#especially after they all leave derry

[sm0kingcrack]

i have a headcanon that when richie gets particularly lovesick, he'll make little doodles and then throw the pages in their fireplace, or put it in the shredder afterward. one time eddie barged in without knocking while richie was doing this, and richie ended up throwing his entire notebook out the window. stan makes fun of him when richie has to explain why he doesnt have notes for chemistry anymore.

[breitzbachbea]

If Kilian was still alive, he would have dressed Paddy down in front of everyone in that pub. 30 years of thoughts that had stewed in his rage-infected brain spilt out for everyone to see.

[yandere-toons]

HENRY BOWERS

Platonic & Romantic Headcanons – Yandere

WARNING: child abuse and neglect, strong violence, bullying, implied alcoholism, reference to divorce, emotional abuse.

PLATONIC:

As soon as his father drinks himself into unconsciousness or throws him out the door, Henry stalks down the street to where he thinks his friend might be. Explaining nothing of his sullen demeanour, he places himself in the middle of whatever they are doing, dragging them into a more private area if their current activity is too public or not to his liking. From there, the hope is that his friend will act in a way that comforts him without him having to ask for it and risk further humiliation.

There are two possible outcomes here, depending on how his friend treats him and who else gets involved. If they accept his presence without prying, Henry will shut down and remain silent for a while, riding out the emotional storm around someone he now has a reasonable chance of trusting. If they stonewall him or others interrupt, Henry will revert to his hostile bully persona and never mention the event again, as it has become a new source of shame for him.

Henry reveals a watered-down version of the truth when pressed for answers, but even then, he refuses to tell the whole story out of a desire not to relive it, not to be seen as a whiner, and not to show how profoundly it has affected him. After all, a history of cruel reactions from his father and the small-town mentality of Derry have taught him that emotional vulnerability is a dangerous mistake of the stupid and weak.

Despite this, it becomes increasingly clear that Henry is stalling for time when the subject of going home creeps up on him. He would much rather stay out all day and night with his friend and the gang, cruising town with Belch at the wheel, forgetting what awaits him when he sets foot on the family farm. But Henry knows only too well that Butch's wrath will double if he has to go looking for him.

Henry will threaten and, if sufficiently provoked, maim anyone who shows an interest in his friend. His worldview is more than a little misanthropic, as his good memories are few and far between, and his father and the community at large have taught him to hate anyone who challenges his idea of the norm. As such, he sees this as a favour to his friend, ridding them of all the scumbags who would inevitably trap them in an unwanted relationship.

But deeper down, in the places that have never quite healed, the places he never talks about, Henry is afraid of powerlessness. He despises the thought that his friend would abandon him because of someone else, as his mother did, so he does not give them that option. Anyone who tries to plant the idea in their head that they should cut ties with him, or worse, leave town, he beats as if it might save his life.

As far as Henry is concerned, no one offers a better source of companionship than he. He is fond of yelling this supposed fact and more at his friend when they refuse to drop everything and join him at a moment's notice. Seeing this as an affront to his authority as well as a personal insult, Henry cannot take it, especially when it happens in front of people, and tries to hector them into submission.

If any of Henry's accomplices disagree with his methods, none will be too honest about it. Henry displays an unabashed willingness to hurt anyone and everyone who comes between him and his friend. Other bullies have required stitches courtesy of Henry and learned to turn tail at the sight of him or them, and the last concerned citizen to intervene was left with a concussion.

Although Henry is a little more lenient with his gang, he still has rules about what kind of interactions are acceptable. Some of these rules go unspoken until one of the other boys crosses a line he did not know had been drawn. On the first day, Patrick Hockstetter lost his right to be alone with Henry's friend and incurred a death threat from Henry after Patrick made advances towards them and asked if they would like to share Henry with him.

Spending time with other people sounds like a waste of energy to Henry, but spending time with the Losers is so inexcusable that he expresses it in the only language he knows: violence. His need to anticipate his father's unstable emotions has made him sensitive to any sign of displeasure in others, which Henry receives in abundance from one of the Losers, Richie Tozier. Tozier calls him an obsessive freak when he cuts one of the kids for staring at his friend.

ROMANTIC:

His only frame of reference is his parents' disastrous marriage, now separated, and the couples at school he enjoys breaking up with shoves and jibes. Henry can be demanding in everything he asks of his partner, putting them in the untenable position of bearing the brunt of his emotional hunger. It is an overwhelming and confused mess of mixed signals and frustration that has built up over years.

Much of Henry's attention-seeking behaviour and unpredictable aggression stems from the fact that he is both ashamed of his struggles and less and less successful at repressing them. When he still tries, it manifests itself in violent outbursts and, in the context of this relationship, defensive anger when his partner does not immediately and completely fulfil his needs.

There are few things Henry would hate more than being compared to his father, so he refrains from using this level of violence with his partner. However, he retains a distinct bullheadedness in the many arguments that do break out, usually over Henry's desire for them to give up any part of their life that distracts from him.

Under no circumstances is Butch to know that Henry has a partner, let alone meet them. He would rather die than have them see what a so-called coward he becomes around his father, and the thought of them being caught in the crossfire of one of his father's explosions makes him want to stick the knife in Butch's throat a little sooner.

At the first sign of Butch's approach, Henry pulls away from his partner and tells them that if things get heated, they should go with Victor and wait for him at a distance. Victor is disturbed by Henry's extreme view of the relationship but is wise enough not to say so to his face.

Watching his partner suffer abuse at the hands of a family member ignites a rage in Henry that stems from his unfulfilled desire to take revenge on his father. He flashes back to when Butch similarly hurt him, reopening the last wound he tried to numb by avoiding his home and seeking out his partner. Every punch Henry lands, every slash with the knife, is almost like getting back at his father for all the scars he gave him.

Henry refuses to feel remorse for those he attacks, as Butch would never apologise for the damage he inflicts and once even rewarded Henry for his violent actions. After making his partner drop a science project in the hallway, the child he forced to eat dirt had it coming. The classmate who sat next to his partner at lunch - a seat reserved for Henry, regardless of whether anyone else knows it or whether he feels like taking it that day - deserved to be thrown to the floor and humiliated in a way that will haunt them forever.

Competition, real or imagined, is unforgivable and will be met with swift, if not disproportionate, retaliation. The first line of defence is a barrage of verbal abuse, escalating to physical assault unless the pest flees the scene and swears an oath never to speak to his partner again. From there, Henry will order his cohorts to hold the person still while he carves, stones, drowns and breaks whatever he finds most offensive.

Part of a community that frowns upon physical closeness between friends, Henry seeks in this relationship the emotional intimacy and affection that his father never provided. He denies having such needs when anyone suggests otherwise, insisting that he only stays with his partner for superficial reasons and would not miss them if they were to disappear one day.

Despite his claims of indifference, Henry displays a violent resentment towards those who befriend his partner, perceiving these individuals as a threat to his importance in their life. This fear speaks to his underlying insecurity of not being in control, the same insecurity that drives him to suspect the worst in people and defend or assert himself accordingly.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

[angelbowerz]

[ super specific my bad ]

can you write headcanons for henry bowers x a male reader? pref. w/ reader being all A's, popular, "prep" 🧎‍♂️‍➡️ -🕷

Henry Bowers with a VERY smart bf

-the first time he knew about you was when he moved to your class and the teacher is giving out test scores

"Wow y/n! A+ as usual"

*DEATH STARE*

-NOW he knows who you are, and youll be in alot of trouble at first with Mr Mulletman

-he'll force you to do his homework and since you have a crush on him..it would be a yes so he'll lay off you

-he either figured out you had a crush on him or somebody told him (probably Patrick)

-okay...let's be realistic, at first he'd be PISSED a boy has a crush on him. This is Henry Bowers we're talking about here

-but after a few weeks of calling you every slur in the book he'll find you, bully you, kiss you, then runs away as fast as possible 😭

*kisses you*

"I still hate you...QUEER!" *runs away*

The actual relationship

-he'd want it to be a secret for nobody to know, he'll think having a boyfriend would ruin his reputation

-he would NEVER take you to see Butch, you'll only be allowed around his house when Butch is away (only doing it because he loves you)

-you'll still be forced to do his homework, but he'll say it in a nicer way...

"Y/n. Do my homework."

"Okay :]"

"Hm. Good"

-in public he acts like such a dick to you but you know he doesn't mean it

-in private, especially in your house, he's VERY chill and sorta nice if you keep him talking long enough

-he will force you to sit next to him in EVERY class you have together...not to spend time with you, so he can copy your work

-'study dates' where he just watches you do all the work

-when Butch beats him, the first thing he'll do is go to your house and just hug the life outta you

-if he's in a venting mood (very rare) he'll probably express how he thinks its stupid about keeping the relationship private since you're both guys

-the only time he'll probably be affectionate in public is either

On Halloween when you're both wearing masks

If you're at a place where nobody ever goes to

-I'd say after around a year of you two being together he'll be more open about your relationship (tells his gang etc)

-if anyone even looks at you wrong, they'll get a good punch from henry

-his gang won't mind that he's dating you, but Patrick will either tease you or try doing stuff with you (if you know what i mean)

-when you tell Henry about Patrick, he'll literally beat Patrick so bad he nearly dies

-when you're having an argument with eachother (a bad one) he'll say some pretty mean stuff due to the fact you're both boys

"I only dated you because you're so desperate y/n! You think I'd actually love another guy?!?!"

-he doesn't mean it but, he'll always say stuff like that when he's having a hissy fit

-later on he'll apologise...in his own way

"I'M SORRY OKAY?! God Y/n! So damn emotional"

-let's say you was still together after graduation and you leave Derry together

-he'll be much more relaxed since he knows nobody in this new town/ Butch isn't there

-he'll FINALLY hold your hand/kiss you in public

-it will take a few years but..his temper will slowly go away and he'll become nicer

-buuuttt, since you're very smart...and he isn't, I could see you two breaking up in senior year since you wanna go to college and he doesn't, you have a very big argument over it where you break up with him

-if you never speak yo him again after that, he'll probably marry some girl who loves him to make Butch happy but in reality he wishes she was you

-regrets not begging you to take him back

-he'll forever miss you

[saintsenara]

you're like the only person i've seen on here from northern ireland who actually loves northern ireland - what do you think makes it so great? (really sorry if this seems rude, i'm just interested in how the opinions can be so wildly different)

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

my online presence as a northern ireland stan account is mainly caused by holding the following opinion:

it is an unfortunate truth that the moment you are clocked in most other places in the anglophone world as being northern irish [usually after having been compelled to say the word "how"], people like to offer you their views on the place.

these views aren't always negative, but they always - especially if they come from people who consider themselves part of the irish diaspora [and my st patrick's day sermon to you all is "irish-americans, learn to stay in your lane"] - relate to a northern ireland which doesn't actually exist. people might cast us as uncivilised fools living in a 1970s time-capsule of unrelenting violence, they might cast us as a great bunch of lads bouncing around feeling the derry girls fantasy, but they never care very much about the actual experience of living here in 2024.

and - indeed - the experience of choosing to live here. i like ni because i was born here, and so all of the formative experiences of my early life took place while drinking a tin in some field or other, but it's also somewhere i have returned to, after having gone to university and begun my medical training in england.

and this is an aspect of irish life which doesn't have a huge presence in the way we think and talk about irishness. so much irish history is bound up in migration - in leaving the motherland and longing for it from afar - and in the diaspora experience that we rarely think about the fact that people have always and will always come to ireland. people - whether returning here or coming to study or coming to live forever or coming to live until they too can return home - choose every day to put down roots in northern ireland, despite all its faults and its flaws.

and it bothers me that this is constantly forgotten in all the giving out we all do about the place.

because - yes - this is a country which is fucked up in a huge number of ways. our politics is corrupt and nonsensical even when up against the bin fire which is the rest of the united kingdom. our people are beset by poverty and deprivation [and i will of course acknowledge that i am someone who lives here with a well-paid, stable job]. our sectarian wound is still bleeding, heavily. we have not seen justice for the atrocities perpetuated against us by the british state during the troubles, nor for the atrocities we perpetuated against our own at the same time. we have not learned from our own experiences of discrimination when it comes to discriminating against people who live here who are not white, who are not christian, or who are immigrants. it rains for a good three quarters of the year.

but as i grow older, i find i have less and less time both for pure and grinding cynicism in the face of this situation and for the conviction that the grass might be greener somewhere else. i think this latter is a particular issue in the irish national character - a sort of "ah well, things are shite and they'd only be better if x happened". in the north, i think we're especially beset by this - "the country can't improve until there's a united ireland" [or, if you're on the other side, "the country can't improve until the fenians stop complaining"].

but we have a lot to be proud of and a lot to be hopeful for as we keep going.

because northern ireland is also a place whose history is about peace as much as it is about war. it's the birthplace of the best member of girls aloud. it's somewhere people have mobilised only recently for pay and working conditions on a par with the rest of the uk, and will keep mobilising until we win. it's introduced the world to the fact that protestants keep toasters in cupboards. it's a place whose own fight for reproductive justice has rather flown under the radar in comparison to that of the republic of ireland, but which is no less active. it's a place where it's perfectly acceptable to be served apple and mars bar sandwiches at a funeral [provided the deceased was presbyterian]. it's a place where you never have to become invested in the nation's performance in international sporting competitions and can get blind drunk as god intended. it's a place with great patter.

it's a place which has perfected street art... in a sense. it's a place where you can get unusual soft drinks delivered to your door by a sinister figure called the minerals man. it's a place which recognises that balaclavas are chic. it's the only place on earth you can buy fifteens and a cowboy supper, whether or not you actually should do the latter. it's a place where you can turn bomb scares to your advantage by using them as an excuse to swerve parties you didn't want to attend. it's a place whose people have not given up their fight for justice, who still grieve and remember the dead and the disappeared. it's a place people travel across the world to make their home and enrich with their presence. it's a place where the quality of life is genuinely improving, and which we can continue to improve if we don't give into the idea that nothing can ever change. it's a cold and rainy little country, filled with nondescript grey housing estates and burned out cars, which also looks like this:

happy st patrick's day.

[ambrossart]

My question is a bit far-fetched😅 but well I'll still say it, if Evelyn leaves Derry for whatever reason at this moment in the story, she moves with her family to another place or maybe she moves alone to live with a relative outside from Derry or something like that, let's suppose that Evelyn leaves Derry as a possibility (which now in this age and this stage of history I think is impossible, it's just a supposition) how would her surroundings react, especially Henry, I think he would be the one who It would affect him more and what about Patricio???? and Victor??

Somehow I got this idea in my head because Evelyn wants to move when she grows up and she has postcards in her room with places she wants to visit and she once said she wants to leave Derry.

Far-fetched or not, I absolutely love this question! I was gonna save this one for next week, but I need to answer it now; otherwise, it’s just gonna nag at me all weekend.

So let’s jump right in! (This is gonna be really scattered and unorganized because I’m just word-vomiting all my thoughts right now.)

The Bowers Gang Reacts to Evelyn Moving

tw; brief mentions of murder and suicide.

— Henry

Henry has massive abandonment issues, so congratulations, you’ve just unlocked his greatest fear.

Evelyn entered Henry’s life the day after his mom left, so he’s developed a very intense and almost childlike attachment to her.

He’s demanding and possessive, but most of all, he’s terrified of losing her, which is probably why he feels the need to test her as much as he does, but that’s a whole other discussion.

Anyway—

If Evelyn leaves, Henry’s not just losing a love interest—he’s losing his sole source of safety and comfort. He goes to her when he needs to escape all the shit he deals with at home. If she leaves, where’s he gonna go? What’s he gonna do? He’s gonna be stuck in a town that he hates, in a house that he hates, with nothing but bad memories and bad feelings. It’s a recipe for disaster.

When Evelyn tells Henry she’s leaving, his initial reaction will be utter disbelief.

Evelyn can't leave Derry. They're supposed to leave together.

Henry has been wanting to leave for years, but he's stayed in this shitty town for her.

How can she just leave without him?

And then that little voice will kick in. You know the voice. It’s his dad’s voice.

Of course she’s leaving, that voice will say. That’s what women do. They’re selfish whores who leave you.

Turns out, his dad was right yet again.

And that's when Henry’s rage will take over. He’ll lash out at Evelyn and say horrible, hateful things.

He'll probably break stuff. Stuff that holds a lot of sentimental value for Evelyn.

Will he get violent with her? Maybe. I’d like to think he wouldn’t, but in this case, there’s a fair chance he could.

Regardless, he’ll refuse to see her on her last day in Derry.

Evelyn will want to say goodbye (and she’ll feel so, so guilty and heartbroken over this whole situation), but Henry won’t let her.

Knowing Evelyn, she’ll probably write him a letter or something, and Henry will keep that letter for the rest of his life.

Even if he hates her, he'll keep it.

He’ll go to her house once it’s empty.

He'll lie down on the floor of Evelyn’s bedroom and stay there for hours.

He'll keep visiting the house until it sells and another family moves in.

And then he’ll inevitably self-destruct.

He’ll get a lot more aggressive and violent. He’ll probably start abusing alcohol or some other drug. And if he doesn’t end up in jail for killing someone (like his dad), he’ll probably end up eating a bullet at some point.

Are you guys sad yet? I’m sad.

— Patrick

With Patrick, I think it depends on where he and Evelyn are in their relationship.

If he’s already had his fun with her, he won’t even notice she’s gone. He’ll have already moved on to his next obsession.

Evelyn? Who’s Evelyn?

This is the best-case scenario. The alternative is… well honestly it’s kind of terrifying.

Evelyn and Patrick’s relationship is built upon this mutual fascination they have with each other. So if Evelyn leaves abruptly, before Patrick has fully sated his curiosity…

Well that just isn’t allowed.

See Patrick thinks he’s the center of the universe and that everyone else exists solely for his pleasure and entertainment.

He doesn’t recognize other people’s thoughts or feelings because in his mind they’re not supposed to have their own thoughts and feelings.

They’re no different than the flies he used to kill with his ruler.

Why would Evelyn think she can just… leave? Who gave her permission to do that?

So Patrick will be confused, like genuinely confused, probably the most confused he’s ever been in his life.

This doesn’t ever happen. This isn’t supposed to happen. Why is this happening?

(And why is it bothering him so much?)

He’ll probably start questioning his own reality, honestly.

When Evelyn breaks the news to Patrick, he’ll be calm… like eerily calm.

He’ll probably say something like, “Well that’s too bad, isn’t it?”

And there will be something in his tone that makes Evelyn very uncomfortable. It’ll make every hair on her body stand on end.

She’ll convince herself that she’s overreacting, of course, because in reality what’s Patrick gonna do? Kill her?

Famous last words.

On Evelyn’s last night in Derry, Patrick will sneak into her room for one last goodbye…

and Evelyn will finally meet the monster under the mask.

— Victor

I think Victor would handle this situation the best, honestly.

He’ll be sad, of course, but he’s mature enough now to know this isn’t the end of the world. People move all the time. It's a natural part of life.

And it's a good thing Evelyn's getting out of Derry. She deserves better than Derry.

He’ll probably help Evelyn pack up her things.

During this time, they’ll probably spend a lot of time reminiscing and going through all of Evelyn’s old keepsakes.

All those letters she wrote Vic? All those drawings? Yeah those are definitely coming out of storage. Victor’s mom will probably bring them over herself, and she’ll be a sobbing mess about the whole situation.

If Vic ever plans to confess, this will be the time he does it.

Maybe Evelyn will reciprocate his feelings.

Maybe she won’t.

Either way, they’ll stay in touch after Evelyn moves. Evelyn will make sure they do.

They’ll talk on the phone regularly, exchange letters, and Vic will probably send her a postcard or two (because Vic knows how happy that would make her).

Once Vic graduates high school, he’ll probably try to move closer to Evelyn, especially if she responded positively to his confession.

He’ll either try to get into the same university or one close by.

(And could you imagine if Jimmy also went to that school and the three of them had a little reunion?)

(Perfect ending! 😂)

Yeah, those two will be fine.

— Belch

I know you didn’t ask about Belch, but Evelyn leaving would seriously affect his life, too!

Evelyn helps Belch keep Henry from going off the deep end.

With her gone, Henry’s gonna start to unravel, and Belch isn’t gonna be able to hold him together on his own.

So Belch will have a choice to make: he either goes down in flames with Henry or he steps away and separates from him entirely.

For Belch’s sake, I sincerely hope he chooses the latter.

He deserves to be happy.

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 3

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic. Previous - Next - First

This chapter is horrible and I'm sorry.

Chapter warning: Slight violence.

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: I don't know where I found this gif anymore, sorry.)

The house you're in is old. Not just because it seems to be crumbling into dust, nor because it's mostly home to spiders and rats today. The structure is old, probably Victorian with Gothic touches here and there. The fact is, you've had time to visit it several times, the clown not having visited you since your altercation. That was several hours ago now, maybe even a whole day has passed, impossible to say without any landmarks.

During your time in this creaky house, you've noticed several things. Firstly, there's no way to get out, or even to see the outside - all the windows are far too filthy, no matter which room.

Next, most of the rooms are normal, if you forget the general decrepitude, and there's only one you want to avoid at all costs: the room with the clown dolls. You've been there once, but you don't intend to do it again.

Then, even if it seems completely unthinkable, the house has running water. Cold, admittedly, and the pressure leaves something to be desired, but you were able to relieve yourself in the toilet without too much trouble. You even took the risk of drinking it, and so far, so good.

Finally, you've found a well in the cellar. An old, half-collapsed stone well with a pestilential smell. You've thought about getting going down it, eventually, if you really have no other choice and if at least it's possible…

After a while, you really got the feeling you were going round in circles, bored even. Hunger began to make itself felt, and you were able to more or less calm it with water. You also wanted to take care of your wounds, especially the one on the back of your head, but you concluded that it wasn't a big deal, so as not to admit that it healed on its own…

You've found a bookcase next to the fireplace, but the books it contains are strange… The only one in English is 'House of leaves', a book you tried to read once and it made you lose your head. You didn't want to repeat the experience.

After a while, as you sit idly on the sofa, sleep catches up with you and you fall asleep in spite of yourself. You've had that dream again, and this time you're able to recall it with unnerving accuracy: You're in the forest, getting closer to the big oak tree, it's daytime but Derry and the surrounding area are engulfed in thick gray smoke, like the remains of an old fire. It's hard to breathe and your eyes are undeniably watering. In this sad, gray landscape, you catch a glimpse of color: a red balloon. You rush to grab the string and it carries you upwards. When you finally break through the cloud of intoxicating smoke stuck to Derry, you see the lights and colors of the sky, dazzling you with a magnificence you simply can't describe.

You wake up at this point, wondering what the clown - for you no longer doubt, he's the one responsible for these dreams - is trying to convey to you. Maybe he's trying to reassure you, so you won't be afraid anymore? That would be consistent with his requests. Or maybe he knows about your paralyzing fear of heights and you always wake up before he drops you and you crash like a bird poop in the dusty Derry of your dream.

In any case, at least you feel rested, despite your situation and…

One second. You don't remember covering yourself up before falling asleep. Where did that blanket come from…?

For a moment, you hold your breath, attentive to the slightest noise in the house. But apart from a few creaks from the old wood it's made of, you hear nothing that would suggest anyone's there. Suddenly, a scent tickles your nostrils. It's not a musty smell or old dust, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. Your stomach growls, encouraging you to follow the scent and forget about being careful.

In the kitchen, on the table in the center of the room, you find the culprit of that delicious smell: a children's menu from McDonald's. You resist the urge to throw yourself on it. You move closer, checking every corner of the room to make sure no one's there. Then you stare at the menu box. Red and yellow, just like you remember. Is this for you? You don't hesitate long; you don't have to answer to that damn clown.

The smell becomes more intense as you open the box, and your stomach gurgles again. You grab the first thing that comes along, the French fries, and devour them without manners. Then you slow down for the hamburger, savoring it a little more until you're halfway through, when your eyes land on the toy still in the box. You pick it up with an unsure hand, bringing it closer to make sure it's not a dream. It's a Ronald Clown figurine, or so you first thought. But no, it's the clown, your clown (your clown?). What did he say his name was again? Pennywise? Yes, it's a figurine of him in Ronald's clothes, about the size of your palm, with a sign between his hands that reads…. You guessed it…

DON'T BE SCARED

Your eyebrows furrow in a mixture of puzzlement and exasperation as you watch every detail of the toy between your fingers, as if expecting to see it move. After a while, when you realize that it's indeed plastic, you toss it across the room with annoyance and it bangs loudly against the door of the old, worn fridge.

You bite into your hamburger once more, then a slow grinding noise makes you stop in your tracks. You turn slowly towards the fridge and your eyes widen in terror at the sight before them: the clown, Pennywise, his body curled up and twisted in a way impossible even for a contortionist, is wedged into the fridge, looking at you with his head upside down. You move backwards at an extremely slow speed, your body paralyzed by a kind of terror mixed with fascination, as he emerges from the fridge, turning his limbs at impossible angles to get back upright. When he's done, smiling and leaning slightly forward as if waiting for your reaction. In fact, you hesitate between running away and applauding.

When you don't react, the clown's smile turns into a disappointed pout and he straightens up. Then his eyes alternate between you and the toy at his feet, as annoyance twists his features dramatically and he picks it up with a theatrical gesture to place it on the table.

"This is a gift." He says to you in a deeply offended tone.

You're not sure how to react and it takes you several seconds to reply.

"Sorry, I'm not a child anymore."

Your words only darken his gaze, which changes from a sulky expression to real anger. He takes a heavy step towards you and you drop your burger, really backing away this time. You find yourself trapped in a corner of the room, with nothing to defend yourself, and your anguish mounts as his face contorts into an inhuman grimace.

"Stop. Being. SCARED!"

Pennywise jumps on you, slamming your arm against a wall and grabbing your chin before sniffing loudly. You see his eyes roll back and his teeth become as thin as toothpicks as he opens his mouth, drool dripping from his lips.

You scream and push him away as best you can with your free arm and legs, but there's nowhere to run. You watch him shake his head and speak sharp words you don't understand. As he turns to face you once more, the clown has regained a more normal appearance and is contorting himself as if to restrain himself from attacking you again. He swallows doubtfully before speaking.

"If you continue to offer me such irresistible fear… I'll have to eat you."

In your brain, a light goes on. You tilt your head to the side as you look at him, silently repeating your question to yourself several times before asking it aloud.

"You mean… it's my fear that makes you want to eat me?"

An incredulous smile lights up Pennywise's face and he starts clapping, hopping and giggling like a real clown.

"Oh oh oh! Well done! You've finally figured it out, clever girl! You've earned my toy!"

He's clearly making fun of you and, even if it annoys you, it has the merit of calming your fear. You cross your arms in annoyance, waiting for him to finish his act, which he eventually does.

"Now… Now you can help me." His eyes light up like a child's at Christmas.

"Help you?"

"Yes, that's why I'm keeping you alive, after all. You see, for ages I've been playing with humans, haunting their dreams, their nightmares, terrorizing them with their greatest fears and then devouring them."

He pauses, clearly enjoying the fearful look you're giving him.

"It was fun, yes. A lot of fun. Until those filthy… Losers got in the way. That they spoiled Pennywise's fun and forced me to hibernate early and…"

The clown's eyes grow distant, empty, and you get the impression that it's costing him to finish his sentence.

"…they killed me. Just when Pennywise had missed them so much… and we still had a lot of games to play…"

He turns his head sharply towards you, annoyed again.

"But it doesn't matter because now Pennywise doesn't need them anymore. Pennywise found you and you're going to help me understand what they did to me. To understand what's changed and why playing with human fears isn't fun anymore."

His words are totally confusing for you and you haven't understood how you could be useful, but you understand that it's a subject that affects him and he seems very angry, so you prefer not to say anything for the moment. At your lack of reaction, the clown approaches you again, more slowly.

"I won't hurt you if you help me. And if you're not scared…*

You hesitate, but do you really have a choice? Even though you don't really know what you're accepting, you finally nod. He seems happy with it, because he smiles at you and you notice that his sharp teeth have disappeared, that they now resemble rabbit teeth.

"Excellent! I'll come back later. You can occupy yourself by playing with the toy." He says before leaving the room towards the staircase that leads to the cellar where the well is.

Silence returns and you're still stuck in a corner of the kitchen, processing what's just happened. You conclude that you need to find a way out quickly, or risk spending the rest of your life helping a demon clown figure out who-knows-what, and spending your free time playing with Happy Meal toys featuring him.

[bked0n-lorazepam]

"Inseparable" Part One

Y/N L/N and Patrick Hockstetter had been friends since they were in kindergarten. Their friendship began the day he gave her a pencil bag filled with dead flies in Mrs. Smith’s class. He had always enjoyed teasing Y/N, since the minute they met. Yet for some odd reason, she had always tried to befriend him. Nobody understood why, granted he always pulled on her pigtails, but she never minded it. 

They were Derry’s dynamic duo, terrifying twins, even. They were always in the same location. If Patrick was there, Y/N was dragging him along and arguing with him about something stupid. If Y/N was there, Patrick was right next to her, giggling at others' misfortune around them.

They were inseparable. They had a bond no one could ever achieve with them. Nobody understood it, they always fought, bickered, even fist-fought. But they always remained together, no matter how many sucker punches they threw at each other.

A while after Patrick started screwing with her and giving her dead bugs, and sometimes rodents, she started giving him trinkets too. Except, socially accepted things, like jewelry. The first ever piece of jewelry she gave him was a ring when they were in the second grade; it was purple and silver. She got it for a dime at one of those cheap candy and toy machines while leaving a grocery store with her mother. She assumed he liked it because she never saw him take it off, and when he outgrew it he put it on a necklace. He always denied liking it though, giving excuses that she was just so annoying that he didn’t want to hear her complain about him not wearing it. Y/N knew better, and always smiled when she saw it around his neck.

That was until now. Y/N paced around her room in a state of panic, gnawing at her fingernails and being lost in her thoughts. It’d been a week and three days since anybody had seen Patrick, and she was a nervous wreck. Usually, this wouldn’t have made her so scared, Patrick could take care of himself, hell he’d gone four days without telling anyone where he went. But more kidnappings and murders of children and teens around town made her worry. Vanessa had asked his mom if he had gotten home on Tuesday night after hanging out with her at the barrens, but Patrick’s mom said she hadn’t seen him since he left with her.

 “Oh my fucking God,” She whispered to herself, stopping her feet from the circle she was walking in, “Jesus Christ, he’s one of the missing kids.” 

The rest of the Bowers gang had stopped looking for him after the second day; they knew he’d come back with only a few scratches. But Y/N had a gut feeling she couldn’t ignore. She fiddled with one of the rings he had given her, biting her lip as she looked at her door. Y/N cursed, grabbed a flashlight, and put on her shoes. As she was running down her stairs, she almost tripped when she saw what seemed to be Patrick going into her kitchen.

“Patrick?” Her voice was shaky and hopeful, but when she entered the room it was empty. Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair and making her way out of her front door. She jogged on the path she and Patrick would usually walk on when they were bored. 

They’d talk about stupid shit, never sticking to one topic for a conversation. Then they’d make it to the park and laugh at the kids falling, especially when one of the two was upset over something. She always enjoyed seeing his eyes light up when one of them would cry, no matter how odd it seemed. His eyes would crinkle, sometimes small tears would form, he’d show off his teeth, his lips would tighten. His lips looked soft, yet they’d be chapped and dried over all the time. Y/N would ask Patrick if he wanted some when she’d apply her chapstick, but he’d always tell her no. Sometimes Y/N would catch him staring at her lips a little too long when she’d apply it, and she’d wonder if he actually really wanted some-

A screech from two of the swings on the swingset pulled her away from her thoughts, and she stopped to stare at the playground. Her and Patrick used to sit on the swings all day long after school when they were kids, and they’d compete to see who could get the highest. Y/N  pointed her flashlight at them and watched the two swings slowly go back and forth, a red balloon tied to the one Patrick would always sit on. 

She tilted her head at it, a confused look on her face. She could’ve sworn she’d seen that balloon before. Y/N then shook her head, realizing she was getting off track. 

“No, he wouldn’t be here. I’d have found him already.” She whispered to herself and looked sideways to the path she was following, then grimaced. “Or a cop would’ve…”

Y/N continued on the path, putting her hands in the pockets of the jacket she was wearing. She almost tripped over a rock and bit her lip in frustration, cursing and kicking it against a tree. When she did, she smiled when she saw which tree it was. Patrick and her had marked it up with profanity when they were younger, and they used it as a guide to get to the barrens.

She stood by one of the sewage tunnels, peering into it and sighing. She hated the smell and what she’d find in there, but Patrick always grabbed her wrist and dragged her into it anyway. They’d smoke and get high in there, every now and then stealing a bottle of whiskey from the store and drinking together. Not caring that her shoes were getting soaked in the gunk water, Y/N walked inside. 

“Patrick!” She called out, stepping in further and further. It took about twelve minutes of yelling before she thought she’d heard him. It very well could’ve been desperation and her brain playing tricks on her, but she cried out again. She murmured a small *dammit*, and started to turn around until she heard him clearly.

“Nessie?” She heard him call, and she whipped her head around and ran further.

There he was, covered in blood, dirt, and only god knows what else. 

“Jesus fucking Christ Patrick!” She sharply cried, running over to him. “The hell are you doing here?! Don’t ever run away like that again-” Patrick panicked and shushed her, putting his hand over her mouth and looking behind him in a fear she’d never seen before. 

“We need to get the fuck out of here. Right now,” He hissed quietly, taking his hand off of her. “Where’s the damn exit?” She looked at him weirdly and was going to ask him what was wrong but decided against it, taking his hand and leading him out.

 The clock said 8:46 pm as Y/N sat on Patrick's bed, playing with a loose string on his black blanket. She chewed on her lip, and let go of the string, standing up to walk out of his room and to the linen closet in his hallway. After grabbing the safety kit she forced him to keep when he first got hurt with her, she sat it on his bed and opened it, laying out all the supplies she would need to fix Patrick up. She heard the pipes creak when Patrick turned off the water, and a while later walked out with a towel around his waist. She watched him as he grabbed clothes from his dresser, and he looked at her, and then the kit on the bed.

“Fuck. No.”

She eventually got him to sit on the bed, even though he whined and groaned about it. He huffed when she gave him a hair tie, and he roughly took it from her hand as he put his hair up in a bun so she could have access to his neck. 

“You know if you wanted me to eat you out, you could’ve asked.” He snickered, smirking at her as she flashed him a look of disgust.

“If I wanted to fuck you, I’d have done it already.” Tightly smiling, she uncapped a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and put it on a cotton ball. Y/N started to dab it on his cuts, sticking her tongue out in focus. Patrick stared at her, a blank look on his face. He didn’t even notice that she was done until she ripped open a pack of gauges and placed one on a stitched-up cut he got in the sewer. 

“When the hell did’ja do that?” His eyebrows furrowed, his hand pushing away the cotton pad and inspecting the stitched cut.

“When you were fantasizing about your porn stash,” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, continuing to put the gauge back on his cut. She taped it up, and jokingly slapped it. “Doctor Miller is finished with her work. How satisfied are you with my service?” 

“I’d be much happier with a blow job, if it isn’t too unprofessional?” Patrick leaned his head to the side, a hopeful smile on his face. 

“I’d rather kill myself-”  Y/N stood up, placing all of the supplies back into the kit and starting her walk to the closet. “You should get dressed, and then I wanna talk.” He sighed, grabbed the pile of clothes he had set out earlier, and went back into his bathroom to change.

When Patrick walked out in a pair of skinny jeans and no shirt, he walked over to the pile of his original clothes and pulled out the chain with his ring on it from a pocket of pants. He clasped it on and sat down on the edge of his bed, dramatically flopping on his back to look at Y/N. She was sitting at the bed’s headboard, picking at her nails. 

“So,” She refused to look at his eyes, already knowing that they were filled with either frustration or anger. “What the hell happened to you back there?”

[alsoitsjunie]

patrick hocksetter x female bully victim

ASKFJSKDJHSLA BLESS YOU FOR GIVING ME SOMETHING TO WRITE ILY (PSA) if you like any of my work, pls pls pls request something!! i love writing these!

okay i got this in the bag. im not gonna use a lot of descriptive terms for the girl in this because i didnt get a lot of input WHICH is not a problem but i dont wanna make this unfit for the requester (or anyone frls) anywayss basically the reader in this is has been targeted for quite a few years, starting in elementary with bowers and hocksetter, then in middle school with huggins and criss. i also wasnt sure if this was supposed to be a ship or romantic or not butt im making it a little bit. but not a lot. im gonna js start writing now i hope you enjoy!! also this might be a little long.

little one

patrick hocksetter x female! bully victim

(first person)

tw! stalking - lowkey sexual harassment - mentions of suicide-

first day of 5th grade, stepper elementary school derry Maine. my mom had picked an outfit for my first day, a pair of overalls and a little striped short sleeve with my boots and some ponytails. thinking back, that was an adorable outfit. yet the way i remember feeling when they ruined it was not.

i had that class with dumb and dumber themselves, patrick hocksetter and henry bowers. i didn't know much about them at the time, considering that 5th grade was the first year i had a class with either of them. id heard rumors about henry and some boys he was friends with being huge bullies and to steer clear of them, so when i walked into that classroom on the first day and saw them sitting in the back corner, warning signs flashed in my peripherals.

id always been an anxious kid, hell my parents bothered me about it every chance they could get. anyways, i was already having stomach quivers about starting school, and now i was in the same class as them. of course, as i was trying to lay low, the teacher decided to put me at the table in front of them. i could just feel the terrible intent radiating off of the boys behind me, through the icebreaker games, through math, reading, science, and even recess. recess was where i met my best friend, Emma. she was in the other fifth grade class, with the other two boys, reggie and victor? i think that was his name. she told me all about the things people say about the group.

especially patrick. they say he killed his younger brother with a pillow when he was five. im still shocked to this day about that. but i remember going back to class after that and feeling oddly cold sitting down in front of that boy. throughout the rest of class, i was slowly preparing myself to ask the teacher to move my seat. so when the dismissal bell rang, i waited for the rest of the students to leave, including patrick and henry, to go to the teacher and tug on her sleeve to ask her to move my seat.

the next day, she sat me across the room, next to a boy named jonathan. i was feeling much better about that class, until about halfway through lunch. i was sitting with Emma and Jonathan, chatting about our highscores in dig dug. out of nowhere, it got extremely quiet in the lunchroom. i stopped talking and carefully looked around, before realizing everyone was looking at our table. my blood ran cold as i realized Emma was staring at something directly behind me, dead eyes and mouth agape.

slowly i turned around, only to be met eye to eye by patrick hocksetter. he had a sca smile on holding a balloon filled with something and a thumbtack. before i could even ask what he wanted, he stabbed the balloon directly above my head, letting bright blue liquid splash over my hair, and down my face and clothes. he erupted into laughter, followed by the rest of the boys, followed by scattered giggles across the lunchroom. i coughed in shock, blinking, before the burning sensation set into my eyes. i started crying, and my throat was closing at the smell and my coughing. through my blue blurred eyes, i stumbled up, shoved through the four boys and the rest of the laughing lunchroom and ran out to the bathroom. before i could even make it there, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt.

henry had pulled me out of the bathroom doorway, and now i was surrounded by the boys.

'hopefully that'll teach your stupid fucking girl brain not to snitch to the teacher about us." i heard a voice sneer at me. i rubbed my eyes and watched through blurry vision as they turned and started walking back to the lunchroom. "but we aren't done with you SNITCH" i heard henry yell as i carefully stumbled into the bathroom.

and they decided they weren't done with me. not for the rest of the year, not for the year of 6th grade, or 7th grade, or 8th, or oven freshman year. and each year they got more and more creative. it evolved from shoving me on the playground, to snipping off pieces of my hair when i wasn't paying attention, then when i hit puberty, showing off my bled-through gym shorts, catcalling me in the hallways, and snapping my bra straps. leaving threatening notes in my locker, as well as dead flies, yknow, the usual.

eventually, i got used to the humiliation, but i was extremely surprised that it all came from me just asking to move my seat in fifth grade.

now its sophomore year, and its gotten worse yet better. im only really targeted by patrick and henry, the other two are really just in for the ride. belch, as they call him, is actually kinda nice to me. we have social studies together. i let him borrow a pencil one time and give him homework answers and in return, he kinda started being nice to me. patrick on the other hand was treating me exactly the same. stalking me through the hallways, following me home, leaving me threatening notes, boring his eyes into the back of my head in class, carving his initials into my windowsill....

but it seems like hes become more obsessed than hateful. one time i found a list of my backpack contents inside my pocket. and half the time i dont even know how he finds out some things. its kinda scary. whos fucking kidding its terrifying. and im so fucking tired of it.

he terrorizes me. i sprint home everyday so he cant catch up to me. sometimes they all take belchs car and i hear the engine rapidly approaching me. all these things build up over the days and weeks, and it makes me feel like im genuinely going insane. i have panic attacks on my way to school, i flinch at people trying to hug me, i just live under the freakishly tall shadow of patrick hocksetter. i wonder how he can be so messed up when we're only fifteen.

anyways, back to present day, biology class. which i coincidentally have with both bowers and patrick. lucky me. i sat two desks up and diagonal from both of them, each on either side. it was the second to last month of school, and we were finishing our human anatomy unit.

i was zoned out, listening to the droning, buzzing sound of our teacher's voice. at the feeling of a crumpled ball of paper hitting my shoe, i came back down to earth, glancing over my shoulder at patrick, who had a grin on his face. i slowly reached down and picked up the crumpled note, opening it and reading it.

'you n me behind the school, 3;30. if youre late, pray you're fast enough to get home before i do. which you wont be. thanks little one.'

i let out a shaky sigh when i finished reading the note. then crumpled it back up and shoved a half assed thumbs up under my arm at him so i didnt have to turn around and look at his face.

my hands got clammy as people started to pack up their backpacks, and i felt myself getting a headache as the bell rang and students filed out of the school. patrick and henry sauntered past me, and patrick let his fingers slideeee across the surface of my desk.. like a warning. jesus.

i took a deep breath, preparing myself for what i had in mind about putting a stop to this shit. i held my pen in my hand, in case i needed to use it as a shank.

as i rounded the corner to the back of the school, i saw patrick leaning against a tree, twirling a stick in his fingers. i cleared my throat and anxiously kept walking towards him. he watched me walk halfway towards him, then he pushed himself off the tree and walked to stand uncomfortably close to me.

'what do you want patrick.. '

he scoffed and started walking around me. 'what do i want? well theres a lot of things i want from you.. if youre offering-' he chuckled near my ear, and i could feel him twirling a piece of my hair in his fingers.

i think that was the moment he drove me crazy. i elbowed him in the ribs and spun around, backing away. i could tell i was gonna cry, either out of anger or fear, but there were tears pooling in my eyes.

'im fucking done. what do WANT from me?? I have done NOTHING to deserve this, and yet you still humiliate me, and terrorize me every day. is this really about fifth grade?? because i feel like thats been repaid for a good four years. what do you get from this? do you get off on making my life miserable like some weird perv?? GOD hocksetter im done! im fucking finished! ill have to kill myself before you'll let me live!' i cried, pacing and screaming at him.

i stopped to catch my breath. he looked shocked for a slight second, and then his face went back its natural smirk. he paced towards me, grabbing my face with his hand, squishing my face.

'you sweet little thing. it is repaid. its been repaid for a while. you just intrigue me so much.. i couldn't possibly stop humiliating you.. you're too infatuating.' he stared at every detail of my face, almost mapping it, before he shoved my face away from his hand. he went right back to circling me again.

'yknow.. it was never really about scaring you. i mean of course i enjoyed that part, you're absolutely hilarious to terrorize.'

i almost laughed in disbelief. ive been going through this all for his shits and giggles. what the fuck is wrong with him.

'it really started wayyyy before fifth grade. it was probably around third grade that i noticed you. i think it was when you were in the school concert... i realized how much you stuck out from all the other kids you were singing with.. and i just became infatuated. i think youre real. like me.'

what the fuck is he talking about?? real? of course im real.. what is going on?

he was walking towards me again, and i stumbled a few steps back until my back hit the hot brick wall and i felt suffocated when i realized.

im afraid of you.

'i dont want to be afraid of you anymore. please. patrick please stop doing this to me.' i pleaded, willing the tears back.

he leaned in closer, if possible, pressing me against the wall. i felt him inhale against my scalp, and for a minute, i felt the wind stop blowing and the birds stop chirping, and i could only feel my heartbeat in my ears and could only smell the sweat and bodyspray that came off of him.

then he backed up, pulled his hands off my shoulders, and stepped away. "go. im not done, but you're done being terrorized."

i shuddered. praying he wasn't lying. i slowly turned my back and started walking away, when i heard him call after me.

'hey. just so you know, youre mine. so youre safe for now. but youre still mine. some things are staying the same. go home.'

i turned around again and started walking home, going over what had just happened. on repeat again and again. what did he mean? im real? of course im real..

what the fuck just happened.

ok so i think that was good.. and im done now so thank you sunshine!

-junie

[into-crazy]

Derry’s Secret Pt. 5

Pennywise x Female Reader series

Warnings- mature language, slight drug abuse, stalking, dark themes, physiological torture, ages 18+

Other parts can be found RIGHT HERE and through the "Derry's Secret" tag🎈

Eight days go by without another incident with the clown.

You were beginning to feel terrible waking up every morning. You'd wake up feeling groggy and weak. It had to be the effects of the sleeping pills. After all, they are maximum strength and aren't meant to be taken regularly. If you keep it up, then they'll definitely take a negative toll on your health.

It's the same this morning. You're feeling shitty as usual.

Not caring much at this point, you rub the incoming headache. Laying there and staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes. Letting out a long groan before softening into the comfort of the warm sheets. It's Saturday, thankfully you don't have work today. You just want to lay here all day. Don't want to get up, don't want to do anything. Though you're aware you have to get up and do something. If you lay here like this the entire day, you'll end up feeling ten times as worse later on. It's bound to happen.

Forcing yourself upwards and out of the bed, you lazily stumble to the closet. Picking out an outfit without giving it much of a thought. Not knowing what you were going to do, but you'll think of something. You can't sit here alone all day.

~~

You drive over to the City Center, favoring coming over here to walk around. When there wasn't an event going on, it was nice and peaceful at times. The fresh air usually helps to clear your negative energy. Only this time your thoughts continue to trouble you. Still, it was better to be in a public space to figure it out. Certainly if Pennywise wasn't out looking for a meal, he might be off lurking in the near distance somewhere- waiting and watching. But he wouldn't make a move out in the open.. would he?

Well, who could tell really?

Lately, things have felt rather off to you. Everywhere you went, you got the feeling like you were being watched. Especially around the storm drains. You could always feel as though Pennywise was lurking in those, following you and watching your every move. When you use the sink faucets, whether at home or in a public place, you swear that you could hear whispered voices coming from down the drains. They only last for a few seconds. Because as soon as you get closer to try and hear better, the voices disappear completely. Leaving you to stand around and wonder if you're going insane.

Tossing the idea aside, you find a wooden bench next to another where an older woman sat. She was feeding the pigeons from her small handbag. Hair scarce and white all over, with a cane leaning on the bench beside her. You watch as she threw bird seed on the ground before her, welcoming in the feathered flock. Quietly minding her own business without a single care or worry in the world. You respected her level of carelessness. Perhaps it could be something you'd hope to achieve at some point in your life.

You lean back against the bench and take in the rest of the scene around you. There are people walking their dogs. Scattered throughout the grass areas, are a few people working out or doing some form of yoga. You couldn't help but wonder if any of those people experienced what you have with the clown.

Does he stalk and terrorize their lives? Does he lurk in any of their drains?

All of your thoughts paused for a moment. Except for the word drain. Something about it kept ringing in your mind. Your leg bounces as you ponder on what's so significant about it.

Drains? Well the pipes lead to the drains, and then the sewers. That's it then, that's the connection. No doubt that's how Pennywise gained fast access throughout the town. It makes perfect sense.

You contemplated on what you read back at the library. They had a mapped out page of the drainage system of Derry. Of course, you would know because you've skimmed through every possible detail during your short time there. However, you're not going back. Especially after what happened that last visit. Nope, no way you'll be returning to that place anytime soon. At least for now.

Instead you image searched it on your smartphone, which proved to be much more convenient. It looked as though all the drains met up at this well house, which just so happens to be currently occupied by the Neibolt house.

The Neibolt house. You remember walking by it once with Gabby when she gave you her own version of a town tour. As she showed you the best and the worst attractions which the town had to offer. She made a comment on how the house was considered the worst for her, but it was probably labeled as best for you seeing how "you're into that spooky shit." Those were her words directly, not yours. Though you didn't make a point on disagreeing with her at the time.

Guess you'll have to stop by that house again.

~~

The street is empty when you pull up to the house. Parking on the opposite side of the road, you step out of your vehicle and briefly scan the surroundings. It doesn't seem like there's much that goes on around here. The neighboring home has quite a space of distance in between. There are no cars or people that you can see nearby. It's deathly quiet, and you have an uneasy feeling about it.

Cautiously, you inch closer to the gate surrounding the property of the strange house.

Neibolt is precisely how you remember when you came to check it out. Having never actually seen inside of the house, you can only imagine it was just as rough as the outside. Large, old and run-down. The dark exterior is rotting away, almost all of the boarded windows are broken. Over grown grass and weeds are flooding the yard. Even the surrounding gate was worn and bent up, a few metal spikes which had once made up the gate are discarded onto the ground.

Pennywise must spend some time here. It would be suitable given the place's current status. You doubt that anyone else comes here, maybe the homeless and occasional thrill seekers. But it's probably always lonely most times. And for good reason, you'd presume.

Though, despite the dreadful eeriness, something beautiful stood out about the abandoned property. Sunflowers. The flowers grew throughout the entire yard. The vibrant yellow emerged from the desolate land, spreading the only form of liveliness on the block. Leaning on the gate door, you run your fingers through the soft petals of a flower. It's astonishing how a place this torn contains the most radiant sunflowers you have ever seen.

A creak suddenly comes from the porch, and your head whips up to notice that the front door is open a crack. That door was completely shut 5 seconds ago, you saw it when you walked up to the gate! Warily creeping into the yard, you try to keep quiet as you make your way to the porch. You try to be sneaky for the stairs. But the old boards scratch with the weight of your steps, making that impossible. You suck in and hold your breath, enhancing the sound of your heart hammering in your chest.

See, now this is the type of the stuff you'd call out in horror films- Don't walk up those steps! What the hell are you doing? Turn around!

Yet, here you are. Doing the same exact thing those foolish protagonists would do in said movie flicks.

Maybe it's because you have some sort of an idea of what you're going up against. Or perhaps it's the curiosity which slowly draws you in. Ever so quietly. As the wonder of finding out what's lurking in there pulls you further in. Even if your intrigue happens to be laced with fear. And sometimes.. you fear that what you find might get you to stay.

Keeping your distance, you call into the house. "Hello?"

Nothing.

You are only assuming that Pennywise might be close nearby. Since he's been following you around everywhere. Still, the anticipation is killing you. If he is here, you want some form of acknowledgement. Right now.

Your voice drops into a lower tone, "I know you're in there, and I know you can hear me so listen closely. Leave me alone. I don't want anything to do with you." The anger in your demand burns through the silence. You're tired of this, sick of all his games. "Damn it, just stay the hell away from me!"

Again, no response.

You scoff at yourself because this is so stupid. What if he isn't even here?

More silence.

He's not here. You were screaming into an empty house.

Accepting defeat, you turn around and get ready to walk down the steps. Until..

"What would you offer in return?" Pennywise's eerie whisper suddenly came from behind the door.

Glancing over your shoulder, there's no sight of him but his presence is definitely here. "Offer?" You retort. "There is no offer. I am done with all of this. Done with you. Now leave me alone."

His chuckles echo within the house. It's almost as though the whole house is alive itself. "But I don't want to leave you alone. And something tells me that you don't want me to either. So I don't believe I'll ever leave you alone."

"Why not?" You nearly yell back, trying to keep things discreet. "Why can't you just let me go?"

There is a long beat of deafening silence, mute to the point where there's an annoying ringing buzzing around in your ears. This type of suspense is frustrating. You're almost certain that he isn't going to reply until another creak comes from behind the door.

"You already know the answer to that.. I want you to give in." He deeply responds in that voice that winds you up. Practically toying with you, he already knows what you desire. He's using it against you, only adding to the delicious torture. Wanting to place further shame and humiliation upon you, possibly getting off on it. Your guard's breaking down and you try your damn hardest to not let it crumble completely. Trying desperately to hold it all together with any means of sanity you have left.

"Give i-in to what?" Your voice is jittery.

Pennywise laughs at you mockingly. "Ohh, you should really stop asking questions that you already have the answers to. I know your deepest desires, you stupid little human. What, you think that I can’t smell your heat from here?"

"Fuck you!" You spit back before stomping down the stairs.

The nerve to use your weakness against you like that. It's disgusting. Yet.. so damn alluring, there's no denying that.

Nope, nope, nope. Don't you dare think about that.

It can't keep going on this way. You don't know what will happen if you stay and entertain this entity any longer. You've only come to look at the place, and there's no way you're going inside. It's what he wants. Well screw that!

Walking back to the car, a dreadful harmony of whispers follow you back. Unrecognizable voices closing in fast. You swing around when it feels as though they might be directly behind you.

Visually, there's nothing there. Not a clown nor anything unusual in sight. Even the voices have stopped completely. But the air around you feels thick. There were voices there, you felt them on your neck. Rubbing the shivering sensation away, you glance around. Making sure none of this is just some hallucination. And that you're not crazy.

What if that's the case- what if you're really going crazy?

Maybe you are.

Does it really matter at this point?

Dismissing the thought, you rush back to your car, get in, and drive the short distance home. Providing plenty of time for you to breathe before you get home. There, hopefully you can focus on getting your thoughts in order. Because nothing is making sense to you anymore.

End of part 5.

[areseebee]

someday timeline and masterlist

i’ve compiled the backstory details and the timeline of the derry girls james/erin fic i'm currently writing, someday, into this one post. under the cut is info about the 8 years between smoke break and someday, related bits of writing, character info, links to art, and other little fun things. i'll continue to add to it as there's more to add!

the timeline:

summer 1999: smoke break

fall 1999: james meets faye in a class at uni when he's back in london, they begin dating; erin meets liam the same term, but she's not interested because she's convinced herself that when she sees james again at christmas, she's gonna just say "let's go for it." if he wants to. she only waits so long because things feel very precarious right after the summer is over; james doesn't return her calls for weeks until, one day, he does.

christmas 1999: everyone's back in derry/NI for the holidays. erin learns about james and faye. she returns to belfast for new years when she kisses liam at midnight. they start dating soon after.

2000-2001: james and faye date seriously, they share a flat together, but once they graduate they decide the relationship has come to a natural end especially as james has decided to pursue filmmaking (specifically documentary filmmaking). they remain dear friends.

2001-2002: james is in new york city. there he dates diana, an actress. they break up when he moves again. they remain friends.

2002-2003: james meets miles on a shoot (he's also crew). they break up when james moves again. they remain friends (it's a pattern).

2003-2005: james is in california. he's, for once, not dating anyone; 3 back-to-back relationships, varying in seriousness, which have ended because he's left and gone somewhere else, have worn on him. erin visits in june 2004.

2000-2004: erin and liam date through university. everyone thinks they're going to get married. erin thinks they're going to get married, except that she feels weirdly anxious every time they talk about, every time she thinks about it. they break up shortly after erin visits james in california, where he's living at the time for work.

2004: erin moves into her someday flat, her and michelle meet rafael. she sees rafael for around a month, then it's over. she doesn't date anyone - seriously or not - spending most of her time with michelle, rafael (who has a young daughter, sienna, from a previous relationship), and clare and orla when they're around. she feels like she just messes things up and should probably focus on not. she is beginning to write her book at this time.

2004: after erin visits, james jumps into two very short, not at all serious situationships with first isadora and then nathaniel.

2005: erin sells her book.

2005-late summer 2006: james dates willow. it could be very serious, it sort of is - james could see himself being perfectly happy, if he'd let himself - but in the end it's just not quite right. they break up. somewhere in here, clare and faye start dating.

october 2006: erin and james meet briefly - like 12 hours - in nyc where he's about to leave for brisbane and she's in town for a publisher meeting.

february 2007: someday begins.

the exes:

[thanks @derrygirlstrash for your thought partnership around these characters. i've had the best times talking with you about them!]

james:

faye

- faye art by @imstressedx - appears/is mentioned in this short piece of writing and in this post. also this one!

2. diana

- diana art by @derrygirlstrash

3. miles

- is mentioned in this post

4. isadora

- isa art by @imstressedx

erin:

liam

- appears in this short piece of writing. - mentioned in this post and this one

2. rafael

- rafael art by @imstressedx

other art:

smoke break art by @derrygirlstrash

maybe someday series cover art by @imstressedx

someday erin art by @imstressedx

more someday erin art by @imstressedx

someday james art by @imstressedx

someday erin and james art by @imstressedx

other bonus content:

here are a couple of smoke break-era scenes that were written for tumblr after the fic was completed

a james/erin focused scene set during the christmas after smoke break.

someday mood board

maybe someday spotify playlist - includes both smoke break and someday songs in a rough order from smoke break, through the intervening years, through someday.

[breitzbachbea]

❤️ for Gabriella and Charlie and 🧠 for Paddy and Tahir!

Thank you my beloved!!!! You're like. One of my bedrocks of serotonin <3

OC Emoji Ask Game

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

Gabriella: Sometimes, when she is vulnerable and feels the demons knocking softly at the walls, she wants to tell you that one of her fondest memories are the first times she recalls Dolcetto calling her "Rella". The first time she and her brother bundled up and went on a walk in their neighbourhood to get groceries and both of them felt so important. Those memories that justify her giving up her life to join the world of her brother. But those aren't her best. This is the grief and loss and a displacement of love speaking that will never ever find room in Dolcetto again. She loves her brother; he loves his sister; but they are very different people. Therefore, her best memories are probably of nights out in gay clubs and kisses shared with young women her age after she left home to find Dolcetto and herself. Memories of her, drunk, telling another girl under tears how much in love she was with her childhood best friend. Feeling free and herself. And she does love the memories she makes with Fabio, a kindred soul in this depressing world. The nights they spent alone as friends and as lovers.

Charlie: Much like Gabriella, part of his best memories are an expression of grief and love lost. He does miss his father dearly; maybe not exactly the man that died and could never accept him, but the younger Connor Higgins. The Connor who skipped his piano lessons with him to play football. The Connor who was so cool and put together, but no buzzkill. The one who so clearly loved and knew his son. He sometimes gets take away and will stand in a dingy, warm and small shop and be hit with the feeling of this being the highlight of his entire month, because it was secret time spent with dad. But these memories are accompanied with rage and sadness and a deep, all-consuming longing. What he truly remembers most fondly is racing cars on his model track with Harry and other friends. He remembers fondly the trouble he caused at school, the defiance of standing up for himself that kept him alive throughout these awful years. He remembers the first roadtrips he took alone, no matter the terrible state of his dad's old Mercedes. Charlie's best memories are both of freedom and community, of figuring out who he is and indulging in what thrills him.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

Paddy: I like the most how old Paddy is. He's by no means 'old', he's middle aged in 2013, but compared with the rest of their characters who are usually in their twenties, he's got a lot more experience under his belt. Moreover, he lived such separate lives. Magdy is 20 years older and Magdy has SEEN SOME SHIT, but Magdy spent most of his life in one place, working with the same family for three generations. Paddy grew up in Derry and lived there until he was in his midtwenties. He could have never imagined to leave Derry until part of his house was destroyed by an explosion. Then he left; over the border into the Free State, through the country until he made it to Dublin. Characters, like the reality of people they are modelled on, can change rapidly in very little time, especially in younger years, but when you have a character like Paddy, you really get to see the layers that make up the tree. I love to figure out the core of his character and how it manifests. I love to see what an older Paddy regrets, what part of the younger self are transformed. And the ghosts, fucking hell do I love the ghosts. And I love how Paddy runs. He could never have imagined leaving Derry; now he's deadly afraid to return. He goes quiet in the first chapter of the IP rewrite when he begins to talk of Ben's death. He runs from himself, he will push a cart for others until the end, but faced with having to do anything for himself, he will run off the next cliff. For a character that's such a bedrock to others, he is very, very empty inside.

Tahir: Oh baby boy. I again like his relative age gap with a lot of the other characters, being in his 30s in 2013. But what I like the most about him is how selfishly selfless he is. All he ever did was to meet expectations and to afford the promise of a better life for him and his family. He may not be a sentimental man, but his love for his sister is immense. He very much believes he owes his parents, who worked their asses off, that he works hard for them. A sense of duty and responsibility is at the core of his being and it shows in all of his interactions. And yet, yet he's not a machine. Yet he wants freedom - as much as he still adheres to expectations (his own) in his freetime and exploration of himself and keeps appearances, he does want something divorced from the expectations of his family. Yes, the courtship dance with Arielle still runs along known rules, but it's an expression of desire and love, somewhere along the axis of platonic and romantic, a self-expression of himself as a man with a beating heart. As much as he might seethe over that his relationship with Robert is functionally no different than the arranged marriage of his parents, it was his own choice. It was an acknowledgement of his needs and that he is indeed not an island - that he'd like to come home to someone at the end of the day. I really like the soft, vulnerable and so, so loving boy that hides under the steely husk of a man. Play Oh No! by Marina and the Diamonds.

[domilino]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti) Relationships: Henry Bowers/Original Female Character(s), Henry Bowers/Lizeth "Liz" Johnson Characters: Henry Bowers, Patrick Hockstetter, Victor Criss, Reginald "Belch" Huggins, Peter Gordon (IT), Lizeth "Liz" Johnson Additional Tags: Beverly Marsh is lightly mentioned, Ben Hanscom lightly mentioned, Henry in love?, Henry is a fool, Patrick only appears once and it's scary, Victor Criss is a good friend, Henry Bowers in love, Did I already mention that Henry Bowers is a fool in love? let him live, Lizeth Johnson is also called Liz or Lizzy (by Henry), ocxcanon, This would count as my selfshipp because I love Henry, Forget it, it's just a pretty OcxCanon

"Henry Bowers has felt a strange curiosity towards a girl who has just moved to town.

He hates her, from the first moment he saw her he hated her… or so his brain wants to make him believe, but there is something inside him that says that is not entirely true; that is a lie.

Too traumatized to properly understand love, which is normal for many people except him."

Henry had only seen her from a distance a couple of times Although he didn't interact with her, he could say with certainty that she—who had only been living in Derry for three weeks—had already adapted enough to the routine to seem like an average citizen of the town.

From that moment on, he started seeing her every day, whether he wanted to or not. Without fail, he watched her leave the classroom with a smile on her face, exuding an aura of extra energy and kindness that made her seem like the typical cliché of a "fallen angel from heaven."

There was something that constantly caught his attention, an inexplicable factor that affected him and significantly increased his curiosity about the girl.

Maybe it was the fact that Lizeth had easily adapted to the dull life of Derry, yet she continued to stand out everywhere: her colorful clothing, the long and curly hair that seemed to be the softest in the world, or perhaps it was her beautiful green eyes.

"It's like an orange cat; too energetic and silly." Those were Henry Bowers' words to describe Lizeth Johnson.

Everyone noticed it, or at least those who knew him and spent enough time with him to know that something was going on. His two trusted friends noticed it, his gang members did too, the losers also noticed it, and even his father—who didn't bother to check if he had breakfast or failed any subjects—noticed an unusual behavior in his son Henry.

He couldn't accept it, or rather, he didn't know how to handle something that was undoubtedly normal for many, for all those people who did have a normal life. I mean, he could barely—try to—control his moments of anger, something he knew and understood like the back of his hand. Because Henry knew what someone's real anger felt like.

[ . . . ]

Every day without fail, Henry saw the girl leaving school, always with a lovely smile.

It no longer seemed like a coincidence to encounter her in the hallways or just as she was leaving one classroom to enter another because it wasn't. But it looked so normal after a while that it became part of the routine.

And Henry Bowers still didn't say a single word to her...

"Do you have something?" A voice interrupted, Victor Criss's voice, Henry Bowers' closest friend.

"Who cares," grunted Henry, then headed towards the school cafeteria.

Victor Criss and Reginald "Belch" Huggins looked at each other for a moment. It was clear that the gang leader wasn't going to say anything, especially knowing that there were still plenty of people walking through the hallways.

"come?" Patrick Hockstetter called, looking at the others who were still leaning against the wall. They followed their leader to the cafeteria, curiously far from where she was.

[ . . . ]

Henry saw her every day, whether he liked it or not.

He was beginning to understand a little more about this strange curiosity about Lizeth "Liz" Johnson, and no, it wasn't the same as what he had "felt" for Beverly Marsh. This curiosity, or rather, this feeling was very different from that. And the more he thought about it, the more the feeling grew, and it was something incredibly stupid.

How could you love someone you only saw for a couple of minutes a day? He knew her name because a week before her arrival, rumors had spread that someone would move to Derry. From then on, he knew nothing, and that made him feel so foolish. He wanted to get rid of that feeling, he hated it, it made him feel weak, and he couldn't ask anyone for help. What would they say about him?

"Henry Bowers, Derry's bully, is in love with a silly girl." It's so...

IT WAS SO...

"Henry, Henry, damn it," Victor shouted. "You've been thinking about who knows what the whole trip. We arrived at the arcade 10 minutes ago, and you're still in the damn car."

The brunette gave his companion the most bitter face he could muster.

"Who cares," he said. "My thoughts are my problems, nosy."

Victor sighed.

"Look, we... the guys and I will be inside playing. When your mind is more relaxed, you can come. Also if..."

"Yes, I'll go in a moment," declared Henry.

Victor didn't say anything, knowing perfectly well that Henry wouldn't speak again, so he just left him alone in the car.

[ . . . ]

Henry always saw Liz Johnson every day, and with each passing day, he thought Liz was even more beautiful than the day before.

Through his eyes, Liz had become truly beautiful. To the point where she seemed almost unattainable.

She was so cute, as sweet as a dream.

And...

And he hated her so much.

[ . . . ]

Lizeth was also noticing it; she knew of his existence, and that made Henry's heart race. The fact that she had looked at him for even a second excited him; it made him so happy.

Henry Bowers had thought for a moment about talking to her.

He could approach and have a conversation with her, but then his doubt arose; doubt that turned into an assumption and then fear.

What if she was afraid of him?

It was no secret that people were afraid of Henry; he was a stupid and rough bully, and he had cultivated that image along with his gang for years.

What if she didn't want to get close to him?

That just put him in a bad mood.

His own thoughts made him upset.

So Henry chose not to do it, besides, it would be weird for someone like him to approach someone like her.

That was his thought.

[ . . . ]

Henry's behavior changed gradually, not enough, but there was a change, unfortunately for many, it was for the worse. Henry now got irritated more easily than before.

Henry was alone that day, a rare sight but not unusual. He still looked terrifying and emitted an aura of unease. Henry Bowers kept his hands in the pockets of his jeans as he watched the students pass by. No one approached him, even though he was alone, just the fact that he was so irritable made them nervous.

Henry spent the entire school day alone—his friends were busy, and they had to skip school, except for Patrick, who had been suspended for a week, who knows what trouble he got into—until lunchtime, where Henry decided to skip the remaining hours of class on the school field.

The bully walked through the hallways, from the cafeteria entrance to two large worn doors at the end of the hallway.

Henry Bowers pushed the door and entered, thinking that there wouldn't be anyone at this time of class.

"What are you doing here?" An unfamiliar voice; a very different accent than he was used to hearing.

That was her voice. As beautiful as always.

Lizeth was sitting on the bleachers of the sports field.

"Hey," Lizeth called again.

"What?"

"Did you skip class?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same question, Lizeth Johnson," the boy added.

It was clear that Bowers didn't expect her to be here. It could be anyone, but not the girl.

Lizeth smiled sweetly.

"Maybe," she replied. "I don't like chemistry. I understand certain things, and believe me, I would be willing to waste my student life learning about carbon atoms or hydrocarbons and their nomenclatures, but... I won't endure almost five hours of daily class with that bitter lady.

Henry smiled slightly and said, "You sound like a nerd."

"And you? You seem very alone today, Henry Bowers. Where are your friends?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at her companion with curiosity.

Henry swallowed and said, "How do you know...?"

"Henry Bowers, leader of a gang of bullies who happens to carry your last name," she interrupted. "I know who you are; I've heard about you since the first day of school. You seem like a Hollywood star with how much your name is heard inside and outside the school hallways."

Henry made a face, not knowing how to feel now; proud or unpleasant.

He used to feel happy when he knew his victim would have pure terror towards him, as had happened with Ben Hanscom in his first school year.

But Liz was far from being a victim of his heavy jokes.

"Oh, it was to be expected."

"I guess it's normal for you, right?" she questioned, looking at Henry and sitting on the front bleachers. Then she patted the spot next to her, offering the boy to sit beside her.

Henry looked at her but didn't even move from his place.

"I don't sit with losers" he said, crossing his arms.

"You don't have to be aggressive with me."

"Do you not fear me?" he warned, with some irritation in his tone.

"Why would I fear you? Are you going to do something to me?"

Henry opened his mouth, but there was nothing to say.

"Who cares"

Liz let out a little laugh and then stood up from where she was sitting.

"I assumed so," she began walking towards where Henry was standing, giving him a few pats on the shoulder. "It was nice trying to have a conversation with you, but I have to go; the chemistry class is almost over, and I have to go back," she joked. "Let's talk more often, Hank."

Henry Bowers heard her steps moving away, heard the small squeak of the door opening. He could feel his heart lighten, and his cheeks started to take on the same reddish color as his shirt.

He was... so angry with himself and with Liz.

It was so stupid.

"Darn it, damn fool!" He felt offended; truly offended.

[ . . . ]

Every day, Henry saw Liz Johnson leaving the classroom, but this time, as she passed by Henry and his gang, she smiled and greeted him, waving her hand enthusiastically. Even knowing that her greeting would not be reciprocated by his friend, who just remained with his arms crossed.

"She greeted you," Peter Gordon pointed out to the girl when there was already a considerable distance between them.

"I know, I'm not blind, idiot," he clarified in a sarcastic tone.

Henry remained the same, or so it seemed, but clearly, something had happened or that something Victor Criss already suspected had happened.

And no one, but no one, was going to deny the fact that Henry Bowers, with each passing week, day, and hour, was falling more in love with Lizeth Johnson.

NOTES:

It's just a silly story of my OcxCanon with Henry Bowers, because I discovered IT and I love all the characters and Henry is just a fool who needs love (therapy and a lawsuit against his father). This was written in spanish, so if there are errors, sorry. I try my best to write well in English (it's not a language I understand very well) Also say that I did this writing """"inspired"""" by the song Oh Love, I think you're really beautiful by Starry Cat. Although, Lmao, the only thing it has in common is the title.

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!

[capseycartwright]

it always leads to you, in my hometown

James gave her a reassuring smile. “You can love somewhere,” he began, and maybe he meant somewhere and someone, too, but Erin wasn’t ready to have that conversation. “And still need to leave it for a while. Derry will always be here,” he reassured, reaching out and giving her knee a gentle squeeze.

“And you?” she breathed the words. "Will you always be here?"

- or, a series of moments over their university years where james and erin fall together, fall apart, and find their way home to each other.

read on ao3

AUGUST 1998

Erin wanted to make one thing clear: she loved Derry. It felt important, to clarify that - especially as it was the night before she left it for four years of university in Dublin. She loved Derry, with every part of her heart and soul, the city etched deep into her bones, at the core of who she was - Erin Quinn could have been a very different girl, if she’d grown up somewhere else. But, she didn’t: she’d grown up in Derry, and so the city she called home now would forever be, well, home.

Derry was changing - for the better, Erin hoped, but that wouldn’t become clear for another while yet. Derry was changing, the city she knew so well entering a new era, the Good Friday Agreement approved on all sides of the border, people beginning to hope that their future could be a peaceful one. May had rolled into August, the summer slow, and syrupy sweet, the days feeling endless, and too quick, all the same, passing faster than Erin had been ready for.

The lights of the city glittered in front of her as Erin watched on from her spot on the walls, drinking in the sight of her home before she set off for university in the morning.

“I thought I might find you here,” a voice drew her attention, Erin twisting to see James standing a few metres away, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her carefully.

Erin gestured vaguely. “Yeah,” she managed. “You found me.”

“Mind if I join you?”

Erin shook her head, watching as James eased himself up and onto the cool stone of the wall beside her. Derry was never very quiet, but it felt quieter that evening, the noise of people going about their lives background noise as she watched James settle next to her.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” she asked after a beat of silence.

James shrugged. “I think I can guess,” he said, because over the last year, James had developed this uncanny ability to read into Erin’s every thought, and so it didn’t surprise her that he knew. Well, Erin supposed - it wasn’t hard to guess why she was here, sitting on the city walls, instead of watching her mother go through the packing list for the fifth time that day.

“Everything is changing,” Erin said, letting out a shaky breath. This week - it had been full of goodbyes.

They’d gone to the airport with Clare and her mammy on Tuesday, waving goodbye from the departures hall as Clare had headed for the security gate, and her new life in London, away to university about as far as she could get from Derry. Erin understood, really, she did - for Clare, Derry was filled with the ghost of her father, the man sitting quietly on every street corner, a reminder that he never saw Clare finish school, never got to vote in the referendum, never saw his beloved Northern Ireland start on the slow march to peace. No, Erin could understand why Clare needed to leave - but for a moment, clinging to Michelle’s hand, Erin had wished that the day hadn’t come and that Clare hadn’t felt like she needed to go.

It was hypocritical of her, she knew - Erin herself was off to Glasgow in the morning, a place at the University of Glasgow on their English Literature course waiting for her. She’d applied on a whim, and told nobody, until UCAS had come through and informed her that she’d been given an unconditional offer at Glasgow to study her dream degree. It had been her mammy, who’d told her she should go, Mary wiping away Erin’s confused tears as she’d reassured her daughter that it was okay, and she should go, and follow her dreams, and her, and her daddy, would always support her - no matter where in the world she was.

James was staying. That had been the biggest plot twist of it all - if their lives were a novel, and James staying in Northern Ireland could be considered a plot twist rather than a thoughtfully made life choice - but Erin could understand why he was staying. James hadn’t said it in as many words, but here, in Derry, he’d found a place to call home for the first time, and so it made sense that he wasn’t willing to go very far, English and Film Studies at Queen's University Belfast his new home as of September.

“It is, aye,” James agreed, and Erin couldn’t help but smile at the Derry lilt that had found a home in James’ accent, the swotty (Michelle’s words, not her own) English accent he had arrived in Derry with all those years ago now slowly beginning to fade. It suited him, Erin decided - he was a Derry girl, after all.

“What - what if it’s not as good?” Erin couldn’t help the tears that welled up in her eyes as she looked at Derry, and looked at James again, her heart aching as she tried to even begin to process the monumental changes that they were standing on the precipice of. For years now, Erin had dreamed of university, adulthood, and growing up, and now it was finally all happening, she couldn’t help but wish that she was heading back to Mary Immaculate College and Sister Michael’s wrath in two weeks' time.

James looked thoughtful, for a second. “I don’t think it’ll be comparable,” he said, continuing after a beat. “Nothing is ever going to be comparable to this,” he gestured vaguely, waving toward the rolling expanse of Derry that spread out for miles in front of them. “But that doesn’t mean that what’s coming next is going to be bad. You know? It’s going to be - it’s going to be fun,” he said, determined. “It’ll be different, sure, but it’s going to be fun too.”

Erin wiped roughly at her eyes. “What if I can’t do it alone?”

James gave her a fond smile. “You’ll never be alone, Erin,” he said, and Erin couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t ever been alone, not really, her life always full of joy, and laughter, and friends and family. She, and Clare and Michelle had already gone through the teary goodbyes and promises to stay in touch, and Orla had, in her very Orla-like way, solemnly reassured that she could easily swim the length of the Irish sea between here, and Scotland, if Erin ever needed her.

“I know, I just…” she trailed off, wondering how to voice her fear aloud. “What if I get to Glasgow, and I can’t do it alone?”

“Erin Quinn,” James said, as though he was about to say something obvious, something she should already know. “You can do anything you set your mind to.”

read the rest on ao3

[milkybonezz]

Headcanon of how the bowers gang reacts when someone insults them and it really affects them

oooosh this is a tough one, i think i'm gonna organize them based on most to least vexed

Belch

it sticks with him for days sometimes weeks at a time

not the most stable boy in the world, he's got a lot of insecurities

especially about his weight, that is a super raw nerve for him

so if you were to insult him on that subject matter he really cant seem to gt it out if his head

not the sharpest tool in the shed but to be insulted stings a lot

the death of his father is also a very very sensitive subject

will absolutely cry, no doubt about it

not one to forgive something very easily

Henry

hes got a lot of issues

no mum, terrible dad, very low social mobility, so on and so forth

take your pick

go on, jab about the red welts that peek out when the fabric of his shirt moves

remind him his mother is gone and he's all alone with Derry's other notorious monster Butch Bowers

call him a hick town freak, an inbred piece of scum

you won't last very long after that

he'll hunt you down, kick you to the floor and let everything he's got built up inside him come out in screaming fury

he won't realize as he's hailing down punches that tears are leaving his eyes

don't dare to mention that either

he won't kill you, god no

but he'll make you wish you were dead

Vic

a sensitive soul, sure, but he cares very little what strangers of think of him

his friends, however, that is a different story

he craves their approval like oxygen

something he really knows he shouldn't do

they're all he has, really

his parents don't want to know him, nor have they ever really

he won't do anything but sneer at you and offer some cutting words back

at home he'll ponder what was said

sometimes words hurt him, but his skin is a lot thicker that it used to be

Patrick

unbothered, in his lane, platting the murder of your loved ones

he doesn't really feel much of anything really

shrugs off any kind of insults thrown at him

nothing will ever get him to crack

even, even if someone happened to know what happened to Avery

if someone knew he had broken the rules in this reality he has dreampt up, constructed in his mind

nothing seems to fit

but he wonders just how nice your insides might look in a jar

[follower-of-romcommunism]

Shows with poignant endings that are actually satisfying

Since season 3 ended on such a pathetic note, here are shows I think that actually do what Ted Lasso was trying to do with its ending, but in a way that doesn’t rob its audience or gaslight them about what they showed us in literally everything else leading up to it 

1. The Newsroom - written by Aaron Sorkin, watch on HBOmax

2. Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story - written by Shonda Rhimes, watch on Netflix

3. Derry Girls - written by Lisa McGee, watch on Netflix

4. Fleabag - written by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, watch on Prime Video

5. M*A*S*H - many writers, watch on Hulu

Notice I didn’t say happy endings, because none of these shows have an ending that’s neatly tied up and everyone’s hunk dory. You don’t need that to have your ending be satisfying and well-written. You can have a gut punch goodbye without destroying everything you built. Feel free to drop more recs in the comments.

spoilers under the cut for explanations

The Newsroom ends with the death of Charlie Skinner, Will McAvoy’s mentor and dear friend. The message of the final episode is about how life will go on without him, but the characters are consistent, and while some things are open-ended (like where Jim and Maggie stand with her moving to DC), we aren’t left feeling empty. They give the viewers some fucking credit here. 

Queen Charlotte may seem like a silly historical romance series on the surface, but it has more depth than its parent show, Bridgerton, especially with the end. It shows us that George will never be cured, not even with Charlotte’s love, and she is choosing him anyway. The whole show preaches that those with mental illness will always be that way, and they are still deserving of love and respect. We can meet them where they are. And life will not be easy at George’s side, but Charlotte wants to be there anyway. That is the real power of love. 

Derry Girls has what I’d consider the happiest ending out of all these, but the questions at the end leave the audience hopeful but with that seed of doubt. As each of these young women place their vote, and decide how they want to live their lives after the Troubles, it’s moving in a surprising way. It’s the end of their childhood, the end of an era, and yet with that comes this exciting new world. The final shot of Granda Joe and Erin’s little sister walking hand in hand perfectly shows the old life and the new coming together. 

Fleabag has probably the most devastating of all endings here, but it’s probably closest to what Ted Lasso wanted to accomplish by showing how one person can come into you life and change it forever, but that doesn’t mean they’re meant to stay. But what makes Fleabag’s ending effective is not only the dialogue, both characters actually voicing their feelings for each other and stating why they can’t be together, but Fleabag finally looks at the camera and shakes her head before walking away. She doesn’t need the audience anymore. And we aren’t left loving her or Hot Priest any less. 

M*A*S*H is along the same lines as Fleabag. All these doctors came together because of the war, and they were the epitome of found family while they were all so far away from home. At the end, as they all part ways, they let each other know through words and gestures what the experience meant to them. And there isn’t some weird sequence showing what everyone’s up to now, they let the audience fill in those gaps themselves, so we can’t be disappointed by things missing (Ted at Beard’s wedding *coughcough*).