality we know :

That IT IS about race.

It's about BLACK LIVES DO NOT MATTER!!!!!!!!!!!

But you get to the end of the movie, and have the satisfaction of Chris killing every one of these mother fucker's off and then being saved by his homeboy. And this is our redemption. We are like "Yeah, Chris you made it!!" We were literally applauding in the cinema. 

No Chris, you're not good honey.

Not after that.

But then you realise that Chris is shook. Fucking traumatised. He's disturbed. And we are happy because there was a victory, he wasn't arrested, he SURVIVED. But survival is the bare minimum. He now has to live with the trauma of his experience forever more. 

And so, no. There is no escape. He can't "GET OUT"

We can't GET OUT.

This is our lives.