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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years

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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.’

#reddie #reddie imagine #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #eddie imagine #richie tozier imagine #My writing #it chapter two imagine #reddie fluff

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dekuinthelake · 5 years

Text

Why I’m okay with people knowing I’m transgender

Firstly, I want to start off by saying that if you’re trans and for your own comfort and safety you don’t want to be “outed” that’s 100% understandable and you should not feel bad about that. We all need to move at our own pace when discovering our social limits and confidence. My journey will have not been the same as yours. I live in Colorado, a state that is fairly trans friendly and am a trans man, meaning I’ve most likely had a safer time than I might have elsewhere. Trans women have it especially difficult, and if you feel unsafe in a situation that’s up for you to gage. It doesn’t make you less valid or a coward or anything like that.

Just know that I’m writing this for you and other trans/nb folks. I want our choices to transition to feel like the right one, even when people who don’t understand are making you second guess.

Context:

From the time I was 16-23, I was immensely depressed. I dropped out of highschool because of an immense disillusionment for the future. Primarily, I believed I didn’t have one. I’d always been bad at school, so collage was out of the question. I thought I was too ugly to get married and so that traditional Mormon thing my mother specifically had impressed upon me, which was having kids obviously. Most people disliked me because at the time, I had an extremely aggressive and compulsive attitude thanks to being absolutely lost emotionally. I hated my body and my mind and was convinced the things I despised could never change.

Ironically, one of the thorns in my side was how I always wanted to be a man instead. I recall coming home from school some days and just curling up in bed and sobbing about it.

“If I was a boy, people wouldn’t make fun of my ugly ass body.” Something I felt primarily about my chest. Once I strangled a kid for pointing out my bra strap through a white shirt. No joke. I was volatile and pissed all the time because of dysphoria. Comments about being feminine quite literally triggered me growing up. Every violent fight I remember growing up was caused by someone making fun of me in relation to female gender.

Despite this problem being so obvious, my religious parents took me to Mormon operated therapy. The suggestions I was given by councilors was typically “Have you tried praying about it?” Or “Are you going to Young Women’s every Sunday?” For those of you who don’t know, in the LDS church, they separate Sunday school for age groups based on gender. In particular, they forced all girls to wear dresses.

Having that identity forced on me every Sunday against my will from a very young age caused me to resist in aggressive attitude. Hit a kid in the face with my bible bag once for telling me I should be in the kitchen.

Another unfortunate side effect of the Mormon upbringing was literally not knowing that trans people even existed. I recall seeing trans people (like with waiter we had once) and being a little perplexed but not too bothered. But no one had ever explained the concept to me until much, much later.

After I had dropped out, a friend of mine came out and at the time the concept was alien. I’d spent so much time in my life trying to choke down any hope of being a guy because of religion it seemed impossible to even change genders. But then a mutual friend between me and my trans one (who is now my roommate) explained to me in a car ride I still remember vividly about what testosterone does to your body. Bit of a side note, but the ‘micro phalus’ thing was something I straight didn’t believe and OH BOY LMAOOOO.

Anyway, with that information now tumbling around on my mind... I accepted my friend and continued to ignore my obvious feelings!

Life marched on. I sunk in to gaming addiction, depression, and repression. I think I first tried to kill my self when I was 20 years old. I had quit my job thanks to a car crash I got in to and sunk in to doing absolutely nothing but playing MMOs for months. Eventually I just convinced myself there was no possible way my life could anything meaningful or productive. I had a fairly unhelpful stay in a mental hospital. I got out, got a job at the Denver zoo as a janitor.

I coasted for a few years there. That job taught me a lot. People skills, how to work hard, how to care about the future... And one of my coworkers was a trans man. We didn’t talk much about his transition. Mostly we just talked about cool things at work and how shitty customers were.

I think that kind of interaction was so important to me. To everyone, him being trans was just natural. No one cared and he seemed pretty happy.

With that information I started to do a bit of research on my own. I’m not sure how many months of consideration I had before coming out subtly to my current roommate in a car.

At the time, pondering coming out to everyone around me and having to confront my body every day in mirrors I cleaned for a living became a sort of hell. I worked the 4am shift and had no one to talk to for the entire duration of my work day, leaving me with lots of time to watch videos and think. I mean I mentally battled myself to the point I was in a lot of pain. So I started taking pain killers, mood stabilizers, drinking, and smoking weed in excess. Since I worked in the dark alone, no one would know how fucked up I was. The primary wrench in me finally accepting my own needs was again that feeling of hopelessness. The process of transition seemed so intimidating. It’s expensive. It will take effort. What if I fuck this or that up?

Early 2017, I tried to kill myself again after months of tormenting myself. I remember when they put me in the ICU and asked for my name, I told them Mike instead of my now dead name. The nurses asked if I had a pronoun preference and I just couldn’t say anything at all. But the chart whiteboad hanging on the wall in front of my bed said “Mike’s”. Everyone who came to visit me saw this. In a way, I had forced myself to come out. My stay in the mental hospital provided the same information as the last, but this time I was more ready to accept it.

One of the exercises we did was write plans for the future. Before, I had left it blank. But this time? I had goals. One of them was to come out officially in a far less destructive fashion. My dad seemed to accept it but not fully support. Due to family tensions that were somewhat unrelated to coming out, I ended up moving out in Late September 2018.

Soon everyone in my personal life knew. I got laid off with my entire department at the zoo. I remember coming out to some of my coworkers based on how religious they were the last day. My next job, I introduced myself as Mike and even got a name tag.

At the end of 2018 I started on hormones after a battle to get ahold of a doctor. Since then, I’ve been a lot happier.

I’ve lost over 100lbs and started working out.

I’m currently working the highest paying job I’ve ever had.

I’m living in an apartment with people I really care about.

The people I keep around me accept my pronouns and are proud of me coming out.

I’ve grown a mustache I love so much I can’t bare to shave it.

The power of self actualization

In every respect, coming out and presenting myself in exactly the way I want to has improved my life. For me that included medically transitioning. It’s like I finally have something to look forward to. All the little changes make me excited and more confident in what I like every day.

Even minor things like clothing are now these exciting vehicles of self expression. I never used to buy things I liked since my parents controlled what I was and was not aloud to wear. And even when I got my own money, those standards forced upon me by Mormonism held me back. Every pay check has more meaning when I’m replacing the old life that I hated so much. I seriously love this tiger shirt I got.

I’m proud to tell people I’m trans because finally admitting to myself has improved my life and mental health and unimaginable degree. I went from wanting to die basically at all times to having excitement for what comes next. I’m enjoying activities that I never would have before. Going to gay bars and dancing has been so enriching for me and I absolutely never would have done that before when I was all angry and bristly.

Being trans can be such a possitive experience. It’s freedom. It’s being able to live your life comfortably.

I know there are a lot of people who don’t understand or don’t want to because of their upbringing... and if you are one of those people who managed to read all this, please know they if you’re anti-trans, you’re anti-freedom of expression, anti-mental health, and anti-social.

Coming out was like removing a clog from my life. I’ve FINALLY been able to start living. And that’s something I want people to know about me. I felt dead before I changed my name and pronouns.

By the way. I’m Mike. He/him. 25. And I’m not going to try and kill my self ever again because I’m enjoying my big trans life.👌

#long post #trans #transgender #pride #trans pride #guess this is my new years post #HAPPY NEW YEARS

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thesinglesjukebox · 5 years

Video

youtube

TAYLOR SWIFT - YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN

[3.65]

The one that's on our mind, 365, all the time...

Will Rivitz: The Singles Jukebox -- Corrections, June 21 2019: The author of this blurb has previously stated that the selection of Meghan Trainor as LA Pride headliner would forever be the nadir of Pride-related programming. The author regrets the error. [1]

Joshua Copperman: The discourse for "ME!": "What does this mean for Taylor's next era?" The discourse for this lyrical clusterfuck: "What does this mean at all?" It's a much more interesting production, without stock horns and with some nice "Royals"-y vocal layering, but it's the most incoherent thing she's ever released. Is it about stans? Is it about homophobes? Is it a coming out song? Did Taylor throw the first shade at Stonewall? What is HAPPENING?? I'm sorry, I need to calm down. [3]

Will Adams: Taylor said "Gay Rights!" Kind of! Sort of. Well... it's complicated. Not necessarily because of her status as a cis straight woman, but because the message itself is so damn muddled. Stans and trolls and bigots and music journalists are lumped in the same mass of "haters," and while it's worth noting that this by no means the first anti-haters pop song to exist, the overt political text here results in lots of crossed wires. The song suffers as a result too, throwing half-formed catchphrases at the wall to see what sticks: the chorus is a melodic void (odd considering Taylor's songwriting strength); the "gowns" reference is too subtle to register; the patter results in odd scansion throughout ("like it's PUH-trón"); and "snakes and stones never broke my bones" is no more clever than "don't need opinions from a shellfish or a sheep." Speaking of Katy, also wrapped up in all this is a resolution of a beef that never seemed that important except as something for either party to mine for big single launches. It's all too much, especially for a not-bad track that fizzes just fine on its own. It'd be churlish to ask Taylor to take her own advice; for now all I ask for is coherence. [4]

Jonathan Bradley: Taylor Swift has always had a talent for deploying sharp and piquant phrases, the sorts of lyrics that tell blunt little stories like animated gifs. It's an opportunity for her to go broad and get funny: "Some indie record that's much cooler than mine," for instance, or "I can make the bad guys good for a weekend," or "I don't love the drama, it loves me." "You Need to Calm Down" is like an entire song built from these lines, and it whirls by like a Twitter thread or an Instagram story. Taylor sass is a lot of fun, and many of these ripostes are satisfyingly catty in their insouciance ("I'm just like, 'hey... are you OK?'" might be the best of these). Swift has shrugged off detractors on "Shake It Off" and "Mean," but she is more single-minded this time, and that focus paradoxically dilutes the intent. Swift's greatest strength as a songwriter is her interiority; she's adept at examining and interpreting her own feelings. But a consequence of that is that she is far less certain when she needs to step outside the bounds of her own head. The worst song she has ever released was a charity single called "Ronan," in which Swift sung in the voice of a mother who had lost her child to cancer; so talented at realizing her personal traumas, she proved incapable of reconstructing her sympathy for that bereavement in her own voice. "Calm Down" has some things to say about homophobia, and in this terrain outside her own experience, Swift's words are not so much unpleasant as awkward and a bit superficial, particularly in their uncertain invocation of "shade" as bigotry. (If stan theorists needed evidence that Swift is indeed as straight as she publicly presents, it's here: a queer Taylor would not have written a second verse as disengaged as that one.) But even diluted, Swift singles are still constructed tight. This one continues finding the pastel inversion of Reputation's skeletal synth sound, and echoes "ME!" with a hook of vowel sounds as palilalia -- "oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh..." this time, rather than "me-hee-hee." It's a tic that works -- in moderation. [7]

Alex Clifton: (Puts on music critic hat) It's stronger than "ME!" (which isn't hard but worth noting), I'm glad she takes swipes at homophobia but equating that with personal shots is a little bit weird, it's super catchy but the lyrics are still a little lacking, and I still can't remember all the words even though I have the melody memorized. (Takes off music critic hat, puts on bisexual Swiftie stan hat) EVERYTHING IS RAINBOWS AND MY BRAIN WON'T STOP SINGING THIS AND I WOULD MARRY TAYLOR SWIFT, HAPPY PRIDE!!!!! [5]

Alfred Soto: I'm sure it will sound fine on the radio, especially played beside "Bad Guy" and "Old Town Road." The maximalist intentions behind the Everest-sized synth bass and her rat-tat-tat delivery bespeak a mind that recognizes it's the one needing calm. Except for the "parade" line, I wouldn't have known this alludes to Pride if I hadn't watched the video. I don't feel pandered to as a queer man because, after all, a Pride parade is superficial performativity anyway. [6]

Katherine St Asaph: Give her this: the stacked-up arpeggio in the chorus is an absolutely brilliant hook, particularly the second time when it goes over the top. The rapid-fire prechorus is pretty good too. But the beat is the same freezer-burned "Paper Planes"/"With Ur Love"/"Send My Love (To Your New Lover)" chill, the accents are so far from the right syllables they've filed a misSING perSONS REport, the conflating of trolls with professional critics with the literal Westboro Baptist Church is bad (as is the weird class shit in the video, as if you can't be anti-gay and present like a Pleasantville star), and all this was done much better on "Mean." [5]

Katie Gill: In a way, this song is hellishly brilliant. Taylor Swift has provided her standom with a weapon, something that they can wield against any form of criticism. Want to write an article criticizing the fact that Swift seems to put "homophobia" and "me having internet bullies" on the same level, the fact that the video tactlessly paints rural Americana as the enemy of LGBTQ+ people instead of the Mike Pences of the world, or the fact that the second verse leans way too close to the sort of tactlessness that only aggressively woke allies can pull off? Expect a flock of Twitter replies telling you condescendingly that "you need to calm down" and "you're being too loud," as people ignore the half-assed condemnation of standom during the song's third verse in favor of using Swift's lyrics as a cudgel against any perceived haters. For all that Swift is trying to shed the sneaky snake image, traces of it still linger between the lines. [3]

Edward Okulicz: The people who said "Heartbeats" by The Knife was the future of music were right in 2003, and based on this, have now been right for 16 years and counting. That enormous synth-bass takes a song that should have been awful on paper (ugh, a thematic sequel to "This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things," which itself is why we can't have nice things, like good Taylor Swift songs), with the second verse featuring the worst lyrics Swift has ever written, and makes it frisky and playful. The "uh-oh uh-oh UH-OH!" hook is legitimately her best in years. Obsessing about someone is tedious, obsessing about those people is even more tedious, but for once, Swift sounds like she's legitimately above it, even if I don't think she knows what "shade" is. I wanted to hate this for its posturing, but I can't, because of the "uh-oh" bit. But just between you and me, I liked Katy Perry's last single more. [6]

William John: I'm always happy to hear songs that approximate the "Heartbeats" melody, and the layered vocals here sound lovely, but Dorian Corey didn't keep a mummy in her house for fifteen years for "shade" to be misinterpreted so flagrantly. [3]

Danilo Bortoli: Is it fair to demand political accountability from artists? The question remains thorny these days, but when Taylor Swift blatantly goes after pink money, the answer is yes, loud and clear. The case made for "You Need To Calm Down" has pulled the identity politics card (as usual, The Onion put it better). That is, Swift's song oversimplifies an ancient struggle for recognition, making up a narrative that isn't Taylor's to call her own. But what is more infuriating is the sugarcoating: the fact that pride should come only from within, and the naive and painful suggestion that a homophobe would go silent after a line as awful as "shade never made anybody less gay". That is to say, when it comes to protest, I prefer it the French way. Which is why all of this begs the question: Would you tell Richard Spencer to "calm down"? No, of course you wouldn't. [2]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: There are probably 2300 words elsewhere in this post about the politics and rhetoric of Taylor's words here (and I'll get to that), but first I feel obligated to talk about how "You Need To Calm Down" works on a purely musical level. It sounds like ass. It takes the bag of tricks that Swift used on "Ready For It?," the most musically captivating of Reputation's singles, and sands off all of their weird edges. Yes, there's a bass thump to welcome you in, but without the distortion it just sounds like Taylor's doing "Royals"-lite (I mean, Joel Little did produce.) And with the fangs off the verse, the lift to the chorus fails to land. It's all just sound, an undifferentiated, imperial wave of midtempo banger signifier without a real hook. Even Swift's vocals, which have always been her most compelling tool, can't sell the song's vibe -- she's confused not giving a fuck for calm. Of course, it's not entirely clear what "You Need To Calm Down"'s vibe, or point, even is. It's trying to be clever, with its winking references to stale LGBTQ and feminist symbology, but by conflating (or at least juxtaposing) those struggles with the problems that Taylor Swift has as a widely hated famous person, it ends up saying nothing at all. In the end, "You Need To Calm Down" is less a coherent song in itself than a Potemkin village to situate endless thinkpieces in. Make it stop. [3]

Ashley Bardhan: I know the title is "You Need To Calm Down" but there are no human words that can aptly describe how much I hate this song. Think of a young pigeon cooing as it flies through a fish market, weaving over and through the glistening crates of silver-scaled fish and ice. Oh no! There's a problem with a shipment! The owner angrily tosses a fat fish into the air, and its scales glint as it smacks the pigeon mid-air and onto the ground with the full brunt of its weight. The pigeon sees the fish market, its final flight, behind its closed eyes in a hurried blur. It weakly wheezes its final birdsong, and then... nothing. Yaaas, hunty. [0]

Iris Xie: 🤷 This is so tired, I can't even be that mad about it. The only question I have, because this song and MV isn't even worth a QTPOC-centered thinkpiece from me is this: when is the Post Malone + Swae Lee + Taylor Swift collaboration happening? This sounds so much like "Sunflower" and is just as deadening. Even the excitement of one of my besties sending me an ~*urgent*~ text message about Katy Perry and Taylor Swift making up over their imaginary feud, once they realized it hurt both of their fanbases, can't even ignite an ounce of care from me. (Bless your heart, my dear friend.) If she really wanted to pander to the gays, she could've just written a sequel to "Look What You Made Me Do" and become a slicker conduit for the less graceful parts about being in queer scenes, which can be about petty, messy drama, rather than being the subject of rage and apathy about being another harbinger of happy happy HAPPY gaypropriation. Like, whatever, she can have her extremely meaningless self-declared ally medal. I've been calm, just give me actual music. [2]

Isabel Cole: It's like this: A while ago I was catching up with an ex who mentioned he'd recently come back into contact with someone we'd known in high school -- acquaintance of his, frenemy of mine, a few sparkling months of giggling BFF-ship deteriorating across a year I spent defending her while she shit-talked my fashion sense in the girls' room to the local blabbermouth -- and he told me, with an ironic arch of the brow, that when my name had inevitably come up she'd said, "Isabel and I used to be so close; I wonder what happened." Reader, I spent like a week losing my mind, repeating the story and relitigating the history to anyone who would listen while bitterly making fun of her internet presence. Was this because I am petty and emotionally volatile? Yes. But it was also because there is a certain level of willful detachment from reality which I do not have the cognitive capacity to process adequately. Taylor Swift having the gall to tell any human on earth to calm down makes me feel insane the way it makes me feel insane to see someone citing as evidence of their incurable adolescent unpopularity the dorky AIM screenname they picked based on an affectionate joke I made. Taylor Swift saying "take several seats" makes me feel the same combination of spiteful and enraged as reading a line recycled from Livejournal in 2005: please learn like everyone else to disguise the extent to which the human brain is a machine wired to seek validation, the transparency of your desperation is making all of us uncomfortable! God, I wanna snub her in a lunchroom so bad. The song is unappealing in ways that barely merit mentioning -- verses that sound like they were reverse-engineered from a MIDI file of the superior but hardly sublime "Gorgeous," chorus that throws in the plodding piano of roaring bravery -- but even beyond the equivalency it implies between Twitter making fun of her and, like, hate crimes, I find the bridge particularly embarrassing, because of how artlessly it reveals its origin: Taylor Swift literally read a Tumblr post (or, the algorithm we call Taylor Swift processed several hundred Tumblr posts) from 2011 saying "stop pitting female artists against each other [handclap emoji etc.]!!!!!!!!!!!" and thought, Wow! Feminism! As for the possibility that this is another masterful turn from Taylor the troll (or troll!Taylor as there is a distressingly high chance she'd say) and by falling for it I've let her win: (1) Taylor Swift is always already winning, this is exactly what Marx was talking about (2) Let me kick it back to my ex one more time: when I asked what she was like these days, he considered and said: "I thought she'd developed self-awareness, but then I realized it was just self-identification." Yeah. [1]

Scott Mildenhall: You know sometimes, when you read the annotations on genius.com, how their deductions and inferences appear to have been made by algorithm? For instance, the notion that this being released on that loud American guy's birthday "seems to support the theory" that one line is about him? This is what would happen if that algorithm was tasked with writing a satirical song. [5]

Stephen Eisermann: My take? This is more lazy allyship than commercialization of pride. Plus, it's kind of a bop. Sucks, then, that Taylor completely misunderstands what shade is -- but did we really expect any better? [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#Taylor Swift #pop #music #music review #writing

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miasswier · 6 years

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miasswier’s ultimate glee ranking: no 36

36: The First Time

Written by: Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa Directed by: Bradley Buecker

Overall Thoughts: This is one of those episodes where the Klaine of it all kind of blinds me a little. Listen, I know it’s not actually that great of an episode, but I love it. I’ve watched it a thousand times and I know I’ll watch it a thousand more. It’s basically the first good episode of season three, and considering what it follows, it really shines. As always, there are definitely things I don’t like about it, but the Klaine of it all really outranks everything I dislike; plus, there’s a few other little details that I enjoy.

What I Like:

Sebastian is hereeeeeee. He’s an asshole, but I love him.

Karofsky is back! I’m glad they didn’t just ship him off into oblivion after “Prom Queen”, and I like his scene with Kurt here.

When Kurt is done talking to Karofsky and looks over at Blaine, who is staring at him and literally begging him to come dance with him, and then Kurt gets between him and Sebastian, and the fucking face he makes at Sebastian when he keeps trying to get on Blaine’s other side fuck.

The scene in Blaine’s bedroom. We so, so rarely got to see what Kurt and Blaine’s relationship was like behind closed doors. In fact, we so rarely got to see what any relationship was like behind closed doors, seeing as most scenes, even between couples, on this show take place either at McKinley or Breadstix. So it’s really cool to see them just goofing off and being the giant fucking dorks that they are.

“That’s why they invented masturbation”

Listen, I have as many mixed feelings about that backseat of the car scene as anybody, but can we all just agree that at least it gave us Blaine looking into Kurt’s eyes and saying, in a raspy voice, “I want you. I want you so bad.”

“I just want to live here and make art and help people.”

I LOVE when Tina is telling Rachel about how she lost her virginity to Mike. It’s such a sweet moment, and I think it’s one of the only times a girl on this show actually talks about the fact that she had a good first time and really enjoyed the sex.

Also, speaking of Tina, her outfit for West Side Story is just… damn. I actually have a very specific memory of watching this episode for the first time and literally getting a full body shiver when I saw her. I think that’s the first time my body visibly reacted to the sight of a beautiful woman. Fuck me.

Mike’s mom coming to see him in the play!

Coach Beiste being so fucking oblivious to Cooter’s romantic attempts. Because literally me.

The cute moment when everyone gives Artie flowers and thanks him for all he’s done. I don’t know why they don’t show boys getting flowers on TV more often? Look how fucking happy he is.

I do like the scene in the auditorium between Kurt and Blaine after the show. It’s nice to actually hear them talking out the argument they had, and hear Blaine apologize for how he behaved. I wish they could have done this more often throughout the show.

Also, Kurt’s breathy “I want to go to your house” and Blaine’s eyes all wide and excited, “Okay”

Finn freaking out because he thinks it’s all over for him. Fuck, that’s such an amazing scene. Probably one of the best Finn scenes ever. He absolutely kills it, and it always brings a tear to my eye because it’s so raw and real. The most relatable Finn moment, actually.

What I Don’t Like:

Artie getting involved in Beiste’s love life, literally going as far as to ask if Beiste has ever had sex. What the fuck. He’s a student? That’s so goddamn inappropriate.

Actually, the fact that Artie told Blaine and Rachel they needed to have sex to really understand the roles of Maria and Tony is kind of gross too. Just, not good advice, at all. And super inappropriate, and also highkey none of his business.

I always seem to forget about that awful rape joke about Brittany. Ugh.

The fact that they cut that mash-up of You Spin Me Right Round/Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me that Klaine was going to sing. That would have been awesome and I’m sad.

They kind of do the same thing they do in “The Break-Up” here, where they set it up for Finchel and Klaine to equally be the A plot, but it’s really obvious that Finchel is the A plot and Klaine is the B plot. It just feels like they didn’t know how to do a single episode of this show that involved a gay couple in any way without shoving Finchel in particular down our collective throats.

The way they go about the set-up for the Finchel sex makes me really angry and uncomfortable. They try and talk their way out of it, but they can’t, they’ve already said it: Rachel is giving Finn her virginity to make him feel better about not getting recruited. AND, before she was planning on doing it to be a better actress. Like, I don’t get what was so hard about “Hey Finn, I love you and am ready to have sex with you,” like why couldn’t that be the reason? Why did they have to do it in such a way that it’s literally just a pity fuck to make Finn feel better. Considering they made such a huge stink about Rachel saving it for the right guy and “for a girl it’s a big deal” they really fucked her over.

I’m not as annoyed about Klaine, but it does sort of frustrate me that, again, the reason for their having sex wasn’t just “I love you and am ready”. They had a fight, and now they made up, and while they both made it clear earlier in the episode that they are ready to have sex, I still think it kind of feels weird that they basically did it as a way to make up. I have nothing against make-up sex, trust me, but for your first time? I don’t know.

When this episode first came out, I loved the Cooter/Beiste storyline. Now that we’ve seen how it plays out, I want to claw my eyes out every time he is on screen. Especially watching Artie push Cooter to ask Beiste out again.

Okay, look, there were not enough Latinx characters on this show to pull off West Side Story. They pulled a few out of their ass for the “America” number, but really, they still had a lot of non-Latinx characters as Sharks. Honestly, they didn’t even have enough people of colour to pull off an “ethnic Sharks vs white Jets” deal. I am entirely convinced that this entire plot was just an excuse for Lea Michele to play Maria, since she was so heartbroken back in like, 2008 or 2009 when she auditioned for Maria and they cast a Latinx actress for the role instead. Cause god forbid they not white wash the role for once.

I don’t really know why they wanted to include the Jets in “America”? It just makes them even more obviously racist than they already are.

Once again a major Kurt Hummel episode where he doesn’t get to sing (made even worse by the fact that he was supposed to sing but it got cut)

Songs:

Tonight: Eh. Tina sang it better in season one. Also, what’s with Rachel still looking down at her sheet music? This is the girl who supposedly was off-script for Shakespeare within 10 minutes yet somehow still doesn’t know all the words to a song she demanded be her solo two years ago?

Uptown Girl: Cute and fun! I missed the Warblers.

A Boy Like That/I Have a Love: I like how they weaved these songs into the narrative of the show. I particularly like the intercutting of “A Boy Like That” with Blaine and Sebastian having coffee.

America: Again, I don’t know about the whole adding in the Jets. I think Puck and Santana sound good, though.

One Hand, One Heart: It’s still funny to me that they had Blaine and Rachel sing this song instead of making it a Finchel/Klaine number. I’m also 90% sure that they spend more time on Blaine and Rachel on stage than on the couples having sex.

Final Thoughts: Yeah, I’ll admit it, I have my Klaine goggles on for this one. There’s a few other things I really like, but there’s also stuff I don’t. Still, nothing will ever be bad enough to make me not watch this episode a thousand times over. Especially the Klaine scenes.

#ultimate glee ranking

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ang3leyes · 7 years

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Rebel Rebel

Notes: Hey! I wrote something?? Okay, this one goes out to @elf-scones-research for being there and listening to me rant about this for like months. Love ya bby! Without further ado, the Radio Rebel AU I’ve been planning for months.

Summary: Small, gay, well-mannered Eddie Kaspbrak has a secret. More specifically, a secret identity. By day, he stays quiet and hangs out with the self-proclaimed Losers Club, but by night, he's the smooth talking anonymous DJ 'Radio Rebel'. The genius part of it all? No one would ever suspect it. Only now, Eddie's long time crush Richie Tozier is in the picture, and there's more at stake than just his podcasted radio show.

Pairings: Reddie, Stanlon, possible Benverly

Chapter: One/Six

Word Count: 3883

Warnings: Sonia Kaspbrak. Just,,,, Sonia Kaspbrak.

Eddie flipped on his earmuffs. He checked the voice modifier. He took a deep breath. Here we go again he thought as he hit ‘Record’.

He supposed it was stupid. A bunch of idealistic bullshit, which it kind of was. But… there was just something so tempting about sounding like a bit of a smartass anonymously.

“This is Radio Rebel coming at you live from the underground,” Eddie felt something warm slide over him. He smiled as he felt it sink into his skin, felt himself becoming comfortable, for once, hidden inside his own skin. “You don’t know who I am, but I know who you are. Because I’m one of you,” this part always felt the best to Eddie. Hiding in plain sight, the thrill of it was intoxicating. He could speak his mind, he could play music and talk to people and be himself, without anyone actually knowing it was him. It felt as good as telling a secret, and it didn’t sting nearly as much.

“Before we get to a Bowie mix I made when I was bored off my ass in English, I just wanted to tell you how bullshit the report cards that came out today at Lincoln Bay are. So what if I don’t want to dress like I’m from the 1950’s? A low participation grade for short shorts, that sucks ass.” Eddie smiled. He was angry, yeah, but that's where his best stuff tended to come from. “But it’s not just the teachers, is it? Guys, we all talk shit about the school staff for putting us into boxes and shutting us down, but I thought, since grades were being handed out, I’d let you all know that it’s not just the teachers who fuck us over by judging us.” Delicate, ran a tangent thought through Eddie’s head. Fairy boy in the short shorts. “Jocks, outcasts, dorks, the pops, the gays,” Eddie took a sharp breathe from between his teeth. “We’re all so quick to judge. And, obviously, people get hurt by that. You’re you. You’re not some perfect mix of qualities that make you one thing, neither are your best friends, neither are you classmates, neither am I.” Eddie spun in his chair and sighed. “I do it too guys, sorry this turned into a tangent, I promise I’m not trying to lecture. We all have a power to change things, that’s all I wanted to remind you.” Eddie rolled his chair around in lazy circles. “Talk to the kid with the remote control car. Invite him to soccer tryouts. Ask the stoners for help on your math homework. Actively change the status quo,” he spun once more before stopping and planting his feet determinedly. “I dare you.” Eddie paused. “And I get it. Not everyone can do that right away. But this next song is what inspires me to try a little bit every day. Hope you guys like it.” With that, Eddie lowered the headset mic and spun once more to his computer, selecting the song. The opening riff to ‘Rebel Rebel’ filled his bedroom. He smirked at his own joke.

He loved this. This was his life, and for the first time in a while, he really, really loved it. This was his music, his advice, his show. Here, he could be himself.

Admittedly, at first he had been unsure. His music taste wasn’t eclectic or cool or obscure or anything people really tended to enjoy in a radio program. He listened to a strange mix of classic rock, even classic-er rock, and ‘80s pop. He didn’t know much about music either. He could clumsily play a few notes on the piano, (the remnants of lessons his mother had scheduled in his heavily drowsed childhood that he resented and shuddered at the thought of), but that was it.

All of this, he had thought, would lead to a flop of a podcast, so he had let the idea sit on the backburner. That had, however, been before the first day of Junior year, when Eddie had returned from the summer after coming out the last day of Sophomore year.

It wasn’t that he had gotten pushed into a locker or been beat up behind the school like the movies might have suggested. Instead, people treated him like he was breakable, timid and quiet. He was just so done with the soft stares and even softer words, spoken to him as if people thought that if their straightness was even a smidge louder, he would shatter. What was worse, his new sense of retrospect had given him an almost superhuman ability to see those around him struggling.

He couldn't help but see that even within friend groups, stereotypes prevailed. Ditzy blondes and rude jocks filled his thoughts for months, and it was little things that caused him to throw caution (and his fears of his music taste being inadequate) to the wind. He would give his advice and try to make a difference, even if no one would listen. What came to surprise Eddie was that it actually worked. His podcasted radio show, Radio Rebel, had caught on and, though Eddie wasn’t sure how, a significantly large portion of his school (and other schools in the area? What the hell?) listened to him every Tuesday and Thursday night.

He danced around with silly kicks and shimmying shoulders to the music playing from his computer, another show successfully recorded and broadcasted live, and began to gather his homework, set out his clothes, and get ready for school the next morning.

Though he had started this whole show because of the bitter taste school had put in his mouth, it was heartwarming to hear people listen to his advice, or to at least try to. He felt (in the moments he was walking through the school, seeing his words rippling back and forth between friends old and new and hearing his clueless band of loser friends debate the illustrious Radio Rebel’s identity) like a spy in the old films he and Ben had watched over the summer when the rest of their friends had been busy. So yeah, he was excited for school, excited to see that from behind an unknown persona, he was making a difference, and excited to spend time with his friends, who he loved with everything he had.

This excitement for school, Eddie found once more hours later as he stood by his locker with Mike and Bill at his sides.

“Ruh-Radio Rebel was a-awesome last night,” Bill said, leaning against the locker and sighing.

“I know! Bowie’s my absolute favorite,” Mike was smiling now too, the curve of his lips around his words giving him the appearance of sunshine and of sunflowers. (Eddie, of course, knew that his best friend loved David Bowie-it was one of the reasons why the man’s music had become a regular part of Eddie’s rotation).

“I don’t know,” Eddie said, hiding a smirk, “Wasn’t their advice a bit... idealistic? ‘Change the status quo’ is harder than it sounds.” Eddie was constantly undercover to find what he could do in order to make Radio Rebel universal and unbiased and, most of all, true.

Mike gasped. Bill’s eyes bulged.

“What? Of cuh-course not!” Bill declared, puffing his chest out and looking personally affronted

“Maybe they aren’t realistic, but they’re inspirational. So what if it’s hard? Rebel’s doing a good thing.” Mike, instead of defending the school’s favorite radio DJ as he had done in the past, smiled down at Eddie with a spark lit up in the corner of his eye. His smile was playful, but it almost made Eddie wonder… no, Mike didn’t know. Of course he didn’t. Nobody would ever suspect the cool, relatable Radio Rebel to be the small Gay Kid who didn’t seem to fit anywhere. Most people actually thought Rebel was a girl, much to Eddie’s chagrin and pleasure. The voice modifier worked miracles. So no. Mike wasn’t acting any out of the ordinary. Everything was perfectly normal, and Eddie was projecting.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed distractedly. “Wish I could be more like them.”

Bill and Mike shared a look.

“W-well,” Bill said, kicking up fear within Eddie’s chest. He couldn’t know anything, none of them could.

“Bill and I have been talking,” Mike’s voice was soft as he laid a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, but instead of sounding condescending, his voice was comforting in an understanding way. “We think you should talk to your aunt.”

“My aunt?” Eddie questioned, looking from one of his best friends to the other.

“Eh-ever since you’ve been living with her, yuh-you’ve suh-seemed more confident.” Bill explained, looking a bit uncomfortable and glancing at Mike, who was the best out of all of them at giving advice without making a person feel small.

“We thought it might help you to get a job at Slam. The two of you could spend time there together.” Eddie couldn’t deny that every interaction he had with his aunt (and the owner of Slam FM Radio) Joyce made him feel just the slightest bit more solid, the slightest bit more real. But a job at Slam, one of the biggest radio stations in Seattle? He was already so busy with his own show.

(A small voice whispering, delicate, you’re my delicate boy, the slick slide of honey down his throat, something in the middle of it all, the recognizable bump of a pill in its sugar coating, bird bones enclosed in human skin-)

“I don’t know,” Eddie said instead, “It’s pretty hard to get a job there.”

“But yuh-you’re pretty talented.” Bill said, bumping his shoulder against Eddie’s with a reassuring smile that had made their whole group fall in love with him at one point in their lives.

“Just think about it,” Mike said, his forehead creasing. “Your aunt is really good for you.”

And she was. Eddie knew this, he wasn’t stupid. Ever since his aunt and her sons (one of whom he only saw occasionally due to his status of being away at college) had moved into town, they had taken him in. They had taken him from sticky half swallowed medicine and a drugged dredging summer that had seeped its way into Eddie’s pores like sap to a tree, (so slowly and so entirely that he could think of nothing else), and had given him a strength he’d never known was possible. The immense gratitude he felt, as well as his unsureness, well, that only created a thicker barrier from them. In this reverence there was hesitance, and in all hesitance there is fear.

“I’ll think it over,” Eddie said finally, looking around at the people who could care about him without making him feel breakable, letting a smile flit across his face, small and genuine as he reached up to bring his two towering friends down for a hug.

“How can you even think in a time like this?” Beverly’s voice broke through their touching moment as she and Ben walked up, completing the group of five best friends.

“We’re so close!” Ben said, and Eddie bit back an inappropriate joke. That wasn’t supposed to be him. He wasn’t funny, at least, he never had been to anybody else but himself and his cousins.

“Radio Rebel revealed the biggest clue about their identity yet!” Bev squealed, taking Eddie’s hand and spinning him in a circle.

“Stop it Beverly,” he said through stern laughter, “What do you mean?”

“In last night’s show! Did you even listen? Minute 0:27, Radio Rebel goes to our school!” Ben was positively glowing and it made Eddie feel warm all over to know his small mishap had caused that happiness. “They could be anyone all around us!”

“It could be,” Eddie put a hand to his chin and tilted his head, “Mr. Dennis. Or, no! I bet it’s Principle Marino!” Mike laughed at his sarcastic tone and slung his arm around his best friend.

“I-if you kuh-keep that up Ben’s gonna get an aneurysm,” Bill said, linking his arm with Ben’s unoccupied one.

“This is serious guys!” Ben huffed as they began to walk to Bev's locker, located farther down the hallway in a different clump. “What if I like, spill my drink on them at lunch or something? I don’t want the whole school to hate me,” he bit his lip as if he considered that to be a very real possibility.

“Benny, it’s literally impossible for anyone to hate you,” Bev said fiercely.

“You’re so sweet Ben, nobody'd do that to you.” Eddie really hoped Rebel didn’t come across as a person who’d rat someone out to the rest of the school for something so small.

“Ugh, wuh-would you look at that?” The friends were diverted from Ben’s plight as Bill pointed across the hallway where Greta Bowie was standing with her lackeys, chatting and batting her eyelashes in a way that just screamed fake as she kicked Josh Halkin’s book from where it had fallen from his hands, like the book was nothing and Josh was even less. If there was something Eddie absolutely could not stand, it was a sense of hierarchy. And, okay, as much as he preached open mindedness, he was loyal most of all, and Greta had been so horrible to each one of his friends in so many ways that Eddie found it inexcusable. This was just a sick reminder of it, and Eddie felt a fire high up in his chest that pushed him to walk in her direction at the same time Bev did.

Eddie could feel the other three following at a slower pace and looked over to Beverly, seeing the same fire on her face as he felt within himself.

“What’re you doing?” Ben called, causing Bev to turn around and Eddie to turn his head over his shoulder.

“What Radio Rebel told us to do,” she responded, taking Eddie’s arm and squeezing.

“Let’s see how far ‘idealistic’ will get us,” Eddie said, feeling less and less sure about himself by the ticking seconds, but soon he and Bev were standing right in front of Greta and her friends, who giggled meanly behind their hands as if they knew something Eddie and Bev didn’t.

“Well, well, well,” Greta said, her voice pinched as if she was talking through her nose, “What do we have here?” She raked her eyes up and down Eddie and Bev.

“We saw what you just did to Josh,” Bev said, and Eddie bit back a bit of fond annoyance at his ability to cut straight to the chase, no preamble necessary. “It was kinda rude, don’t you think?” Bev’s voice was sickeningly sweet, her eyes glinting dangerously.

“Oh, wanna fuck him too, do you Marsh? The other four aren’t enough for you?” Eddie gritted his teeth, breathless fury boiling at the base of his throat.

“Excuse me?” he bit out, causing the heads of everyone in the opposing groups to turn to him. He wiped his palms on his shorts. Why was he nervous now? He wasn’t anxious with his friends when he went to make a sassy remark, and he wasn’t when he was in his bedroom speaking into a microphone. “W-what did you just, what did you just say to her?” Greta looked a smallest bit surprised. Eddie doubted they’d spoken to one another since seventh grade. “You can’t just,” he whipped his head from side to side nervously, “Just say that! Jesus, what the hell is wrong with everyone at this school?”

"Hm," Greta hummed, tilting her head to the side. "This Rebel Rabble," Bev mumbled 'Radio Rebel' in correction under her breath as she looked at Eddie in gratefulness and awe, "Is making sickly nobodies think they can talk to us."

"Hey!" Mike stepped forward, his brave, broad chest high and his kind demeanor twisting into something angry. "Don't talk about by friends like that!" Eddie's teeth ground together once more as Ben and Bill stepped forward as well to defend him, and Bev reached out to grab his hand, because despite the fact that his friends never made him feel delicate, their protective nature sometimes made it hard for him to appear strong to others.

That didn't stop him from being grateful to all of them, but especially Mike in that moment, who, as the school's star quarterback, held the most respect among their friend group with the rest of the school and caused Greta to back off with a small 'whatever'.

"Let's go girls," she said, whipping around and flipping her hair like she was the mean girl in a silly movie as she walked away from the school's resident losers.

"Fuck off asshole," Eddie said as he glared daggers into Greta Keene's retreating form, though Greta was a bit too far away to be within earshot. Beverly snorted, and with a sad smile, Eddie realized that once more, his friends had come to his rescue. When, he wondered, would it be the other way around?

“What is up my dudes, this is Trashmouth Tozier of The 69ers,” Richie’s loud voice rang out as he focused his video camera (large and vintage from the late ‘80s because Richie was Edgy like that) on Stan, who was standing at his locker, getting his books out.

“That’s not our name,” Stan deadpanned as he turned around.

“Yeah, I know Mr. Lead Singer Big Shot, but I thought it might be time for an upgrade,” Richie said as he balanced the bulky camera and went to throw an arm over Stan’s shoulders.

“An upgrade in a lead guitarist, maybe,” Stan grumbled, causing Richie to turn the camera clumsily around to capture his face within the frame as he threw his head back in a bout of raucous laughter.

“Oh, Stan the Man gets off a good one!” Richie’s glasses dangled a bit crookedly from his face, and his hair was mused into wild curls, and these two things matched with the disgruntled and slightly windblown looking nature of his shirt (which was brightly patterned and buttoned wrong) gave him the distinct appearance of always looking breathless. Perhaps this was what gave him the feeling of always being on the edge, and maybe it was what made him feel as if he was at the precipice of a personality.

“Shut up Richie,” Stan mumbled, shrugging Richie’s arm from off of his shoulders.

“What’d we talk about, Staniel,” Richie said, wrapping his body lankily around the camera to show off a self satisfied grin, the glint in his eyes refracting in his coke bottle lenses. Stan only heaved out an exasperated sigh, his face taking on a sour pinch. “Go on, say it!”

“Hi, we’re Fight or Flight, and we’re gonna tear up prom,” Stan began and tapered off, wincing and shaking his head, as if wondering why he had become friends with Richie in the first place, “Just like Richie tore up your mom last night.” Richie let out large guffawing laughs.

“Would’ya look at that! Stanny’s really got it in him!” Stan put his head in his hands, and removed it a second later to turn to the camera.

“I lost my dignity for twenty dollars.” Richie laughed nonetheless.

“Twenty dollars well spent!” he hollered, and before Stan could release the cutting remark that sat on his tongue, Greta was strutting up to them.

“Hiya Richie,” she giggled, a fake little thing that was too high in pitch to sit right with Richie, “Hi Richie’s camera,” Stan cleared his throat, and Greta turned, her face flashing disdain before molding back up into positivity. “Uris.”

Richie rolled his eyes. Greta, he knew, was a certified bitch. He wasn’t stupid. He knew about how she bullied Stan in middle school. He knew she’d trashed the yearbook club’s classroom because the student editor had had the guts to tell her to shove it. He saw how she treated everyone in school, and Richie hated it. What made his blood boil nearly more than anything else, though, was the particular fixation she had on a specific band of students, a group of self proclaimed Losers. It wasn’t like Richie would ever admit it, but for the past year and a half, he’d been getting closer to the, again self proclaimed, Losers Club, and he liked to consider at least some of them to be his friends.

And then there was the case of Eddie Kaspbrak, but Richie tried his very hardest not to think about that. Greta had been a bitch to him for years upon years, though Richie didn’t know how anyone could do anything other than respect the guy.

“What do you want Greta?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Just to say hi,” she giggled, twisting her hair around her finger with something dangerous glinting in her eyes. “Come on girls.”

With that, she crooked her finger and had her friends trailing behind her. Richie shut off the camera.

“I don’t know what the fuck her problem is,” he muttered as he walked over to Stan. He looped his arm casually around Stan’s shoulders, because while Stan pulled away mockingly and made a face as if to tell Richie he was disgusted by him, Richie knew his best friend appreciated the contact every once in a while.

“Yeah, yeah, you have a massive friend crush on the Losers Club,” Stan said, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. Richie scoffed, affronted.

“They gave themselves an iconic name, they take no shit, and they’re just as obsessed with Radio Rebel as we are!” he gushed.

“As you are,” Stan muttered. Richie went on, ignoring him.

“And don’t act like you aren’t head over heels for Mike Hanlon,” Richie said, smacking his lips together to making over exaggerated kissing noises.

“Beep beep, Tozier.” Stan said as they walked to the pre-calc class they shared first period, his cheeks tinted pink. Richie laughed at the familiar phrase and nudged his best friend fondly. Stan had English with Mike Hanlon, the school quarterback and founder of the art club. The boy was one of the sweetest people in the school, and Stan tended to talk about him non-stop on days when he had English class.

The two boys continued on their way, joking with each other and feigning annoyance. They had been best friends for years, and while they got on each others' nerves often, they had each others’ backs.

As they passed by the losers, Richie’s eyes were drawn to the figure of Eddie Kaspbrak, whose arms were moving all around in a way that spoke of a passionate conversation. Richie smiled a bit, and tore his gaze away.

With lingering thoughts of Eddie in his head, he turned back to Stan, who was pulling up last night’s Radio Rebel broadcast. Stan offered his an earbud, which he readily took, searching for a distraction.

As the distinctive filtered voice of Rebel drifted into one ear and the precalculus classroom loomed at the end of the hall, Richie glanced over at his best friend, the comforting weight of normalcy settling down on him.

Just a normal day, Richie thought to himself, smiling at Rebel’s words.

Little did he know just how much could change in one day.

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diableriepervert · 6 years

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1-99

I didn't know if you meant 1 and 99 or 1 through 99 so I just did 1 through 991: 6 of the songs i listen to most are Drugs - Eden, Season 2 Episode 3 - Glass Animals, like real people do - hoizer, I know those eyes/This man is dead - count of monte christo, obsessed with you - the orion experience, strangers - halsey2: If I could meet anyone on this earth, it would be Keanu Reeves3. The book closest to me on page 23 line 17 says "that is really cute and not at all surprising"1: 6 of the songs i listen to most are Drugs - Eden, Toes - Glass Animals, like real people do - hoizer, I know those eyes/This man is dead - count of monte christo, obsessed with you - the orion experience, strangers - halsey2: If I could meet anyone on this earth, it would be Keanu Reeves3. The book closest to me on page 23 line 17 says "that is really cute and not at all surprising"4. The thing I think about most is what my life will be like when I live all alone and nobody remembers me5: My latest text message from someone else says "beef" and that's all6: I sleep in just my underwear and bralette 7: my strangest (best) talent is that where ever I go there's always a dog somewhere and I always spot it8: Girls… are amazing; Boys… are also amazing I just like girls a wee bit better because I'm biased and gay9: I've never had a poem or song written about me but I would die of happiness of someone did but that's unlikely so (shrug emoji)10: The last time you played the air guitar was two or three weeks ago11: I don't have any strange phobias12: Ive never stuck a foreign object up my nose13: I'm agnostic 14. If I were outside i would be (depending on the time of day) stargazing, watching the sun rise/set15. I prefer to be being the camera16. I don't have a favorite band, just a jumble of playlists that in no way relate to each other17. The last lie I told was telling someone that I would cut ties with certain toxic people in my life 18. I sorta believe in karma19. My url just sounded cool to me, if you want you can make up a background story about it for me20. Greatest weakness - wanting to help so many people no matter what they've done, greatest strength - not getting heated in arguments 21. Celebrity crush is Mike Faust 22. I almost went skinny dipping with a girl once but then the weather got to bad to do so23. I bottle my anger24. I have a rock collection and a shell collection that I've had since I was really little25. I prefer talking on the phone over video chat so that way no one's gotta sea my freaky face26. I am happy with the person I've become but still recognise I could be better27. A sound I hate is an alarm clock and I love the sound of falling rain28. My biggest what if is what if I had decided to confront more people about things they've done to me or if that would've just made things worse29. You better believe that I am a strong believer of ghosts and aliens30. Sticking out my right and left arm I touch air with both31. The air I'm breathing smells like smelly dog 32. The worst place I've ever been to is this little house my mom was rebuilding that we'd visit every summer in LaSalle 33. East coast because I live there34. Most attractive singer of opposite gender is Brendan Urie35. For me the meaning of life is what is the best story you can make before time runs up36. Art is something that can convey emotion without through sound/display/ect.37. I believe in luck38. The weather right now is slightly rainey39. The time for me rn is 6:38 AM40. I don't drive 41. The last book I read was Emergency Contact42. Oddly enough I love the smell of gasoline43. I have one nickname (sommie)44. The last film I saw was mamma Mia: here we go again45. The worst injury I've ever had was when I was bike riding with my mom when I was little, we were going down a very steep hill and I lost control and hit a rock a flipped, pulling myself up I felt allot of pain in my hands and knees but only when I saw blood covering my hands and running down my legs did I start screaming, the second worst would be when I tripped over my down feet and my bones in my hand just sorta disconnected from my arm a little46. I've never caught a butterfly because I know they are fragile and I would hate to hurt them47. I have a current obsession with little nightmares at the moment 48. I'm bisexual 49. I had a rumor go around after I hit my head on a metal bar and fell of the play castle in elementary school that I was faking it50. I'm not to sure I believe in magic, I'd like to though51. I do hold grudges 52. I'm an Aries 53. I try to save money but then I see a nice book and suddenly all my money is gone54. The last thing a purchased was a book, and before that it was a different book55. Love over lust most of the time56. I'm single 57. I've been in 3 relationships that no one counts because with the two guys I only dated then two days and the girl I only dated a week, it's just that I try to give people chances when I get asked out but because there's no history or chemistry there I always break it off58. I cannot touch my nose with my tongue 59. I was at the movies yesterday 60. There is a pink bowl on my desk that I made61. I'm not wearing socks rn62. I love jellyfish63. My secret weapon to get someone to like me is to pretend I'm allot more interesting than I actually am64. My best friend is with her boyfriend rn65. My top 5 blogs on Tumblr are ikimaru, smileknife, cryptedspoon, roseebottes, and softwhispersinthenight66. I am half white half native American 67. Last night at 12 AM I was listening to music and reading 68. Satans last name is either something really deep with an intese meaning or something sad meaning69. Yeah but I don't every really do it that often, maybe once every three-four months or so?70. I am not the kind of friend I would want to have add a friend but only because I despise myself71. "You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?" You bet your ass I'm saving that dog, job be damned72. "You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?" I tell no one but I make sure there last memories of me are pleasent, and I'm not just afraid, I'm terrified 73. I would rather have love over trust74. A song that always makes me happy is Francis forever 75. My last four phone digits are 465376. A great relationship is built off of communication 77. Win my heart by loving me selflessly, talk through things with me, home with me, and understand me78. Insanity can spark more creativity 79. The best decision I've ever made was pushing my mom to getting me a dog and getting to know the best good boy in the world who I love more than everyone80. I wear a show size of 9 1/2 - 10 1/2 81. I want on my tombstone that I was loved by friends and family and will be remembered by many82. My favorite word is flabbergasted 83. When I hear the word heart I think love84. Something I say a lot is "Okie dokie" and "sorry"85. The last song I listened to is Diablo - Simon Curtis 86. My favorite color is red87. My desktop picture is of Homra from K project 88. If I could press a button to make anyone in the world explode it would be the leader of the group of people who bullied me89. A question that I would be afraid to answer honestly is "who do you hate the most"90. "One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?" I freak out a little on the inside but when I see that they're not really doing anything I try and make conversation with them91. "You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?" My super power would be to make people burst into musical numbers like the demon from once more with feeling92. A half an hour past experience I'd like to relive is just talking with all my friends when we all used to be friends with each other93. If I could erase any horrible experience from my past it would be when i got stabbed with a pencil in elementary school because i still have the scar94. If I could sleep with any music celebrity out my choice it would be kesha, no reason other than I feel like she'd be good in bed and nice to me95. That free airplane ticket takes me to Portland so I can visit my brother96. I no longer have any relatives in jail97. I have not thrown up in a car98. I've never been on a plane 99. If the whole world were listening right now I'd give some dumb speech about how we're all dumb and we all need to get along

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