#Stan: and then whats cool about this one is you can see the exit wound in the back

[mmmthornton]

Do Stan and Tolkien compare gunshot scars from them both being shot (and twice in Tolkien's case)?

[fancyfade]

so ive been debating editing chapter 3 on my fanfic to make 1 scene line up more from canon. (chapter 3 is this one, where the characters deal with the aftermath of battle for the cowl, Tim finds out Damian’s Robin, and Dick and Damian move to the penthouse)

I’m debating making the Tim finding out Damian’s Robin scene a little more canon compliant along what happened in Red Robin (link) for a few reasons, the main of which is in the scenes that I’m writing next (like... chapter 47 lol), Tim and Dick do have to talk about what transpired when Dick made Damian Robin. Potential reasons for change

In my fic Tim kind of just left on his own without a push, but I’m not sure if Tim would have left on such bad terms if there wasn’t the complication of Damian antagonizing him and him feeling as if Dick was picking Damian over him (even though in the comic we saw Dick trying to de-escalate and get Tim’s back, it still felt that way to Tim)

I dislike the way some of this was handled in the comic and I can’t really comment on it in my fic if I just retcon it out

it seems fair-er I guess if Tim is allowed to have flaws just like Cass and Damian and Dick all have flaws in this fic. i know many tim stans think otherwise, but punching a ten-year-old victim of child abuse in the face out of anger is wrong.

the con side is obviously this involves Damian getting hit and that kid has been through so much already. I’m really trying to figure out how it works with character dynamics vs like. give the poor kid a break-ness.

anyway if I did decide to replace the current chapter 3, this is what it would be replaced with (only the first scene, the second would be the same). If you are a reader of the fic feel free to leave your comments. I would do an “oh and I edited chapter 3″ note before the relevant stuff was mentioned if I go through with this, I wouldn’t like expect everyone to know what happened. Some of the dialogue is not like exactly like in canon (cuz thats boring and also to match with what I wrote the first time) but the feeling/ beats should be similar

Gotham’s finally had a bit of lull in the violence, and Dick is just wondering how he’s going to do this.

He’s accepted that Damian’s his responsibility – seeing the kid shot in the chest made that perfectly clear, as much as he would’ve liked it to be otherwise. He felt like he was way too young to be watching out for a kid in any capacity other than cool older brother, especially a kid who’s as difficult to get along with as Damian. He was a great fighter, of course, and he knew it – Dick’s not sure he’s ever heard the kid be humble about anything. To make things worse, Dick feels like he’s constantly stuck in the middle between Damian and the kid he actually views as his younger brother – Tim, who Damian tried to kill. Evidence in point:

“Robin?!” Tim asks once he’s gotten back on his feet and Dick's explained his plan – away from Damian, who's still recovering from surgery.

“You made Damian Robin?!” Tim asks again.

Dick sighs. He’s in the cave, in a Batman costume he feels doesn’t fit right at all with the cowl off, and Tim’s still in his regular clothes. He has no idea how to explain this to Tim – no idea how to make him feel like he’s not being replaced. Dick never wanted to be the one doing the replacing – he remembers how much it hurt to find out that Jason was Robin from the papers, and that was after he officially stopped being Robin. Tim never quit – and Dick’s not about to make him – but he has to come home to the guy who tried to kill him getting his name.

“Tim, I know this looks bad, but Damian needs this.”

“Remember when we thought Bruce was going to retire after Crisis?” Tim asks. “Batman and Robin was supposed to be us. You and me. Not you and the psychopath that tried to kill me.”

“Tim, you’re not my sidekick, you’re my partner – ” Dick takes a step towards Tim with his hand out, prepared to offer sympathy, but Tim shakes him off angrily.

“Obviously not!”

“And Damian needs me way more than you do. If we don’t keep an eye on him, he’s going to kill again.”

Tim scowls intensely. “That should really not be an endorsement for being Robin, Dick! He’s a killer! He belongs in jail!” Tim swallows a little and then lowers his voice out of shouting range. “Dick, he didn’t try to kill me because he for some reason thought it was the only way to stop me from doing something bad, as far as I can tell he just wanted to replace me. We’re talking about someone with absolutely no sense of right or wrong.”

“Of course he doesn’t have a sense of right or wrong. He’s a ten-year-old child who was raised as an assassin from birth!”

“Lots of our villains have really sad or sympathetic reasons for doing crime, that doesn’t mean we team up with them.”

“Are you serious?” Dick asks. “This isn’t the same, Tim.”

“How not?”

“Well for one,” calls Damian's voice from the stairs, and Dick can't help but cringe and think not now – “I'm a lot better than them.”

Dick's cringe only intensifies when he turns around to see what Damian is wearing. His new Robin costume.

Tim's hands clench into fists the instant he sees Damian. Dick knows he has to de-escalate things quick before Tim and Damian have another fight.

“Damian,” Dick says, trying to keep himself carefully neutral-sounding. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

Damian lifts his head up slightly so his nose is in the air, and walks down the stairs almost normally. There's only a little hesitation in the twist of his torso, a little stiffness of his right arm.

Either he's zoned out of his mind on painkillers or depressingly good at masking his pain for a ten-year-old.

“Please,” Damian says. “I was trained in the League of Shadows. Do you really think an over-the-hill ex-Robin could put me down?”

Tim's fist clenches further, and so Dick says, letting a bit more urgency slip into his voice, “Damian, shut up. Now.”

Damian puts his left hand on his hips and looks intentionally at Tim. He adds, “I'm not Drake – ”

He's barely got the word out before Tim leaps forward and punches him in the face. Dick's out of his seat, grabbing Tim to hold him back, who is still distressingly struggling against him, like he wants to keep up the assault despite the fact that Damian fell to the floor.

“My name is Tim Wayne!” Tim shouts as Dick is still holding him back.

Damian gingerly sits up. Dick prepares to release Tim, prepares to stop Damian if he has to, if he decides to get revenge. But he doesn't. He just briefly braces his right side with his left hand before wiping the blood off his face.

“I let you get that shot in, Drake,” Damian says, again dropping intentional emphasis on Tim's original last name.

As he does, Tim struggles forward.

“Tim, back off!” Dick says, because Tim still isn't cooling down –

“I want you to feel good about yourself,” Damian continues.

Tim seems to relax his stance slightly, so Dick, possibly in an error of judgment, lets Tim go. But Tim doesn't try to attack Damian again, he just shakes Dick off and starts stomping away. “You want me to back off? Fine.”

He's going for the exit.

If he leaves –

Dick can't chase him. He's not sure that he can leave Damian alone –

“Tim, wait!” Dick says, taking a step forward. “Bruce is gone. But I still need you.”

“For what?” asks Damian and damn it is there anything this kid isn't going to try to ruin?

“Shut up, Damian,” Dick says again, even though as far as he knows he's just going to wind up pushing Damian away too –

And Tim leaves.

Dick turns to look at Damian. The kid's already back to his feet, like nothing happened, and Dick takes a step forward to inspect the injury – though he's really more worried about the gunshot wound than Tim's punch. Both Tim and Damian had wound up injured pretty badly during the chaos that gripped Gotham in the rumors of Batman’s death. As his new and not-improved version of Batman, Jason had tried to kill them both, which Dick is way less than pleased about. He’d been kind of hoping that they could talk Jason down, but this seems like a line he doesn’t know if Jason can ever un-cross. He shot a ten year old in the chest.

Damian grabs Dick's wrist as he reaches out.

“Are you all right?” Dick asks.

Damian scoffs. “You're worried about Drake? I've been hit harder sparring my mother.”

“I was thinking about the gunshot.” Alfred had said the primary damage was blood loss and a punctured lung (well, traumatic pneumothorax, but Dick knew what he meant) and given the kid a minimum of four weeks downtime to heal.

It's hard to tell due to the domino mask, but Damian adopts the position of a kid who's rolling their eyes, head slightly tilted to the side with a loll. “It's not enough to impersonate Batman, now you want to impersonate my mother?”

Dick doesn't know how to approach the mother thing, so he doesn't even try. He just explains the logic for being Batman – (and there is logic behind it. It's not like he wanted this). “Someone has to step up and convince Gotham things can get back to normal,” Dick says. “And serial killer Batman wasn't going to cut it.”

“Did you at least take care of him?” Damian asks.

Dick knows that Damian isn't actually worried about Jason's wellbeing, so he says, “Do you mean 'did I kill him'?”

“Tt. Obviously.”

“Obviously not.”

Damian presses his lips together in a thin line.

Dick might as well get this out of the way now. He's going to have to sometime. “Alfred wants you out of the field for four weeks.”

“That's preposterous!” Damian shouts, and as he shouts, he coughs. He rubs his chest quickly and then glowers at Dick when he sees him staring.

“Damian, you could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Jeez, doesn’t this kid have any sense of his own mortality? Though, Dick supposes, growing up around Lazarus Pits and a centuries old grandfather might make that impossible.

“I’m not a fool, Grayson, I know I’m not capable of healing instantaneously. I’ll take a break for one week,” he offers, like it’s a huge concession on his part.

“Four weeks,” Dick says.

“What about you?” Damian asks. “Didn’t you get injured?”

“Not as badly.”

“Are you taking a break?”

“Someone needs to convince Gotham that Batman’s not dead,” Dick says. Also, he doesn’t want to take a break. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Losing Bruce. Failing Tim.

“Tt. Then I don’t need one either. I’m younger. I heal faster.”

Dick actually has no clue whether that’s true, because he’s not a doctor, but he knows that people usually say kids heal faster.

Dick swings his arms a little, trying to feel them out. They’re still stiff, and as they move, a jolt of pain shoots through him. Even when he’s not moving, his shoulder is still sore. He knows that he might get injured going into the field like this and that it’s not a smart decision – last time he went into the field while still healing, he wound up blowing his secret identity to Blockbuster.

He decides that at least if he’s going into the field, he won’t tell Barbara and Alfred about it. Okay, so that’s probably not the smartest of his plans. Most plans that you have to hide from people who care about you aren't smart.

“I’ll take a week long break with you,” Dick concedes. “And we can see how fast you’re healing.” The second part is a lie, of course. He's not going to supersede Alfred's orders on medical matters.

Dick sighs a little. He figures that while they’re both on bed-rest duty, though, he can try to figure out how to set things up so they can operate effectively once they get a clean bill of health.

“How do you feel about not living in the manor?” Dick asks.

“Kicking me out already?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t be living here either,” Dick says. It’s true. He’d rather not feel like he’s living in all of Bruce’s old places, wearing Bruce’s old costume, … replacing him, essentially. He needs a place he can clear his head.

“Where would you live then?” Damian asks skeptically.

Dick shrugs. “The penthouse, maybe. Bruce already made a bunker nearby, so we could operate out of there pretty easily.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”

Because you are ten and not ready to live on your own. But Dick just says, “Well, you’re Robin now, right? That means you’re pretty much obligated to team up with Batman.”

“Batman isn’t here, Grayson. He never will be again, no matter how much you play dress-up.”

Charming kid. Like Dick didn’t already know that.

“You know I operate effectively alone, right?” Damian continues. “I don’t need to be hand-held and babysat like all of Father’s previous partners.”

Dick figures that it’d be a jerk move to remind Damian he just almost died and therefore really shouldn’t be on his own. Instead, he says, “Well, Alfred’s staying with me, so unless you want to get all your food and clean the house by yourself, you have to put up with me.”

“Tt . I don’t need a servant. I’ll just eat at restaurants.”

“On who’s money?”

“In the event of his death, my father’s assets should have transferred to me. His blood son.”

Oh boy. Dick rubs his face. “Does this have to be a thing, Damian? No one’s doubting your capacity to take care of yourself but I think it’d really be easier if we were operating out of the same building. “

A long silence on Damian’s part. “Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll allow you to stay at my penthouse.”

My penthouse. Of course. But Dick takes it. “All right,” he says. “Let’s move in.”

[avenger-hawk]

Tagged by @altraes (thank you, it was fun to do this~)

List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

                                                       *

(I wrote the first paragraphs because my first lines alone don’t make much sense lol)

1- ACQUIESCENCE (Minato/Itachi) my first fic ever. darkish but just a little, angsty. I’m proud of it cause another author wrote a sequel to it.

 to ac·qui·esce: to accept, agree, or allow something to happen by staying silent or by not arguing. A flurry of leaves, swept away by the autumn wind, caught the Hokage's attention while he took off his large hat. That time of the year should have been warmer.

2- THE WILL OF FIRE (Shiita, Danzo/Shisui, Danzo/Itachi) This was dark and shiita fans didn’t like it lol.

 Just like his owner, Danzo's studio was dark and dusty. The man didn't look as old as Hiruzen, but he was twice as scary; thus would think a boy of Itachi's age. Not him. He was not allowed to be afraid.

3- WHAT HE WANTED (Itasasu) Even tho I rewrote it cause I didn’t like how I initially characterized them and their dynamics this is my most popular fic. Maybe because it’s a post-ending, canon divergent, fix-it kind of story. Maybe because it’s Itasasu and I put so much love into writing their dynamics and, also, in giving Sasuke a good ending since canon didn’t do him justice.

Sasuke is where everybody wants him to be: in Konoha. With the battle and the arm he also lost the urge to fight. He's had enough of traveling. He's tired of chasing and being chased. So tired that even if he meant every word about starting a revolution, being the Hokage and build a new era, he had wondered, though only for a moment, if he would be able to really accomplish such tasks all by himself.

4- IN POWER WE ENTRUST THE LOVE ADVOCATED (Itasasu) THis is my second most popular fic. This one too was written after the ending and tried to give Sasuke justice. I planned to write a sequel but I got busy with other projects and lost interest in it.

The gates open, letting the shinobi in after a successfully completed mission. Being on duty the following day Sasuke declines his team mates' proposal to have dinner together, the reddish sunset light forcing him to squint as he walks towards the Hokage's office.

5- PRESSURE (Itasasu) Taken from In Power that can be read as a standalone oneshot.

Itachi wakes up to the sound of pouring water.

6- IN DREAMS (Itasasu, Izuna/Sasuke, DARKFIC). This is one of the darkest things I wrote. The Izuna/Sasuke crackpair was for @admiral-izusasu. The plot, the dynamics, everything has a double, or triple reading, plot related and metaphorical for other, real-life issues such as knowing people online, and emotional abuse from narcissistic people. I wrote it when I was fighting against one of these psychos, on tumblr itself, so this fic has a personal meaning for me. But also the plot and the canon divergent ending thing is cool, I think it’s one of my best fics, even though I coulnd’t care less about izuna.

They say that nature will always find a way. After the end of the war flowers keep blooming like nothing happened even if the light is fainter, filtered from the tall branches of the Shinju tree, now grown into a forest spread all over the world.

7- SOMBER CREATION PALE DESTRUCTION (Madara/Sasuke dom/sub-ish). Darkish? Who knows, I write darkfish stuff all the time. I was (and am) very proud of this fic, the canon divergent turn it took (who am I kidding, it’s really cool lol) and the weird relationship/dynamics these 2 created. So I didn’t update it anymore, because doing so would break their thin balance. Ssssh, don’t tell me it doesn’t make sense, I don’t believe you xD

History teaches that Madara Uchiha died at the hands of Hashirama Senju. Their statues were erected in the Valley Of The End where their battle was fought, where the shinobi god ended his best friend's life in order to protect the village they founded together. No one knows that Madara didn't die there.

8- IN THE DARK (kakashi/Sasuke, mob/Sasuke noncon). This is a very dark oneshot that I’m proud of, cause it ‘explains’ canon Sasuke personality in Shinden and later, and that I use as prequel for many fics, like WHW but also OFAF and Broken Things (see later for both).

Things never went as Sasuke wanted. After the war it's no different, although everything seems fine at first, Team 7 finally at peace with each other, the war ended and the village that Itachi protected, even as a dead man, safe. Nevertheless he is arrested when he's still in the hospital.

9- VICTIMS OF PEACE (Shisui/Sasuke dom/sub-ish) I am so proud of this fic, of its non massacre universe, of the dark-ish slow burn relationship between Shisui and Sasuke I wrote, tentatively at first cause no one did it or thought much about it, and because that non massacre filler was bad, but still it was inspiration. I know shiita fans hated me even more for this cause shisui is only paired with itachi, and also itachi/itasasu fans were disappointed but still. This is maybe the fic I’m most proud of.

If a traveler arrived from a random village in the Fire Country he would certainly notice how different Konoha was. He would not be able to pinpoint exactly why at first, because the buildings, houses and shops are similar, just like their gardens, fields and animals. Only after some thought he would understand that the difference is in their people: other villagers are relaxed and casual, even loud. Children run around the streets, chasing each other, playing tag or hide-and-seek. Their fathers bring them presents and their mothers buy them new clothes.

10- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS (DARK Narusasu) I received a lot of hate for this one, which makes me proud of it even more. so many naruto stans were butthurt by my characterization of him as a possessive not sunshine selfless boy and their dynamics as crazy.

Jiraiya used to complain that the first sign of getting old was waking up at night for no reason and not being able to fall back asleep. For Naruto, this only happened after the war.

11- BLACK ROSES (Itasasu, dom/sub-ish) Smutty Bloody Darky Hokage Itachi/Anbu Sasuke oneshot

Because of his farsighted politics, his loyalty towards his allies as well as his iron fist against his enemies, Itachi quickly became one of the most respected leaders in the shinobi world, and because of his unequaled diplomatic skills, along with his vast culture, impeccable manners and refined appearance, he became popular among nobles, including the Daimyo, whose official visits increased since the Uchiha rose to power.

12- NELL’IPOTESI GRANDE (=IN THE BIG HYPOTHESIS) (MetaMoro, not Naruto) I’m very proud of this one cause it’s a psycho-pass inspired longfic set in a retrofuturistic Italy with a totalitarian consumeristic regime. But that fandom is so shitty and they all hate me cause I called them homophobic fascists so no one cares. The excerpt is translated too.

He’s reminded of Pirandello’s* words as he’s riding the automatic taxi across the city, exiting the center towards EUR. COmpared to Milan with its skyscrapers, multilevel streets, automatic cars and incessant novelties, the capital is basically the same as it was portrayed in old illustrations: renaissance and 20th century buildings, seagulls, pines among the Roman ruins, sycamore trees on the Lungotevere, that was probably already busy with traffic when people travelled on horse carriages. (*an Italian writer)

13- DA UOMO A UOMO, MANO NELLA MANO (from man to man, hand in hand) (Metamoro) lol I was hated a lot for this one too. tbh the hate I received in the Naruto fandom is nothing compared to this other shitty fandom

For an artist like Fabrizio, mainly focused on expressing what he has inside, public relations are the hardest part of his job, especially when it’s about events where, instead of fans, of whom he perceives the sincere affection, other artists and professionals are invited. His experience taught him that most of them are hypocrites ready to jump on the winner’s bandwagon as quickly as to throw mud at the loser.

14- STRENGTH THROUGH WOUNDING (wip) (Obito/Sasuke, Obito/Itachi, dark.-ish) 

There is something nostalgic in the eerie way the boy's screams resonate through the dark cavern-like hideout, their pain bouncing from one curved wall to another, their anguish filling their crevices. It’s like hearing his past self from an external perspective, like Madara did. Which is fitting, for Obito is Madara now.

15- WORDS UNSAID (wip) (Kakashi/Sasuke) 

A black flame that cannot be extinguished: they had been warned about Amaterasu by Jiraiya, but seeing it was impressive nevertheless. The whole area was surrounded by black flames and the rain pouring hard could nothing against it. They found Sasuke there, surrounded, imprisoned by black flames that were extinguishing themselves, so they found a breach.

16- BLEEDING ME (Metamoro vampire/priest darkfic) No one can understand this in the Naruto fandom but it’s an AU interpretation of the Da UOMO A UOMO character dynamics where one is an emotional vampire-like person. I’m very proud of this fic tbh.

According to folk stories the forest was so big and full of dangers that God himself put a church where it ended, so that its priest would protect the people living nearby. It was a small, white building that didn’t match the typical stones and wood brownish ones of that region, with no stained glass windows or fancy columns, spires or gargoyles, only crosses with skulls and bones, and an engraving in an unknown language.

17- WILD CHILD (Metamoro cop/drug dealer AU). At this point I hate that fandom so much but I like my ideas and I write only for my girl whom I met in that very shitty fandom.

Everything seems bigger in children’s eyes. Like the playground in the courtyard of the church, with its slides and swings that for Ermal’s siblings were the setting of countless imaginary adventures which they told him in detail, enthusiastically interrupting each other, when he picked them up after school.

18- TRUE COLORS (Itasasu, dark, dom/sub) By now I’m only interested in writing dark IS and I enjoyed writing this one lol

"I knew you had it in you. You're a sadistic control freak. Even more than me." Orochimaru's voice resounded in Itachi's ears. Again.

19- OF FEATHERS AND FANGS 2: TO REPAIR WITH GOLD (Dark Narusasu). Cause I didn’t piss off NS fans enough I guess? lol this is ongoing and I like this idea so much

It's a rainy day in Konoha but no one seems to notice. Everyone is focused on the Hokage delivering his eulogy.

20- BROKEN THINGS (Shisui/Sasuke) My latest creation, I’m so proud of it cause it’s Shisasu again, my rarepair! and it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got longer because they have such a cool dynamic that things just happen and get longer.

In the Land of Water summers were hot and damp, autumn and spring were damp for the frequent rains and winter was no less, with its cold temperature and ubiquitous dampness. It wasn't a problem for Sasuke though.

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Tagging: @renamon15 and all the other authors I can’t remember right now and who want to do this, tag me back so I can read your first lines lol

[peterstanslizzie]

Reacting To: The Hollow (Season 2 Episode 3)

Episode Title: The Return

Spoiler Warning: Kindly proceed if you’ve already seen the episode or aren’t bothered about spoilers.

1. Adam and Kai aka Kaidam exit the portal but didn’t make a soft landing. It appears they have returned to the main game setting of ‘The Hollow’, but most likely on another level with different rules. Adam tries calling for the Weird Guy, otherwise known as Weirdy but he still is a no-show.

2. They head inside a castle (not Colrath, the dragon’s castle from last season) to try to find Mira. I wonder if they’ve tried contacting her on her cell phone? Hey, it’s worth a shot? The castle is pitch dark inside but lucky for them, Kai can use his fire powers to light the place up. However, there are a couple of distractions that are in their way; Creepy-crawly ones. Eww...

3. As they’re trying to navigate themselves through the castle, we spot an elf or gnome spying on them. And it’s really agile and keeps swooping over and around them. The elf, who appears to be a she, attacks Adam and Kai with her large fish hook (?) because she thinks that they’re invading her castle home. 

4. She swings her knife-hook thingy at Kai and it leaves a small wound on Kai’s finger. It’s actually bleeding a little; Oh my poor baby! So, bleeding is possible in this game...well, if this is all still a game that is. Kai freaks out and randomly faints into Adam’s arms. How cute! But how dramatic lol. Nonetheless, I stan how much of a disaster gay he is. 

5. We find out that she needs to fill her cap with blood in order to survive despite not being able to tolerate the sight of blood. Kai hesitates at first but Adam reminds him that if they are still playing the game, they need to cooperate with her. 

6. As a return, the gnome gives the boys a riddle to help them find Mira, before suddenly disappearing. The riddle goes like this, “To find others of your kind, you must leave this world behind. Here’s a clue if you wish, look for water without fish.” At times like this, they really need Mira to help them decipher that riddle quickly. 

7. Kai theorizes that the “water without fish” is referring to a puddle and he begins jumping into various puddles in the castle, much to Adam’s dismay. Why are there random puddles all over? I haven’t a clue. Here is when we get some tea about Reeve; Apparently, Adam and Mira couldn’t get along with him and he decided to quit the team. Yea, but why couldn’t they get along with him? From my deduction, Reeve seems like the kind of person who has a short temper and likes to march to the beat of his own drum. 

8. Kai spots a wishing well, which most probably is the solution to the riddle. And it actually is! They descend down the well but they are caught off-guard by a stream of rapid water at the bottom, which washes them out of a waterfall. They survive but are totally exhausted.

9. They wash ashore and are then dragged and taken by a group of parrot-people I’m assuming. Adam and Kai wake up and are startled by what they’re seeing. These cockatoo/parrot people are able to communicate with them but it’s very....parrot-like I guess. Meaning, they speak in very broken sentences and like to repeat themselves. 

10. The leader of the group mentions about Cherufe, the leader of their island and how they wanted to sacrifice them to him so that he doesn’t destroy the island. Luckily for them, they are not the ones being sacrificed but the leader mentions about another one of their kind who is about to be sacrificed instead. And that person is Mira probably?

11. They think that Mira is the person under that mask. I don’t think it is; That’s too straightforward. It has to be Reeve or Vanessa or something. Let’s see if I’m right. 

12. All of a sudden, a nearby volcano starts erupting and the parrot-people start chanting for Cherufe’s name, signalling that he is on his way. Adam jumps onto the platform to rescue the masked person and it turns out to be Skeet! Okay, so I was wrong. But if Skeet’s there, where’s Mira? Didn’t she trail behind him last episode. 

13. Adam tries to get him out of there but the parrot-people stop him because they don’t want to make Cherufe angry. Speaking of Cherufe, it makes a grand entrance by emerging out of the volcano after a spout of lava was released. Everybody is freaking out.

14. Adam again tries to free Skeet from his restraints but the knots are tied really tight. Kai distracts Cherufe with his flamethrower but it’s not having much of an effect. After putting a little more vigor into it, Adam manages to set Skeet loose and the three of them start running away from the monster. 

15. Skeet tries to use his super-speed to quickly run away but he forgets that they’re on an island. Fortunately, Kai manages to spot a boat and they are able to escape from Cherufe’s wrath. 

16. It also helps a lot when the monster is a volcano monster that turns into stone once it comes into contact with seawater. 

17. As Skeet is telling Adam and Kai about how he ended up in such a predicament, his recollection is pretty much aligned to what Adam, Kai and Mira had went through. He says he got split up from Reeve and Vanessa. Also, Skeet is aware about Reeve being Adam and Mira’s former teammate. 

18. As day turns into night, they are still stuck on the boat, paddling to who knows where. Skeet tells them he just wants the game to be over so that he can go home but Adam is adamant (lol that rhymes) that they find Mira first. 

19. It’s great that Skeet reminds all of us the rules of ‘The Hollow’, that is if one team player dies, it’s game over for the rest. This means that Mira, Reeve and Vanessa are all still alive. 

20. The scene cuts to...OMG finally we see Mira and she’s running from something or someone firing green lasers at her. Where could she be? Will she bump into Reeve or Vanessa or maybe other players of The Hollow? (like the ones we’ve seen in the trailer). 

21. Yay! More backstory! Mira and Skeet knew each other since preschool and based on his body language and expression, it seems to me that Skeet has a crush on her. Cute! I would ship these two hard but I need to see how Skeet would interact with Mira first.

22. Adam notices that something is pulling the boat fast and he tries to paddle the boat in the opposite direction but the force is too strong. Since Skeet has super speed, I think he could pull a Dash Parr from the Incredibles and use his legs as propellers for the boat. Let’s see if he does that. 

23. Kai, with his super intelligence figures out that the boat is being pulled in by a cluster of nuclear plants that have cooling pumps that suck in massive amounts of water. All of Adam’s efforts aren’t really working and they need to think of something fast or they’ll be toast. C’mon Skeet, use your powers!

24. Suddenly, a spacecraft/hovercraft flies over them and begins firing red lasers at the nuclear power site, where there appears to be ANOTHER TEAM! And the ship seems to be targeting this other team. Their powers are as follow: One guys is able to teleport, the other guy is able to shoot lightning bolts and the girl has Black Canary’s power of sonic screams. And with their combined effort, they are able to overwhelm the ship at first but it suddenly comes back and shoots another round of lasers and hits the girl and she disintegrates into digital dust! OMG Did she just die?

25. Adam, Kai and Skeet witness the entire thing and they also catch glimpse of Weirdy casually walking towards the other team. They try to get his attention but they’re too far away.

26. Weirdy inform the remaining two members of the team that it’s game over for them and they also end up pixelating (Is that a real word?). I wonder where they went or if they’ve woken up from the game? I hope that they’re not gone GONE. Weirdy then disappears soon after. So, is he supposed to be one of the bad guys of this show or what? It’s hard to tell. 

27. Adam, Kai and Skeet manage to get themselves off the boat before getting sliced into pieces by the pumps. Adam spots a satchel that was left by one of the guys who disintegrated and he goes through its contents. He finds a map but it’s not the same one from before. It first shows the three regions Adam and Kai have been in: the castle, the volcano island and the nuclear power plant. But within a split second, the maps starts closing in and the locations start disappearing. It could be that the map is resetting itself once another team takes its possession. 

28. I can’t tell if either all the locations have been erased or only the nuclear power plants is the only remaining location on the map. Skeet tells them about an idea he has on how to escape the game, which is to lose the game on purpose. I understand his plan but I don’t think they should risk themselves like that. 

29. The flying spacecraft returns and begins firing at them. Skeet attempts to test out his idea but Adam saves him in the nick of time. Adam is such an amazing hero. He be saving everybody, even those who weren’t on his side. The three of them hide behind a corner as the ship lands and a bunch of soldiers emerge out of it. I’m getting such Star Wars vibes here. 

30. Skeet still believes that losing the game will work and calls for the soldiers to come to him. This obviously annoys Adam to no end and they start running away. They reach a dead end and as the soldiers are about to corner them, Mira calls for their attention from inside one of the nearby buildings.

31. The episode ends on a cliffhanger where the soldiers start firing at them. They’re obviously gonna make it alive. Duh! Stay tuned for my reaction to episode 4, which will be out very soon.

[the-local-oddity]

Pirates, Knights, and Kings

Finally was able to get on desktop and post this! This one is the sad one, sort of based on that Three Adventurers art I made for @captmickey. I hope you enjoy!

The three heroes lay in the grass their faces pointed towards the beautiful blue sky. They lay with the tops of their heads pointed towards each other. Guybrush had hands folded under his head, Link had them folded over his stomach, and Graham was sort of just a starfish, and the only one with his eyes open.

"So… I'm the youngest right?" He asked, seemingly leading to another question.

"I think so, yeah." Link confirmed for him, curious as to where the young knight was headed.

"Okay, so then you two have to promise me something…" Graham tapped his fingers on the ground.

"I'll to hear what it is first." Guy rush made no effort to move, he was comfortable, "I don't agree to anything until I hear the details."

"Smart move."

"It's just, " the young knight folded his arms over his chest, "Can you promise not to die before me?"

"Of course."

"No can do."

Link and Graham both moved to stare at Guybrush in surprise, he had yet to move, as if what he had said wasn't surprising at all.

"Why not?" Graham pressed.

"Because if I promise you that, then I've broken the promise." Guy brush shrugged, he was acting so casual that the other two really couldn't tell if he was messing with them.

"You're going to have to explain that one, Captain." Link reached over and poked his forehead.

They watched as Guybrush started counting off on his fingers, they glanced at each other then looked back at the pirate.

"I've died about… 3 or 4 times." He laid his hand back under his head and crosses his legs casually, "A few years back actually. So, way before you ever had."

"What?"

"So, therefor I've already broken the promise."

"How?"

Link scoffed and nudged Graham, "Don't fall for it, he's trying to mess with us!"

With that Guybrush actually sat up, his coat slipped off. The two watched as he untucked his shirt as well.

"Uh, what are you doing?" Graham pressed.

"You two don't believe me, so I'm proving it to you. Really I could just get my death certificate, but that's all the way on my ship." He paused and thought for a second, "Or does Stan have it…?" He said the last part mostly to himself.

With a shrug, he lifted his shirt off alleging the other two to see a scar along his back, he turned around to face them, a similar scar slashed into his front.

"What happened ...?" Link stared with wide eyes at the scar, it looked to him like entry and exit wound, but he couldn't think from what. There was no way it could've been a sword, that's impossible!

"I've told you both about LeChuck." He didn't elaborate any further.

"But if that killed you, then how can you be here with us?" Graham was puzzled, he hadn't heard of a spell that would bring people back to life, but he supposed it was possible.

"Through some clever voodoo, and some good luck from Elaine." He smiled softly then pulled his shirt back on, "Looks nasty doesn't it?"

"Actually…" Graham shrugged, "It looks really cool…"

Guybrush smirked and let out a bit of a chuckle, "Well, thank you."

"Oh! I got it! Promise me that you won't die forever before I do!" Graham fixed his original question and Guybrush couldn't help but are with him.

"Alright Graham, I promise." He laughed.

-------

He couldn't bring himself to go any further into the castle. He was terrified. His friend was sick, so sick he couldn't even get out of bed anymore. Everyone was saying he still had a few good years left, and Guybrush wanted to believe it.

He started into the courtyard. The current younger of the royal family sat on the courtyard. She was an excitable young girl, and so very hopeful for the future, it was a good skill to have. 

She also could appreciate a good story when she heard one. Unlike other people.

She was like Graham.

Guy rush turned away from her and began walking down the hallway, he still couldn't bring himself to face his friend, not with this heavy feeling weighing down on him.

"Ah, I thought I saw Aunt Elaine." The courtyard door had pushed open, Prince- no King Alexander stood in the doorway.

"Well, well, " Guybrush smiled at him, "if it isn't my biggest fan!"

"I'm afraid I'm not your biggest fan anymore." Alexander walked over to Guybrush. Who still couldn't believe how much the boy had grown.

"What? How cruel!" Guybrush said in a jokingly overly dramatic way, "If not you, then who?"

The little princess stepped forward, and her father rested a hand on her head, "Dad has been telling all sorts of stories about the adventures you all went on way back when."

"Is that right?" Guybrush smiled down at her and she smiled back.

"Yeah! I uh, mostly line stories with dragons, but pirate stories are my second favorite!" She rocked on her heels.

"Perhaps I should sit in on one of these stories, " Guybrush tapped his fingers on his cane, "wouldn't want Graham telling you the wrong this, or worse making himself the better puzzle solver!"

When little Gwendolyn gave him a judgemental look, he couldn't help but laugh, "I'm just messing with you! Haha!"

Alexander stepped closer, his voice lowered in a worried tone, he was making sure Gwendolyn couldn't hear them.

"Have you gone up to see him yet?"

"No."

"Uncle Link is already up there, it would mean a lot to him if you were there." Alexander seemed to almost be pleading with the pirate who sighed and nodded.

"Alright, little one, " Guybrush looked back at the princess, "let's go see if we can't get your grandfather to tell us some stories!"

"Alright!" Gwendolyn hurried over to Guybrush and took his free hand excitedly.

"Don't tug on him! Alexander warned.

"I know dad!"

The pair started to walk when Guybrush glanced back and saw the sad look on Alexander's face, his dear couldn't help but be confirmed.

---------

Gwendolyn had been carried off to bed and was now resting peacefully. Leaving the three adventures sitting alone. Link and Graham happily talked back and forth, but Guybrush had gone quiet. It didn't take them long to notice.

"Are you alright there, Captain?" Graham asked with a weary smile.

"How much longer?" The pirate stared at the floor, he couldn't bring himself to look up.

"How much longer until what?" Graham questioned.

"Dammit, how much longer do you have?" Guybrush squeezed his eyes shut.

"I've got plenty of time, trust me." The old king tried to laugh it off, but when he looked at Link it was easy to see that he wanted to ask the same question.

"Don't lie to me, Graham!" He shook his head, "I know when you're lying, you can fool your kids and your grandkids, but you can't fool me!"

Graham went silent, his head turned to look at the magic mirror, he watched dit glisten but received no answers.

He mustered up his courage, "We don't know."

Link covered his mouth quietly.

"The doctor's are doing all they can to slow the process but…." He shrugged, Lord he hated those potions and medicines.

"So… It couldn't be any day at this point?" Guybrush still had his eyes closed, his heart hurt. This hurt. It didn't feel fair.

"That's right…"

The three were all silent. They had no idea what they could say to each other. This horrible silenced seemed to persist for ages until Guybrush's shoulders began to shake.

He shook his head, "I just can't believe it… You, the king who lived in a safe castle most of the time. Dying before the dangerous knight or the fearsome pirate." Tears were streaming down his face, "You really wanted us to keep that promise, huh?"

Graham was able to rest a hand on his head, "Well, I'm not one to give up on a promise."

Link took a deep breath to calm himself down, "We'll stay here, we'll stay with you. Until… Well, you can guess."

"I might stick around even after that, " Guybrush looked up with his tear-filled eyes, "someone's gotta tell that kid stories in your absence."

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

"What would I do without you two?" Graham shook his head with his weary smile.

"You'd have a lot less fun in life." Link smirked.

Guybrush leaned back in his chair a doomed up to the ceiling. The worst part was, he wasn't even sure if pirates and kings went to the same place when they passed on. But he couldn't bring himself.

-----------

"See you on the other side."

They promised each other that.

When they passed away they would find each other again. Guybrush stood in the crossroads, such a familiar sight. Thankfully he had a proper funeral this time, he had the gold coins he needed for the ferryman.

He hated breaking a promise, but he knew there was nowhere he could go in this afterlife that would bring them all three together again. He was even sure that Hylians had their own afterlife.

He watched the water go past as he sailed to the center. He chose to love onto sword fighting, that's where he would stay.

"What's your name again?" The Ferryman asked, then quickly corrected himself before Guybrush could answer, "Your full name."

"Guybrush Ulysses Threepwood." 

"I see…"

The scenery changed, they had gone to a different destination. Guybrush didn't recognize it all, and he had gotten fairly familiar with the afterlife.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere special. Just for heroes like you."

Guybrush couldn't help but feel confused, but he really had to put his trust in the skeleton driving the boat.

"This is your stop…"

The pirate stepped off the boat nervously. He limped down the doc, there was no one around. Just where had he been taken. He stood alone in what looked to be a grass field.

"Hey!"

He could see a figure running down the path.

"Hey!"

No, it was two figures!

"Guybrush!"

The old captain's eyes widened in surprise, as two familiar young men wrapped him in a hug.

"We've been waiting for you! Come one!"

Guybrush looked down at them, still blinking in shock.

"Graham?" He finally asked and the king responded with a proud smile, "Link?" The green knight nodded.

"Come on, we've got a lot to show you, and the girls are waiting just over!" Link took one of Guybrush's hands and Graham took the other.

As the trio walked Guybrush started to find it easier and easier the more they went. Soon he didn't feel quite so old at all.

[klovenhooves]

The Party: Chapter Six

Happy Halloween! Here is a Halloween themed update!

“Can I roll to seduce the orc?” Richie asked, the dice already cradled in his palm. Beside him, Stan rolled his eyes. They were well into hour four of a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, and to say that Richie had asked to seduce every villain the party had crossed paths with would be an understatement. Not only had he attempted (and failed) to seduce a gnome, a black mage, and now the orc, but he had attempted to seduce a barmaid (who threw a tankard of mead in his face), the carriage driver (who had threatened to leave him behind), and, as a joke, Stan’s human paladin character, who had barely managed to dodge the seduction via a counter roll.

 “Just tell him no, Bill,” Stan said in exasperation. “We can’t try to pull him out of anymore failed seductions, it’s getting ridiculous.”

 “Yeah,” Eddie chimed in. “Richie is rapidly approaching his own real-life ratio of romantic success.”

 “You wound me,” Richie said to Eddie, his hand over his heart. He ignored Stan’s comment, which earned him a scoff and another eyeroll.

 “Roll the dice, Bard,” Bill said, his eyes and brow just barely visible over the trifold that hid his Dungeon Master notes and maps. “Let’s see if fortune finally favors you.”

 “Even the Dungeon Master is rude,” Richie said, but there was a laugh in his voice, and he released the die onto the mat below him. It rolled, struggled, and then slipped back to a 16. The rest of the party groaned while Richie erupted in cheers, rising to his feet, pumping his fists over his head. “Prepare to get dicked down, orc hunter!” He glanced over at Eddie and winked, relishing in the way the top of Eddie’s cheeks flushed pink. He grinned and looked away, catching sight of Bev, who raised her eyebrows at him.

 Now what did that mean?

Two hours later, after the orc hunter had been, as Richie described, dicked down, and the boss had been defeated, Richie lingered near the door to Bill’s apartment, waiting for Eddie to finish double-and-triple checking that he had his keys, his wallet, his phone, and his inhaler so they could leave. But Eddie was done patting his pockets and his fanny pack and was now talking in hushed tones to Beverly, who tossed a glance back at Richie with something that looked like mischief in her eyes.

 Something about that look made him nervous.

 “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eleven,” Bev was saying to Eddie’s retreating form, and Eddie gave her a two-fingered salute that Richie recognized as his own. Something about Eddie doing something Richie often did made him smile.

 “You guys going somewhere?” Richie asked as Eddie sidled up to him.

 “Bev is taking me to grab a Halloween costume tomorrow,” Eddie answered easily. “Ben got invited to this Halloween party that Greta is throwing, so he got us all invites.”

 “Greta?” Richie asked. “Disgusting name.”

 “Yeah, she’s pretty gross all the way through,” Eddie said nonchalantly. “She used to bully us in middle school, but Ben’s pretty hot now, so she didn’t recognize him. Introduced herself and everything.”

 “What are you going to be for Halloween?” Richie asked. “Lemme guess…an inhaler. No, wait, a nerd. No, wait!”

 “I’m going as a doctor,” Eddie interrupted, halting the guessing game before it could annoy him too much. “It’s simple, comfortable, and I don’t have to worry about morons not knowing who I am.”

 “I’m going to tell the whole party you’re the guy from Scrubs.”

 “Richie, I’m going to fucking kill you –”

 ***

 It had been three weeks since Family Day, and in those three weeks, Beverly and Stan noticed something very interesting about their friends. For Beverly, it was obvious from the moment she saw Richie in his dorm the first time that he had a crush on Eddie, though whether Richie himself knew or not was unclear.

 For Stan, it was even more obvious that Richie liked Eddie. The way he gently tried to navigate Eddie’s issues with his mother was a dead giveaway. That didn’t mean he approved of his interest, necessarily. That is, he didn’t approve until he saw something he probably wasn’t supposed to see.

 In the middle of The Goonies, Stan had sat up and stretched, planning on ducking out of the room to take a piss. In his exit, he caught sight of Eddie, nestled comfortably in Richie’s arms, his eyes on the television. Above him, Richie was dozing lightly, his mouth slightly open, his glasses sliding down his nose. As he watched, Eddie gently reached up and pulled the glasses from Richie’s face, pausing long enough to brush an errant chunk of hair out of Richie’s eyes.

 There was a tenderness there that Stan had never seen in Eddie, and for that reason, and that reason alone (he kept telling himself), he begrudgingly approved.

 He and Bev had exchanged a glance when the movie ended, and even though they didn’t say anything, they understood. After that they would spend Tuesday mornings, before class, sipping coffee and discussing how to best force their friends to understand what they clearly saw.

 Finally, they thought they had come up with a foolproof plan.

 ***

At 10:45 a.m., Beverly messaged Eddie that she couldn’t take him to the Spirit store for a last minute Halloween costume, but she was going to swing by for blue hair dye and would grab the costume he needed. Eddie didn’t understand it, but Bev quickly sent another text, this one an apology and an explanation that said she had to do something else during the time she said she’d pick Eddie up, and as an apology, she would grab his costume for him.

 He thanked her and slid his phone back into his pocket, not sure why the entire exchange made him uneasy.

 As he was contemplating why he suddenly felt nervous, Bev was putting her car in park in front of the Spirit store, Stan in the passenger seat.

 “I feel bad,” she said. “I don’t like lying to Eddie.”

 “We aren’t lying to Eddie,” Stan rationalized. “You do have to do something else. You have to pick out Eddie’s costume. He’ll thank you later.”

 “But first he’ll hate me,” she pointed out.

 “That’s true,” Stan replied.

 Bev leaned over and ruffled Stan’s hair. “Wait for me,” she said. “I’ll only be a minute.”

 Stan sat in the car, watching Beverly choose what they had agreed on, lingering by the hair dye to pick out her own costume piece, and only when she was standing at the register did Stan pull out his own phone and send a text.

 “Meet me for lunch,” it said.

 ***

 An hour later, Stan was taking the seat across from Richie at the university cafeteria, a salad in front of him while Richie picked up a slice of greasy pizza, covered in bacon and pineapple. Stan watched him take a bite, then two, in silence, before he spoke. He wanted Richie to have his guard down, to not be expecting what he was going to say. Only then would Stan be able to see what he really wanted before Richie managed to make a joke out of it.

 “So…you and Eddie, huh?” he asked finally.

 The effect was instantaneous. Richie choked on his mouthful of pizza, his face flushing dark red. He covered his mouth, coughing uncontrollably, and still managed, to Stan’s disgust, to splutter through several aborted statements with his mouth still full.

 “Richie, manners,” Stan said sternly.

 With wide eyes, Richie swallowed his food, and proceeded to drain his entire cup of chocolate milk (chocolate milk, Stan thought, disgusting).

 “I don’t know what you mean,” he said unconvincingly.

 “Sure you don’t,” Stan said. “So you expect me to believe that you don’t like Eddie?”

 “I – well, of course I like Eddie,” Richie stammered. “I just – you know – like that –”

 “Oh, is this the part where you tell me that you don’t like men?” Stan asked, leaning forward. “Richie, hear me very carefully – we don’t care if you like men, women, both, neither, whatever. We don’t mind if you have a label for who you like or not. But you like Eddie. That much is clear.”

 “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Richie said, his face devoid of emotion. Stan watched him carefully, his plan and lunch forgotten. Perhaps he had miscalculated Richie’s friendship, or his comfort. Either way, he was done forcing the subject.

 ***

 “Are you sure you don’t want me to dye your hair blue, too?” Bev asked as Eddie carefully painted blue dye into her hair. She was sitting on the floor of his dorm, one of Richie’s shirts around her shoulders. Eddie hovered above her, his hands clad in black gloves.

 “I think I’ll pass,” he said with a laugh. “You brought my costume, right?”

 “It’s in the bag over there,” Bev said, squirming uncomfortably on the floor.

 “Cool,” Eddie said companionably. “I think I got all of your hair.”

 “It just has to sit for a bit,” Bev said, turning to look up at Eddie. “So, while it does, I thought I’d…talk to you about something.”

 “Okay,” Eddie said, carefully peeling off his gloves and tossing them into the trash. “What’s up?”

 “It’s about Richie,” she said, watching for Eddie’s reaction. “Do you think…do you think he likes anyone?”

 Eddie froze, halfway through the motion of uncapping his Germ-X bottle. “What – what do you mean?”

 “I mean, do you think he’s into anyone?” Bev asked. “I can’t really get a bead on it.”

 “Why do you want to know?” Eddie asked.

 Bev shrugged, and Eddie stared at her, long enough that Bev could feel his glare boring into the side of her face. It felt wrong, leading Eddie to believe that she had a crush on Richie, but wasn’t that how so many people realized they had feelings for someone? Once that person might no longer be available, the feelings become clear.

 “I – well – no, I don’t think he likes anyone,” Eddie said quietly, more to himself than to Bev. “You should….you should be fine. Bill and Ben will be upset, though.”

 To avoid answering, Bev stood and checked her reflection in the mirror, prodding at one of her now blue curls. “I think this is about ready to be washed out,” she said, tugging the sleeves of Richie’s shirt farther down her arms. “I’m going to go shower,” she added. “See you at the party!”

 “Yeah, see you,” Eddie said, his voice small enough that Bev almost told him the truth, almost apologized. But she didn’t.

 ***

 Richie was getting annoyed. The party started half an hour ago, and he still hadn’t left because not only had Eddie not bothered to get dressed yet, but he couldn’t find the shirt he needed for his costume.

 “So you’re a…scarecrow?” Eddie asked sullenly from his bed, where he was watching Richie rummage through his dirty clothes hamper for the fifth time. “Why?”

 “Why not?” Richie asked with a shrug, trying to avoid looking in Eddie’s direction. Ever since Stan asked him point-blank if he liked Eddie, he was painfully aware of how often he was looking at Eddie, touching Eddie, laughing with Eddie. It was all so…embarrassing now. How obvious was his crush, anyway? He hated himself.

 “I’m already lanky as shit as it is, so I might as well go with it,” he said. “But since I can’t find the fucking shirt I need, I’m going to have to go shirtless with overalls, and everyone is going to think I’m just a stupid hillbilly.”

 “Put the costume on, let me see,” Eddie insisted, sitting up straighter.

 Richie, who was already wearing the overalls, just unhooked, slipped his shirt off and clipped the straps, haphazardly dropping the hat on his head. “See?”

 Eddie stared at him, his eyes on something between Richie’s neck and his chest, and cleared his throat. “It – uh – it looks good. I’m sure the ladies will love you in that.”

 Richie shrugged. “I know I wasn’t terribly clear about it when I blurted it out at you a while ago, but I’m not really into women. They’re alright, but not for me.” He laughed, awkwardly, and turned away from Eddie again, who was looking curiously after him, a word of surprise on his lips. “Are you going to get dressed or what?”

 Eddie’s eyes fell to the bag, the one Bev left behind, which held decidedly not the costume he asked for, but something he probably would not ever have the gall to wear in public, much less in front of his roommate that he might or might not have feelings for.

 “You go on ahead to the party,” he said. “I’m going to…get dressed and get there in a bit.”

 “Why can’t we just go together?” Richie asked.

 “I have to do something, Jesus Christ, dude, fuck off,” Eddie snapped, and Richie laughed.

 “Okay, Spaghetti, I’ll see you there,” Richie said easily, grabbing his keys and sliding out the door. Eddie watched him go, his unfocused gaze remaining on the closed door long after Richie’s footsteps faded.

 Did he really have feelings for Richie? It seemed like an easy enough thing to deny, but hearing Bev’s cautious question had shifted things into a different kind of focus. Did someone have feelings for Richie? Why did that bother him so much?

 It bothered him because Richie was loud, annoying, so incredibly talkative that it was a wonder he could ever breathe. That was why it bothered him, Eddie thought with determination. Not because he himself had feelings for Richie, but because having feelings for Richie made no sense. Yes, that must be it.

 But then there was that evening, while they were watching The Goonies, when Richie slid his arm around his shoulders, that his relentless talking wasn’t annoying, it was charming, when his huge glasses were no longer too big for his face, but accentuated his smile, his large, friendly eyes.

 Something had shifted, then, when Richie’s eyes fell down to Eddie’s and they stayed that way, momentarily lost, suspended somewhere beyond a room full of their friends. After that, their bickering was no longer heated, it was just playful. Their jokes were just as mean, but there was a lightness in their eyes that they both understood. It was comfortable, it was affectionate, and…Eddie paused in his thoughts. Richie was only like that with him. Not with anyone else. Surely that meant something, right?

 As if on cue, his phone, sitting on his desk, started vibrating. He glanced at it for a moment before deciding to pick it up.

 “Stan,” he said as a greeting. “How’s the party?”

 “I heard you were coming in a bit,” Stan said. “That better not be code for not showing up at all.”

 “My costume –”

 “I’m coming to pick you up, Eddie,” Stan said, his voice stern enough that Eddie knew there was no point in arguing. “So get dressed. I’ll be there in five.”

 ***

 Stan sat in his car, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the door to Eddie’s dorm building. He had told Eddie to meet him outside in five, but he wasn’t sure if Eddie would really wear the costume. He had predicted, based on his years of experience with Eddie’s stubbornness, that if he made it seem like he had no choice, Eddie would comply, but who knows. Maybe Richie’s influence was too great, and Eddie was more stubborn than Stan predicted.

 Then the door opened and Eddie slipped out, his shoulders hunched, looking embarrassed. Immediately, he caught sight of Stan’s car and hopped in.

 “Don’t say a word,” he said, pulling the short shorts farther down, as if that would help. Stan pursed his lips and turned back to the road, putting the car in drive.

 “You look good,” he said sincerely.

 “Shut up, no I don’t,” Eddie snapped, trying to pull the top half of his costume closed. “I don’t understand why Bev would do this to me. She knew I just wanted to wear scrubs.”

 Stan shrugged, choosing not to answer, and before Eddie could ask more questions, the short drive was over. He watched as Eddie struggled to decide if he was going to get out of the car at all, his eyes falling on his exposed skin.

 “Come on, Eddie,” Stan said reassuringly. “Yours is far from the most revealing costume in there, I promise.”

 “Really?” Eddie asked, his eyes hopeful.

 “Promise,” Stan replied.

 ***

 Richie refilled his red Solo cup full of tepid beer as his eyes scanned the crowd for Eddie again. He had already seen Beverly, with freshly dyed blue hair and yellow raincoat. Her Coraline was accompanied by Ben, dressed as Wybie. He had caught a glimpse of Mike and Bill, dressed as Sherlock and Watson, whispering in each other’s ears in one of the dark corners of the room, a cup in each of their hands.

 He hadn’t seen Stan yet, but as soon as he thought it, there he was, dressed as Bob Ross, which really looked like most of Stan’s normal clothes more than a costume. And beside him was…

 Suddenly Richie’s mouth was very dry.

 “I thought Eddie was dressing as a doctor,” he said to Bev, who slid up beside him. “Like…scrubs and stuff.”

 But Eddie was wearing tiny white shorts, shiny like latex, and an almost open white top, with a little red cross on the front. Even from across the room, Richie could see that Eddie was uncomfortable, or embarrassed and while he was thoroughly enjoying the view (too much, if Bev’s smug expression was any indicator), he suddenly wished he had his scarecrow shirt so he could take it off and offer it to Eddie.

 “You’re welcome,” Bev said coyly, squeezing Richie’s arm and disappearing back into the crowd.

 “Hey, Trashmouth!” Eddie’s voice cut through the crowd and almost instantly, Richie felt his stomach drop. He could feel Stan’s eyes on him from his place at Eddie’s side and it felt like his gaze was magnified. Everyone was looking at him, looking at Eddie, so openly asking for Richie’s attention.

 Before Eddie could get through the crowd, Richie ducked away, into another room. It was safer to admire Eddie from afar, where no one would get any ideas.

 ***

 Halloween was a bust, Eddie thought ruefully. Here he was, at a party in a costume that apparently several people found very appealing (if the amount of drinks being pushed his way was any indication), but the one person whose attention he wanted was studiously avoiding having any contact with him.

 “What’s wrong, Eddie?” Stan asked, leaning against the wall with his own cup of what Eddie knew was water. “Boy troubles?”

 “I hate it when you say it like that,” Eddie replied sourly.

 “So I’m right,” Stan said smugly.

 “Richie hasn’t said a word to me all night,” Eddie said before he could censor himself. Besides, he rationalized, Stan wouldn’t tell. Stan would understand.

 “Do you want him to talk to you?” Stan asked leadingly. “Because you know how Richie is. If he sees you having fun, he’ll have to join. He can’t help himself.”

 “You’re right,” Eddie said thoughtfully.

 “Eddie!” Bill and Mike called from the makeshift dance floor. “Come dance!”

 “I think I just found your fun,” Stan said, nudging Eddie toward the dancing. “Go, Richie will follow.”

 ***

 “Why aren’t you talking to Eddie?” Beverly asked, passing Richie another cup of beer. “He was looking for you.”

 Richie avoided her gaze, choosing instead to look into the depths of his beer. “I don’t know what you mean.”

 “Okay, moron, but the crap,” Bev said sharply. “You like him, he likes you, go talk to him about it before you spontaneously combust.”

 Richie narrowed his eyes. “Why do I feel like you and Stan are tag-teaming on some weird scheme?”

 Beverly shrugged, taking a sip of her own beer. “Why do you care?”

 “I don’t like being manipulated,” Richie replied. “And I don’t like being confronted with things I’d rather not talk about.”

 “Yeah, no one likes that, Rich,” Bev pointed out. “That’s common sense. We aren’t trying to convince you to be open with everyone, we just want you to be open with Eddie.”

 “If I go talk to him, will this conversation cease?” Richie asked.

 “Absolutely.”

 “I kind of hate you, Bev,” Richie replied, passing her his drink. “And Stan.”

 “We know,” she said with a wink.

 ***

 “Richie incoming,” Bill said as Eddie bounced to the music. “Look alive.”

 “What does that mean?” Mike asked with a laugh.

 “It means be cool,” Bill said, his face flushed from booze. “I know…I know what I meant.” He laughed and slipped sideways, and Eddie had to catch him by winding an arm around his waist.

 He turned to survey Bill’s face more completely but before he could, Richie caught his attention, standing just on the edge of the dance floor. His eyes were on Eddie’s hand, around Bill’s waist. There was a tension in his brow that Eddie wasn’t used to, but it made him nervous. He passed Bill over to Mike and made his way to the edge of the dance floor, beside Richie. Even then, when they were standing next to each other, Richie avoided looking at him.

 “What’s wrong with you, Trashmouth?” Eddie asked gruffly. Richie jumped and glanced at him before he looked away once more. “You haven’t spoken to me all night, you won’t look at me. What, do you hate this stupid costume that much? It is pretty ridiculous.”

 “That’s not it,” Richie said, his voice barely heard over the music. “I just – do you –” he shook the thought free from his mind and started again. “Bill’s costume is pretty cool.”

 “Yeah,” Eddie said warmly. “Bill always has cool costumes. But he’s done Sherlock before, so it doesn’t really count.”

 “Oh, yeah,” Richie said, as if he wasn’t really listening.

 “Okay, I’m going to leave you to this weird mood you’re in, because you’re starting to piss me off,” Eddie retorted, trying to pull his shorts farther down, but even as he did it, he knew it was just a nervous movement. It didn’t help anything. Richie’s eyes followed his movement carefully, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

��He started to walk away, and when Richie didn’t stop him, came stomping back. “You aren’t even going to stop me?” he snapped. “God, Richie, what is your problem?”

 “Do you like Bill?” Richie asked suddenly, as if Eddie’s previous questions hadn’t been mentioned. Eddie stared at him, momentarily lost for words, and Richie’s face fell. “Okay, good to know,” he said, stepping away from Eddie and toward the crowd.

 “No, Rich, wait,” Eddie grabbed him by the arm, but Richie was still moving, weaving between people, as if he didn’t even realize Eddie was clinging to his arm. But still, Eddie hung on. “I don’t like Bill, you idiot, I was just trying to make sure he wasn’t going to fall over and get trampled by other drunk idiots. Richie, you fucking asshole, would you stop for one goddamn second?”

 Richie glanced back at him, his gaze unfocused. Eddie watched as Richie eyes found his own, then his mouth, then his bare chest, and back up again.

 “Richie, stop, you fucking jackass!”

 He screeched to a stop, so quickly that Eddie slammed into his back. He didn’t bother to turn around to see Eddie. “So you don’t like Bill?”

 “No, you dipshit. Besides, Bill likes Mike. I like…” the words, so easy when they could be used to shut Richie up, died in his throat as Richie’s eyes found his again. Could he say it out loud? What if Richie thought it was a joke? What if Richie treated it like a joke? He wasn’t sure he could take that.

 “You like…?”

 Suddenly, Eddie remembered Bev’s words from earlier. “Who do you like?” he asked instead.

 “This is so high school,” Richie groaned, running his hands through his hair. “God, I thought when you get to college you just get to sleep with whoever you want as long as they’re also cool with it. I didn’t think there’d be stupid feelings and crushes and all that shit.”

 “You thought that once you got your diploma you could just fuck around all you wanted?” Eddie asked incredulously. Richie shrugged. “I – I sometimes wonder if you are really as stupid as the shit you say.”

 Richie laughed, and the light returned to his eyes for just a moment. “It does seem kind of stupid when I say it out loud.”

 “Should’ve sounded stupid when you said it in your head,” Eddie grumbled.

 Eddie was suddenly aware that they were at the back door of the house, halfway outside. The sound from the party was significantly diminished, so Eddie could finally hear himself think. Richie chuckled and nodded.

 “So who is it?” he asked.

 Eddie swallowed. “Who is what?” he asked, playing dumb.

 “Who do you like?” Richie asked.

 “I thought you thought this was all high school?” Eddie said nervously. “It…it doesn’t really matter, right?”

 Richie surveyed him closely. “If…if you think it doesn’t matter,” he offered.

 Eddie scrutinized Richie’s expression, searching for the correct answer. “I – I don’t think we should talk about it right now,” he said, trying for lightness. “It’s a party, we should party.”

 Richie blinked once, twice, and then a third time. “You’re right,” he said, offering Eddie his hand. “Care to dance? That costume deserves to be seen in motion.”

 Eddie flushed, taking Richie’s hand. “What – what does that mean?” he asked.

 Richie looked down at him, something unreadable and tempting in his gaze. “I think you know.”

[comicgirl08]

Supergirl recap: Kara and Lena try to Eve-n the score

Three separate stories this week track our favorites and our least favorites (hey, Bennie boy) as we race toward the season finale.

First to Alex, who experienced every human emotion tonight. The vicissitudes of aging. The shock of getting a call that a 17-year-old is about to give birth and chose her to be the adoptive mother. The frustration of not being able to reach Kara to talk it out. The terror about what kind of mother she’ll be. The heartbreak of learning that the birth mother changed her mind. The devastation of suffering an emotional wound that may never heal.

By her side for all of it is the kind, patient Kelly, who stands in for Kara, waits with Alex during the labor, assures her that she’ll be a wonderful mother, and comforts her when it falls to pieces. She shares her own heartbreak when her engagement to her sergeant had to remain a secret while they were serving abroad, and how she wasn’t able to mourn her publicly when she died on patrol.

“What’s a deep wound today will be a faded scar someday,” she says, assuring Alex that she will find another person someday who’ll make her smile.

On the human/alien front, Lockwood storms out of his wife’s funeral while George is giving the eulogy, too worked up to focus on anything but putting the full might of the DEO behind capturing the Brevakk who killed his wife and the one who commandeered the airwaves to call for an uprising against the government.

Brainy tries to stop him from invading Lena’s lab, but Lockwood shoots his way in and finds raw, undiluted vials of experimental Harun-El, which gave James his superpowers. Brainy warns him that James’ dosage was carefully calibrated, and what Lockwood’s holding could kill him. “You’re grieving,” Brainy says. “Your son needs you now.”

But Lockwood ignores this advice and grabs the case of Harun-El to join the DEO strike team moving on the building where the Brevakk is hiding. They arrest her, and he orders the other aliens sheltering there to be renditioned for enhanced interrogation for the crime of harboring a murderer.

Brainy is super not cool with any of this, and he’s joined by Dreamer and a mask-less Guardian (I mean, why bother, right?) Lockwood shouts at the DEO to arrest “the hero and the blood traitor.” But Brainy reminds the DEO that they swore an oath to defend the country and the constitution, both of which are being subverted by Lockwood’s orders.

When the agents stand down, a furious Lockwood injects himself with the Harun-El, and I must say, he adapts to it much better than James did, not that it’s a competition. His broken arm is immediately healed, and he and James start throwing trucks at each other, which is awesome.

Martian Manhunter swoops in next and tries to talk Lockwood down, warning that the last man who stood against him suffered a terrible fate of his own making. (Still miss your joie de vivre, Manchester!) At James’s suggestion, he tosses Lockwood into a tanker, which explodes. But that just shreds Lockwood’s shirt and makes him mad. Still, it gives the good guys time to free the detained aliens.

Lockwood cleans himself up and finds George sitting alone in the church, simmering with rage at his father, whom he blames for his mother’s death. “You did this for yourself,” he says. “I hate you.” Lockwood’s left sitting alone, gazing at his wife’s framed photo and cradling a glowing vial of Harun-El as his eyes flip black.

Finally, to Kara and Lena, who are off to Kaznia. Although Kara says it’ll be faster if she flies alone—commercial, she adds—Lena won’t hear of her not riding along on the pilot-less plane she designed herself. But when it’s hit with decidedly unnatural purple lightning (which is never explained, actually), Lena races to the cockpit to take control, shouting at Kara to strap in and put on her oxygen mask.

Nuh uh. Kara zips outside and lifts the plane’s nose away from danger, helping Lena with the manual landing and then racing back to her seat to pretend to have passed out. “God, I hate flying,” she says. I stan one amazing super-lady team!

They find the Kaznian base deserted, with Amertek-branded equipment that was used to torture aliens from the DEO’s desert facility, according to the paper files they find. (Remember, paper is un-hackable.) One of them is Copy, who cloned himself curing the carnival attack.

Then a noise startles them, and a door swings open to reveal Eve. But, like, a weird Eve. She’s bizarrely glad to see Kara and Lena, saying she loves them but she loves Lex more.

Lena orders their very own Eva Braun to talk, and when she does, she spaces out and greets Kara all over again. She claims someone inside the DEO helped them acquire the aliens but won’t say what they want with them. Then the good guys notice claw marks heading to a lab, where they find Harun-El and Kryptonite.

They also find plans indicating that Lex is helping the Kaznians invade America, which Lena compares to a child throwing rocks at a tank. Then Kara notices a sigil, familiar but different, and presses it to fire up Red Daughter’s training footage.

Lena quickly realizes that, just like the Harun-El split Sam and Reign, Supergirl must’ve come in contact with it, too. She’s horrified at the thought of this blank slate being tested, trained, and indoctrinated by Lex in a prison in one of the most repressive regimes in the world. She’s concerned about what kind of damage it could do.

‘She is not an it,” Kara says, insisting there has to be some part of Supergirl in her. Then these two amazing, capable women are taken by surprise when Eve, who’s been acting verrrrry strangely, turns out to have duplicated herself using the Copy powers they were just discussing. C’mon, they’re both smarter than that.

Anyway, Eve sets off a timer that gives them ten minutes until the building self-destructs, and Lena and Kara split up to find the exit, which allows Kara to find Red Daughter’s cell. It’s filled with pictures of Kara and Supergirl both, so now Kara knows that Lex knows!

She also finds a journal, her journal, with a photo of her and Alex. Then Lena calls for her, and she scrambles to keep her friend from discovering all the incriminating evidence on the walls.

She suggests climbing up and out through the air vents, then claims she forgot her tape recorder and runs back to eye-laser all the evidence. Does she not have super-speed? Why did she not do this when Lena approached? Let’s chalk it up to the shock of her discovery and move on.

With four minutes to detonation, they find a file indicating that President Baker’s chief of staff, Sarah Walker, is the mole working with Lex. Kara stays to gather evidence, while Lena chases Eve out the door.

On the plane, Lena—who is the coolest human being in the galaxy and if you don’t agree, you can meet me outside—reaches down to her boot and pulls the chunky heel off to reveal an extendable baton. Then she and Eve fight, with Lena trying to convince her that Lex only loves himself.

Inside, Kara fights off several copies of Eve, cutely quipping, “ Thank you, next,” before she’s hit with the next wave. And look, I’m just gonna say it, she had way more trouble with these copies than she should have. It’s one of those situations where she’s as strong as the plot needs her to be, and in this case, the plot needed her to be inside the building when it exploded so Lena would think she was dead.

That momentary distraction is what Eve needed to stab Lena with her weapon, but oh ho ho, Kara’s recorder was in her pocket, and it deflected the blade. She knocks Eve out, getting her own quip about a snake on a plane. But this was a copy Eve, and she disappears.

Regardless, she’s overjoyed to discover that Kara’s safe but still blames herself for putting her friend in a situation that could’ve killed her.

“It wouldn’t have,” Kara says. While Lena’s back is turned to fuss with champagne, Kara stands and takes off her glasses. IS IT HAPPENING? IS IT???

But no. Lena talks about how hard Eve’s betrayal was, having been lied to every day for a year. “I don’t know if I’ll ever recover from it,” Lena says. In fact, it’s only Kara’s friendship keeping her trust alive.

In the background, Kara slowly puts her glasses back on as all of us weep for the close call. “I’m always going to be here for you,” Kara promises.

Back in National City, Kara tells James all about Red Daughter, pointing out that it easily could’ve been her raised as a weapon. Also, she swears that as soon as Lex is behind bars, she’ll tell Lena the truth, even if she hates her. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Then she’s doing her duty as any American citizen should do when she discovers that a government official is working with a foreign entity determined to hurt the country: She reports it. She’s escorted into the Oval Office, where she notices Kryptonite sitting around as a Supergirl deterrent, and warns Baker that his chief of staff is complicit in working with Lex and the Kaznians.

He sends everyone out of the room, puts the file in a drawer, and confirms that she hasn’t told anyone about the information. Then he activates a button under his desk, and Kara finds a black bag slipped over her head.

Snaps of the cape

Daaang, we knew the president was a no-goodnik, but I was thinking he was more a useful-fool kind of evil and not an active collaborator.

Think the Children of Liberty will react well to Lockwood’s new superpowers? Or will he use his rhetorical gifts to spin it in his favor?

Fun exchange between Dreamer, sporting a cool new braid hairstyle and a huge alien-powered hammer, and the newly fire-proof James: “Now, I’m gonna hit you with this, and we’re gonna see what happens.” “Not in the face.” That’s no doubt when he suggested introducing Lockwood to the tanker truck: Flames would slow him down but not kill him.

[blue-collects-things]

ok IT book spoilers ahead so beware but stan kills himself as an adult and I'd like to imagine what it would be like if he struggled with suicide as a kid too. I also like to imagine what it would be like if bill walked in on him in the middle of an attempt. :)c

The Scent of Purple Hyacinth

Stan Uris x Bill Denbrough

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: suicide attempt, graphic descriptions of suicide, depression, anxiety

Author’s Note: This is something I’ve been kind of putting off for a while because it’s some pretty heavy stuff and I wanted to execute it well. The losers are about high school junior age (about 16/17) in this to give some perspective. It gets pretty graphic and I tagged that, but just be cautious please. My messages are always open if you need someone to talk to, to vent to, anything. Don’t stay silent. Also, I must have listened to Heal by Tom Odell and Oblivion by Bastille 400 million times each while writing this to get some perspective. Please enjoy.

Read it on ao3

The day that everything went to hell started out pretty normal, all things considered.

Bill had had a decent day, got to spend time with his friends and boyfriend, and only had a little homework to do after football practice. He was halfway home when he realized he left his history notes in his locker and needed them to study for the test tomorrow. He turned back around, hoping to catch someone who could let him back in. As he ran up to the front steps, Bill caught sight of the janitor tying a black bag full of trash and knocked on the main doors of the school building.

The older man fumbled with the keys on his ring momentarily before unlocking the door. “What are you doing here so late, Bill?” he asks.

“Hey, Gary. Forgot my notes,” Bill explains, “I’ll b-be back in a minute.” He rushes up the steps, taking them two at a time, to get to the third floor. He walks briskly down the hall to get to his locker and put in the combination. When he flings the door open, a piece of paper flutters to the ground. He crosses his eyebrows in confusion before bending to pick it up. He instantly recognizes the handwriting on the outside that his initials are written in as Stan’s elegant script. Bill unfolds it and reads the six-word note.

William, my love,I’m sorry.-Stanley

Something about this doesn’t sit right with Bill. He grabs his history notebook, slams the locker shut, not bothering with the lock, and sprints back to his car. He drives several miles above the speed limit to get to Stan’s house on the other side of town. He feels the panic ebbing and flowing with his bloodstream as he pauses at stop lights and gasses on green ones. He makes the near twenty minute drive in nine. He doesn’t bother with shutting the car door as he runs up the front steps of the Uris household. He thumps his fist against the front door and shouts, “Stan! Stan, a-are you in there? He-ello?” When there is no answer after ten seconds of waiting, Bill dashes to the side of the porch where a spare key sits under a pot of hydrangeas. He fumbles to fit the key in the slot but finally gets it.

After he shuts the door, everything inside is eerily quiet, save for the pounding blood in Bill’s ears. “Stan?” he calls out. Faintly he can hear the water running upstairs. So someone is home, he thinks, only worrying himself further. He climbs the stairs and figures out that the noise is coming from Stan’s room. “Stan?” he asks once more, pushing the door open gently. He notices immediately the adjacent bathroom’s door is shut. Bill passes the foot of the bed and trips over something, landing squarely on the floor. It is in this position he notices water leaking out from under the door.

“Hey, Stanny, are you in there?” Bill asks once he’s stood up. He tries to open the door, but it won’t budge. Not like it’s locked, but like something is pressed up against it. Worry renews itself in Bill’s body as he drives his shoulder into the door. He keeps pushing and pushing and pushing and finally whatever was lodged under the doorknob comes loose and Bill can get inside. In the process, he knocks over the chair he assumes was keeping the door shut.

And then he almost falls over again. Water pools around his feet, completely drenching his sneakers and the edge of his jeans. He notices with increasing horror that the water is tinted pink. His eyes slowly, too slowly, follow the water back to its source. The bath is overflowing and in it lays Stan, incrementally sliding under the water. His eyes are closed and the veins around them stand out so prominently, they look tattooed there.

Bill goes into overdrive. He rushes to the side of the tub, falling to his knees and turning off the water. “Stanley!” He smacks his hand against his boyfriend’s cheek and pulls him into more of a sitting position. “C’mon, h-honey, open your eyes.” Bill gets no response as he looks over Stan’s body. He’s still wearing his clothes, a long sleeved sweater and jeans. Bill delicately rolls up a sleeve and backs away upon seeing what was underneath, covering his mouth with his bloody fingers. “Chr-christ!” Stan’s arm is shredded, littered with old, white scars and new open wounds. A long slash runs from his wrist to his elbow. Bill feels like he might vomit as he looks around again, seeing the glinting of the blade Stan used in the other end of the tub. He also spots an open pill bottle labeled Eszopiclone, a sleeping pill prescribed to Stan’s dad.

Bill lets out a string of curse words and feels his eyes water as he fumbles his cellphone out of his pocket. He slides to the emergency screen and dials 9-1-1, hating how long it seems to take for them to answer. “911, what’s your emergency?” a woman answers after two rings.

“I th-think my boyfriend tried to commit s-s-suicide,” Bill says, choking out the last word, the tears in his eyes falling freely.

“Okay, I’ll dispatch an ambulance to your location. What is your address?” Bill rattles off the Uris’s address and waits for the next question. “Alright, the ambulance is on its way. Is he breathing?”

Bill dashes back to Stan and watches to see if his chest goes up and down. In his panic, he had not thought to check for breathing. He notices a rise and fall, however a faint one. “Y-yes, b-but very, v-very sh-h-hallowly.”

“What about his heart beat?” Bill lays two fingers against the hollow of Stan’s throat and waits for something. The pulse is slow. So slow, Bill can count five seconds between the beats. He reports this to the 911 operator who tells him to stay on the line. He hears sirens in the distance and soon he hears footsteps coming inside the house.

“Where are you?” a man’s voice calls out.

“U-up here!” Bill calls back. Everything starts to move in slow motion after that. The paramedics enter Stan’s bedroom and Bill moves out of the way. He watches as they lift Stan’s limp body from the bathtub and carry him out to the hallway where a gurney is set up. Bill follows behind as they push the gurney outside and lift him into the ambulance. “Pl-please, let me-ee c-come wi-hith you.” The paramedic closest to him nods once and helps Bill hoist himself into the ambulance. He watches on silently as the two men in the back tuck cannulas into Stan’s nostrils and bandage his arms several times over.

Bill doesn’t know how long it takes to get to the hospital. All he does know is that he prays the whole way there. He prays when he hasn’t in years, asking for Stan’s life. He bargains and pleads and begs that Stan will be okay. He is still praying as he is ushered out of the ambulance and follows after the gurney until a nurse stops him. “I n-need to kno-how h-he’s ok-k-kay!”

“Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down,” the nurse says. He gestures towards a room full of chairs. “Take a seat and we’ll update you when we have information.”

Bill knows the nurse is right and deflates a little. “Pl-please,” he asks, “just make su-hure he’s okay.” The nurse nods and Bill goes to take a seat. He pulls out his phone again and calls Mrs. Uris. He sobs as he reports the news to her and tells her where they are. After he hangs up, he sends a blunt text to the losers club group message: stan is hurt, please come to hospital.

He clicks his phone off and feels the exhaustion of the day sink in. He dozes off before he knows what’s happening.

~ ~ ~

When Bill wakes up an hour later, he is surrounded, the near-empty waiting room now filled with his friends and some others. Bev is seated directly next to him and notices he’s awake first. “There’s no news,” she reports without Bill having to ask. He nods and buries his head in his hands.

“A-hare the U-urises h-h-here?” His voice comes out muffled.

“Yeah,” Richie says from across the room. “They’re talking to the doctors.” Bill notices with muted shock that Richie is crying silently, a steady stream of tears flowing down his face. In the next chair over, Eddie places his hand over his boyfriend’s and closes his eyes. “I’ve gotta get out of here. I’m going insane.” He pushes out of the chair and angrily walks towards the exit.

From the other side of Bev, Mike begins to follow after, but Eddie waves him down. “Just let him go. He needs to cool off.” His voice is incredibly tight and Bill rises from his own chair to sit next to the small boy.

“Ho-ow are y-y-you holding u-up? I kno-how Stan is your be-e-est friend,” Bill asks. He hesitantly looks up to see the incredulous face Eddie is making. “What?”

Eddie just chuckles humorlessly and shakes his head. “Even when I should be the one asking you, you’re worried about everyone else. Jesus, Big Bill, how are you holding up? Stan is your boyfriend, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know what I’d do if that were Richie.” And suddenly, he breaks down, ugly sobs racking his tiny frame. Bill carefully places an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and pulls him closer. The other losers slowly surround them, Ben taking the chair on the other side of Eddie and rubbing slow circles on his shoulder, Mike coming up from behind and wrapping him in a bear hug, and Bev kneeling in front of them all, her hand delicately threaded through Eddie’s.

“I just wish he’d have said something to us,” Mike says, also crying. Bill has only seen him cry once and that was years ago, so it sends him over the edge. Soon all of them are crying and huddled together, dependent on each other for support. Eventually, Richie comes back, face a red mess from his own crying. Bev reaches out a hand for him to join them, which he takes and sits on the floor near Bill’s feet. They all have a grasp on one another, making sure that they’re all still there.

Distantly, Bill hears the squeak of shoes coming towards their group, but he doesn’t look up until he hears a small, “Ahem.” Donald and Andrea Uris stand in the hallway flanked by doctors. Mike is the first to go to them and hug Mrs. Uris, followed closely thereafter by the rest of the losers.

A doctor explains to them what they did: “Hello, I’m Doctor Rose Mendoza and this is Doctor Jarred Alexander. We’re two of the surgeons who worked on Stanley. I’m sorry we’ve had to meet in such circumstances.” She gives a sympathetic look before continuing. “We pumped Stan’s stomach and had to repair the damage to his arms. It also seems he gave himself a concussion, presumably from falling in the tub. We gave him a blood infusion and he’s doing well at the moment. It’s a good thing you caught it as soon as you did.” This last part is directed at Bill. “Had you not found him so early on, we’re not so confident he’d be alive right now.” Bill bites back a sob and feels Richie grab his hand on one side, Bev on the other.

Another doctor adds on to his colleague’s report, “He’s still under the anesthesia from the surgery, but it might take him a little longer because of the head trauma and excessive blood loss. I suggest that you go in there and talk to him, tell him about your past week at school, any plans you might have had for the weekend. Let him know you’re still there. He can hear you and he’ll wake up in his own time.”

“I’ll go first,” Richie offers. He turns to Bill. “Are you okay with that?” Bill only nods and Richie gives his hand a quick squeeze before letting go and following the doctors down the hall and to the left, disappearing into the sterile whiteness.

~ ~ ~

Stan can’t move or see, but he can hear everything.

He can hear the doctors telling his parents what happened and knowing that he failed to do what he set out to, hears them crying and feels their tender touches, hears the heart monitor beeping slowly, hears trays and and carts and voices passing by, though sounding far, far away.

Right now, he’s hearing a familiar voice say, “Hey, Stan the Man. How are you doing?” Richie, his mind supplies, feeling a little appalled it took as long as it did to recognize his friend. “Wow, what a dumb question, you’re obviously not doing too hot or else we wouldn’t be in here.” There is a silence and Stan hears Richie suck in a sharp breath and a gentle warmth encloses his left hand. “The doctors told me to talk and apparently I’m really good at that, so here goes nothing.” And Richie does talk, about school, about the photography club he’s in, everything. He tells Stan secret wishes and hopes and dreams, things he’s only shared with Eddie, he discloses.

I wish I could ask you questions and talk back, Stan thinks helplessly.

“You know, I wish you would have said something. We-” Richie stops and Stan can tell he’s trying to swallow the emotion rising in the back of his throat. “We’re so worried. I mostly feel like a shit friend for not noticing you were suffering.” And suddenly there is a choked sobbed coming out of Richie and he rises from the chair, taking his warmth away from Stan’s hand. “Bill is a mess. He won’t say anything, but I can tell. If you can hear me in there, Stanny, I want you to know we’re all here for you, but that boy would go through hell and high water to make you happy. Talk to him when you wake up because he loves you.” A short pause. “We all do.” And then the door opens and closes again, signaling his departure.

Stan notes Richie’s use of the word when and not if and a small shred of determination to wake up takes root in Stan’s heart.

~ ~ ~

Bev and Ben come in next. Together they tell Stan about how want to go on a road trip all over the country to visit all fifty states after they graduate. Ben wants to see the world’s largest rubber band ball and the Golden Gate Bridge. Bev wants to visit New York City to see whatever show is playing on Broadway and the fashion district. They talk about wanting to move in together and the kind of house they’re going to get.

Ben says he’s going to design it. A wide open kitchen with all the newest appliances where they can practice cooking and make pancakes every Sunday morning. There would be a big living room with plenty of couch space for losers club movie night. An office for Ben and a sewing room for Bev. A big garden where they grow their own veggies and fruits and seasonal flowers. There will be one big bedroom for them to share and plenty spare rooms for their friends.

They speak about wanting to adopt a dog, but can’t decide which breed they want. Bev really wants a black French bulldog and a Dalmatian, but Ben says only one dog. He argues that a golden retriever would be the best option. Either way, they can’t decide on a name. They want Stan’s advice because he always has insightful things to say.

I think Maisie would be good for a girl dog and Jackson for a boy dog. Or maybe you should name the dog based on what it looks like, he thinks in response, but of course they can’t hear him.

They speak energetically and Stan appreciates that; it’s a welcome distraction from his immobility. But he can tell that their laughter is forced because of the strain in Ben’s voice when he speaks and the nervous tapping of Bev’s foot against the tile floor. “Wake up soon, Stanley,” Ben says quietly, a sullenness like Stan has never heard filling his words. “We miss you.” Then someone leaves, the door opening and falling shut again letting him know.

The sudden fragrance of pomegranates and mangos filling his nose tells him that Bev is still in the room. She leans close, her body heat easing some of the chill Stan is feeling. “Please wake up,” she whispers, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face. She places a soft kiss that lasts for about three seconds on his forehead. He feels a drop of wetness fall there when she pulls away. “Please.” And then she is gone as well, taking with her the comfort of another’s presence.

~ ~ ~

Eddie and Mike come in together a little after the previous couple leave. Mike does most of the talking with an interjection from Eddie once in a while.

“On Saturday, the farm is getting some baby chicks. I was going to ask you guys over to help my dad and me sort them. There’s always too many for us to do in one day and we could always use a set of helping hands or six.” Mike chuckles at his own joke before talking about his farm more. The animals and what’s being planted and harvested right now. All the while, Stan can hear Eddie moving about in his tiny room. There is the sound of spritz bottles and the smell of cleaner fills the air.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing?” Mike asks at one point, interrupting his own story.

Stan hears Eddie let out an exasperated sigh and wants to laugh at the sound. “I want this room to be germ-free when Stan wakes up so he can heal as quick as physically possible. Being sick won’t help anything.” Stan feels grateful for Eddie’s fussing and wants more than anything to hug his tiny friend.

Stan hears Eddie disappear into another room, cleaner bottle still going, and assumes there is an adjacent bathroom to his room. Mike leans closer to him, the comforting smell of his laundry detergent and aftershave calming Stan’s spinning mind. “I have a secret for you,” he says incredibly quietly. “When you come to, we’re going to be here to help you. We love you and want you to get better. Just remember, every step of the way, we’ll be there right beside you to catch you when you slip and to simply be in your company when you’re feeling good. Don’t forget that you have six personal shrinks at your disposal.” He chuckles melancholily, and Stan hears him swallow thickly. He wants to throw his arms around Mike. He wants to embrace all of his friends, but since he can’t, he adds it to his list of reasons to wake up. He is starting to understand that he doesn’t have to ache on his own, but it is okay to be hurting. “Get better, Stan.” He ruffles Stan’s curls and then the door opens, shuts, and there is silence.

Then, he hears Eddie flush the toilet and the sink water running. It is a while before the sink water turns off, but Stan is not surprised Eddie washes his hands that thoroughly, especially considering that he was just handling cleaning supplies. After the water stops running, Eddie comes back into the main room. Stan hears him come closer before laying his head on Stan’s chest and hugging him gently around the waist. “I- I love you, Stanny, we all do. Please wake up, but do it for your own sake, okay? Want to get better.” Eddie is tender as he mirrors Bev’s actions of pushing his hair out of his face. Stan hears a sniffle before the door opens and shuts again, leaving him alone once more.

~ ~ ~

It’s hours before someone visits Stan again.

He realizes offhandedly that visiting hours would’ve ended soon after he got admitted to his own room, but he still panics. What if they stopped caring about me? he can’t help but think. That’s stupid. They all literally came in here to tell you how much they love you, dumbass, another part of his brain counters. Yeah, all of them, he thinks.

Except for Bill.

Visiting hours, remember? He’ll be here. The rational part of his brain does a pretty good job of calming him down.

The nurses check on him periodically, taking his vitals and replacing the IV drip medication. A nurse, who introduces herself as Daisy, tells him that this is the first time she’s had to take care of a suicide survivor and that he should want to get better, that she’s seen all his friends’ faces, his mother’s tears, his father’s set jaw and clenching fists. Daisy says that he definitely has great things and people to live for, but the greatest one is himself. It makes him want to cry. How had he not realized that his friends would always be there for him, that this burden was not his alone to bear? Daisy squeezes his hand every time she checks on him, “To let you know I’m here when you wake up,” she explains once. She seems kind even though Stan can’t see her and for that kindness, he cannot wait to thank her.

It has been a few minutes since the new nurse, Dahlia, had taken his vitals for the morning shift of nurses when his door opens again. The room is suddenly filled with an overly sweet scent. At first, it feels like the smell is suffocating Stan, a feeling that he relates to being force-fed syrupy cough medication. After a bit, however, it is comforting, like the scent has been there all along. Whoever is in the room with him sets something down on the table next to him, the sticky sweet smell getting stronger, and drags out the chair on his right side. The person picks up his hand and places a gentle kiss on his knuckles before planting one on his cheek and another on his knuckles. Stan would recognize the smell of the shampoo with a permanent underlying tang of chlorine without the sharp, clean fragrance of familiar cologne.

Bill, my Bill.

“Hi, Stanny,” he says, a thumb brushing over Stan’s fingers. “I miss you.” And right out of the gate, Stan wants to burst into sobs. I miss you, too, he wants so badly to reply. I miss you so goddamn much. “It f-feels a little strange having a one-w-w-way conversation, but I’ll try my ha-arrdest just to talk.” There is a brief pause where Bill sucks in a sharp breath. “I w-went back to your hou-ou-ouse last night. I cl-cl-cleaned up the bathroo-hoom so your m-mom didn’t have to.” Stan feels a hot spiral of guilt drill through his stomach. I caused that. Bill had to see me like that. He wanted to say something, but Bill keeps talking. “I m-m-made dinner for m-me and your pa-harents but no-nobody could eat. We w-w-were all so w-worried for you Stan. We cou-houldn’t sleep either. I tried to sl-sl-ee-eep in your bed, but I j-just couldn’t sh-sh-shut my thou-houghts down. I e-ended up on th-he roof and sat i-i-in the same sp-sp-spot where I told you I l-loved you the first time. D-d-do you reme-hember that, Stanny? I stuttered e-e-even more than u-usual. I was so ne-hervous.” He chuckles and Stan feels himself wanting to smile. Of course he remembers; it was one of the best days of his life.

It was a blustery fall day in Derry, but that didn’t stop Stan from showing Bill his favorite spot to think when his brain got to be a little too much to handle. He had dragged him up through the attic, the two boys’ hands desperately clenched together. They claimed it was so neither of them fell but there was definitely an anterior motive. The wind had caused them to pull the hoods of their hoodies up to protect themselves from its harshness.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Stan had asked, looking out at the incredible view he got of Derry from this high up. He sat down, legs dangling off the edge, Bill following suit. He could see the spires of the Methodist church across town and the American flag that rose from the pole on top of the high school. The sun was just setting and the sky was shades of pink and purple and red. Stan could just tell Bill’s hands were itching to get out his watercolor pencils and draw it.

“N-not as b-b-beautifu-hul as yo-oo-oo-ou,” Bill said. His stutter seemed to have gotten the best of him. Stan whipped around to look at his boyfriend. Bill’s eyes were unwavering and staring lovingly at him. Stan smiled at how cute Bill was and extended his fingers towards his boyfriend so they could hold hands. They are silent for a moment, the warmth between them reflecting back and forth. Stan leaned his head on Bill’s shoulder when he said it, “I-I lo-hove y-y-you.” For the second time that night, Stan whipped his head around to look at his boyfriend. Bill wasn’t looking at him this time and his high cheekbones were alight with a bright blush.

Stan squeezed his hand and smiled as he said, “I love you, too” and meant it. They had only been dating for four months, but they both loved each other to the moon and back.

That was before It. Before the Deadlights.

Stan is brought back to the present by Bill sniffing. His voice is tight when he speaks again: “I l-love you sti-hill. You kn-know that, ri-right? I w-w-will always love yo-hou, Stanny. A-always.” Then Bill is crying horrible, body-wracking sobs. “I’m s-s-sorry. I’m s-so, s-so sorry. I’m sorry I di-hidn’t n-notice you we-here in pain. I-I’m sorry I didn’t a-a-ask you ho-ow you w-w-were doing m-more often. I’m s-sorry I di-hidn’t force you t-to ta-ha-halk about what ha-a-appened wh-when we w-w-were kids. I’m just s-so sorry for being a sh-shitty boyfriend and fo-hor everything else. It’s m-my fault. I-I’m sorry.” Bill’s final emphasized apology sends Stan over the edge. He wants to shout at the top of his lungs and cry and get angry and be upset all at the same time. It’s not your fault! It’s mine! It’s all mine! his mind screams.

Then, Dahlia comes back in to check on his vitals again. She introduces herself to Bill who gives a clipped greeting. “Lovely flowers,” she comments, removing her rubber gloves and tossing them in the trash when she’s finished with her examination. “What are they?

“Th-they’re hyacinth,” Bill responds curtly. After Dahlia leaves, Bill returns to his spot by Stan’s side. He sounds remarkably calmer when he speaks: “Do you know th-the my-hyth how hyacinth got its na-hame?” Stan can’t answer, but if he could he would still say no. “Well, the sun god, Apollo, and the god of the west wind, Zephyr, were competing for the affection of a mortal boy they both loved. His name was Hyakinthos. One day, Apollo was teaching Hyakinthos to throw discus and Zephyr got very jealous. He sent a violent wind their way that made the disc come back at Hyakinthos, which struck and killed him. The brokenhearted Apollo named the flowers the sprouted from his spilled blood hyacinth to remember him.” Whenever Bill told stories, he never stuttered. It was like an override function that allowed to him to speak without ruining the flow of his tale. Stan always loves to hear stories from his boyfriend and this time is no exception, only he wishes the story was a little happier. “Th-that’s why I got you purple hyacinth. I’m sure you sme-helled them when I came in.” Bill lets out a short laugh. “Purple hy-hyacinth means asking for f-f-forgiveness and symbolizes deep regre-het. I h-hope you can forgive me for what a terrible boyfriend I-I-I’ve been, not being able to see when the only person I’ve ever lo-hoved was hurting.”

And suddenly, Stan is very angry, Because how dare Bill think he was to blame for Stan’s fucked up mind? How could he think he was the reason for aftereffects of that demented, child-eating monster? For the past two days, Stan kept telling himself how he wants to wake up, but now he was going to try. He focuses all of his energy on moving something, anything. I’m coming, Bill. Hold on. He feels his fingers tingle and tries to squeeze them around Bill’s hand. When he succeeds, he hears Bill suck in a gasp. “St-Stanny, is that yo-hou, love? Can you h-h-hear me?” Stan squeezes his hand a second time and Bill lets out a teary chuckle. “God, I l-l-love you so mu-huch. I’m here when you wake up, o-okay?” Stan gives one more squeeze before feeling totally drained and slipping into the darkness at the back of his mind.

~ ~ ~

When Stan comes to, he is surrounded by his friends. He blinks his bleary eyes open and studies all the familiar faces in his room. They are chatting in hushed tones with one another so they don’t see him wake. He shakily lifts his left hand to get Richie’s attention knowing his loud mouth will get everyone else’s attention. His fingers gently brush against his friend’s bare wrist, making him jump. When Richie turns to see his friend awake, tears immediately spring to his eyes and a sad smile turns his lips upward. He lets out a few quick breaths, saying “Stan” on one of his exhales.

Then, there are five more pairs of eyes on him. They are all crying, even Mike who Stan had only seen cry a handful of times, which makes Stan cry as well. All the pent up emotions from yesterday, the day before that, all the way back to the sewers come flowing freely out. He tries to speak, but his voice pains him from so many hours of disuse. Bev rushes to the windowsill where a pitcher of water was being stored to keep it chilled and pours some in a cup for him. She delicately lifts it to his lips because his arms are shaking like leaves.

When he’s finished with his drink, Stan clears his throat a few times before beginning to talk: “I’m sorry.” And his voice is shaky, from the crying or something else, he doesn’t know. “I’m sorry you all had to go through that.”

Bill takes his previous seat and holds Stan’s hand like it’s going to break. “Sh, sh,” he hushes. “Wh-what do you have to be sorry a-a-about?”

Stan lets out a few more heartbreaking whimpers before clenching his eyes and drawing in a shaky breath to order his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I didn’t trust you guys enough to tell you what was going on. You all- you just wanted to help me but I thought I could handle the horrors of my own mind by myself. I couldn’t.” Stan punctuates the awful explanation with a humorless laugh. None of his friends find that funny, though. “When It came to Derry and I was alone with that fucking clown, It showed me It’s true form.” Stan shivers as he recollects what happened that day.

They had ventured into the sewers to find Bev, the ominous bloody message sending them right into the heart of It’s lair. Stan, of course, was reluctant to descend underground through the house of Neibolt Street, but they had no choice. Bev was in danger and it was up to them to save her. They were almost all in the entrance way when Henry Bowers nearly killed Mike.

That’s when he heard it: Stanley, the wind seemed to whisper. He turned abruptly, his flashlight beam falling on another stretch of sewers. Stanley, come here, it said again. Against his will, Stan’s legs began to move towards the sound. He knew rationally that straying from his group was a bad idea, but he couldn’t stop moving. His lungs expanded and shrunk rapidly as he entered an open chamber. All around him he heard the voice and the dripping of the pipes. We all float down here, Stanley. And then he was attacked. He got knocked to the ground and he tried to scream but he couldn’t.

“It opened It’s mouth and I saw-” Stan shudders as he retells the story. Bev places a grounding hand on his left shoulder and Mike stands by her to rub his fingers over the back of Stan’s hand. “I saw It’s true form. It was dark and cold and I felt like there was no hope left in the world. I felt so- so alone, like I’d never be happy ever again. And then you guys came and-” He draws in a shaky breath. “If you hadn’t pulled that thing off of me, I think I’d be dead or crazy.”

“Why didn’t you just tell us?” Eddie says, a strange tightness in his voice. He looks a little angry with Stan, but Stan doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah.” Ben contributes, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “We would’ve understood. We were all tormented by It. We wouldn’t judge.”

“But you don’t know!” Stan says, frustrated tears rolling down his cheeks. He feels Bill put his elbows on the bed and raise the hand he was holding to his lips. He was crying as well. “I got so paranoid after that. If you guys didn’t answer my text messages in ten minutes, I got worried that you’d gotten taken, or worse, that you were ignoring me.”

“Never,” Richie says. It’s strange that he had been so quiet until now, usually the one to command a conversation’s direction. “Never, ever, Stan. Do you understand?”

“I do now,” Stan replies, reaching to link his pinky with Richie’s, the only movement his shaking arms could allow. “But before, nothing could convince me. I just- lost all hope. Food didn’t taste like anything, so I stopped eating. Whenever I slept, I would only see It and the horrible things It showed me, so I only slept as little as I could get away with. I’d get anxious every time I stepped outside my house alone, like people knew that I was depressed and suspicious about everything. Then I started- started cutting to release some of that pain. It worked for a bit but I still wasn’t happy or at least not sad. And then yesterday happened.” He realizes he’s taking short, choppy breaths and that his friends are crying full force again. They’re all silent for a while, long enough for Dahlia and Doctor Mendoza to check on him. His friends are banished from his room while they take his blood pressure and talk to him.

“We’re going to give you some antidepressants,” Doctor Mendoza says, pulling out a pad and pen from her breast pocket. “And there’s a therapist that’s ready to see you whenever you get out. She’ll want to see you for an two hours twice a week to assess you. Until then, you’ll talk to the one we have on staff here. Okay, Stanley?”

“Yes,” he says confidently. “I want to get better.”

“Well, that is certainly a step in the right direction,” Doctor Mendoza says, a smile lining her lips. “I’ll get your friends back in here.” She leaves with a small “thanks” from Stan. He sees, now that the door is open, that his friends only crowded together right outside. He smiles wide and finally realizes that these people are with him every step of the way.

~ ~ ~

Stan is getting better. He still sees Iris, his therapist, twice every month, but that’s an improvement. Some days are bad, yes, when he can barely get out of bed because he feels hopeless. But these are the days when Eddie comes by before and after school to make sure that Stan is still taking his medications and talks to him and brings him homework. These are the days Ben brings over Lego sets that have a thousand or more pieces to distract Stan. These are the days when Richie and Bev bring CDs and dinner and sit with him while they all eat and listen to whatever artist is singing. These are the days when Mike brings over his dog, Mr. Chips, so that Stan can pet him for focus. These are the days when Bill ditches school or work altogether to lay with Stan and hold him until he feels whole again.

These are the days that Stan realizes he has two caring parents, five incredibly persistent best friends, and one exceptionally devoted boyfriend who all love him dearly. And it’s all Stan could ask for.

~ ~ ~

I just want to say two things before I wrap this up.1. To the anon who requested this: you have the patience of a saint and I wish I had me some of that.2. Please, please, please talk to someone if you feel at all like Stan did in this. Even if it’s not a face-to-face conversation, it will help. I promise.Have a request? Submit one here. See my masterlist here.

[acoolguyscoollife]

Chapter 34: A Few Moments Ago

Cool Guy

“Can you pass the salt?” My father asked me, which was what made me snap to attention. Entering the grid had been much different to entering other places, and it felt like I had been sleeping until I had heard the voice snapping me out of it. Sure enough, looking up, I was at a familiar dinner table, with two faces I wished I was less familiar with. I was sure my mouth was open, looking back and forth between my mother and father as they looked back at me expectantly. “Did you hear me, CG?” He repeated, and things began to set in. 

The tone of his voice hadn’t raised in the handful of seconds since he had last spoken, words filled with concern instead of irritation. That was enough for me to know that something was wrong with where I was. The dull haze over my thoughts began to fade as I realised that I shouldn’t be where I was, and looking between my parents, seeing their warm expressions, only served to punctuate that. A glance over my shoulder revealed that I was still wearing the Cobatana, and I could feel the dagger at my hip. I stood up, and the two said nothing as the chair behind me tumbled backwards to the floor.

“You’re not real.” I said, more matter-of-factly than accusatory. It was this that prompted my mother to stand, moving to approach me for some sort of purpose, but she only got a few steps forward before my sword slashed through her. For a brief, horrible second, I thought I had somehow made a mistake, that something had caused me to briefly forget how I had gotten here just enough to cause this, but when she didn’t split apart or start bleeding, I knew that I had made the right call. Instead of blood, black goo began to drip out from her, and the room around me shimmered, shifting slightly as if my vision was blurring, but the fake versions of my parents stayed clear, features now melting into the same black goo that was bleeding from my fake mother.

“Astounding, isn’t it, how quick you were to make that call.” A voice said from behind me, and I spun around, throwing the dagger in the direction it came from. It hit the man I could only assume was Untermeyer, who quickly evaporated, leaving nothing but a small puddle of goo behind. I focused my magic on bringing the dagger back to me before it struck the wall, catching it and turning back to face my fake parents, but they had already disappeared too. I moved to the door to exit the kitchen as it began to crumble, not sure what to expect on the other side, and stepped through just in time to get out before it completely disappeared. I was in the abyss now, which I could only assume was The Grid, and I couldn’t see anything around me. I turned a few times, making sure that I didn’t miss anything, and only narrowly avoided Untermeyer throwing himself at me, hand outstretched. My foot stepped to the side, and I fell to one knee, letting my sword fly upwards and severing him in two. The two pieces landed with a dull thud each, quickly dissipating back into goo that melted into the floor. “You must have hated them a lot to do that.” Another voice, and this time when I turned he was too close to avoid. A wrinkled, bony hand grabbed me, and the two of us struggled as he tried to pull me to the ground, only being stopped when I managed to unfasten the dagger and stab it into him. A bright light burned from his eyes before his body melted away, thankfully not covering me in any way.

“Yeah, trust me, a meal with them is basically my worst nightmare.” I replied to nobody in particular, before looking around again. I couldn’t hear anything approaching me this time, but I could hear something in the distance that I began running towards. The closer I got, the more that I was able to make out the sounds of fighting, and also voices, both easily recognised. One was Untermeyer, but the one he was talking to was Seth, who had said something about not joining him. The ground below me tilted upwards, and after a few feet of steps upwards, I saw that I was on a makeshift wall that had been used to box Seth in, and Untermeyer was preparing to attack him with something I was sure he wouldn’t survive. I had to step in.

 The barrage of attacks after I had stopped the initial one was hard to counter, one or two having slipped past my sword and reached me instead. I could feel a gradual trickle of blood leaking from my nose, filling my mouth with a metallic tang, and it was beginning to hurt to breathe. With as clear of a mind as I could muster at this moment, I gripped the dagger, trying to create some sort of shield to defend myself and Seth, who was stood behind me and shooting Untermeyer’s clones that were running at us. Thankfully, they only seemed to need one hit to take down, but there was still enough of them that they would sometimes managed to get to me, requiring me to cut them down.

“Eddie! What do I do?!” Seth yelled at the being inside him, and I glanced back, wondering why he was focusing on talking to a parasite instead of me. His head was tilted to the side as if listening to someone whispering in his ear, and his firing had stopped, which was making my job even harder. I had gotten about a foot of a magical shield coming from my dagger hand before the Untermeyer clones reached me, causing me to stop my focus to slash through them. It carved through them like butter, but the distraction was just enough time for Untermeyer himself to hit me, knocking me onto my ass. The clones took this as a chance to dogpile me, only cementing the fact that I really didn’t like clones. My vision began to fade into a dark mess of people on top of me, making me think back to the King, but before it could disappear completely, a wave of… something blasted over me. It sent the clones flying, destroying them before they even hit the ground, and I tilted my head back to see what was behind me. Seth was there, firing his gun as he had been before, but next to him was someone I couldn’t quite make out. The figure was dark, but not entirely unrecognisable. I scrambled backwards to regroup with them, and the closer I got, the more it looked like Seth. The features were all near-identical, with the only difference being that it looked like it was made from shadows. It was only as it spoke that I realised exactly who it was.

“Get behind me!” Eddie yelled, and I was quick to do so, watching as he threw up something from the ground to block the attacks from Untermeyer. Finally able to take a second to pause, I slowly stood myself up, taking a few deep breaths to ease the pain that filled my chest. Glancing between Eddie and Seth, I noticed that Seth was sweating slightly, and I realised that he was using magic to make Eddie real.

“Wow, looks like you have your own stan-” I began, but Seth put his hand over my mouth, face stony as his jaw stayed set.

“Finish that joke, and I’ll shoot you, I don’t care how much we need this.” Seth’s voice was slightly raspy, and I could tell that he was using more energy than he let on. Looking back, I saw that Eddie was easily keeping the defences up, so I had to keep it up. Passing the dagger along wasn’t something I was sure I wanted to do, but as soon as Seth took it, his stance noticeably changed, back straightening up as he let out a harrowed breath.

“So where do we go from here? We gotta find the others but with all this noise there’s no chance we’ll be able to find them the way I found you.” I asked, and Seth looked around. The wall that I had jumped from was gone now, so leaving was an option, but we had no idea of knowing if we’d be going the right way. And right now, standing our ground made a lot more sense considering Eddie would have to drop his barrier if we wanted to move. I opened my mouth to say something, but instead of words, all I could hear was a rumbling that was loud enough that I worried that something was going to fall from above like a cave-in. However, instead of the ceiling, it was the floor that began to move, breaking apart into chunks. I jumped from where I was, which had started to move rapidly, but hadn’t seen that other parts of the ground were moving too, meaning that when I landed, it was on a part of the ground that was sticking out directly towards me. I didn’t have any time to react before it pierced my leg, burning with the worst physical pain I’d felt in my life to that point. My yell of pain was accompanied like an agony-symphony – A symphonagony – by Seth yelling in a similar manner, clutching his arm in a very similar way to how I was holding my leg. The flow of blood was steady as I pulled it out, staining my hand a sticky crimson as I held it shut, and I quickly tried to focus magic into it to try and heal it. I hadn’t realised how much I needed the dagger until I didn’t have it, even the simplest level of energy into my wound sending waves of fatigue through my body. Slowly and painfully, I sealed the exit wound, then focused on the entry point, which was dripping a lot more blood onto the dark floor. The shaking had subsided slightly now, but it was still difficult to keep steady, especially with my head now swimming from the blood loss. Soon enough, I had managed to close the other wound, and I took the time to look over at Seth again. His was already sealed shut, and he looked a lot less pale than I felt, so I could only assume he had only been glanced by something. I tried standing up slowly and gingerly, and winced in pain as I felt waves of heat shooting through my leg. Thankfully, I was able to keep myself upright, at least long enough to look around and figure out what had caused that. While I couldn’t see anything that was clearly the cause of the floor cracking, I could see that Eddie’s barrier was beginning to struggle, now transparent instead of a fully solid object, showing how he was attacking. As the clones ran at the wall, tendrils shot out and pierced their brains, disintegrating them, but the amount of them that were running at the wall now had multiplied a lot, and Eddie was definitely not going to be able to hold it for much longer. Seth had noticed too, moving to my side and offering his shoulder to bring the two of us closer to the barrier. I could still walk, but having him helping got us there a lot quicker than I would have by myself.

“On my mark, lower the barrier.” Seth said to Eddie, who nodded in agreement. I took my sword in my hand, and Seth passed the dagger back to me, causing him to wince slightly as all the effort of keeping Eddie up came back to him. I could only hope that Eddie dropping the barrier made Seth’s job easier, but having the dagger in my hand numbed the pain of my leg, so I wasn’t going to complain too much. “Three… two…” Seth counted down, raising his pistol as he paused to look at exactly how many there were left. “Now!”

[krakenator]

CHAPTER 19 aka “Time Out”

SPOILERS are sprinkled around extremely liberally for The Property of Hate

Masterpost here

Dude, Hero’s schism got fucked WIDE open my god. Then again, running directly into a storm of Nothing can’t have done anything good for it

Clever girl solves the equation. Immediately sets out to test it despite fears because it is GOOD SCIENCE

But chickens out when source of experiment shows signs of vague consciousness. Fair enough

BUT- turning his dial to TV mode is supposed to knock him the fuck out ENTIRELY. RGB is supposed to JUST be a TV and nothing more. Negative once again out there breaking all the set rules, like the menace he is. Even if its just sleep-talking

Aww- the amour took a real beating, but it did a MARVELOUS job protecting her- the bottom half of her face is pretty much 100% fine! Thank god for turtlenecks

More speechbubbles directly from the mystery man himself! So, Negative’s text is white and his bubbles are rectangular static

And once again… the flower dies once it has fulfilled its purpose

the actual petals are sticking around this time... this is gonna be one heckuva beautiful but incredibly weird ruin people come across. that the Idea and snail will come across

WHY IS the Idea following them, anyway???

Hero you precious bean I would kill and die for you

But YIKES her voice. Don’t do Nothing, kids

Lovin’ these parallels. Both times RGB’s finished being Negative Hero’s had to drag him places, sings, and wears his hat. Last time it was sad, this time its funny

Look at how tall the fence is. LOOK AT IT. I don’t CARE how much we’ve established that RGB is a secret muscle boy, how the FUCK did he throw her 50 feet in the air

I mean its possible the Nothing shifted around the sand bordering the fence so much that sea level dropped a bunch but STILL. HECKUVA YEET

About this door though… was it always here? Did it just... appear for them? It’s also the only one here. Back when first entering, the door RGB used was amongst a bunch of them. Time’s hangout also has a bunch of these doors. 

having said that... hold on. hold the fuck on

its the same goddamn place. we’ve come full circle, baby! and, even MORE evidence-

same doors! 

Oh, OH! New suit!

PAN FLAG PAN FLAG PAN FLAG

WE STAN ONE DISASTER PANSEXUAL ON THIS BLOG

RGB thinks he’s a distinguished pan but we all know the truth

Have I mentioned before loving how Hero’s thoughts are shown as a kids drawing? If so I’ll say it again, because I love it

Something tells me RGB’s gonna reach for the nightmare Hero just threw about willynilly and find it missing at a super unfortunate moment. it’s basically got it’s own panel, this si gonna come back to bite us

Are you ever LATE to anything if you’re literally Time? Asking for a certain white rabbit

Interesting that fire in this story has so far only been a destructive force- the sun’s scorching nature and its association with light, the burning iron to RGB’s face that killed him, how Nothing is reminiscent of a forest fire; and yet here, to burn Hero’s tongue is to restore her voice

TIME’S DESIGN THOUGH

I love how he’s basically three people/perspectives jammed into one body all interacting with each other. It’s bonkers

How he interacts with himself across pages

His speech is black box, echoing white text (so, kinda the inverse of RGB) and I love how clock hands act as tails, joining boxes from one to the other to easier follow the flow of his speech

His domain is apparently outside of the Make Believe? like, in this weird inbetween-

motherfucker

THE CHAPTER TITLE IS “INBETWEEN” GOD DAMNIT

HIS THORAX IS AN HOURGLASS

Time is helping them, giving Hero back some color and draining RGB of some festering emotion. Time heals all wounds

Time’s candle’s are also growing throughout the entire interaction- they begin as uneven stubs on page 364... and finish as full antlers

BUT BACK ON TIME’S HANGOUT BEING INBETWEEN WORLDS- Hate’s hangout is also like this. we enter/exit the Make Believe through these golden doors, Dial ALSO exits the comic by walking through a door. a far more hidden one, but same principle. Makes you wonder if Time also has a method of cutting you out of the story like Hate did to Jules and Melody

Is Time literally telling me that the reason RGB bleeds out of his face is because he is emotionally constipated on a chronic level? That’s amazing. That’s incredibly on brand for RGB

So, honestly, paying for Madras’ wares with pints of color is probably kinda good for him. Let out your feelings a little

BLOODLETTING IS A LEGIT MEDICAL PRACTISE, YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST FOLKS!!!

But back on that joke way back where music lesbians were ragging on RGB about what he tastes like; considering it’s literally an almost incomprehensible mashup of his bottled up emotions, “sharp”, “sour”, and “cheesy” are probably real, literal, and canon

The canonical answer is “awful”

Color restoration, go!

Time’s heating up the colors using one of his candle flames- distilling it? And what’s getting sprinkled in there?

i think the crunched up stuff is the star he pulls down on page 367?

CONFIRMED on next page: the medicine was ‘starlight, feelings, and regret’

So if they had’t run into Time and RGB had woken up, do you think he would have solved Hero’s coloring dilemma the same way? “Here, Hero, come now, drink up. It’s only my blood”

Huh- so acknowledging the contradiction of the fire to heal Hero. And flame is used once again to heat up the sand sprinkled into the drink so it wasn’t frozen

So RGB is never fully dead. Interesting.

eeeey, Hero’s schism has also knitted back together a bit- we’re back to what is, at this point tbh, the usual baseline of schism

Y O we’re gonna see Madras again!! yes!!!! now the question is- is Time just saying “yeah you’ll run into her again soon” or “i personally will expedite things so you run into her soon. its juts a lil time travel”

Hate took/will take Time’s eye? Bruh. At least my exes never poked out my eyes. Are we getting set up for an eye for an eye pun here mod? Are we? Did Time poke out one of Hers first or are we gonna get to see Time come in later to exact equivalent revenge?

alternatively, ‘she’ is Madras. after all, we can’t tell if Time is speaking with with capitalization here, since ‘she’ only appears at the beginning of sentences. either way, it’s looking like we’l be going back (or forward?) to the House of Paint!

this is also a super neat example of using page composition to tell us which Time is speaking, and using the growth state of antlers as another visual cue.

Time is... a hare...... has antlers....... that’s a fucking jackalope

ADDITIONALLY the antlers are candles, which......... JACK O’ LANTERN? REALLY MOD?? I LOVE THIS

She loses WHAT

MOD? HELLO? WHAT EXACTLY ARE YOU PLANNING FOR MY PRECIOUS DAUGHTER HUH

More exposition on why Hero entering the Make Believe kills her “waking” identity

(dreamy sigh) mod, I know I’ve yelled at you a lot throughout this entire reading but please now it is out of deep, reverent love for the story and worldbuilding because mod, modmad, uncle mod, sarah jolley- you are hitting exactly on all my favorite story setting tropes. Hero’s out of her mind. God. Fuck. I love it. this might be my favorite page

i f uckign- love this panel? reinforcing that Hero’s home is so close, and yet so far- it’s under their feet, but unattainable. she can’t go back, and ‘home’ is looking far more like her thoughts and scribbling than it is a tangile reality. she’s just. in the clouds n-

her head is in the clouds >:(

TIME PLEASE. DON’T BLAME ME FOR HERO’S PREDICAMENT BY STARING OUT AT ME WITH THEM BEADY EYES

Time, snidely: They know who They are

I love the full antlers. how far we’ve come in just like... jesus christ, did all this manage to happen in just 9 PAGES? this has been........ a lot lmao

Dgsafjkghf Time LITERALLY ROCKS HER TO SLEEP that’s amazing

Time wtf the fuck do you mean that’s the same word twi-

...I gotcha

RGB is going to wake up so confused. Where did this weird glass boat thing come from? Why are all the tricks up his sleeve littered all over the floor what the hell. HERO WHY ARE YOU COLORS FADED. WHAT DID YOU DO. Damn, at least I’m in my swankiest suit of all

The moon starts to wane as Time spins it! Neat detail

well that only took forever! we’re caught up to the comic at this point in time- I mean, chapter 20 is like 5 pages underway but I kinda like the format of just doing it all in ONE BIG GO, so I guess we can expect the next one’a these to be when Cut To concludes. that’ll be a while, but hey, good to marinate on stuff for a while

there’s already so much going on in chapter 20 oh god thINGS ARE HAPPENIIIIIING

Next time on TPoH we’re checking in on all those other cool cats of the comic

[novantinuum]

April Fool’s

I meant to have this done on Saturday but time got away from me. Here, take some shameless stangst. I may continue this to include aftermath?

AO3

Rating: T (for violence and some language)

Word Count: 1600~

Summary: Stan’s attempt at an April Fool’s prank goes terribly wrong.

Stanley Pines hummed merrily as his gnarled knuckles wrapped around the sink tap and twisted it on. Lukewarm water slowly began to pour from the facet, drumming against the base of his metal bucket with a resonant ring. He nearly winced at how loud the initial rush of water was, but he supposed the noise couldn’t be helped. If he were lucky, his nerd brother would find himself so absorbed in studying and cataloging their latest catch that he wouldn’t find any iota of suspicion in his current doings… He doubted Ford remembered, but today marked April first. April Fool’s Day. One of their favorite days as kids. Forty plus years prior, they took great pleasure in springing pranks on each other and their family that day. Young Stan aimed for the classics- whoopee cushion under his father’s seat at dinner, Groucho Marx glasses at the temple, smearing whipped cream over Ford’s face when he was sleeping- the list of practical jokes was nearly endless. Ford, on the other hand, was more of a Rube Goldberg machine kind of guy. He’d spend weeks engineering and constructing elaborate set-ups that would fling those plastic slinky snakes at Ma from across the room when her heel hit a tripwire hidden in the carpet. Oh man, they could laugh for hours at the sheer variety of treacherous gags they’ve pulled on this day! However, he and Ford hadn’t gotten to terrorize each other with stupid pranks since they were seventeen. Truth be told, this was one of the things he missed most about their relationship. While they’d long since made up, and while Stan recognized they were still working towards rekindling their brotherhood, he longed for the day when he stopped feeling like he was constantly tiptoeing around Ford. He longed for the day his brother stopped treating him like fragile glass. And his hope was that cracking a classic, harmless prank might help with those issues. Remind them of their past a little. To remind them that a little poking fun at each other is okay.

“Doo-doo-doo da-doo, filling a big metal bucket full of water,” he muttered to himself in a sing-song voice as the tap continued to pour, “so I can dump it on my twin bro’s head!” Stan faintly recalled pulling a similar prank when they were nine. He poured a tray of ice cubes down the back of Ford’s shirt. His brother shrieked like a five-year-old girl at first, and then proceeded to chuck the ice right back at him, giggling the whole time. Their Ma threw a fit when she found the watery mess their feud left in the kitchen, but it was worth it for the laughs. Man, he hoped they could both get a similar chuckle out of this. He always loved the sound of Ford’s laughter. Stanley waited until the water filled the bucket, and promptly shut off the tap. With a labored grunt, he hefted the bucket out of the sink and onto the floor, wincing at the way his joints creaked as he straightened his back. Step one was complete. Step two was to simply smoke ol’ Sixer out of his hive, get into place, and wait for the perfect moment…

_____________________________ “Hey Sixer, get out here, would ya’? There’s somethin’ all spooky like out in the water. I think it might be another one a’ those… uh, another one of ‘em seven headed squid things?” “Mmm, coming,” Ford muttered distractedly, eyes securely fixed on the half-filled parchment before him and the nerve sample suspended in a vial of formaldehyde upon the desk. The sample came from the thirteen-armed serpent they conquered a week prior. From all the taxonomic scientific literature he’d referenced while conducting his study, the creature seemingly had not yet been discovered by marine scientists. Excitingly, this meant that he would be tasked with naming this new strange anomalous species, and with presenting his findings to the scientific community when they reached shore again. The moment his pen touched to make the first stroke against roughhewn paper, Stan’s gravelly voice filtered through the thin walls again. “Ford, if ya’ don’t get your nerd ass out on deck in the next minute, I’m feeding you to the squid!” He tossed the fountain pen to the side of his journal and pushed himself out of his chair in one fluid motion. “All right, all right!” he hollered back. Ford carded all twelve fingers through his thick greying hair, and rolled his eyes at the wooden ceiling with a heavy breath. God, what had gotten into Stanley today? He wasn’t usually so unnerved about the magical creatures they encountered in this span of open sea. Hastily, he snagged one of his overcoats and a scarf from the coat hook by the door. He shrugged his shoulders through the long, padded sleeves as he crossed into the main cabin of their ship, and then wound the warm knit scarf— midnight blue and peppered with glitter for stars, Mabel’s design— around his neck. His hand brushed against the comforting weight at the left of his hips, the titanium blaster he’d brought back with him from his journeys through the multiverse. He only had to use it once since his return home, and probably didn’t need to lug it everywhere now that he wasn’t constantly on the run from bounty hunters, but old habits die hard. Beyond that, in his first weeks back in Gravity Falls, he quickly discovered that the familiar weight helped ground him whenever he was griped with panic or fell into dissociation. He swung the cabin door open with caution. Cool, salty sea air filled his nose almost instantly, and tickled at the hair at his jawline and chin he’d allowed to grow slightly beyond stubble. (Any longer, and he might soon have a burgeoning beard just like Stanley’s, he realized with a snort.) From first glance, the water seemed too calm to be hiding any large territorial creatures that might pose threat to their ship, but admittedly he had been woefully wrong in his assumptions before. Sea monsters were nothing but unpredictable, and especially those that had evaded oceanic cataloguers’ sights all this time. Meanwhile, Stan was nowhere to be seen on deck—despite his call— proving nearly as evasive as their deep-sea cryptids. Ford had just opened his mouth to call for his brother when his sensitive ears picked up on the muted sound of liquid sloshing from above. _____________________________ Barely holding in his laughter, Stanley— who knelt on the roof of the cabin right over the outer doorway— tipped his bucket over the edge. He watched with anticipation as the water cascaded down towards his brother’s head. If only he noticed earlier how Ford’s dominant hand nervously twitched next to the holster at his hip as he exited the cabin, perhaps he would have possessed the good sense to leave him be.

If only he took account of the way his brother’s entire body seized up milliseconds before the water’s impact as if expecting an attack… perhaps he would have had time to duck. _____________________________

The instant he heard it, it was as if his conscious mind drifted a thousand miles away. His legs were rooted to the deck. Distantly, Ford felt the lukewarm liquid hit his head, utterly flattening his hair and soaking through his overcoat and shirt all the way to skin. Heard a loud clap as the remaining fluid splashed onto the deck. It was warm. His imagination immediately brought images of the multitude of monolithic horrors he'd faced, especially the kinds that soaked their food in tepid stomach acid to aid in digestion before their victims were consumed. Suddenly midday turned into night, and the nebulous skies of alien worlds soared overhead. His vision became glassy and his pulse skyrocketed as the lifesaving mantra that consistently dominated his mind whilst beyond the portal took hold of his tense limbs. Danger! Danger! Danger!!

From outside himself he watched his hand find the grip of his gun, tightening around the thick rubber. Watched his body fall easily into an offensive stance as he’d done time after time after time. He swung around, senses alight, brain conjuring any number of fearsome beasts from the scourges of his memory…

Finger on the trigger.

Hands shaking.

Eyelids squeezed shut. Muscles contracting.

Even though his mind felt miles away from the deck of the ship, the firing of the gun left a cacophony of ringing in his ears. The kickback shook his joints.

It was his brother’s scream that finally knocked him back into himself.

“AUGGH, goddamn!”

With a heaving gasp, he was violently thrown into full awareness of his own body. He could barely push past his own quickened breaths to concentrate on the scene before him. His eyes panned from the gun he held in trembling hands, to the emptied bucket that had fallen onto deck, to above. To Stanley. Images of demons and leviathans and beasts shattered like glass, replaced by the sight of his own twin brother, cradling his left shoulder. He could already see blood pooling from in between his fingers.

“F-fuck,” Stan hissed, tears rimming his reddened eyes. Ford let out a choked sob as he realized what just happened, what he just did. The muscles of his right hand went slack, and the gun clattered onto the wooden deck. His lungs burned as his already hastened breathing turned into strained wheezing. Numbed fingers frantically pressed against his face, clawing at the frame of his glasses. He felt his legs propel him through the door, into his cabin, away. Heard Stan’s voice hollering his name. Sensed his body folding in on itself, his hands griping harshly at his hair. A harsh ringing echoed through his ears, causing his head to seem heavy and the world he inhabited to feel little more than an elaborate, cruel facade.

Monster, he spat at himself. Clutching his knees tight to his chest and struggling to breathe, the man began to weep.

[whole-dip]

The Amazing Adventurers of Spider-Man

As a third entry in my series analyzing theme park rides I wanted to take a step back in time and talk about one of my favorite rides ever made, The Amazing Adventures of Spider-Man at Universal’s Islands of Adventure. This ride opened with the park in 1999 and is considered one of the best rides there, and until late last year was one of the most complex and well executed rides in Orlando. The ride to top it? Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance. Here’s the thing, both rides’ development was headed by Scott Trowbridge. While I won’t be specifically comparing the two in this piece, while riding the similarities are apparent. I still maintain though that Rise of the Resistance is closer to the Haunted Mansion’s DNA than Spidey’s. 

We begin in Marvel Superhero Island, an area themed to a very 90s comics version of New York City. We see massive cutouts of various heroes and villains, some of them even parading around on ATVs. The gigantic Hulk coaster soars above us and we hear the roars coming from the gamma experiments gone awry. Heavy bass and electric guitar wails are heard all around as. This is not a realistic take on Marvel comics, from the bright colors to the ginormous character cutouts, this is not Marvel come to life but rather, you standing inside a comic book. Think less MCU and more Dick Tracy. Despite how much this goes against the ideas of theme park immersion nowadays, it still works. Likely because this specific era of Marvel is exactly what I fell in love with as a kid, but still, it feels like all the X-treme glory of 90s comics, without any of the overly long and exhausting story arcs nobody cares for. 

The experience starts when you enter the headquarters of the Daily Bugle and make your way through the offices. You see the desks of all our favorite employees like Betty Brant and Ben Urich, the darkroom of the Bugle’s now in-house photographer Peter Parker, and of course the giant portrait of the paper’s editor in chief, J. Jonah Jameson. As you walk you’ll notice that all the phones are ringing off the hook and faxes are coming in. The TVs are all tuned to the news where the biggest theft in New York history is unfolding live. The Sinister Syndicate has been assembled by Doctor Octopus with the villains Hobgoblin, Electro, Hydroman, and Scream, and they’re wreaking absolute havoc on the city! Not only that, Doc Ock’s anti gravity gun has allowed him to steal the Statue of Liberty herself! On a night as crazy as this the Daily Bugle needs as many reporters as it can get so you’ve been recruited to go on the scene in a state of the art armored vehicle to get report from the frontline on the villains and what Spider-Man is doing to stop them. After getting briefed you exit into the alley behind the office building, board your vehicle, don your 3D glasses, and set out to get the story. 

This queue experience informs you of a LOT of things in a very short amount of time. During this time you’re learning who Spider-Man is, who the sinister syndicate is, who the members are, what each of their powers are, and what crimes they’ve committed. It’s all done incredibly efficiently because it’s delivered to you via the news report story mechanic. It’s a great excuse for characters to talk directly at you and explain exactly what you need to know. Further, everything is given in segments so you’re never taking in more than one point at a time. You’ll see a reporter talking about Hydroman, Hydroman attacking, and then it’ll cut to the same style of video for Electro, then Scream, and so on. For the theft of the statue of liberty, you actually see as Doc Ock steals it with his antigravity gun and the reporters immediately will comment wondering where in the city he could be hiding it. All of these segments are ended with Spider-Man stopping the attack, but the villains getting away. Teaching these things are super important because the ride is heavily depended on you having a clear understanding of the story and everything going on. Similarly, Rise of the Resistance is also a heavily story dependent ride, one that is even more complex because it contains multiple twists at the very beginning.

Your vehicle then takes off into the city, above you the shadow of Spider-Man swinging by can be seen, accompanied by the spider signal. Jameson orders you via radio to get a winning report and then suddenly Spider-Man himself jumps on to the hood of your car (with an accompanying lurch forward to account for his landing)! He warns you that this could be the most dangerous night of his life, and yours, and then swings away. Pressured by Jameson again, you pursue. After dodging an oncoming garbage truck and escaping into a seemingly abandoned warehouse, you find the deconstructed statue of liberty, and the sinister syndicate continuing their plans! Unfortunately for you, you’re caught and they each try to take you down. 

The ride system used here is a cool one. The actual vehicle you’re in is a multi axis motion simulator, it can move you forward, backward, left, right, rotate, and probably more that I’m not aware of. Not only that, it’s on a track and moves through the show building as would any other dark ride. The building itself is adorned with practical set pieces like walls, crates, statue of liberty pieces as well as screens. These screens are where characters appear and work together with practical effects to create full experience. For example, the garbage truck that your vehicle nearly crashes into is a real effect of an object coming towards you, but the driver window featuring a Stan Lee cameo is a screen. When Spider-Man lands on your vehicle your simply very close to a giant screen and your car moves perfectly in sync. Not only that, but each ride film does a process of “squinching” in which the perspective of the shot is perfectly synced with the movements of your ride vehicle to always have high amounts of depth, otherwise it would look like a flat video instead of the the 3D effect. This ride is constantly playing with perspective, I’ll explain more further on.

Each villain tries to personally stop you, Electro shocks your vehicle making it vibrate wildly, Scream nearly pounces on your car, Doc Ock attempts to shoot you with his anti gravity gun, Hydroman almost drowns you, and Hobgoblin tries to bomb you from the air. Luckily, Spider-Man is on the scene to prevent any harm as you make it out of the maze-like warehouse and back on to the street. 

Again, this section perfectly shows the ways the ride system, the screens, and the effects work in tandem. When Hobgoblin tosses a bomb at you and Spider-Man webs it away, you are looking at a screen, moving underneath a physical bridge, and the explosion is accompanied by a real fireball effect. Each villain gets their own separate moment to show off their powers and personally attack you. This further drives home exactly who they are and what they can do. That knowledge is crucial and will come into play soon.

Once out on the street, Doc Ock decides to go around Spider-Man and take your vehicle hostage. He uses his anti gravity gun to lift you up towards the rooftops of Manhattan while Spider-Man pursues in an attempt to rescue you. Right when Spidey webs your vehicle he’s snatched in the air by Hobgoblin on his glider and all of you are now flown through the urban canyons at incredible speed. The entire syndicate has now tied up Spider-Man to a rooftop and your vehicle is hanging by a thread as all the villains slowly encroach to take you down together. Suddenly, Spider-Man bursts from behind and uses the villains' powers against them. He webs Electro into Hydroman where the two of them shock each other and crash into Hobgoblin whose pumpkin bombs all explode at once, allowing Spider-Man to then take out Scream and Doc Ock. Just when everything seemed over, Doctor Octopus uses reverse his anti gravity gun to send your vehicle falling down from the skyscrapers and into ground! As your hurtle down and see the asphalt of your doom getting closer and closer, Spidey webs up a net as fast as he can spin it and your fall is safely cushioned just in time.

This sequence sequence is the most involved scene, perfect for the climax of the ride. Now that you know every character’s powers and personality, you’ve got all you need to know to understand how they work together without it being a pure mess. Not only that, the ride is comfortable playing with perspective as well to make you feel as though your altitude on the ride is changing too. When your vehicle is lifted up to the rooftops you’ll see a screen in front of you showing the ride film but on both sides are practical canvas backdrops like you’d find on movie sets depicting the windows of a New York high rise. Both backdrops are designed to roll at rapid speed giving the illusion of your vehicle flying upwards. The same effect works when your perspective is shited to that of hanging off the side of the building and looking up, as well as when you’re facing down towards the ground. In reality, the ride vehicle only ever moves six inches above the ground during the entire ride. This effect was revisited in Rise of the Resistance but significantly different. On that attraction your vehicle really does lift up roughly thirty feet above ground level before dropping back down later in the ride. 

Finally, back on the slightly safer streets of New York, Spider-Man hangs upside down in front of you, the sinister syndicate tightly wound up behind him and lady liberty being returned to her island. He congratulates you on your efforts before swinging away to turn over the bad guys, as your vehicle drives back you’ll hear Stan Lee instruct you on how to safely disembark and see that Spider-Man left the anti gravity gun pointed straight at Jameson in his office, the “raise” he’d been wanting for so long! The day is saved and Spider-Man couldn’t have done it without you.

The ride is perfectly bookended with the classic story of you helping out one of your favorite characters on what may seem like a crazy day for you but is just a typical one for them. This story was repeated in Rise of the Resistance, but it’s been a staple seen in attractions like Star Tours, Harry Potter and the Escape From Gringotts, Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission Breakout, and countless others. I will say though, it is almost exclusive to attractions based on film properties and is not very common on attractions with original stories and characters. Makes sense because it’s arguably the best way to create story in which large groups of people would be meeting and interacting with characters, but it makes one wonder if a different type of story might be introduced at some point. 

So there you have it, a brief overview of The Amazing Adventurers of Spider-Man at Universal Orlando’s Islands of Adventure. While I approached this one from the perspective of it being a precursor to Star Wars: Rise of the Resistance, there’s another attraction at Universal Studios next door that is structured almost like a response to one of the most classic Disney rides of all time. But I’ll leave that one for another time.