#imagine seeing this man??? in your class one day????? but also ben getting a glimpse into what it would have been like if HE went to colleg

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Dear Evan Hansen

You may have seen some ~online discourse~ about the film Dear Evan Hansen, an adaptation of the 2016 Broadway musical, and you might have wondered what all the hubbub is about. I mean, it’s a feel good story about a senior in high school, Evan Hansen (Ben Platt), who has some pretty severe anxiety and depression. While trying to fulfill an assignment from his therapist to write a letter to himself, his letter gets picked up by another student, Connor (Colton Ryan) - and later that day, Connor kills himself. Connor’s grieving parents and sister Zoe (Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Kaitlyn Dever) are desperate to learn more from the boy they think was Connor’s best friend - after all, Connor’s suicide note was a letter addressed to “Dear Evan Hansen.” And, as you can imagine, Evan tells them about the unfortunate mistake and sits with them in their grief as they struggle to pick up the pieces of their lives. 

Just kidding! He lies to them, repeatedly, elaborately, expansively for months, constructing an entire false friendship with Connor that never happened, and ingratiating himself into the wealthy nuclear family he never had, in large part because he wants to get into Zoe’s pants! THIS IS THE PROTAGONIST OF THE STORY. Oh, and it’s a musical so there is a lot of singing and crying and singing WHILE crying and sometimes crying and not singing at all. But the #inspiration, you guys. 

Things I liked:

Pretty much everything but the story and Ben Platt’s performance. The supporting cast is stacked, and all of them do a great job at elevating material scraped directly out of a diaper worn by someone who just chewed their way through a copy of the DSM-5. 

A couple of the songs are damn catchy - “Waving Through a Window” and “You Will Be Found” are standouts for a reason - and here’s the thing, Platt sings them well. But as you’ll discover, there’s a lot more to a movie musical than just singing your part. 

Stephen Chbosky, the man behind every deep thought I and a lot of people in my generation had in 2006 after he wrote The Perks of Being a Wallflower, is a pretty good director. I particularly enjoyed the fanvid-type cuts in “Waving Through a Window” in conjunction with the lyrics, and his use of interstitial shots to flashbacks (and sometimes flashforwards!) is a neat little bit of shorthand that I thought was used sparingly enough to be effective. 

Amy Fucking Adams. She’s holding on so hard, so desperately to the idea of who her son could have been, rather than the reality of who he was, and she is full of such deep pain that is masked by an almost endless supply of patience with Evan and relentless positivity. All this made me want was Enchanted 2 even worse than I already did. 

Super into everything Zoe wears - the costuming department did a great job, and now all I want to do is live in mom jeans and baggy sweaters.

Did I Cry? I teared up a couple of times because I’m not a completely heartless bastard and when Amy Adams offered Evan Connor’s college money, my heart broke for the lie Evan had thrust upon her, and Julianne Moore’s song got me good, because she’s just a single mom to Evan who is doing her goddamn best. 

Things I hated more than the time I dropped a frozen gallon container of fruit cocktail on my pinkie toe in my parents’ garage and it turned black and I thought it was gonna fall off:

Ben Platt is 28 years old. He originated the role of Evan Hansen on Broadway, so in many respects it makes sense that he plays the role in the movie, except for the one kinda sorta important thing where he looks like a wizened old crone standing amongst a sea of children doing his best twitching, cringing Hunchback of Notre Dame impression. If you want someone to convincingly play 20 years their junior, hire Paul Rudd. Otherwise, please don’t ask me to believe that this supposed 18-year-old has crow’s feet. 

And that twitching nervous energy is a huge part of the black hole at the center of this film - he’s playing to the cheap seats and walking through the halls of his high school like a wet chihuahua. It’s an excruciating acting choice to watch - he doesn’t just have anxiety, he is on the verge of a nervous breakdown seemingly every second of every day. Like honestly, where is only-mentioned-never-seen Dr. Sherman, because this young man’s meds are NOT WORKING DR. SHERMAN. 

There’s such a lack of self-awareness on behalf of the writing, directing, and performance by Platt. There’s one song, “Sincerely, Me,” that offers the only glimpse of commentary about what Evan is doing, by pointing out the malicious ridiculousness of him writing a series of fake emails as proof of his and Connor’s friendship. 

Also what high schoolers email this much?? I know this was written in probably 2014 or so, but has a bitch never heard of a text? Even a DM? This whole plot is constructed around the premise that high schoolers are just constantly, constantly emailing each other. 

Everything - and I mean EV-ER-Y-THING - about Evan’s relationship with Zoe is so creepy and disturbing that with a soundtrack change, this could easily be a horror movie. He attempts to get her to like him by describing to her all the things her brother noticed about her - oh wait, I’m sorry, all the things HE noticed about her while he was skulking in the shadows following her around for years, watching every move she made, and it ends with him singing repeatedly “I LOVE YOU” because following a girl around and never having a conversation with her or knowing her at all is love, right? This was clearly written by the same people who chose “Every Breath You Take” as their wedding song because Sting is hot and they never actually listened to the damn words. 

And it gets about 10 billion times worse when Zoe goes to Evan’s house alone, takes him up to his room, and sings “I don’t need reasons to want you” and that was the moment I was that person I hate in a movie theater and I pulled out my phone to Google who wrote the music and lyrics to the musical (we were in the back row of the theater no one was behind me THIS WAS AN OUTRAGE EMERGENCY) and of motherfucking course it was written by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, 2 men who heard about meeting an actual human woman from a friend one time but otherwise are unfamiliar with the concept. 

Lastly, enormous serial killer vibes from Evan sending unlabeled flash drives anonymously through the mail with no note in an attempt to right his wrongs. That’s not catharsis, that’s how the next installment in the Saw franchise starts, with Evan in a Billy the clown doll mask showing up on the screen and asking if you want to play a fucking game. 

Also, I know it’s not possible for the narrative to justify this in a way that could be satisfying based on Evan’s actions, but what is with this thing where single working-class mom Julianne Moore is turning down rich people’s money for Evan to go to college? Like, obviously we can’t have that happen in the movie but in real life, fuck your pride! Take those rich people’s money!

I also know how movies work but nothing annoys me more than a giant group of high schoolers all getting beeps and boops to indicate text notifications all at the same time because I don’t know a single person under the age of 55 who keeps their ringer on. That shit is on vibrate AT MOST, and I feel like that’s a millennial thing. 

The emotional climax of the film is obviously Evan’s WAY TOO LATE confession, but the idea that it’s prompted by Connor’s family suddenly getting a lot of internet hate is, frankly, laughable. If Sandy Hook taught me one thing, it is that no tragedy is immune from trolls who live only to cause other people devastating emotional pain on the internet. That shit starts day 1. Apparently no one involved in this production has ever been on Twitter?

Also it feels like there should have been a dog somewhere in this movie and there was no dog, so points off for that too. 

Perhaps Dear Evan Hansen isn’t nearly as deep as it aspires to be. Perhaps it’s a morality play, a simplistic message of “Don’t lie, kids, lying is bad!” Major studio movies wrap themselves up with a nice bow at the end so everyone can feel good about themselves and leave with a happy ending, but the moronic cruelty on display here makes that feat feel impossible. We’re left with Evan in an orchard, reading Connor’s favorite books and staring into the big blue sky with all the self-actualization he’s earned now as a lil treat. And if Evan Hansen looked like an actual 18-year-old, it would be a lot easier to extend more empathy to him and his not-fully-developed prefrontal cortex, but it’s a little harder with this fully-grown, weathered man who was old enough to remember seeing Liar Liar in theaters. 

Dear Evan Hansen, 

Get some actual help and a haircut and maybe you can grow up enough to have an actual healthy interaction with any other living person, ever.

Sincerely, 

Me

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[zwiezraczek]

Hey 🙈 Would you like to write a little imagine about Ben/Roger Taylor based on the song "Nervous" by Shawn Mendes. Maybe he's the one who feels that way bc it would be a bit different to his normal behaviour. Thank you so much! 🥰

There You Are [Request]

Note: I’m sorry that it’s this short, really! The idea is great, the song is great and I just didn’t want to begin a proper relationship, I don’t really know why... It’s still open for another chapter maybe? I don’t know haha ~ Anyway, I hope you’ll like it nonetheless! 💕

~~~~

Roger had never felt this way before, his eyes squinted in order to see you better from afar – how much he hated himself for not wearing his prescribed glasses but his sunglasses, because at least he would have seen you better from afar, while he was drinking his coffee with Brian. And there was something about your smile he could guess from where he was. He looked at you, not listening to Brian anymore as you passed by. His heart started to race, like when he was fourteen and crushing on this older girl from the school across the street.

“You are absolutely not listening to me,” Brian finally said after a few minutes of rambling about their first gig to be, noticing that under these shades Roger's eyes weren't focused at all. “And your hand is shaking, either coffee is not for you or you are trying to communicate with the waitress behind me. Both suggestions sound accurate.”

“Yeah, you're right, I'll be right back,” he swiftly said and got up under Brian's confused gaze.

“You weren't listening at all.”

Without even listening to his friend, he looked at the direction of the counter where you supposedly were earlier, but you disappeared from his view. He looked on the left, and the on the right, but you already weren't there, and it made him feel empty somehow. It was definitely your smile that gave him this small adrenaline rush, the smile and the exchange of – blurry – looks. But he had to know something about you, to have even the slightest chance to see you again, so he went to the counter and asked the waitress about you, the cute smiling one wearing the adorable blue cardigan, the one with a wide smile and the large cup of coffee. The waitress smiled and told him that you were there often, and this simple piece of information made him feel nervous yet excited. Just to think that he would probably see you again was enough for him to go through his long day – and gig to be.

And when he came back to sit at the table with Brian, with a relieved smile as he was thinking about seeing you again, his friend only sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I think I'll never get used to you leaving mid-conversation in order to talk with some girl, I swear,” he complained and took a sip of his warm tea.

“You'll get used to it,” Roger replied with a little smile.

And from this very day, Roger tried to go to this café, even by himself when he hadn't classes, in order to see you, to catch a glimpse of you or even to tall with you for a bit. But whenever he came to the counter, the waitress – who was always there when Roger came – told him that you asked about him too, and that you were out a few minutes before him. He sighed, but she seemed to enjoy this little pining game going on between the two of you. She liked telling you that the blonde man asked about you, and telling him that you asked about him from time to time while grabbing your coffee and telling her to tell him to say hi.

But today was a lucky day for both of you. Roger was already standing by the counter, talking with the waitress – Veronica, she was a lovely girl – when you entered the café. Veronica, who was sharing a laugh with him, elbowed him immediately when she saw you from the corner of her eye. Roger looked at her, confused, before looking in the same direction as her. And he saw you, finally. It was like an epiphany for him. Both of you in the same room, in the middle of this hubbub, looking at each other. And he finally saw your smile crossing your face as you walked towards him, he recognized this smile for sure. But seeing you coming closer made him nervous, he became self-conscious for a moment, not knowing if he was interesting enough for you, despite not knowing you and knowing that you were also asking about him. But maybe it was just out of curiosity?

“So you're the mysterious blond man chasing me in the café,” you asked and Veronica laughed a bit.

“I'm the best match-maker in this town, y/n,” she proudly replied before she turned around in order to make your drink.

“I'm Roger,” he introduced himself a little bit too quickly and from your lips escaped a small laugh.

“Y/n, and don't worry Roger, I'm not going anywhere. So, why are you trying to meet me so bad?”

He froze. He couldn't say casually that he found your smile absolutely gorgeous, this didn't sound good at all – well it only did when he was after one of his gigs, when the girl was already interested, but he could risk it all with you. Absolutely not.

“You're alright,” you asked, a bit confused as Veronica put your drink right in front of you.

“Usually he's more talkative, he must be impressed by you, in person. I mean, this close, you know,” she insisted and Roger rolled his eyes before sipping his coffee. “See? I was right!”

“So, apparently I am cute,” you continued and Roger's cheeks felt like fire. He gave a death glare to Veronica.

“I had to! I'm not even sorry!”

“Yeah, sort of,” Roger only mumbled replying to what you said. 'Sort of'? What had happened to the great Roger who was flirting with every girl in every room?

“Wow, I thought you'd be happier when you'd meet me,” you admitted and began to drink your coffee. He stared at you, there you were, finally, so close and yet so far. He wasn't like this usually, this was so new, and old at the same time. You caught him staring. He looked away. “I'm not biting, I promise!”

“It's just I... I thought I'd never have the occasion to meet you in person, like, you know, not through Veronica.”

“Our great match-maker,” you added with a smirk. “So, Roger, what are you doing? Well, if you go outside of this coffee from time to time of course.”

“Dental student,” you curiously looked at him, “that's probably why I'm so attentive to smiles.”

“Fair enough.”

“And playing in a band, having a gig in a few days, so if you want to come...”

“As in 'date you want to come'”, you teased him and he rolled his eyes. “Either way I'm down!”

“Great, I have this flyer so you have all the info right here, see? And... What you do outside of this coffee?”

“Trying to become a teacher, literature mainly, fingers crossed!”

Your smile was illuminating the room, and his mind, and he wished this moment would last forever.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Lost letters

Summary: Richie and Eddie reunite when Mike calls them back to defeat an old enemy. As soon as Richie sees Eddie, his old feelings hit him like a train. 

warnings: some curse words, Richie is a bit negative towards himself at some point (not too long) 

The first thing Richie thought off, when Mike called, wasn’t Eddie, despite how much Richie would tell himself that was, or anyone else from the losers club for that matter.

No, the first thing Richie remembered was the feeling of hatred towards Derry. He couldn’t remember why, the memories still hadn’t come back to him, still whipped away thanks to the curse that IT had put over them, but the feeling he recognized straight away.

When he had finally made it too the restaurant, recognizing Beverly and Ben, his mind had provided him with the memory of an angel, Eddie Kaspbrak.

He watched, or stared more like, as Beverly and Ben reunited, but all he could feel was complete and utter heartbreak. He remembered the neurotic hypochondriac very clearly now, and Richie couldn’t imagine not knowing he excited. He almost felt excited to walk into the restaurant, to see what had come of his former best friend, the boy who he had his very first crush on.

The feeling was quickly replaced though, with a feeling of helplessness, and a feeling of disgust. Not towards Eddie, Richie could never feel anything but good towards Eds, but to himself.

The memories of days sitting in the hammock, close enough to Eddie to be able to count all the freckles on his face, often already halfway before he realized what he was doing, and look away with glancing eyes to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily, nobody ever, to the best of his ability to recall, ever did.  

He would spend almost every night with Eddie in his bedroom, climbing to his window, even when Richie almost fell down, just so he could talk to him, to sleep in his proximity.

He’d lie to Sonia about having to work with Eddie on homework, before dragging him out to the arcade, or the barrens with some new comic books, that they would completely read in an hour. Then they would complain about having to wait so long for the next one.

When the losers would have movie nights, he’d make sure he could sit by Eddie every time, spending the entire movie pouting if he didn’t.

His heart stops completely when he thinks about the kissing bridge, and how scared he had been that Bowers or anyone was watching him. Waiting until he was finished so they could beat his ass for being a ‘fag’ after. He recalls something else about the carvings too though. He also felt a sense of security.

He was always so scared that he was misinterpreting his feeling. Like he wasn’t really in love with Eddie, and was just mistaken because he had never been in love. It was on his mind constantly, and it made him sick. He had asked his mother about it once, and she had responded to the best of her ability’s. Richie had asked her how she knew that his father was the ‘one’.

Though Richie’s parents weren’t perfect, and neither was their relationship, it was clear to 15 year old Richie that his parents loved each other very much. His mother had smiled, in a way that only she could, a smile that held a secret, not necessarily bad, just something that was hidden.

‘I knew because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Because when I was scared or upset, the only person I wanted next to me was Went.’ She stared forward a little vacantly, as if she was lost in memories from older times.

‘I was certain that I wanted to marry Went and have a wonderful child with him,’ she gently nudged Richie, ‘because I couldn’t imagine having to live without him.’

It was then that Richie knew. He knew that he loved Eddie, and he also knew, that he would do everything in his power to keep it a secret from everyone. His mom still had her significant smile on her face. She leaned down and dropped her voice to a quiet murmur.

‘Just because your dad fell in love with a woman, doesn’t mean you have to.’ Then, without waiting for a reply, she ruffled his hair and walked out of their kitchen. Richie had gaped at her, too stunned for once in his life to respond to what she had said.

The carving on the bridge, gave him a security. That he feeling were real, and valid. Regardless of the fact that nobody knew of them, he had them, and he would most likely continue to have them.

Younger Richie was dumb, considering he did forget about his feelings, carved in the bridge or not. But standing in Derry, waiting to make himself known, it was like all his memories that were Eddie related came rushing back in. Richie wanted to throw up again.

He wondered if Eddie was already in the jade oriental, recollecting him. Richie banned that thought from his mind immediately. He was not going that path right now. He wouldn’t let himself internalize the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him. God he needed a fucking drink.

‘Wow,’ he started saying as he saw Ben and Beverly hug. He didn’t want to wait any longer. ‘You guys look great, what the fuck happened to me?’ Beverly and Ben turned to face him, all smiles and adoring looks. Richie smiled too, feeling happy at seeing his friends again, even if barely two days ago he hadn’t remembered them.

He reached forward to hug Ben, glancing up and down his body. He had gotten smoking, but he seemed to have kept his kindness all the same. ‘Richie’, he said, as if it wasn’t obvious already. He pulled his hands out of his pocket, gripping Ben’s shirt in his hands before pulling back. Then Ben step aside so Richie could hug Beverly.

Beverly, who he felt returning the hug attentively, and Richie released some of the strength he was hugging her with without second though. Beverly relaxed and Richie was transported into the past, them standing behind the school courtyard to smoke, out of sight from everyone expect each other.

Richie feels a stab of longing, even though he hasn’t thought of his childhood for so long. He thinks back to the feeling of utter dread when he got the call, wondering why it was that he wasn’t exciting to come back. He knows that the answer is right there, on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He’s starting to suspect it’s just going to hit him in the face.

He follows behind Bev and Ben as they walk into the restaurant, like a petulant child who has misbehaved and has to follow his parents to get punished. He feels scared, even though Eddie has no idea what his feeling are, and it wasn’t like he can read his thoughts, but he just is.  

When they reach the table, where three others are present, all with their back turned, Bev and Ben wait. It may be that they’re having their own nostalgic moments, but Richie doesn’t really care. Now that he can see Eddie standing in front of him, he just has to get a glimpse of Eddie’s face.

He glances beside him and sees a bong, and he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t reach for it and slammed it harshly, alerting their presence. Mike, Eddie and Bill turn around as fast as they can, the silence and tranquil moment broken by the loud sound. Richie doesn’t give them a chance to say anything, and just vocalizes the first thought he has.

‘This meeting of the losers club has officially began.’  

He meets Eddie’s eyes. Richie drops his eyes as soon as they do, but not before taking all of Eddie in.

He looks older, which is logical, but Richie can’t help but feel wondered by it. He has stress lines and a few wrinkles here and there, and Richie wants nothing more but to make him smile so they go away. He has a few grey hairs here and there, and he still looks so small. Richie can’t help but think that he’s a giant compared to him.

‘Look at these guys.’

Eddie smiles, his dimples appearing, and Richie swears his heart stops for a few moments. His voice is rougher, his pipsqueak sound has turned mature. Richie wants to hear Eddie talking all day.

Deflect. His mind supplies, so that’s what Richie does. Hopefully, he’s learned something from the acting classes his manager forced him to take. He points to Ben, who’s not looking at him. Making a motion of a slimming body, because holy hell. If Richie wasn’t so hopelessly in love with Eddie, he would tap Ben faster than anyone could blink. ‘Ben’, he mounts, just as the man himself turns around. Richie smiles at him, acting like his nose bleeds. That seems to be a pattern with him.

After that, things are alright. They sit at their table, at first a little unsure of how to act around each other, but after only a few minutes, it’s like they’ve always done this. Like they do this every day.

They order Chinese food, and Richie forgets all about the bad feeling he had, about Derry, but also about Eddie. It’s familiar to act flirtatious around Eddie without Eddie seeing the double meaning. That reliefs Richie, for he has known to speak the truth but then cover it up by making a joke out of it.

Richie orders a shot, drinking it blowjob style. He used to do that all the time in college, it was a trick he had up his sleeve to seduce the guys he was interested in. It didn’t work all the time, more like ever, but Richie still does it again.

He doesn’t know if it’s to impress Eddie, or just because it causes him to get drunk faster.

When he spits the glass back out, his filter falls out too. ‘So wait Eddie you got married?’ he asks. As soon as the word come out of his mouth, he wants to slap himself over the head. He’s such an idiot. Why the fuck would he asks that?

Luckily, it riles Eddie up, and he doesn’t notice the way Richie’s eyes sadden despite himself when he glances at the ring.

‘Yo why is it so fucking funny dickwad?’ He bites, and Richie can’t help himself.

‘What to like a woman?’ He coats his words with an air of arrogance. Trying to conceal how he really feels. Why he truly wants to know. Logically he knows it’s not going to do him any good. Eddie is not going to be gay, he probably despises homosexuals. If he would know that Richie was one, they would have never been best friends before.

Beverly glances his way, and it looks like she’s trying to decipher something.

‘Fuck you bro’, Eddie replies, but he looks amused as he says it. He doesn’t mean it. Silently, Richie lets out a sigh of relief.

Richie laughs, a real one for a change. ‘Fuck you’, he yells back, resisting the urge to stick out his tongue like a child.

‘Okay what about you trashmouth’, Bill asks. Out of the blue Richie remembers where he got his nickname for his comedy shows.

‘Did you get married?’

Richie thinks to himself that no, he isn’t married. He would have loved to be married to Eddie though.

‘there’s no way’, Beverly laughs, hearty and honest. Richie senses a gateway to an old joke. ‘No, I got married’, he says with full confidence. Looking around the table to make sure that everyone’s listening. Eddie seems very interested, but Richie writes that off as his own imagination.

‘Rich, I don't believe you’, Beverly exclaims, reaching for another piece of food.

‘When?’, Eddie asks. If Richie didn’t know any better, he’d say Eddie was jalousy. He knows that’s not the case though.

‘Haven't you heard of that?’, he asks instead, looking Eddie straight in his eyes.

‘No,’ Eddie claimed, no breaking eye contact for one second.

‘You do not know?’

‘No.’

‘Your mother and I are very happy now.’ He sees the exact moment that Eddie comprehends his words, his face turning into a scowl. Richie shakes with laughter.

‘Fuck you’, Eddie says once calmly, and then again, angrier, as if the joke is still registering.

‘She is so sweet. Sometimes she’ll put her arm around me and whisper; and then Richie does his best Chewbacca impression. Doing the voices, it’s like there’s another wall between him and the outside world, another layer they would have to get through to get to know them. He doesn’t let them.

‘We all get it: my mom is a great big fat person. Hilarious, hysterical.’ Eddie looks like he’s actually contemplating killing Richie, and all he can do is laugh. He missed this, even if he didn’t known it was this specific thing he was missing, he still felt like part of himself wasn’t there. It turns out that part is Eddie shaped, but Richie’s not sure if he wants to delve deeper into that.

‘Is Richie making another your mom joke, Eddie?’ A new voice speaks up from behind the table, and when Richie turns around, he comes face to face with Stanley Uris. He hadn’t even thought of him when he was laughing with the others, but now that he’s here, Richie can’t imagine forgetting that they were missing their seventh member.

Stan’s lips are pulled in a grimace, and his face look ashen pale. He’s terrified, even though Richie has no idea why. The nagging feeling that he was still forgetting something nagged at the back of his mind, but Richie got up to hug Stan, and the feeling went away.

Stan stiffened when Richie’s armed circled around him, but then he seemed to shrug and he hugged back.

‘Stanley the manley’, Richie joked. Stan didn’t look amused, but he ultimately decided to just let it go. When Richie turned around to sit back down on his seat, he noticed that Eddie was staring at him. Richie smiled at him, trying to get a reaction out of him, but Eddie didn’t shift his gaze, and only did eventually, when Stan came up to greet him.

As soon as Eddie’s eyes were off Richie, he shivered. He wanted to ask Eddie if everything was alright, but he didn’t want to be alone with Eddie. He also didn’t want to attract any more attention to Eddie, just in case something was really wrong and he wanted to keep it hidden from everyone.

Stan chooses the only open seat there’s left, which means he’s placed in between Richie and Eddie. Richie is both equally annoyed and grateful.

‘So Stan, are you married?’ Eddie asks once things have quiet down. Richie looks down and sure enough, there’s a ring present on his finger. Stan smiles, toying with it a few times while nodding his head.

‘Yeah. Her name is Patricia, or rather Patty, and she’s amazing. I’m lucky to have her.’

The look on his face is one of pure adoration, and Richie is really happy for him, Stan deserves it.

‘I mean it’s weird right,’ Ben says, turning the conversation over. ‘Things are starting to come back faster and faster now that I’m here.’

Richie understands what he means, he feels the same way. It’s weird being in a room full of people who were once your whole world, and Richie hadn’t recalled them for years, only to now come back and know everything again.

‘When Mike called I threw up,’ he says, feeling everyone’s eyes on him. ‘Is that weird? I got nervous and sick so I threw up. I feel fine now, I’m very relieved that I’m here with you guys.’

Everybody is still looking at him, and Richie feels nauseous again. He wonders if he said to much, again. He wants to drop from his chair and hide out anywhere, he wishes everyone would stop looking at him.

‘Why is everyone looking at me like that?’ he asks instead.

‘I crashed my car when Mike called’, Eddie mumbles, his eyes looking at the table.

‘Seriously?’ Bill asks, seconds before Richie does the same. He looks Eddie over, looking for any wounds, but he seems physically fine.

When Richie’s eyes peer at Mike, he seems awfully guilty.

‘Man I hear ya. I mean my heart started pounding right out of my chest’, Ben agrees.

‘I though it was only me.’ Bev replies, staring vacantly in front of her.

‘It was like pure f-f-f-.’ Bill looks mortified, not being able to spit out the word. It’s clear as day to Richie in an instant that he had a stutter, all the way through the third year of high school. He might have head one later too, but Richie didn’t know him beyond that year.

‘Fear’, Mike interrupts, ‘It is fear. What you all feel.’

‘Why do we all feel like that Mike?’ Richie has never seen Mike as nervous as he is now. It’s jarring.

Next to him, Stan hasn’t said a word. Worriedly Richie glances at him, but Stan adamantly doesn’t meet his eyes.

‘You remember something we don’t, don’t you Mike?’ Bill inquires, picking up that Mike is trying to dodge the subject.

‘Something happens to you when you leave this town. The further you go, the hazier it all gets. But me, I’ve never left. I remember all of it.’

Richie frown, and the feeling he first got when Mike called is coming back. He feels bad, his mind reaming at him that he shouldn’t have come back here.

He’s happy Eddie is here though, and the others, so he doesn’t know why. He does the opposite of pushing the feeling away, leaning into it now, because he knows the answer is right there. It’s like looking through water, his memory is muddled but he needs to know what he’s missing, it feels important that he knows.

It doesn’t click until Bev breathes out; ‘Pennywise’

Richie chokes on his own spit. How could he forget. The clown. The fucking clown that had murdered children, and had nearly murdered him and his friends. The terror of the summer of ’89 comes rushing in, and he understands now why he didn’t want to come back at all.

‘ow the fucking clown.’ Eddie seems to have come to the same conclusion. Richie’s breathing start to deepen, he’s panicking, but trying still to cover it up.

‘There’s an echo here in Derry, It bounces back every 27 years.’

Eddie bounces back in his chair, trying to put as much distance between him and Mike. ‘What?’  He’s looking for his inhaler somewhere in his pocket.

‘Hold on listen. We thought we stopped it back then, We thought it was done.’

‘Mike’, Richie wines, a little embarrassing. He doesn’t want to hear what he has to say. He wants him to stop talking.

‘A few days ago, Adrian Melon was slaughtered. Another girl went missing, there have been others and there will be others.’

Everyone is starting to talk over each other now, terrified beyond their comprehension, and Richie just sits there trying to make sense of everything.

‘Let him explain, Let him explain’, Ben tries to sooth. If Richie wasn’t thinking about every possible way he could get out of the restaurant, he might have been charmed by the way Ben always sticks up for others, even years later.

‘That echo? We might have changed IT, just like IT changed us, but we didn’t stop IT. IT just bounced back. We made an ought, that’s why I called you here. That’s why I brought you back. So we could kill it. For real this time.’

Bev breathes in shaky, and it’s then that Richie realizes that Stan still hasn’t said anything for the whole time Mike had been speaking. When he does turn, he decides to not address him, it’s clear that Stan is just as, if not more scared.

Richie knows his place in the group. It’s the same as it has always been. He’s supposed to make a joke, to distract from the horrific thing waiting for them.

‘well that shit got dark fast, thanks Mike.’ He reaches to take a fortune cookie laying on the table, trying to distract everyone, including himself.

The others follow his lead, Eddie first, followed by Bill and the rest of them. When Richie cracks his cookie open, he freezes again. What the fuck.

‘Mine just says die. So I guess I’ll see you fuckers in hell’, he jokes. On the outside he appears funny, but on the inside he’s screaming. He can’t believe this restaurant.

‘Mine says the same thing’, Ben says, showing everyone the paper.

The others also agree, and Richie is just about to ask what kind of sick joke Mike is playing, when the fortune cookies that were still on the table, were starting to crack open, out of nowhere.

He jumps up, after seeing the others do the same, running to the other side of the room by himself.

Despite the fact that his life is most likely at stake, he can’t help but keep his focus on Eddie to make sure he’s okay. He’s not obviously, and Richie wants nothing more than to get him out of this town, back to the safety of any other city.

‘oh shit, oh shit’, Eddie’s mumbling, terrified eyes fleeing around the room.

One of the cookies crack open completely, the wing of a baby bird popping out.

‘What the fuck is that’? Richie complains, trying to get a better look.

He takes a step forward, but jumps back when Eddie yells at him.

‘Would you step back you absolute moron?’ Eddie screeches, reaching his arm out like a mother to her child when the car has to stop suddenly, but he’s too far away to reach Richie, so he drops his arm quick.

He gets a warm feeling at the fact that Eddie is worried about him, but is pushed back into the present when the thing come crawling out, but it has a fucking baby face instead of a head. It’s crying like an actual baby.

When the thing flies to the edge of the table, The other fortune cookies start cracking too.

The one closest to Richie opens to reveal an eye sliming it’s way across the table to Richie.

‘Hey, hey that fortune cookie is looking at me’, he yells, stumbling backwards even more. ‘Shit’

‘I don’t wanna be here’, he hears Eddie say, and his heart clenches. He sees a bat flying towards Eddie and Ben, who promptly hold their arms up to protect themselves. ‘Holy shit,’ Eddie screams.

Their table is getting rearranged, glances and plates falling left and right. When the bat flies in to attack Ben and Eddie, Richie finds his voice again.

‘Hey, Eddie’, he yells useless. He can’t help him from so far away. He wants too though.

Stan is falling to his knees in the far left corner, rocking back and forth like a scared child.

A black goo spreads from the bowl of cookies, like acid burning through everything. The stupid Chinese music is still playing, as if nothing is happening, as if they aren’t fearing for their life.

It surprising that no one has come to check up on them, with all the commotion happening.

Mike comes to a realization, grabbing a chair and banging the table. ‘It’s not real, it’s not real’, he keep repeating, though Richie can’t imagine banging a chair on acid is doing much to help.

Richie crawls up the cabinet, feeling a little fear for Mike’s sanity. When he looks to his left, the waiter has appeared, her eyes are wide as she look around the room.

‘Is everything alright?’ she asks, annoyance and anger lacing her voice.

The black goo is gone, the eye aiming for Richie and the bat have vanished into thin air aswell. Richie can breath easy again.

‘Yeah, can we have the check please.’ He tries to smile to put their waiter at ease. All she does is huff and turn around, no doubt charging them for all the damage.

They hardly wait for the check before bolting, not being able to get out of there fast enough.

He and Eddie shuffle over to Stan, helping him up. Stan looks at them when he’s standing up, tear streaks on his cheeks. ‘Ow fuck.’ He uttered. And yeah, he’s right, oh fuck.

On the way to the exit, it seems that IT’s not done fucking with them yet. When the group passes a kid, looking no older than 10 years old, he addresses Richie.

‘Hey Richie,’ he stops dead in his tracks, the fun is just beginning right?’

Richie has no idea what that means, but as he is just about to ask, while simultaneously lose his mind, Stan grips his arm.

‘No’, he says simply, before marching out with Richie still clenched tightly. Luckily, the kid doesn’t follow them.

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

Richie drives out of the parking spot last. It’s a well thought off choice, because after only 5 minutes of driving very slowly so the others couldn’t see him, he stopped the car and pukes all over the side of the road.

It’s disgusting, and he wishes that could brush his teeth, but he resigns himself to deal with it once he gets back to his hotelroom. He doesn’t want to be alone in fucking Derry. When he gets back into his car, he can see the rustling of some leaves, but he doesn’t stop to take a better look. He slams the door, his tires screeching as he drives away.

When he gets to the in, everyone’s waiting for him. He didn’t take long, but all of their lips are set in a worried line.

He steps out of his car, and Eddie stomps over to him. ‘What the fuck asshole? Are you trying to get killed?’

Richie doesn’t get why the waited, everyone was planning on going home anyway.

‘Sorry’, he just shrugs, and then he steps beside Eddie to go up to his room. The hallway  is silent, right until he steps into it. Then they start a ruckus, Mike still desperate to get them to stay. Richie has already made up his mind though. It doesn’t matter if anyone else stays, he’s going home.

He’s already feels like he aged 10 years in barely 5 hours, and he’s keen to forget everything that’s going on here again. He doesn’t want to spend every day looking into things, wondering if Eddie could ever possibly like  him back. He doesn’t want to remember that the only guy he’s ever wanted in life, would be repulsed if he knew what Richie was thinking.

He flat out refuses to go back into the sewers where he almost died. Tough luck for the kids that were living in Derry, but he even if he stayed, he wouldn’t be able to be of much help anyway. He was and is a loser, and his friends might have something else going on for them, Richie does not.

He annoys the shit out of people, has no friends, expect maybe Steve but he doesn’t count. Richie has a shitty life but honestly that’s fine by him. At least he doesn’t have to worry about dying that way.

 ‘Guys, please’, he hears Mike beg, but he ignores it in favor of running up the stairs to the second floor. The Derry inn is so old it doesn’t have an elevator. When he gets up to his floor, he gets stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He stops abruptly, the touch burning his skin. He already knows that it’s Eddie who stopped him, but that doesn’t mean the sight of Eddie standing so close to him takes his breath away.

For a solid second, they don’t say anything. They just stare at each other, waiting for the other to say something. Then Stan bumps them with his shoulder, sending Eddie tumbling in Richie’s chest.

‘Move it losers,’ he teases as he passes them. Richie glares at him while he steadies Eddie. Because of the fall, the two stand even closer together than before. It takes Richie’s breath away.

‘Do you want to come up to my room for a second? Help me pack?’, Eddie asks with a soft voice. Richie knows it isn’t smart, he should probably go to his own room and get everything ready, but it’s Eddie, and Richie could never say no to Eddie.

He smirks, a carefully thought off façade appearing, hiding his real feeling just like he’s always done.

‘Sure thing Eds, go and lead the way my good fellow.’

Eddie’s face remains stoic, but Richie notices that his upper lip is trembling, like he’s fighting against a smile or laugh. ‘Fuck I forgot you did those stupid fucking voices.’

Richie laughs, and Eddie joins him only seconds later. It makes Richie’s heart drop into his stomach. He’s an idiot, why did he say yes to spend time alone with Eddie?

Eddie’s room is almost identical to Eddie’s, except for the fact that Richie’s own room is basically empty, he hadn’t bothered to unpack, while Eddie’s cabinets were full clothing. Richie snorted.

‘Damn Eddie Spaghetti, When did you have time to do all this?’

Eddie throws him a glare. ‘Some of us want order and structure in the room Richard.’

Richie plows down on the bed that’s perfectly made, not a crease to be found. Until he sits down though, he thinks about moving around a bit, just to piss Eddie off some more, but he figures he better not do that when he sees Eddie’s face turn red. He laughs again.  

His angry look is undermined by the fondness that is so clearly just bellow the surface. Despite the fact that they shit on each other any change they can, they love each other. Even if for Eddie that feeling of love is strictly platonic.

‘I’m just going to get my toiletry bag’, Eddie explains, before rushing into the bathroom. He closes the door behind him until there’s only a sliver of opening through which they can talk to the other. It doesn’t make sense that Eddie would close the door, but Richie is just happy that he can take a breather.

The room itself is just as ugly as all the others, the wallpaper is falling off, the bed creaks with Richie’s weight, and the air is filled with a stench that smells like death.

Richie is reminded of his grandmother’s house, only in that house there had also been the smell of fresh baked cookies, so Richie would rate that house better.

He listens as Eddie shuffled behind the door for a while, opening dressers and throwing them in what Richie assumes is a bag. He tries to be patient, but he can’t sit still on his best days, and now that he knows there’s a killer clown behind him, he’s even more jittery. When Eddie still hasn’t opened the door after two minutes, Richie decides to speak up.

‘What’s taking so long? Are you jacking off in there?’

The sounds still for about a second, then the clinks of different objects being thrown together doubles.

‘Fuck you asshole. You know I’m not doing that. Myra just hates it when I leave doors open.’

Richie snorts, covering up the fact that he just got hit on the head with the facts once more.

‘Wow, I guess your love life must be really boring then hey, what about the sex?’ he taunts, not sure why he’s putting himself through it.

Eddie doesn’t dignify his comment with a response, so Richie busies himself with twirling the fabric of the bed round and round. His leg begins to jump up and down, and his palms begin to sweat uneasy. He wants to leave, right now.

He promised Eddie that he’d wait though, and he also doesn’t want to risque anything happening to him just because Richie was too much of a coward to stay for five minutes longer.

He jumps up though, pacing around the room. Eddie still hasn’t reappeared from there. He’s just about to groan of annoyance, when he sees something like out of Eddie’s dresser. The drawer hasn’t been fully closed, and a piece of string hangs out on the side.

Richie doesn’t want to pry, really, but he has the urge to see what it’s attached too. He looks back to the bathroom, that’s still firmly shut, and then decides to ignore his commonsense. He’s pretty sure Eddie won’t mind, although, yeah Eddie would without a single doubt mind.

He tries to open the drawer as quiet as he can, which isn’t easy, considering all the furniture is so old it all squeaks. He manages it fairly easy, and grasps the old string without seeing what else is in Eddie’s drawer.

As soon as he dangles the thing in front of his face, he understands why he wanted to see what it was so bad. It was a stupid old thing, just a shell that Richie had found somewhere in Derry, with a hole pinched in, making it a necklace. Richie wore it everyday for a whole year, but recalls now why he gave it away. It was when Eddie was getting ready to leave with his mother, moving out of Derry. Both of them had stood beside Eddie’s old home, crying because they realised what was about to happen. Beside Richie, and of course Mike, Eddie was the last to leave. They already had the knowledge that whoever left town forgot about the others, having seen five examples. Eddie wanted to stay, and Richie had wanted nothing more, but he also knew that Sonia wouldn’t allow it, so he kept silent.

He gave Eddie the necklace, saying that it was okay if he forgot Richie, as long as he remembered that he was brave, and not the sick, scared little boy his mother made him out to be. He gave him the thing in the hopes that he would at the very least know that.

He can’t believe Eddie still has the thing, and he wonders if it was because he knew what it meant, or just a coincidence.

Just as he was mulling it over, Eddie stepped out of the bathroom, stepping towards the wardrobe on the other side of the room.

‘Hey, do you want to go grab a bite or something before we leave and forget completely? I’m starving.’

When Eddie turns around, his eyes became the size of saucer, a couple of emotions running over his face.

Richie can’t help the cocky little smirk on his lips, keeping the necklace away from Eddie’s reach. ‘Can’t believe you kept this, Eds.’

When Eddie reluctantly looks Richie in the eyes and sees the smirk, his face turns into a scowl. ‘Go suck a dick Richie.’

Just like Richie predicated, Eddie tries to take the thing away from him, but Richie lets him. A little shocked by the words that left Eddie’s mouth. Logically, he knows that it means nothing, and it’s just an insult, but he has kept his sexuality in the closet for so long, it has started its own clothing brand.

Eddie grimaces as he tucks away the token in his pocket, looking guilty when he notices that Richie had paled significantly.

‘Sorry’, he apologizes lowly. Richie shrugs the comment off.

‘No worries Eddie Spaghetti,’ he says, even though his heart is racing erratically and all he can think about is don’t ask, don’t ask, please don’t ask.

‘You kept that old thing’, Richie tries to change the subject.

Eddie’s one hand still rest on the pocket of his jacket, where he had stuffed the thing in, his other hand start to shake.

‘Well yeah’, he grumbled, ‘it was the only thing I had left of you.’ His hard eyes look at Richie, like he’s trying to make something clear

‘You didn’t even reply to my letter, and then I forgot, but that ugly old thing always felt important to me.’ Richie’s eyebrows furrow. He has no idea what Eddie is talking about.

‘What letter Eds’, Richie asked bewildered. Eddie looked like he was about to jumps out of his skin. ‘You know what I’m talking about, don’t play dumb. If you didn’t feel the same way you could have at least answered.’

Richie has never in his life been so confused. ‘Eddie,’ he said slowly, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. Seriously.’ For once in his entire life he was being completely honest and truthful, and he hoped to god Eddie would believe him.

‘You know the letter. The letter in which I was so fucking embarrassing.’ Eddie seems to have started on a rant, his signature hand movement coming up and acting like he’s chopping up vegetables.

‘I thought maybe, because I’m an idiot, that you had feelings for me too. When you gave me the one necklace you wore all the time, which by the way was absolutely disgusting, I couldn’t help but hope that maybe you had a crush on me too.’ He blushes bright red as he speaks the words.

Richie’s brain stutters.

‘But whatever, fine you didn’t, but I specifically asked you to still be my friend if you didn’t feel the same way, and you just gave me a giant fuck you didn’t you.’

Eddie breathes heavy and fast, grasping for air as he calms down. He’s waiting for Richie to say something, but Richie is too busy swooning on his feet to notice it. The silence that follows is long, awkward and suffocating. Eddie doing his best to appear calm and not embarrassed, while Richie is trying to get his brain rebooted.

‘Shit, Rich I’m sorry.’ Eddie continues out of desperation.  ‘I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable again. Shit I’m an idiot. I just hate that you didn’t keep in touch. Why didn’t you? We were best friends.’

Richie’s scared. He’s never been so scared before. The idea of having to admit that he was gay was frightening, but Eddie had just admitted to having a crush on him, and if Eddie had been brave, so could he.

‘you had a crush on me too?’, Richie inquires, though his brain still seems miles away.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. ‘Yeah, we went over that like 2 seconds ago, keep up with the program. Dumbass.’ he adds like an afterthought. ‘Wait, what do you mean too?’

‘Eds,’ Richie takes a step towards Eddie, ‘why didn’t you tell me?’ Richie wants to place his sweaty hands on Eddie’s shoulder, to ground himself, but also because it’s been too long since he’s touched him.

It’s Eddie’s time to look bewildered, but he does take a step towards Richie too. ‘I did. I wrote you that stupid letter. I knew I shouldn’t have send it, but I did anyway. I figured why not you know? It wasn’t like I would spend everyday with you and constantly feel awkward, because we lived in different cities.’

Richie gingerly places his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, worried that might push this too far. He was running on autopilot, his brain fried by the fact that Eddie had liked him back. The boy who he cried about at night, would have wiped his tears away. Luckily, Eddie just reaches up, his hands circling Richie’s upperarms tightly. Richie glances down, Eddie’s hand was so much smaller that his.

‘I never got any letter. Trust me, if I would have known, I would have been in whatever city your mother dragged you off too in less than an hour.’

Richie’s glasses are falling of his nose, but before Richie can push it back up, Eddie has already done it for him. Richie’s knees buckle at the casual domestic action.

‘I don’t get it. I gave that letter to my mom to send in the mail. I glued it shut so the letter didn’t have a change to fall out of the envelope.’

Richie lets out a hearty laugh. ‘Really Eduardo? It may fall out of the fucking envelope?’

Eddie rolled his eyes teasingly, his eyes sparkling with barely suppressed joy. ‘Shut up.’

When Richie began to think about it, a lightbulb switched on in his brain. ‘Eddie, did you say your mom was supposed to mail the letter.’

Eddie nodded his head, not seeing where Richie was going with this. ‘So’, he shrugged.

‘Is there maybe a change she took the letter, and just didn’t send it?’

Eddie started to shake his head adamantly, but the longer he thought thing through, the more he comprehended that Richie may have been right. His mother did hate Richie, she always had, and she had been so weird in the weeks after, up until he forget about the losers and Derry.

‘Shit, fuck.’ He spat, ripping away from Richie’s arms to throw something. He settled on a pillow, because Eddie didn’t want to pay more than he had to in this shithole of Derry. Richie watched him do it with amusement in his eyes.

The pillow hit the wall, failing flat on the floor. It didn’t do anything to diffuse the anger that was rising inside of Eddie. He sank down on the bed, where Richie had previously sat. After a beat, Richie joined him.

‘I can’t believe I was so stupid, I knew she would do something like that. I should have just given you the letter in person, but I was a coward, and all I could think about was that no one could find out that I was gay. When I left it didn’t matter, just for the fact that even if someone else would read the letter, at least than they were unable to judge me.’

Richie bumped Eddie’s shoulder with his softly. ‘You’re not a coward.’ When Eddie gave him an unimpressed look, Richie explained.

‘At least you said something, I was too much of a coward to do anything. I just quietly suffered everyday. When you left I wanted to stay in touch, but I didn’t know your address, and I figured you didn’t want me to either. I had no idea that leaving Derry would mean that we would lose are memory.’

‘I waited by the mailbox for weeks, hoping to see a letter of you in it. And she just knew, that I wouldn’t get an answer. I should have connected the dots, she introduced me to Myra that week and forced me to go on a date with her. She looked so smug when I forgot.’

‘She must have been jalouse you were stealing me away from her.’

‘please with your looks?’ Eddie’s joking, he could never be mean to Richie.

‘It worked on you, against all odds,’ Richie counters, and both of them grin. It’s been a while since Richie has felt so carelessly happy. He didn’t come out an say that he was gay, but now someone knew, besides his mother of course, and that person was accepting. More so, he retaliated those same feelings, Richie just wishes he had known sooner.

‘yeah, it did.’ Eddie isn’t laughing anymore, opting to glance between Richie’s eyes to his lips. Richie’s heartbeat picks up again. He wants to kiss Eddie, but he doesn’t have any proof Eddie still likes him, or wants him to.

Eddie surges forward, connecting their lips from an awkward angle. Their first kiss wasn’t like they claimed in movies, where their was fireworks and a big revelation. Their first kiss was honestly bad, but it didn’t matter to Richie, solely for the fact that he was kissing Eddie Kaspbrak, and that would make up for everything. Kissing Eddie was like coming home.

In the span of the next three seconds, Richie comes to two soul crushing conclusions. The first one is that he hasn’t brushed his teeth, after throwing up, which he knew Eddie was going to throw a fit over. Richie already felt his good mood change. The other thing he registered, was that Eddie had a wife.

It was the cold band of the ring on his finger of the hand that was cupping his cheek, he hadn’t even comprehended that Eddie had his hands over him, that made him register it.

He pulles back with a gasp, Eddie tries to follow his lips for a second, before noticing that Richie was about to speak.

‘Your wife’, Richie breathes out, regret filling every pore on his body. He wishes he was more selfish. Eddie brings his other hand up to cup the other side of Richie’s face, waiting till their eyes meet again.

‘I ca- I don’t’, Eddie huffs, not getting across what he’s trying to stay. He takes a breath and tries again. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen Richie, but I know that I don’t wanna lose this, whatever it is. I don’t want lose my memory again, and forget about the losers. I can’t go back to my wife knowing you’re out here in the world somewhere.’

Eddie’s gaze is soft, a small smile playing on his lips. ‘I’ll divorce her, we’ll figure it out, but Rich I can’t loose this again.’

Richie is, again like many times before this evening, speechless. His eyes prickle, and he has to swallow past a brock in his throat. His hand swipes away part of Eddie’s hair, the feeling of it so soft and smooth Richie doesn’t want to take his hand away. He can’t believe the turn his day has taken.

‘I don’t want to lose you either, but you know what that means right?’ Richie wants to make sure that it is what Eddie wants, for in order to remember each other, they would have to defeat Pennywise, for a second time.

‘I’m not stupid jackass. I’m scared, but as long as we have each other it’ll be alright’, Eddie replies, though Richie can feel his hands beginning to tremble.

‘So, can I kiss you again. I haven’t had such a good kiss since the last time me and your mom went out.’

Eddie smacks him across the head lightly, regretting the fact that he just had to fall in love with Richie fucking Tozier. When he looks at Richie and his goofy smile, and beautiful eyes, Eddie thinks he might not regret it as much after all.

When he goes to lean in however, Richie pulls away again. ‘Oh I forgot, I need to go brush my teeth. I kind off threw up on the way here.’

Richie watches Eddie shudder in disgust, ‘go get your toothbrush now.’ He commands. Richie stands up and salutes. ‘Aye Aye captain Edward.’  

[authoressofdarkness]

Beauty and the Beast (Chapter 2)

Stark’s hand closes over both of his wrists, and in the next instant, they’re both encased in metal. It’s nanotech, Peter is sure immediately. This is the same stuff that armor is made out of, and even his super strength won’t make a dent in it. He knows from experience.

Notes: Hey everyone! It's unlike me to not leave an author's note on a chapter, especially a first one, but I was busy and pretty proud of the first chapter so I decided to just post it and see how it went. Never fear, I'm back now! Thanks so much to everyone who read, reviewed, left kudos, etc! Love you all 3000!

I had a few people ask in the comments if this was going to be a oneshot or a short thing, because apparently I'm a dumbass and had it accidentally marked as complete. The answer is a big NO from me! I have a lot of things being tossed around for this fic and it's probably going to be massive. It's also going to get VERY dark before it gets anywhere near a happy ending, if it ever does, so PLEASE take care of yourselves. I'll try to remember to put trigger warnings at the beginning of the chapters, but just remember: I chose not to use archive warnings. ;)

Also, shoutout to @itfeelssogoodmrstark for being a great cheerleader and inspiring me to write this. Much love xo

Trigger warnings: Massive blood loss, Tony being a jerk, non/dubiously consensual touching in multiple ways, needles. Think that's all for this one.

“Behave?” Peter looks up at him, heart racing. “What do you mean, behave? I thought-“

“What, that I was going to kill you?” Stark chuckles, stalking back to him. “Hardly. What a waste that would be. What, with all the knowledge and pretty plans packed into your head. I told you, we have much to discuss.” 

“Like what? You know what I’ve been doing, obviously. You know who I am. And if you think I’m going to help you-“

Stark stops in front of him and laughs that dark laugh again. “Oh, you really are naive if you think I would for a second let you work as a double agent for me so that you could double cross me at the first opportunity. I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He tilts his chin up, studying his face with those piercing blue eyes. “No, my interest in you is much more… personal,” he murmurs, lips quirking up in a devious smirk.

Peter shivers. His spider senses are going nuts. He can feel the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end, and every instinct in him screams to pull away, to resist, but all he can think about is Ben being dragged to God knows where and there’s no way in hell he’s getting out of Stark’s sight to rescue him any time soon. 

“What do you want?” He sounds defeated, even to his own ears. 

Stark smirks, stroking a cold metal finger down his jaw. “Right now? Your wrists.” 

The words throw him for a whole second before Stark raises an eyebrow at him, clearly ready to scold him already for disobeying, and then he jolts back to reality and thrusts his wrists out in front of him. It only makes sense that he’s going to be bound before they go anywhere. It just… was not the response he was expecting, though he couldn’t bring himself to fathom why. 

Stark’s hand closes over both of his wrists, and in the next instant, they’re both encased in metal. It’s nanotech, Peter is sure immediately. This is the same stuff that armor is made out of, and even his super strength won’t make a dent in it. He knows from experience. 

Stark gives him a tug forward, and this time it’s his lips on Peter’s jaw. He purrs audibly as they drag over Peter’s stubble, which grows in quicker with his enhancements, so of course it’s back despite him shaving before leaving this morning for class. 

Classes he’ll likely never go to again. When he was just starting college. And now he’d never get to finish.

Times like right now, when the villains got too close — and they all did, invariably, every once in a while, and of course there was still more around than just the one in front of him — he questioned why he’d become Spider-Man in the first place. He wanted a life. He wanted so much, and then-

And then Stark’s lips brushed against his jawline again, and it both served to jolt him back to reality and remember exactly why. So this person — if he could even be considered one anymore — couldn’t hurt anyone else. And if nothing else good came out of this situation, at least the more time he spent with Peter, the less time he spent hurting anyone else. 

Stark steps back, keeping his grip on Peter’s wrists despite the nanotech. “Up,” he orders, and Peter obeys. Stark starts walking, towing Peter along behind him, and he follows silently, knowing better than to ask where they’re going. 

At least he’s silent until he realizes where they’re going, and then he sets his heels into the ground, bringing them to a stop. “No.”

Stark raises an eyebrow at him, not even turning to face him completely. “You will do what I tell you,” he tells him. “It’s not a discussion.” 

“If you think I’m going to let you-“

“I don’t think you’ll be letting me do anything. I’ll tie you up, if I have to.” Stark cocks his head. “It will be a lot less painful if you cooperate, Spiderling.” 

Peter swallows hard. He’s been here an hour, tops, and Stark has him ready to beg for the second time. It’s almost laughable. “Please don’t do this.”

Stark sighs heavily. “Are you always this dramatic?” He gives him a firm tug, jerking him towards him. “We’re going to go in there, and you’re going to do what I tell you, or I’m going to go pay your uncle a visit and make you watch on the security cameras. Do you understand?” 

That makes him freeze, and any thought of protests goes out the window the moment he brings Ben into it. “I thought you weren’t going to kill me.” Although I might prefer it if you did. “You’ll never get as much as you want out of me without doing it.”

Stark resumes walking, not-quite-dragging a reluctant Peter behind him again. “I don’t want full schematics. Not yet, at least. Just some blood. Don’t worry, I’ll even take it the easier way.” He stops in front of a door and taps in a code, pushing it open before shooting him a feral grin. “This time, anyway. Now get inside before I change my mind.” 

It takes most of his self control to not shuffle his feet around to delay going in, but he still hesitated for the barest second in the doorway. Thus far, Stark hadn’t seemed to lie to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Although why he would when Peter obviously couldn’t get out if he tried… 

Stark’s lab looks even more expansive inside than what he caught a glimpse of through the glass on the outside. This one is obviously for medicinal purposes - or mostly, anyway. A glance around showed full specs of equipment in various sectioned off areas, including everything from what looked to be an x-ray setup to metal tables that he didn’t even want to imagine what happened on them. Just the thought makes him shudder almost as much as the antiseptic smell.

Stark enters behind him not even a second later, and the door hums in quiet confirmation of the lock resetting. Then Stark grabs his arm, guiding him not-so-gently towards one of the areas in the back. 

He pulls him to a stop in front of a metal chair - metal, always metal, some part of him notes, and he shudders to think of the reasons why - and the bonds on his wrists melt away. “Bag off and sit,” Stark orders before turning to a nearby counter. “Don’t do anything stupid, or we will do this the hard way.” 

Peter complies, albeit reluctantly. He’d again forgotten he was even still wearing his book bag, but he doesn’t really want to take it off. He knows the likelihood he’ll see it again once it’s off his body is incredibly low. His chest aches at the thought of losing the suit, but he knows the likelihood he’ll ever get to use it again is even lower than the likelihood of seeing it.

He sets the bag down with a resigned sigh, and sits in the chair. 

Stark turns around a moment later, looking both pleased and amused at his clear resignation. He walks back over, putting a hand on his shoulder, and the bonds on his wrists remateralize, effectively cuffing him to the chair as Stark tilts his head to the side. 

Peter catches a flash of silver from the corner of his eye and can’t help the reflexive gulp. “What are you doing?” 

“Exactly what I told you.” Something cold and wet brushes his neck, and he grimaces at the burn left in its place. 

“You’re taking blood from my neck?” 

Stark heaves a sigh. “Bigger veins, closer to your heart. More blood, faster, less chance the vein will collapse, and I can make it gravity fed so I don’t have to stand here the whole time. But I suppose next time I can just cut you open and get the blood that way, if it suits you.” 

The threat doesn’t scare him as much as it should. Not as much as the idea of a needle in his neck, anyway, which is probably irrational and ridiculous, but it’s true.

He winces as the needle pierces the tender skin on the side of his neck, and then Stark tapes it in place and steps away, letting his head go. He feels the urge to try to rub at it, but doesn’t want to give Stark the satisfaction of watching him pull at the bonds. “Christ. How much blood are you taking?” 

“A few pints, to start,” Stark answers, from somewhere out of his line of sight. 

“A few pints? You are trying to kill me.” He sounds more surprised than he probably should. 

“You really are over dramatic, aren’t you?” Stark reappears in front of him, rolling his eyes. “I know what I’m doing. You won’t lose more than thirty percent of your overall blood volume. I’m monitoring it. You may still pass out, though,” he admits with a shrug. “Or maybe not, with your advanced healing.” 

Peter startles. “How do you know about that?”

Stark snorts. “Please. We’ve encountered each other… what, twice, in person? Both times you sustained injuries that might have killed someone else and were at class the next day. You’re not great at being inconspicuous.” 

Peter frowns a little. He doesn’t remember much about either of the encounters, although he knows they happened. Recollection is faint — likely because of the injuries he sustained. He’s had a lot of concussions that didn’t exactly get treated properly. Oops. 

“Oh,” is his brilliant response to that. Then, “If you know about my powers… what are you testing? What is there to talk about if you know all my secrets?” 

Stark chuckles. “I wouldn’t say that. Not yet. Besides, there’s other things to discuss.” 

By now, Peter’s head is starting to feel fainting fuzzy. Sentences are hard to form. He imagines this is what bleeding to death feels like, although the line in his neck is controlled, making it agonizingly slow. “Like what?” 

There’s a faint feeling of fingers on his chin, and only then does he realize that his eyes had fallen closed, and forces them open. Stark is in front of him, of course, studying him with his brows drawn together. 

He only gets a clear image for a minute before his eyes start to refusing to work. Things are going in and out of focus, fuzzy, and the effort of trying to refocus them make him dizzy, so he simply closes them again. 

Stark releases his chin and steps away. “Even if I told you right now, you wouldn’t remember it later.” It’s not a threat, just a statement of fact, and right now he’s inclined to agree. 

How much blood has he lost already? It’s starting to feel less like it’s flowing out and more like it’s being sucked. His limbs, head, and even his tongue are starting to feel heavy. It would take too much effort now to even consider trying to move, even if he had to rip the line out to save his own life. 

It doesn’t exactly hurt. Numbness and fatigue creep up on him, not painfully but still agonizing in their slowness. He finds himself wishing Stark would just bite him next time like the vampire he is. At least that would be quicker. 

Stark’s chuckle sounds like it’s echoing from far away. “I wouldn’t invite me to bite you, silly boy. Although there’s plenty of time for that later. I’m sure we can incorporate that into my plans.” 

Peter is vaguely confused. Did he say that aloud? No way to know, not when his mouth is refusing to work for him when he wants it to. He lets his head fall back against the chair behind him, feeling his consciousness slowly fade away. 

A keyboard is clicking from somewhere far away, accompanied by a low murmuring and then something that sounds like dial tones. A moment later, sounding so far away, he hears a single word from a voice he’s sure he knows, but can’t place through the fuzziness in his head: “Hello?”

“Hello, Doctor. I don’t suppose you’re around and would like to swing by the tower. I’ve got something you might like to see…”

The words float in and out of his head, just out of reach as soon as they enter. But the half a second’s grasp he has on them is enough to make his heart race again, even if he has no idea why after. Reality is fading away. No, maybe he is fading away from reality. 

The itch of danger is there until the end, though, and he forces his eyes open one last time to catch a glimpse of a blurry face and brown eyes before passing out.

[bi-bi-richie]

FUCK please write a fic based on Apartment - Modern Baseball!!!! I've been wanting that for so long but I can't write shit so yeah

I’m SO sorry this took so long!! I was doing so much but it’s here and it’s kinda long! I really liked this prompt and the song was super cool! Thank you for sending it in! Playlist, prompt list

Richie laughs to himself in his head. Of course, I tag along for some loser game night with Bill and end up falling for the cutest boy I’ve ever seen.

Game nights were boring if you ask Richie. He’s not much of a board game person so any time his friend Bill invited him to go, he’d decline. Every time he said no, Bill left a note on the table with the address to the apartment they’d be playing at, just in case he changed his mind. Whenever Richie saw it he rolled his eyes and threw it away. He doesn’t like game nights and he won’t be attending one, ever.

So, it’s kind of weird that he’s walking single file behind Bill and Stan into the apartment they share their game nights on. Truth be told, Richie lost a bet. Not to get too into the bet or anything, but Richie ended up with a sprained wrist and ankle. So now he’s happily limping into the apartment of a complete stranger.

“Geez, Big Bill, you could’ve at least told me who owns this art gallery.” He grumbles, looking at how neat the place is with expensive looking paintings hung around.

“Personally, I think it’s too small to be an art gallery, but considering that was the only insult you could think of I’d imagine you’ve never been to one,” A voice snaps at him. Richie can’t see the person who said that to him, but he sure did like the thrill of being challenged. He stepped away from behind Bill to catch a glimpse of the sharp-mouthed boy, but when his eyes landed on them, he couldn’t speak.

The boy was actually, in Richie’s opinion, not tall enough to be a man. He had neat, soft-looking brown hair that Richie almost reached out to touch. His face was something remarkable, he had the prettiest freckles dancing across his face, and his eyes. He’s never seen anyone with such beautiful, expressive doe eyes. His lips were shining from what Richie can only imagine was chapstick that was applied earlier. Not to mention the way he dressed had Richie swooning. He wore an oversized white hoodie with a rainbow stripe across it that hung off his shoulders and was tucked into his shorts. Oh god, the way these shorts had Richie feeling should be illegal. They were simple red running shorts but they were so so short and tight on the smaller figure.

Before Richie can say anything, the boy is walking away from him. It’s just as well though, Richie couldn’t muster up the courage to say a single word anyway.

He doesn’t stand there with his mouth gaping for long though, eventually, Bill slaps his hand onto Richie’s shoulder and starts dragging him towards the table where they are setting up a game. Richie continues to stay silent but he keeps his eye on new people he sees, and maybe see that boy again.

“Alright guys, this is my friend Richie,” Bill gestured to Richie beside him, “Richie this is everyone.”

“You already know Stan and Bev.” Stan gave him a glance and Bev shot him a smile.

“So this is Mike.” Mike smiled warmly and waved.

“That’s Ben.” Ben also waved from beside Mike.

“And you already met-”

“Me.” A voice speaks up from between Stan and Bev. It’s the same boy from before, he’s holding a bowl of chips with a smug look on his face. Richie can’t bring himself to say a single word once again.

“I’m Eddie, roommates with Ben.” He sticks his hand out for Richie to shake, which he does but surprisingly slowly. He feels his cheeks head up with embarrassment, he never acts this way, and from the look on Bill’s face, everyone can tell something is up. He’s gotta say something, right?

“I’m Richie, but you can call me the man of your dreams.” He blurts, yet it was smoother than he thought it would be. Despite how smooth it came out, he got a scowl from Eddie.

“Cute. If only half the population of New York didn’t hear it before me.” Richie was speechless yet again, but he didn’t have time to save himself because Eddie had moved the conversation on himself.

“Let’s just get playing.”

I still stand by what I said, Richie thought, game nights are stupid. He can practically feel the boredom seeping all throughout his skin. Scrabble was already a boring game, but watching people play it was even worse. Naturally, he wasn’t going to play himself so he couldn’t spice up the game with a few words Ben had deemed “naughty”.

“Seriously you could just make prostate right there!” He cried out watching from behind Bill.

“Beep beep Richie!” Bev retorted at him from across the table. The annoyed statement got a laugh from Eddie who sat next to her.

“Beep beep Richie? Is that like some sort of off button for you?” He snorts, but Richie barely even takes in his teasing. His small smile is so cute, the way his nose scrunches up and how his eyes smile with his mouth. It’s almost enough to take his breath away. So he says something stupid.

“There are other ways to shut me up.” He says with a playful tone. Of course, the one time he meant kissing, it sounds dirty as hell.

“That’s fucking disgusting!” He yells from his seat. He covers his face with his hands and groans in disgust. Richie’s whole face turns pink but yet again, he can’t find the words to explain himself. Then there’s a sudden outburst from Stan who has barely even spoken a word.

“That’s not how you fucking spell thief, William!” It’s spelled t-h-e-i-f.

“Like hell, it isn’t!” Bill cries out.

“He’s right, Bill.” Mike laughs out from his seat looking down at the board game.

“I after e except after c.” Ben gently corrects. Bev snickers and leans over to add a c.

“T-h-c-e-i-f.” She proclaims loudly.

“No!” Half the table yells at once. They all continued to argue until Eddie stood up from his seat and crossed his arms.

“Alright idiots,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m off to bed. I swear to god if any of you guys wake me up, there will be hell to pay.”

He says all of it while watching Richie with a close eye. It puts a lump in Richie’s throat that he certainly won’t swallow any time soon. Without another word, Eddie turns around and pads down a dark hallway to his room. As Richie watches him leave, he can’t help but feel he annoyed Eddie away.

…

Staring at the floor when walking is dangerous, yet Richie can’t exactly get himself to look up. He’s vaguely watching the two footsteps of Bill and Stan ahead of him but his eyes are low. He has his hands in his front pocket and his shoulders look like they’re caught mid-shrug. He kicks rocks he comes across and stays completely silent. Bill and Stan don’t say anything about it though, if anything, Bill is talking about how he thinks Mike is cute and Stan is agreeing.

Richie is thinking about a cute boy too, someone he fucked his chances up with, or that’s what he thinks. Mentally, he’s pulling at his hair and scolding himself for saying anything at all to the handsome boy. Fuck, Rich, he curses, he’s so far out of your league, the fact that I even said anything is… soul crushing.

Unless Eddie wasn’t out of his league, now that’s a thought that leaves Richie starry-eyed. Maybe… Maybe I’m out of his league, but he’s in mine, who says I can’t get there, right?

“I fucking got it!” He shouted before hitting his face into a pole.

…

Its been three days since Richie has seen Eddie. Three days of devising a plan that any normal person could’ve probably come up within three hours. But Richie, always the precise planner, went over every detail and event that could occur in which this all goes to shit. Three days, and yet in those three days, Richie did not sleep for a wink.

He laid in bed and dreamed with his eyes open about the sassy boy who he desperately wants to make out with. He’s been feeling pretty miserable about it too, he’s still got five days until the next game night. How did it get this bad? This has never happened with a crush before. No matter which crush he had in high school he still slept through every class. Now he’s in college and can’t sleep for shit over some boy. But he’s not “some boy”. He’s Eddie, and Eddie isn’t “some boy”.

He’s laying in bed now, staring at the ceiling thinking about when game night will come back around and what exactly he’ll say. He did this the night before too, he’s had imaginary conversations with Eddie that have gone as far as them making out and going on dates. Its left him with this imaginary way Eddie will respond and talk, but damn does he love it.

Richie tosses in his bed to face the wall that’s covered with band posters and a calendar from two years ago. Five more days of this and he’ll surely be asleep before he can speak a word to Eddie. He’s tried sleeping methods too, warm milk, the four-seven-eight method, relaxing music, etc.

Seriously, I won’t even know what the fuck I’ll be saying next time I see him. He groans into his pillow, why do I have to wait?

Oh… He thinks as he slowly sits up in bed, I don’t have to wait… I’m a fucking adult… Oh my god-

Then he’s shooting out of bed and goes for his hoodie.

…

Good news, Eddie’s room has a balcony. Bad news, now that he’s climbed up to the balcony, he’s not exactly sure if he can knock on the door. Ridiculous considering he had been planning their game night interactions since the moment he met him. This is way off though, it’s dark in his room and from what Richie can tell, he’s asleep. Before he climbed up he was worried it was actually Ben’s room, given that they’re roommates. He climbed the whole way up hoping and praying that it was Eddie’s room. He was reassured that it was when he saw his pair of short shorts hanging over his laundry basket. But now he’s standing out there in the cold, surrounded by potted plants in pastel blue pots, like a stalker.

Just do it, Tozier. He cruses to himself as he paces back and forth on the tiny balcony. You came all this way and now you’re just gonna bail? What are you? A stalker?

The bundle on the bed shifts causing Richie to freeze in his tracks and look in, he doesn’t meet the eyes on anyone so he can only assume Eddie was just adjusting himself. That would probably be the best chance to wake him up, given that he’s already moving around, he’d probably wake up any second out of the blue anyway.

It’s now or never Tozier. He knocks on the door. At first, it does nothing, Eddie doesn’t even stir. Then he knocks a little harder which has Eddie shifting over to face the door yet his eyes are still closed. Richie knows for a fact that he’s blushing at the sight of seeing Eddie asleep. He looks so peaceful, it’s truly the opposite of his usual firecracker self. His lips are parted and drool is leaking from one side, so it’s really punching Richie in his feelings.

He knocks for a third time and finally, Eddie opens his eyes to see a freezing beanstalk standing outside. It takes him a moment to process it in his sleepy haze, but when he catches on he jumps up out of the bed and goes to let Richie in.

“What the fuck?!” Eddie yells out when Richie throws his body inside the room.

“Has anyone ever complimented you on just how lovely you decorate that balcony?” He asks with a shit-eating grin like he didn’t just welcome himself into his crushes room.

“Has anyone ever complimented you on your stalking skills?” He retorts. There’s fire in his voice and yet Richie is sure he caught a faint sound of amusement in it.

“Well, I couldn’t just knock on the door, what if Ben opened it instead of you? How would I get to your pretty face, huh?” He plops himself on a small couch Eddie has on the side of his room facing the front of Eddie’s bed.

“Well, given that Ben is out of town for two weeks, I’d say you’d get to see me before anyone else if you just-” He curls his hand into a fist and taps it against the door Richie had just walked through- “knocked.”

“Oh, Eds!” He groaned, rolling his head to the back of the couch, “you don’t know anything about my good-natured ways!”

“I know you like to mindlessly flirt,” Eddie grumbles, still standing next to the door with his arms crossed.

“Now that, my favorite acquaintance, is some bullshit,” Richie states, propping his head up on his hands. “I don’t mindlessly flirt, I mindlessly get flustered.”

His explanation runs smoothly out of his mouth but every other feature of him is showing just how nervous he really is, like the bobbing of his leg.

“Ah I see, so you just say sexual things when you get flustered?” Eddie scoffs.

“Oh fuck! That wasn’t meant to be sexual!” Richie slaps a hand over his forehead and runs it down to his chin with a groan.

“There are other ways to shut me up, what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Eddie says after a poorly done imitation.

“I meant kissing! I swear that to you! I wouldn’t say sexual things to someone I’d wanna go on a date with first!”

“But you break into their apartments?!”

“You let me in.”

“You’re insufferable!” Eddie cries as he collapses onto the bed. Richie doesn’t say a word after that, he goes dead quiet. Now, Richie doesn’t seem like the kind of person to let feelings get the best of him. If anything, he comes off as a person who doesn’t have any feelings but joy. But any of his close friends could tell you the truth.

Richie knows he’s too much sometimes, he knows he can be annoying and quite frankly he annoys himself. Richie knows that he’s driven some girlfriends and boyfriends away because of his personality. Nobody wants to stick around with the guy who gets into a fight every week and loses more than he wins. Nobody wants someone who speaks without thinking and hopes it all blows over okay. Nobody wants the guy who cries himself to sleep because he’s scared of losing the people he loves. Nobody wants Richie.

“I’m sorry,” Richie whispers. He’s looking down at his hands, refusing to even look in the other boy’s direction. He doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks Eddie’s breath might’ve hitched or something.

“You’re sorry?” Eddie’s voice is low, not in an angry tone but more in a cautious tone. Like he doesn’t believe what he’s hearing.

“Yes.” Richie nods his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this. I should’ve just dropped it when you weren’t interested. I swear I’m not trying to force myself onto you, I just wanted a shot.”

He doesn’t hear Eddie get up, but he feels it when Eddie’s body pulls the couch under his weight. Eddie is sitting close to him, not touching but it wouldn’t be much movement if they did.

“I like you, y’know? I didn’t wanna drive you away because it happens all the time to me. I probably did though… I’m sorry, okay? That’s all.”

Then they don’t speak. It’s just the slow breathing from the two of them filling the tension-filled silence. Eddie keeps staring at Richie though, his eyes are fixed on only the taller boy with a look that Richie can’t read because he’s not looking directly at it. He has a dreading feeling in his stomach that Eddie might just kick him out anyway, refuse to believe anything he’s saying.

The longer time goes on in silence, the more Richie wants to cut the tension with a kitchen knife.

“So… you were just nervous?” Eddie asks quietly. Richie weakly nods.

“It’s pathetic… I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go-”

“Wait, Richie.” Eddie places a hand on Richie’s to stop him from making any movement. They both know Richie could get up and leave if he wanted to, but Richie wouldn’t do that. He doesn’t wanna make this worse.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have called you insufferable, or accused you of only wanting sex. I just don’t like when people take advantage of me like that, even if you didn’t.”

Eddie loudly clears his throat and sticks his hand out.

“I’m Eddie Kaspbrak, I’m twenty-seven, gay, and I’ve had a terrible past love life.” His voice is surprisingly genuine, it really does wonders to Richie’s already flipping heart. Richie takes his hand and shakes it twice.

“I’m Richie Tozier, I’m twenty-six, bi, and I have also had a terrible past love life.” Eddie giggles at that, a precious giggle that makes Richie wanna press a million kisses against his lips immediately.

“I know it’s late, but I was wondering if you’d like to hang out tomorrow night?” Eddie asks. He’s clearly blushing and doing his best to hide his face and excitement by brushing his hair out of his face. “We could make dinner or something…”

Richie nods his head as fast as he can, grinning as wide as he can, showing off his huge buck teeth and childlike glee.

“I’d like that so much.”

…

Two months later they sit on that same couch, except this time they’re making out like their lives depend on it. Richie is confident that this has been the most amazing two months of his life. He got the best boyfriend ever, a new job at a radio station, and he’s only a month away from finishing college.

Eddie pulls his head back from Richie, his lips shine with a mixture of Richie and his spit. It’s truly a breathtaking sight for the taller boy he’s straddling.

“God, I think I love you,” Eddie growls.

It doesn’t take Richie even a second to reply.

“Good, because I know I love you.”

[lashtons-dirtbag]

Sixth - Part 1 (Harry Potter Avengers AU)

THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY SIDE BLOG @imagine-the-fandom. I AM IN THE PROCESS OF TRANSFERRING ALL OF MY WORK TO THIS BLOG.

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the Harry Potter Avengers AU that I have been talking about! This fic is going to be a long one folks (how long though I’m not quite sure). I got the initial idea for this fic after seeing this post. I changed up most of the characters, but this is what initially inspired the idea. I’m so excited to start posting this fic and continue on with writing it! I’m planning to update it every Tuesday and Thursday.

Summary: Reader attends Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry alongside her friends - Peter, Michelle, and Ned - all entering their sixth year. All the while, Lord Thanos becomes a stronger threat to the wizarding world as the days go on. The four friends are desperate to do whatever they can to help.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (eventually)

Words: 1.4k

Warnings: There may be one curse word?

Check out the Sixth Playlist!

The woman was cloaked in all black, eyes darting feverishly at her surroundings. She could not be caught. She was a wanted woman after all. Not that Knockturn Alley wasn’t full of wanted people, but as she was one of the most well-known members of the Black Order, she could not risk it. This mission was too important. The fate of their cause depended on it. Or at least that’s what she told herself. She knew at least that if any member of SHIELD were to find out the reason for her sudden visit, it could lead to what would only be the beginning of the fall of the Black Order.

She glanced up at the name of the shop that she was approaching.

Borgin and Burkes.

It was run by a cruel and selfish old man who called himself ‘the Collector’. A bell above the door chimes as she pushes it open.

“Taneleer…” she drawls, snaking her way through the rows of shelves to the back of the shop. She sees a head poke out from a door behind the counter.

“Hela? To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks. One who did not know him well may have interpreted the question as kind, however it contained a hidden layer of sarcasm and annoyance.

“I come baring a gift from the Dark Lord,” she states. “Rather, he needs you to keep something safe for him.”

She tosses him a silver orb. He snatches it from the air. He opens it, peering inside, and Hela instantly sees the glimmer in his eye. The power stone.

“Do not let that fall into the wrong hands,” Hela warns. “Should that happen, there will be nowhere for you to hide. The Dark Lord will find you, and you will be destroyed.”

“It is in safe hands. You can count on that.”

“Make sure no one finds it. No one else can know of it’s whereabouts. The Dark Lord, you, and I are the only ones who know where it is, so should something happen to it, we will know who is to blame.”

“Of course, ma’am. No one will find it. Trust me.”

“I hope you are right. For your own sake,” and with that Hela turns on one heel and struts out of the store, disapparating as soon as her heel clicks on the cobblestone outside.

“Peter!” you squeal, stepping into the compartment on the Hogwarts Express, Ned following closely behind you.

“Hey where’s my obnoxious greeting?” Michelle looks in your direction with faux annoyance.

You laugh. “Sorry MJ, of course I’m excited to see you too.”

You move to the other side of the compartment, Ned strolling in and moving to sit beside Peter. You place your bag on the rack above you, before taking your seat next to Michelle and across from Peter. You immediately make yourself comfortable, putting your feet in Peter’s lap and crossing your legs. You glance over Michelle’s shoulder, glimpsing at her sketchbook.

“That’s a wonderful drawing of Flash’s toad– “

“Excuse me, it’s supposed to be of Ned.” She snaps.

“Are you saying I look like Flash’s toad? He’s all slimy and full of warts.”

“I know, I know. I was only joking.” You roll your eyes. “Besides if anyone here looks like Flash’s toad, it’d be Peter.”

Michelle chokes back a laugh.

“Hey!” Peter exclaims, jolting upwards, arms crossing. “If you want a foot rest for the rest of the journey I suggest you take that back.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“Sorry that you can’t handle the truth.” You choke out under your breath.

“Alright that’s it.” Peter grabs both of your feet by the ankles, tugging you forward. You yelp, arms flinging behind you as your body slides further down the seat, trying to steady yourself.

“Would you two relax? We haven’t even gotten to the school yet and you two are already going to land yourselves in detention.” Michelle scolds. You and Peter both put on sickeningly sweet smiles.

“Sorry mom, it won’t happen again.” You say as Peter coughs, attempting to cover his laughter. Michelle rolls her eyes, turning back to her sketchbook.

“Oh, lighten up, Michelle. They’re just having fun.” Ned says, ever the mediator.

“You guys are ridiculous. We’re going to be sixth years this year. Don’t you think it’s time we start acting like it? We should be setting a good example for the younger students. Especially with you-know-who growing stronger by the day.”

Peter instantly stiffens. You glance at him sympathetically. You knew what Thanos had done to Peter’s family. He was the reason why Peter now lived with his Aunt May in the muggle world when he wasn’t at Hogwarts. Thanos himself had killed Peter’s parents in cold blood when he was just four years old. Hela, a well-known follower of Thanos had murdered his Uncle Ben only a few months ago. You knew that although Peter pretended like everything was fine, his Uncle’s death had been a shock. It was still an open wound waiting to heal. Now all Peter had was his Aunt May and his Godfather, who had to remain in hiding as he was wanted for a crime that he didn’t commit.

“Look I know that Thanos is still out there, and that the threat of him grows more prominent by the second. I want to help in any way that I can, but until we can come up with a sure-fire plan to get rid of him for good, I think the best thing for us to do is to lay low, and just try to enjoy being kids while we can, okay?”

Peter’s words bring an uneasy silence over the four of you. You all know that he’s right, but you also can’t help but see Michelle’s point. There had to be something that you could do. Anything.

The rest of the train ride passes rather uneventfully. After Peter and Michelle’s outbursts, the four of you drifted into your own worlds for a while, before returning to chattering quietly amongst each other. You had an easy friendship, you four. No matter what tension may occur, it always blew over rather quickly.

The train was pulling to a stop outside of the school, and the students were beginning to pile out of their compartments, anxious to get out of the confined space after such a long journey. You step foot onto the platform, breathing in the fresh air deeply. Michelle, Peter, and Ned all step out behind you, their trunks in tow.

“There are my four favorite students!” a booming voice can be heard from your left. You turn, seeing the mop of blonde hair and a burly figure.

“Thor!” you grin rushing over to him with open arms, Peter not far behind. Michelle and Ned also followed but at a much slower place. They both loved the school’s groundskeeper just as much as you and Peter did, but they didn’t share quite the same connection. Thor had been there for the both of you in ways that you knew you could never thank him for, but you would try your damn hardest to repay him in any way that you could.

“How did the summer treat the both of you?” Thor wonders, returning your hug, and pulling Peter in for one as well.

“So much has happened! I have so many things to tell you.” Peter was always an animated person, but it grew exponentially around a select few people. Thor was one of them, he always had been. But he moved way up in Peter’s book once he helped him to cope with his Uncle’s death.

“Well, you’ll have to stop by and see me after classes tomorrow.” Thor grins widely, “but for now we have a feast to attend.”

The five of you turn and head towards the entrance to the castle. You catch yourself wondering about Thanos, or rather what Odin, the Headmaster, will have to say about him. If he even addresses it at all. You shake your head, pushing the thought to the back of your mind. A smile spreads across your face as you speed up your pace to walk in time with Peter. You can see his eyes glimmering as he chats animatedly with Thor about something funny his Aunt May had done this past summer.

Despite all your efforts though, you can’t shake the idea that this will be an eventful year at Hogwarts. You get the sinking suspicion that it probably won’t be in the way you would hope.

And thus we conclude part 1! Hopefully you all enjoyed it!

Feedback is always loved and appreciated.

Part 2

Masterlist

[spideymood]

Can I please request an imagine where you go on holidays with your siblings and met Sam in France and hit it off and stuff and gives you personal lessons and just wants to spend time with you, and then he's on the phone to tom Harry & paddy and he's talking about you and you over hear the conversation :)

Je t’aime - Sam Holland

Summary: The same as the request…by @aussie-mantle​

Words count: 2,684.  woah, longer than planned lol 

Author’s Note: Oxygen Magnesium (OMG, scientific cursing haha, I’m literally a dork)! Thanks for the request! I fell in love with the idea immediately! Feel free to send in another one if you want ;) Nora xx

masterlist

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«Bonjour, comment ça va?» You mumbled. The sight of the snowy mountains was breathtaking. France, the world-known country. Your family had decided to take a trip to La Rosière, a ski resort in France, to celebrate Christmas. You and your siblings had been excited about the trip since you found out. For weeks, your sisters had tried to learn some word of the romantic language, French. Suddenly, you wished you had decided to learn French instead of Spanish. «Les Montagnes sont jolies!» 

«Oui!» your older sister, Amber, exclaimed. You were the youngest girl in the family, with two older sisters and your parents. You hadn’t seen your oldest sister, Samantha, since August because she studied at college. 

You sat on the left side in the passenger’s seat in a car your parents rented. Looking out of the window, you could see the mountains covered by snow. It was a wonderful view, and you couldn’t wait to learn more skiing. You were to focused on the mountains, that you were shocked when you found out you had arrived the ski resort. 

Your parents left the car to the hobby, to pick up the keys to your rented cabin. You and your sister remained in the car. You decided to go out and stretch your legs. The air was cold, and your hands froze immediately. You went some steps while trying to find your gloves in your pocket, then someone hit you. You fell down on the cold and snowy ground. «Ouch!»

«Oh, pardon…..ugh…I’m sorry. I was in a hurry and didn’t see you.» A guy excused. British, he had a British accent. You had a soft spot for Brits and their accent. He grabbed your hand and lifted you up. His face was only inches away from yours. The mystery guy had brown hair and chocolate coloured eyes. His face was covered in freckles. «Forgive me.»

«No, It wasn’t your fault, I didn’t see where I was going.» You smiled at the cute guy. You took a step back. The guy still held your hand but didn’t notice. «I’m (your name).»

The guy took some seconds before he realized he hadn’t said anything back. «I’m Sam.» He smiled and tried to shake your hand when he realized he still held your hand. Sam let go of your arm right away. You both blushed. «I’ll hope to meet you another time, dear,» Sam said before he went on his way towards the lobby. You stood frozen on the spot, trying to figure out what just had happened. 

«Ooo, who was that guy?» Your sister Samantha teased. You pouted in response and went to the car again. Amber and Samantha teased you about Sam until your parents arrived back to the car with the keys. 

Through the rest of the day, Sam kept popping up in your mind. There was no doubt he was handsome, but he seemed like a really nice guy. You hoped to meet him again soon.

On the other side of the ski resort, Sam sat with his colleagues eating late dinner. He was a ski instructor and had been occupied by work. While his friends were joking around, Sam kept thinking about the girl he had bumped into earlier. He felt sparks inside him by thinking about her.

«Are you ready for skiing?!» your sisters screamed the next morning. Samantha and Amber loved to wake you up by screaming into your ear, and it was their favourite way to wake you up. 

Your parents had assigned you and your sisters up for skiing lessons, and unfortunately, they started at 10 am. Due to the jet-lag, it felt like waking up in the middle of the night. Easily said, you were not happy but very grumpy. 

You had been assigned to a group of four persons with the instructor called Ben. It had been years since you were skiing, but you did not remember anything. You kept falling and colliding on trees, even Ben face-palmed. He had no clue how to teach you. 

After a long and tiring day of training, you still managed to fall every three seconds on the skis. You knew you were horrible, and so did your sisters. Amber and Samantha was some of your best friends, but also worst enemies when they teased you. You sat currently at a table in the lobby by the public fireplace, drinking hot chocolate. You were tired of your sisters teasing and decided to have some peaceful moments for yourself. 

On the corner on the other side, Sam sat with his friends and colleagues celebrating another day done. It was a week until Christmas and Sam missed his twin and family, but most his dog Tessa. 

Suddenly, he saw a glimpse of you sitting in an armchair by the fireplace. He stared at your beautiful face and admired how calm you looked. His friends later saw the brother of spider-man staring at a girl. «Dude, you gotta’ stop staring at her before it gets too creepy!» Sam laughed at his friend reference from his brother’s spider-man movie. 

«Woah, that girl is actually in my skiing class. She’s horrible, and I don’t know how to teach her.» Ben said, and the others around the table laughed. Sam didn’t even know you well but felt angry about how his friend mocked her. He left the table and went straight ahead towards you. His friends looked at him, wondering what he would do. 

«Hi, is it available here?» Sam asked you from behind. You were first shocked to hear his voice, but when you saw his face you relaxed. In response, you nodded and signalized him to sit on the couch next by. «Nice to meet you again, (your name).»

You smiled at Sam. «A pleasure to see you again, Sam. And sorry for yesterday, I didn’t mean bumping you.»

«No need to be sorry, love. Luckily, I didn’t come late to my skiing class.» Sam replied and rested on the couch. You looked confused at Sam. «I’m a trainer here, and I learn tourists how to ski!» He explained. You nodded back and went back to staring at the fire. 

«Are you going to spend Christmas here, Sam?» You asked. You didn’t mean to seem curious, but somehow you felt a bond with the British boy. 

«Yes, and all by myself, or well I have my friends and colleagues,» Sam smirked. «Work here doe really pay off, especially when I meet girls like you.» You blushed and smiled at his reply. «I was wondering if you would join me tomorrow, maybe skiing and lunch?» He suggested. 

Your smile faded, remembering you sucked at skiing. «I’d love to, but I’m horrible at skiing.» You said honestly. 

«Hey, I bet you’re not as bad as you think. And if so, I can learn you. I don’t have any classes tomorrow.» Sam suggested and tried to encourage you. 

You smiled and agreed. Even if you only had known him for less than an hour, unless the incident yesterday, you felt like you had known him for years. You and Sam had the same interests, and you could talk to each other for hours. He was perfect. 

The next day, he waited for you outside the lobby with skis and rods in his hands. He held his helmet in his left hand. He had waited for you, and he couldn’t wait to spend time with you. Sam had a feeling inside him, that every time you looked in his eyes, sparks would fly inside him. He didn’t know what the feeling was called but would learn later. 

Surprisingly, you were better at skiing that day. You didn’t fall often, and if you did, Sam would catch you in his arms. After some hours of skiing, you would take a break and have lunch in the cafe. He ordered tea, while you ordered hot chocolate. Days like that continued until Christmas Eve. 

When Christmas Eve arrived, you and Sam had spent a week together. During that time, you had learned about his family and sometimes he would face-time them with you. You were surprised when you found out that his brother acted as Spider-man in the new reboot, and you fangirled when you got the chance to talk to the Tom Holland via Sam. What surprised you the most, was that Sam had a twin. You had absolutely no idea.

Your parents and sisters had left to a Christmas party arranged by the resort. You had faked that you were sick so you could spend the eve in your cabin with Sam. In the beginning, your family didn’t want to leave you alone, but you were able to convince them to go to the party. 

You sat on a couch in the small and cozy living room. It was free in the fireplace to keep you warm, and blankets were carried down from the rooms to the main room. Sam arrived minutes later with some movies and a bag of sweets. The living room was full of blankets and pillows, ready for a movie night. 

The Christmas movie marathon started off with the Home Alone movies. You and Sam sat beside each other with a grand blanket over. A bowl of popcorn was settled in front of you on the table and the movie was ready. 

After watching the Home Alone 1 and 2, the Grinch and Elf; it was time to watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Even if you loved the movie, you felt really sleepy. In the middle of the movie, you ended up sleeping on Sam’s chest. Your head lifted as he breathed and he couldn’t stop staring at your peaceful face. Sam laced your hands to his and felt the warmth of your hands. 

Sam focus was on you. Even if you had known each other for only a week, he felt like he had known you for years. Then it hit him. What he felt for you, was love. Sam loved you, and he wasn’t scared. He wondered if you would return the same feelings as his. He kissed then your forehead. 

Boy, he had no idea about what you felt towards him. 

You and Sam fell asleep on the couch, with your head on his chest. When your family had arrived back home, and to their surprise, they found their daughter sleeping on an unknown boy. Only your sisters knew about Sam, but they didn’t know much. 

It was Christmas morning, so they didn’t wake you up immediately. Your father was shocked to see the boy, but with sisters like Amber and Samantha, he wasn’t shocked to see a boy. The boy got some bonus points since neither of you was naked, but just asleep after a movie marathon. 

An hour later, you woke up because your pillow moved. Firstly, you were alarmed. Pillows weren’t supposed to move. You opened your eyes to meet some chocolate brown eyes and a face full of freckles. You were first confused, but then remembered what happened last night. Just a Christmas movie marathon. 

«Darling, I need to go right now. I’ll come later.» Sam whispered and took the blanket from him. 

«Please don’t leave, Sammy!» You begged and grabbed his hand. You stared directly into his eyes. Sam nodded and sat down on the couch again. You leaned down on his chest again and wished the moment to last forever. 

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Your family went into the room since they heard your voice. «So, (your name). Who is this young man?» Your father asked, strictly. He only talked in that way when he was angry at you. 

«Uhm, this is Sam. Sam this is my family!» You presented. Sam shook his hand with your father. You knew your father tried to seem intimidating since you had seen him do it on Amber and Samantha. The only one who didn’t get scared was Ambers girlfriend, and since then they had been dating.

«Merry Christmas morning, Mr. and Mrs. (your last name)!» Sam greeted formally. This was not how you expected the meeting between your parents and Sam would be. «I’m sorry to disturb your morning.»

«What a nice boy,» your mother mumbled to you, which only you could hear, «And British, huh.»

You blushed and was embarrassed by your parents. Then, Sam’s phone rang. It was his brothers who called him and probably to say Merry Christmas to their brother. «I’m sorry, but I have to take this phone call! Great to meet you!» Then he left the room to answer the phone call. 

«This is a very interesting morning, (your name). We are gone for a party, and when we come home, you’re sleeping on a boy.» Your father summed up. 

«But luckily for you, the boy is super cute!» Your mother exclaimed. «Why didn’t you tell us about him?»

You were still shocked that all of this was happening. You wished it was a dream, but wanted the part with Sam to be the reality. «I’m going to go to him and ask if he’s okay. Dad, why do you always try to be so intimidating?»

You left your family, searching for Sam. You later found him at the entrance where he talked to his brothers.  

«-you really like her, don’t ya? Bro, you need to ask her out!» A voice said, and you recognized it as the oldest Holland brother, Tom. You had learned that Sam had a habit of talking on the phone on speaker.

«Well, yes. I think I maybe love her, or…I don’t know. What if I fucked up, and maybe her family hates me?» Sam answered. You stood frozen, hiding behind a wall close enough to hear Sam’s conversation. Love?

«Hey, watch your language. There are children ears here!» Tom shouted back. 

«What! I’m thirteen Tom, and not a child! A teenager.» The youngest Holland, Paddy yelled over the phone. 

«Pfft, teenager, haha. Paddy that was a good joke!» Sam laughed. You had to cover your mouth from laughing. Paddy was so young and cute, and everyone treated him almost like a 7-year-old. 

«But back to the topic. Sam, just grow some fucking balls and ask her out!» Harry, Sam’s twin, exclaimed.  

Sam sighed. «Harry, it’s not as easy as you think!»

«Bro, go to her. Ask her out on a date. Aaaand done! Easy!» Tom answered sarcastically.

«Thanks, Tom,» Sam answered sarcastically back. 

«Ooo, just going to remind you that we replace you with Tuwaine. Seems like your ass is still in France.» Harry shouted.

«Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal!» Tom said, as a reference from Home Alone 2. 

«Please say Merry Christmas to mum and dad from me. Have a horrible day, brothers!» Then Sam ended the call. He was on his way towards the living room again but were stopped by you. 

Love. The powerful word, love. It was stuck in your head. Sam loved you. And you loved Sam back. 

You grabbed his hand and dragged him out the door. You got enough time to put on shoes before heading out into the winter wonderland. White dots float down from heaven. It was cold, but in Sam’s arm, you were warm. 

Before Sam could say anything, you placed your hands around his neck and leaned in to kiss. Sam was first shocked, but after some seconds he kissed back. He cupped his hands around your face and deepened the kiss. The kiss was strong and felt like something you had waited for in a long time. You kissed him with passion. You wanted to stay in that moment forever. 

«Je t’aime.» You whispered when you broke the kiss. «I love you, Sam.» 

Your head rested on Sam’s chest, and you hugged him tightly. «I love you too, (your name).» Then Sam leaned into another kiss. 

It was a beautiful sight, with snow everywhere and the most wonderful sunrise. Everything was perfect, and you couldn’t wait to start a chapter in our life with Sam. 

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[letscuttothefeeling]

season three episode seven

Welcome to the best episode of the season, brought to you by Clear Blue, the Mile-High Club, and Amazon Sunglasses. BOOP! Let’s cut to the feeling!

Nothing like sweating out a hangover! I love watching Juliette and Kelsey work out while I’m sitting on my couch eating cereal for no reason at 8 PM. This is doing wonders for my self-esteem. The friends start discussing the previous night at White Buffalo Saloon. After Alex and Juliette had that emotional convo outside and she left, they ended up talking on the phone for SIX HOURS. Six hours! I just want to know where Alyssa was while Romeo was telling Juliette he still loved her over the course of 360 minutes. Shout out to Kelsey for being a good friend and telling Juliette that Alex is “a bag of dog shit. On fire.”

The face your best friend makes when you confess that you’re talking to your ex. 

The only thing I hate more than lying is longboarding. And Amanda is guilty of both. Though she and Brandon may be moving fast on their weirdly oversized/emo skateboards, their relationship is slowing to a halt. Brandon starts quizzing Amanda about where she disappeared to last night, and she looks genuinely offended that he had the audacity to question her. Why is it that whenever people are guilty, they get so defensive? Any sociologists out there to give me their two cents? (Shout out Alex, for confusing psychology with sociology in episode five. Never change. <3)

This scene is already annoying me because Boring Robby, Jake, and Joe are setting up for the “Rebella” party. Number one, I thought we were done with Boring Robby – get off of my screen – and number two, as much as it pains me, I have to agree with Alex on one thing. Rebella looks like a complete and utter scam. And if I wasn’t so distracted by the beads covering Joe’s face, I’d report this to the Better Business Bureau as a potential money laundering cover-up. As Robby wonders if Juliette will show up, we cut to Juliette and Kelsey’s house. Kelsey, excited to get to the party to see her boss/love interest Jake, convinces Juliette to go. Nothing like showing up to your ex-boyfriend’s party two days after breaking up with him.

Why do people insist upon having tough convos over coffee in this show? First Juliette and her boss, then Robby and Amanda, and now this. As Madisson sits down with Chloe to grab lattes, things get serious quickly. Madisson is having a pregnancy scare! After tearfully confiding in Chloe, Madisson works up the nerve to get a test and Facetimes Dad “Baby” Ish to see the results. I’m sorry, but if my girlfriend randomly Facetimed me at work crying about potentially being with child, I’d be a little more emotive than Ish, who was apathetic about the whole situation. (Clearly, there’s a reason he was behind the camera and not in front of it.) After Madisson finally puts us all out of our misery and checks the test, we discover that she is not, in fact, carrying Ish’s spawn. Shocker! But now she’s forced to think about the reality of dating Old Man Ish since he’s an old man. Does she need to have kids sooner now since her boyfriend is practically in the grave? My head is spinning, I can’t think about this right now. Hopefully, that’s the only unwanted pregnancy of the season!

The Rebella party is in full swing, but instead of showing us the party, the producers have decided to show us forty-seven flashbacks, yet again. Can we please stop with those? They happen eight times an episode and eat up precious airtime. Like we KNOW what happened in the last episode, thanks. As Juliette and Boring Robby ignore each other, and Jake and Kelsey discuss their budding potential relationship, we get to see a glimpse of former cast member Carson! Who is now known to us as “Brandon’s friend.” Usually, the producers will bring on random people and then just never speak of them again, (shoutout Canvas, Tawni, Madisson’s sister, Pauly Paul, Ben, now VICTORIA, and many more) but this time, we get to see one. It’s kind of like seeing a ghost. Hi, Carson! You’re a brunette now! How are you doing? Where did you go? Are you okay?   

With no time for childish nonsense, Alex and Chloe are hammering out business details at the Crescent Club. While making a specialty mojito, Chloe sees a video of Juliette at the Rebella party. And once Alex hears she’s there, it’s game over. He becomes genuinely enraged and immediately fires off a text to Robby. Normally I would find his reaction hilarious since it proves that he’s desperately jealous, but the text he sent contains a screenshot of Juliette confessing her love to him earlier in the day, which is just embarrassing. Boring Robby, now would be a good time to start chanting inspirational quotes while you foam at the mouth and seize, you’re going to need them.

Earth-shattering. That’s how I would describe Boring Robby’s reaction to the texts from Alex. It’s reminiscent of that scene in Stephanie Meyer’s third novel in the Twilight Saga, Eclipse, when Bella accidentally lets it slip while ditching school with Jacob that she plans to become a vampire upon graduation. Jacob is shell-shocked. Although he knew this was looming, he had no idea it was happening so soon. I mean, not only would this break the treaty – remember, the Cullen clan is banned from not only killing, but also BITING any human – but this is also the girl who Jacob presumes to be the love of his life!! (Even though he hasn’t imprinted on her.) Before this show, I could only imagine his exact face when he found out Bella was going to become a filthy bloodsucker. (His words, not mine.) He even said he’d rather she be dead! Luckily, Robby’s face at this moment is all I need to visualize Jacob’s. After the soul-crushing texts, Robby runs up to Juliette to confront her. He accuses her of faking the entire relationship, then tries to prove it by asking Juliette to name her favorite moment or memory from their relationship. After Boring Robby waits in silence for a few seconds, Juliette responds, “SEX ON A PLANE! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO HEAR?” Icon!

For the record, I know Jacob’s face during that shocking scene was portrayed by Taylor Lautner in the cinematic masterpiece Eclipse, but as a self-proclaimed Twilight expert, I felt that this real-life moment of Robby Hayes actually paid homage to Jacob’s raw emotion more accurately.

Back at the Kompothecras mansion, Alyssa, Gary, Alex, and Alex’s nameless mother are drinking at 10 AM. I stand by my hypothesis that Alyssa is trying to replace Alex’s mom and bang Gary. I can think of no other logical explanation as to why she keeps thudding around Alex’s parent’s house without a bra on. It’s funny that she has time to paint on a full face of makeup, but no time to cover her nipples. As they sit down for drinks, Alyssa immediately starts talking about how Juliette is trying to “weasel her way back in” and that “she needs to back off.” What’s that? Juliette, the girl who has dated Alex for 3+ years is trying to “weasel her way back in”? That’s great, coming from the girl who got pregnant after three months of NOT EVEN DATING ALEX. No yeah, um, that’s just, great. Good insight, Alyssa.

Since Alex was abroad for his birthday, he’s decided to throw a party for Jared. Even though I’m a little mad that Alex didn’t throw his annual banger, this party provided us with a lot of content, so I’m not going to pursue a lawsuit with Gary. Earlier in the episode, we learned that Jared is a divorcé! That’s right, when Jared was in the navy, he was married to someone and got divorced after a year. Young love. Even though he’s having a fun birthday party by the beach with all of his friends, he’s fixated on getting a call from his ex-wife. Finally, she calls and we learn that she’s coming to town next week. Interesting! As they hung up, they said “I love you” to each other, and then Jared got really emotional. Also interesting! We’ll learn more next week. Stay tuned!

As Alex and Alyssa hang all over each other, you can see Juliette seething behind her Chloe’s sunglasses. She decides to go confront Alex against literally everyone’s advice, and I’m already cringing. Juliette marches up to Alex and starts trying to get him to admit, on camera, that he said he still loved her over the phone. Alex blatantly denies it (even though it’s definitely true,) and then up comes Alyssa. She immediately starts berating Juliette, saying that she’s “crazy” and “false.” I’m just laughing at how naïve Alyssa is. Poor girl. She will soon become all too aware of what a manipulative liar Alex is. Okay, “manipulative liar” is a bit of an overstatement. That makes him sound intelligent. He’s just an asshole. Either way, I’m violently triggered by the idea of my liar ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend calling me psychotic and laughing in my face. So when Juliette pushes Alex in the pool and pulls down Alyssa’s bathing suit after Alyssa throws a drink at her, I’m not mad about it! As a final touch, Juliette hurls Chloe’s now crumpled sunglasses back at her, then, as everyone is trying to escort her away from the pool, she tugs down Alyssa’s bathing suit yet again, adding a final, “boop!” Pure class. Team Juliette for life. See you on the Key next week!

[redkiteradio]

5 Laws Anyone Working in best beginner keyboard piano

Correction Appended

On an album of bittersweet childrens songs that she wrote greater than ten years back, the lady who arrived being known only given that the piano teacher available what, in hindsight, seems like an eerie glimpse of her own upcoming.

Im relocating absent nowadays to a place so far-off, where by nobody understands my identify, she wrote inside the lyrics of a song named Going.

When she wrote that music, she was younger and vivacious, a piano Instructor and freelance songs writer who liked Beethoven and jazz, sunsets and river Seems, lengthy walks and every little thing about New York.

On a kind of beloved walks, via Central Park in the intense sun of a June day in 1996, a homeless drifter defeat her and tried to rape her, leaving her clinging to lifestyle. After the attack, the words and phrases to her tune came genuine. She moved away, outside of Ny city, from her previous everyday living, and all but her closest pals didn't know her identify. To the rest of the planet, she was — similar to the additional famed jogger attacked in Central Park seven a long time earlier — an nameless symbol of an urban nightmare. She was the piano Instructor.

Now, on the tenth anniversary in the attack, she's celebrating what is apparently her complete Restoration from brain trauma. She is 42, married, with a little boy or girl. She's Kyle Kevorkian McCann, the piano Trainer, and she or he wants to inform her story, her way.

Her physician instructed her it could take a decade to Get well, and Sunday was that talismanic anniversary. I really feel my life has long been redefined by Central Park, she reported several days ago, her voice gentle and hopeful. Before park; immediately after park. Will there at any time certainly be a time when I dont Imagine, Oh, This can be the tenth anniversary, the eleventh anniversary?

She spoke in her modest ranch house inside a wooded subdivision in the New York suburb. She sat in a dining area strewn with toys, surrounded by pictures of her cherubic, darkish-haired 2-calendar year-old daughter. A Steinway grand crammed half the home, and at just one level she sat down and performed. Her participating in was forceful, but she seemed humiliated to play more than a few bars, and shrugged, rather than answering, when asked the identify from the piece. She asked that her daughter and her city not be named.

She phone calls that day, June four, 1996, the working day After i was damage.

Hers was the 1st in a string of assaults by the same person on four Gals about 8 days. The last target, Evelyn Alvarez, sixty five, was overwhelmed to death as she opened her Park Avenue dry-cleansing shop, and in the long run, the assailant, John J. Royster, was convicted of murder and sentenced to lifestyle in prison.

Yet the attack about the piano Trainer will be the a person folks appear to keep in mind one of the most. A part of the fascination must do with echoes of your 1989 attack on the Central Park jogger. But What's more, it frightened persons in a method the assault on the jogger did not since its circumstances were so mundane.

It did not happen in the remote Component of the park late at night, but close to a popular playground at 3 from the afternoon. It might have took place to any individual. The strain was heightened via the secret with the piano lecturers identity.

For three times, as police and Medical doctors tried to see who she was, she lay in the coma in her hospital bed, nameless. Her parents were being on getaway and her boyfriend, also a musician, was in Europe, on tour. Finally, one among her pupils regarded a police sketch and was in a position to discover her while in the clinic by her fingers, simply because her encounter was swollen beyond recognition. The law enforcement didn't release her name.

The very last thing she remembers about June 4, 1996, is providing a lesson in her studio condominium on West 57th Street, then Placing her lengthy hair inside of a ponytail and likely out for any stroll. She doesn't try to remember the assault, Even though she has heard the accounts with the police and prosecutors.

To me its just like a fact I discovered and memorized, she said. Like I have been a university student in class researching heritage.

She doesn't consider the man who did it. I might have been indignant for just a minute, although not a lot longer than that, she said. How could I be indignant at John Royster? He was declared not insane, but I guess by our expectations he was.

Dr. Jamshid Ghajar, her health practitioner at Big apple Medical center-Cornell Healthcare Heart, as it had been recognised in 1996, explained to reporters that she had a ten percent chance of survival. Medical practitioners experienced to get rid of her forehead bone, which was afterwards changed, to generate place for her swelling Mind. When her mom manufactured a public appeal to pray for my daughter, hundreds did.

Just after eight times, she came away from a coma, 1st in a vegetative point out, then in the childlike state. As she recovered, she slept minor and talked regularly, often in gibberish. I was acquiring mad at persons once they didnt reply to these words and phrases, she said.

Like an Alzheimers affected person, she had very little brief-term memory and would forget people when they remaining the home.

Over quite a few months, she had to relearn the best way to stroll, dress, study and publish. Her boyfriend, Tony Scherr, frequented every day to Participate in guitar for her. He encouraged her to Perform the piano, in opposition to the recommendation of her Actual physical therapists, who imagined she can be annoyed by her incapacity to Engage in how she when had. Mr. Scherr performed Beatles duets along with her, enjoying the still left-hand component even though she performed the correct.

Which was my finest therapy, she said.

In August, she moved again residence to New Jersey, with her father, an engineer, and mother, a schoolteacher. She visited outdated haunts and named buddies, striving to restore her shattered memory. I had been pretty obsessed with remembering, she mentioned. Any memory loss was to me an indication of abnormality or deficit.

Her therapists thought her progress was terrific, but her two sisters protested that she was not the deep thinker she had been.

What bothered her most was that she experienced misplaced a chance to cry, like a faucet inside of her Mind had been turned off. One night, nine months right after she was harm, she stayed up late to look at the John Grisham movie A Time for you to Destroy. Just following her father had gone to mattress, she watched a courtroom scene of Samuel Jacksons character on demo for killing two Adult males who experienced raped his young daughter.

The faucet opened, and also the tears trickled down her cheeks. I thought about my mom and dad, my father, and whatever they went by, she stated. Minimal by tiny, my experience returned, my depth of thoughts returned.

Urged by her sisters, she went back to school and obtained a masters degree in tunes training.

Not every thing went effectively. She and Mr. Scherr break up up five years after the assault, although they continue to be buddies. She dated other Adult males, but she usually instructed them in regards to the attack without delay — she could not assistance it, she claimed — plus they under no circumstances referred to as to get a 2nd date.

We now have to locate you anyone, her Mate David Phelps, a guitar player, said 4 yrs in the past, ahead of introducing her to Liam McCann, a computer technician and novice drummer. For once, she did not say nearly anything regarding the assault till she obtained to grasp Mr. McCann, after which you can when she did, he admired her strength.

Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, who experienced typically visited her at her bedside when she was inside the healthcare facility, married them in his Moments Sq. Business. She wore a blue costume and pearls. While she was Expecting, inside of a burst of creativity, she and her mates recorded Even though Have been Young, an album of childrens tunes that she had created ahead of the assault, such as the song Relocating. Her ex-boyfriend, Mr. Scherr, manufactured the CD. On it, her husband performs drums and she plays electrical piano.

Is her lifestyle as it was? Not specifically, although she is hesitant to attribute the discrepancies to her accidents. Her last two piano pupils remaining her, with out calling to clarify why, she explained. She has resumed enjoying classical audio, but easy parts, due to the fact her daughter won't give her time and energy to observe. As for jazz, I dont even check out, she claimed.

She would want to push extra, emotion stranded inside the suburbs, but she is easily rattled. She attempts to be articles with being house and caring for her daughter.

Dr. Ghajar, a medical professor of neurological operation at precisely what is now known as Big apple-Presbyterian Clinic/Weill Cornell Clinical Middle, who operated on Ms. Kevorkian McCann following the attack, explained final 7 days that her volume of recovery was exceptional. Shes in essence regular, he reported.

Other gurus, who will be not personally knowledgeable about Ms. Kevorkian McCanns scenario, are more careful.

Regaining the opportunity to Engage in the piano may well entail an Pretty much mechanical course of action, a semiautomatic recall of exactly what the fingers need to do, claimed Dr. Yehuda Ben-Yishay, a professor of scientific rehabilitation drugs at Big apple University Faculty of Medicine. As soon as Mind-injured, you happen to be always brain-hurt, For the remainder of your life, Dr. Ben-Yishay mentioned. There is absolutely no cure, There is certainly only intensive compensation.

The more telling part of a recovery, in his watch, is psychological, and on that score he counts Ms. Kevorkian McCanns marriage and child as a significant victory.

For her aspect, the piano Trainer knows she has adjusted, but she has manufactured her peace with it. I had been form of a hyper —— I dont know if I used to be a sort A, but I had been formidable, she says. Why was I so formidable? I used to be a piano Instructor. I dont determine what the ambition was about. I actually did return to the person Im imagined to be.

[mrmichaelchadler]

Nick Allen's Top Ten Films of 2018

Below is a small glimpse at my film year, a collection of the movies I was fixated on during and after festivals, recommended to you if you asked me what was good, or was simply blown away by. And in the case of my number one film, it was lodged so deep into my brain that its second-to-last shot made for a solid homemade Halloween costume. Of course, this list is subject to change at any minute, with special shout-outs to “Roma,” “Minding the Gap,” “Eighth Grade,” “Widows,” “Vice,” “Free Solo,” “If Beale Street Could Talk,” “Blaze,” and the laugh-out-loud quality of “Mile 22.” 

10. “Bird Box” 

In 2010, Susanne Bier made one of the most unforgettable stories about the immediacy of day-to-day violence with “A Better World,” its plot hinging on acts of humanism across continents. She brings that focus on how we treat each other to the ruthlessly thrilling “Bird Box,” which tops off a year of nervous cinema, but is approximately 300% more stressful than the silent but deadly “A Quiet Place” (nor can “Bird Box” have its logic poked through by the prospects of farts). The hook here is an apocalyptic disadvantage—one’s eyes must always be covered from an outside force that invades consciousness, making them want to hurt others or themselves.

Adapted by Eric Heisserer from the novel by Josh Malerman, “Bird Box” takes the set-up of a survival story to its most tense limits, where characters are walking, driving, or riding down a river through unknown environments, without being able to see where they are going. In a year in which watching white supremacy terrorize families in “The First Purge” seemed redundant, “Bird Box” is one of the most terrifying depictions of fanaticism; those who do decide to see sometimes have a frightening, monstrous power, and try to force others to look. It's a scary reflection of our modern cults built on hatred, anonymous conspiracy theories, or willful misinterpretations of the Bible. 

The whole of "Bird Box" hinges on dumb luck, but each major set piece has an inescapable claustrophobia, in which the ability to see what the blindfolded characters can't, and imagining what could befall them, makes it that much more terrifying. At the center of it all is a top-level performance from Sandra Bullock, portraying a mother in the most desperate mode of survival. She makes a viewer even more wistful that somehow she and her two blindfolded kids can survive the film’s impossible world.

9. “Searching” 

Aneesh Chaganty’s “Searching” is a thrilling correction to a few bugs in mainstream filmmaking: it’s an unabashed crowd-pleaser that doesn’t talk down to its audience, a tech-savvy movie that doesn’t lament the growing presence of smart phones and social media so much as whole-heartedly embrace them, and a screen-based thriller that isn’t just the cinematic equivalent of watching a desktop. That it’s also a thriller that gives John Cho the leading role he’s long deserved is just one of its many elements to adore.

Scripted by Chaganty and Sev Ohanian, this story about a father (John Cho) searching for his missing daughter Margot (Michelle La) is one of the year’s most exciting examples of creativity, with elements of filmmaking one can easily take for granted—it’s one of the year’s best edited films for how it creates an emotional roller coaster using only the content on its characters’ screens, orchestrating a narrative out of an insane amount of on-screen detail that fully immerses us in everyone's lives. "Searching" plays wonderfully on repeat viewings, and the opening scene has deservedly won comparisons to the first ten minutes of “Up”—“Searching” is the debut of major storytelling talent, with a thrilling new perspective on the technology we use every day.

8. “John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” 

“John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” is a sports documentary that begins with a Jean-Luc Godard quote, and doesn’t show its title subject until five minutes in. Yes, this movie is a dream for anyone who has felt film semiotics and sports analysis aren’t too different of beasts, especially when one talks about the strengths and weaknesses of a performance. Needless to say, “John McEnroe: In the Realm of Perfection” transported me back to my brain-fueling Film Studies classes, all focused around a pivotal match for the hot-head tennis player in 1984. This doc does not just thrill with how it toys with form, but also in how it proclaims the expansive potential of critical thinking. I dare anyone who is interested in the very concept of criticism, whether for athletes or filmmakers, to try to turn it off after watching it for those five minutes.

7. “Makala” 

“Makala” popped into my life as a review assignment back in August, and by the end of the year it’s still the most exemplary idea of the power in minimalist storytelling. One of the most tense scenes this year is of Makala trying to push a huge bundle of coal, strapped to his bike, up a small hill, as captured with simplicity by director and cinematographer Emmanuel Gras. As it documents one man’s process in creating coal, carting it many miles and then trying to sell it, “Makala” speaks to the eternal values of filmmaking, and recognizes that walking many miles in someone else’s shoes is an instrumental part of it. 

6. “Cold War”

Anyone who was a bit miffed by the ending of Damien Chazelle’s musical “La La Land”—not that it ended on a surprising note, but that it felt like an incomplete thought—will find refreshing heart and soul in Pawel Pawlikowski’s musician story, “Cold War.” Told over various years and across countries, the story of two Polish musicians and their romance in spite of years and geographical distance beautifully condenses time but doesn’t cut short its emotion. “Cold War” precisely captures the different chapters of a relationship, while having a black-and-white beauty that makes the film like the year’s best love ballad.

5. “Mandy” 

Like a holy mix of “You Were Never Really Here” and “If Beale Street Could Talk,” as blended with a chainsaw fight and served on an actual dish of revenge, “Mandy” is one of the year’s most visceral proclamations of love and loss. Be not fooled by the howls from its growing cult audience, the best aspects of “Mandy” (directed by Panos Cosmatos and co-written with Aaron Stewart-Ahn) are not its albeit glorious action scenes but its sensitivity: this is the story of a man (Nicolas Cage), a woman named Mandy (Andrea Riseborough, her close-up laughing at macho BS the true face of this film) and the depths of his battling the demons of grief after his loved one is taken away. The late Johann Johannsson’s heavenly score uses synthesizers and heavy metal guitars to grip you from its opening text, and the film’s heavy use of color filters creates a dreamy atmosphere, which only gets kookier as “Mandy” becomes a straight-up hero odyssey with Cage battling phantasmagorical Jesus freaks. But the true beauty of “Mandy” is its intimacy; it’s as beautiful as looking into the eyes of your loved one as you both lie in bed, no one else existing in the world.

“Mandy” also features an unforgettable Nicolas Cage scene, in which he downs a whole bottle of vodka in a bathroom while standing in his underpants. He’s crying, howling, screaming. It epitomizes the appeal of one our greatest screen artists—that Cage is unafraid to tap into the absurd emotions we sometimes wish we could—and it pushes the surrealism of the scene to sincere and complete heartbreak. I’m placing “Mandy” in my proverbial “In Case of Loss, Break Glass” collection, right next to a copy of Philip Roth’s Everyman.

4. “Leave No Trace” 

I really love what my colleagues have written about Debra Granik’s story of a PTSD-afflicted father living off the grid with his young daughter, but one of my favorite qualities of this nearly pitch-perfect story is that it’s not what you think: it’s not about them living in the woods, but adapting to our society, a story that takes place after what only seems like the true narrative. The completely soulful performances from Ben Foster and Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie create a family dynamic you don’t want to see disturbed, and through small developments there’s a large unease that capitalism and technology could get in its way. Granik’s script, adapted with Anne Rossellini from Peter Rock’s book, has an incredible rhythm with its bare bones scenes, exploring the greatest of emotional stakes in the most deceptively simple way.

3. “Madeline’s Madeline”

In a sense, “Madeline’s Madeline” is a movie that was made for its debut lead, Helena Howard. You understand, about thirty seconds into the film, why Howard warrants her own project, and why a filmmaker like Josephine Decker would mix her own experimental and primal instincts with the talents of her future young star. “Madeline’s Madeline” is delightfully beyond words—describing it as a film about acting and actors is just scratching the surface—but it’s one of the most year’s most hypnotic movies, especially as Decker’s camera toys with point-of-view and takes an approach to editing that is unlike any other film from 2018.

2. “Shirkers” 

I spent much of my Sundance last January recommending to people a little documentary called “Shirkers,” and ramped up that practice when it came out on Netflix this past October. Believe the hype for this movie, which just took our #6 spot on the staff list, and is one of the few docs that has been making waves on #FilmTwitter. It’s both a celebration of and a mystery movie about the lost treasure of a film project that Tan directed as a teenager in 1990s Singapore with her friends, which then disappeared along with her pushy filmmaking mentor, an older white man named Georges, before the film was finished. “Shirkers” has Tan investigating what happened to the project and looking back at her life when she was a teenager making her cool-as-hell film that predates the style of "Ghost World" and Wes Anderson. Perhaps best of all, Tan shares with us the filmmaking daydreams, and the collaborating women, that fueled such an enigmatic passion project. 

1. “Hereditary”

I believe “If Beale Street Could Talk” director Barry Jenkins put it best when he once tweeted to “Hereditary” writer/director Ari Aster, “GIVE ME BACK MY PEACEFUL SLEEP,” followed by six crying emojis. Speaking as someone who has now seen Aster’s masterful debut five times (including an experimental, not recommended double feature at the theater with Fred Rogers doc “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”) I can only affirm the lasting power of “Hereditary” and its perfection as a modern American family tragedy that uses horror language in order to devastate its viewers. 

There are so many elements to cherish about the film, including its exact creepiness with slow-moving shots and deceptively long takes, a score by Colin Stetson that peacefully conjures the devil, and the way that while a first viewing may inspire one to watch it through their fingers, "Hereditary" only gets more disturbing with each viewing. And all of this for a horror film that’s about a household that doesn’t discuss trauma, or about a family plot that’s a highway to hell. Most importantly, however, is the emotional magnitude brought by the likes of Toni Collette, whose viciousness as the central mother can rival the terror of Joan Crawford proclaiming “No more wire hangers” in “Mommie Dearest,” and Alex Wolff, depicting the shattered, silenced nature of trauma. 

"Hereditary" is in the tradition of disturbing films like Kubrick’s “The Shining” or Zulawski’s “Possession"—it's equal parts terrifying and exhilarating, scarring a viewer with the emotional turmoil that's in the foreground. Aster's film messed me up in more ways than one in 2018, and it hurts so damn good. 

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