Y’all… I just sat the fuck down for like the past 3 hours researching Stephen King’s multiverse– and trying to understand it…
From what I can gather, there most likely can be an infinite number of Pennywise’s as well as concepts of “him”- (because there’s something called the Keystone Earth- and it’s basically all possibilities of the real world- as well as other parallel universes like the real world– INCLUDING the real world itself) exist.
Meaning 1990 penny, 2017 penny… and everyone’s clowns (as well as variations of them) can exist…
Title: Handsome Headache Character: Steve Harrington A/n: Hi, I’m not dead. This isn’t that great because I still haven’t watched season two but i miss writing for ST.
Your brows scrunched together as you were abruptly pulled out of your sleep by the loud clap of thunder rolling about outside. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, squinting ever so at the newfound light that surrounded you until you gathered were you were. Your chin was proped up in your hand, and you realized you must have fallen asleep while drawing.
Pencils and watercolor tubes were littered around your bed, and your drawing pad was still placed carefully on your lap.
You didn’t realize how tired you were until a deep yawn emitted from you and the gentle patter of the harsh rain seemed to lull you back into sleep.
Or so you would’ve, had you not heard the district rhythmic tapping on your window. You turned towards the sound, and all but screamed when you saw a hooded figure peering into your room.
You were fully prepared to start gathering various heavy objects to chuck at the intruder, when the person lifted their hood and you saw the alarmed look that was Steve Harrington.
The familiar face did nothing to soothe your pounding heartrate, but let out a long sigh and pushed back your hair with your hands before walking over to the window to unlatch it.
Steve watched your hands as they pushed up the window and aggressively yanked him inside, grateful for the heated air that hit his chilly skin.
You flinched slightly as the rain instantly began to infiltrate your face and room, quickly slamming the window shut when your friend was tucked away inside.
You slowly turned back to him and landed a painful punch to his arm.
“Jesus!” Steve cried, hand instantly coming up to cradle the pulsing pain in his arm. “What the hell was that!”
“Don’t give me that!” You glared, even though a small smirk was slowly forming in your face. “What kind of reaction were you expecting when you just decided to stroll up to my bedroom window in the middle of the night dressed like some axe murderer!”
Steve looked down at his attire and realized that it might have looked a bit terrifying, considering you were asleep when he first saw you.
“Yeah, that’s fair,” He groaned, letting out a puff of air as his arm began to throb. “Where the hell did you learn to hit like that?”
You shook your head and laughed. “That’s for me to know and you to hopefully never be on the end of again.”
“I’ll say.” Steve commented, going to sit down on your bed before your hands rushed out to stop him.
“Don’t do that! You’re soaked!” You scolded, trying not to laugh at the way his usually poofy hair clung to his head. “What are you even doing here?” You quickly began to pull the coat away from his body, not wanting the water to seep into his clothes and make him get sick.
Steve took full notice to this, but just willingly complied to make your task easier.
You sighed, coming to the realization that the rain had soaked through his coat and into his clothes, leaving them damp and the skin cool
in their wake.
“Well, that’s not going to do, is it.” You said to yourself, lifting up the coat with a frown.
“What isn’t it?” He asked, not knowing how to read the expression on your face.
You tossed it onto a chair, turning back to him. “You’re lucky I love you, Steve Harrington.”
A dorky grin broke out on his face as he leaned closer to you, wrapping his arms around you. “Really? Do you mean that?” He cooed into your ear.
You elbowed him gently once you remembered his clothes were wet. “No, but stay here till I find something for to change into. My brother will hardly notice a shirt go missing,” You said, turning back to him before leaving the room. “Stay put, don’t set anything on fire.”
You heard Steve’s boisterous chuckle as you stepped into the hallway.
It didn’t take long for you to return with a stack of clothes swaddled together, but when you came back into the room, Steve was just about to poke around in your drawing book.
You quickly walked up to him, shoving the clothes into his chest and snatching the book from his grasp in one, graceful movement. “Who said you could snoop around my things?”
Steve’s eyes lit up at the newfound challenge, and he slowly walked towards you. “Why so secretive? What is it?”
“None of your business, that’s what it is.” You said, bringing it close to your chest.
Steve was a lot stronger than a lot of people might initially think when looking at him, in an instant, his arms were around your waist and he hoisted you into the air.
“Steve!” You shouted, letting the sketchbook fall out of your grasp and onto the ground in your shock.
“Aha!” He shouted triumphantly, carefully dropping you on your bed before diving after it.
What happened next was a series of you kicking the book farther away from him and Steve doing everything in his power to steal it back from you.
This went on until you suddenly dropped onto your side, panting heavily as you shot a glare into his direction. “You are such a pain in the ass.” You mumbled once he finally had it in his hands.
“Aw come on, don’t be like that just because I won.” He cooed, though his face dropped slightly when you simply turned away from him, refusing to give anymore of your attention.
And because Steve is an absolute child, this didn’t sit well with him.
“(Y/n)! Don’t be mad at me!” He cried as he draped himself across you.
You weren’t that mad, but it was nice to mess with him, so you remained ever silent.
Steve looked down at your book and meekly reached over your shoulder to place it in your eyesight, then he pressed a short kiss into the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m sorry.”
That was it, you broke into a fit of deep chuckles before running one hand through his stil wet hair. “Get over here.”
Steve carefully crawled over and brought you closer to him the instant his back hit your carpet.
“It’s just a stupid sketchbook.” You explained, flipping back the front of the cover and holding it up in the air so you could both gaze upon the pages.
And so, you two spent some time looking over what pages you had finished, giving brief descriptions at what you were looking at and when you had made it.
Steve’s head was tilted onto yours, and his arms still held you tightly as the rain continued to pour outside.
“Why didn’t you want me to see before? These are really good.” He said quietly, not wanting to disrupt the peace.
“I dunno, I always feel weird about it.”
“Well, I think they’re great.”
You looked up at him and smiled tenderly. “Thanks, Steve.”
He returned the smile, and leant down to kiss your forehead, letting his lips linger on your warm skin before finally drawing you closer still, and closing his eyes.
The sudden fatigue from you earlier fight and the rhythmic rain pattering quickly lulled you both into a deep sleep for the night.
how on earth do other trans folk just come out to their families and get on hormones and go forward with their lives like how do you overcome being consistently terrified of the emotional fallout that is without a doubt going to occur the moment you declare that you can no longer suppress your real self
Am I to believe he sacrificed over 50 of his men, led them into a massacre deliberately, just to entice us to chase him? You don’t know that man, Major, but I do. He’s quite capable of what you suggest and more.
Had a dream last night that Hullum and Burnie were getting concerned for all their employees working excess hours (especially during crunch). So they hired me to haunt Stage 5 after hours so than no body would want to stay once it got dark and they would be forced to go home and rest.
Me: Working from home today… gonna get so much done! Brain: -whispers- Draw… Me: I can’t man, gotta get work done. Brain:
Draw Cullen… Me: Seriously, no. I’ll be behind on Monday. Brain:
Draw Cullen blushing… Me: You’re not listening. Besides, I’ve drawn that a million times. Brain:
Not today you haven’t…. Me: Fair point.