Unlucky Nine: A list of antis you may or may not have encountered in the vld fandom
Start Note: When I mention [Ship Name] Anti, it means a shipper of that ship who is also anti of another ship mentioned depending on the context as opposed to Anti-[Ship Name] which is someone who is an anti of the ship mentioned.
I. “Ship K/ance or Sha//ura or my ship instead” anti
These antis are just assholes. They insult other ships that contend to their own. These antis are prevalent in Sheith, Kallura and sometimes Shidge tags.
You get K/ance antis calling Sheith yaoi culture but then they totally change Keith and Lance’s character to fit the same trope. I was so pissed the other day because someone took Lance and just shoved Uke™ on him to fit an AU where he crushes on Keith.
You got K/ance & Sha//ura antis calling Kallura heteronormative but we aren’t the ones who’re forcing a mom troupe on her despite her not being really motherly. (Hunk is the mom friend but let us forget the fat character for aesthetics) You get them saying they love Allura but her story line, which focuses on her duty and willingness to sacrifice anything for it, is shoved for some romance. (Allura, although possibly having some romantic take to it, did not save Shiro because she had a fucking crush on him. She saved him because he needed saving and she viewed his role to Voltron as more important than hers.Stop acting like it is a canon romantic scene. No real scene in Voltron is really inherently romantic.)
You got K/ance shouting if Kallura happens, there won’t be any representation (m/m) but we still got Shiro, Lance and Hunk. Yes, we still got Shunk, Shance and Hance. if we go poly, there is Shunce. And if we dig deeper and you are willing, add Coran into the mix(I’m shoran trash undeniably).
You got them saying Shidge is wrong but the most official thing we got is actually the OFFICIAL Voltron site (whose content probably was made known to the entire crew and was advertised to the general public) saying ‘5 teens.’ But let us dwell on a half-baked video where a person throws numbers into some of the crew’s mouths. Let us not dwell on how Allura has no one bit of an age meter. For all we know, she could be a centuries old Alien. But sure why not, dwell on Shidge.
They put their ships on high pedestals to trample on other ships but you are probably a hateful bitch when you call them out on their shit.
II. “Shiro is spacedad” anti (bonus points for Allura as space mom)
These antis believe Shiro is a grandpa. They seem him as a father figure which would have been okay because let us admit that at some point the space dad joke were funny UNTIL PEOPLE TOOK THEM SERIOUSLY. Unlike the typical fan who laugh at the jab, these people take things to far and actually think it is canon. Shiro is actually a dad. “How dare you hc Shiro as a young and vulnerable character instead of my perfect space dad™?” All that crap.
But if you remember Prisoner Shiro, Kerberos Shiro, he looks pretty young. If you change back his hair before the frosty tips, remove the scar and the buff bara bod (he probably got from fighting in the ring), you wouldn’t find him looking wise beyond his years.
Coupled with Canon™ Space Mom Allura, it just pisses me off. Allura is enigmatic, a bit impulsive but her impulses are mostly practical, not afraid to jump into action, a bit bossy and domineering at times, yes, but deep down inside Allura is just a princess who wants her life back, who wants to live in peace with pretty things like her Altean flowers, who wants to go shopping for sparkly things, and maybe experiment with cute hairstyles.
This is why it kinda pisses me off. The idea was cute. Heck, I made an entire Sha//ura au once with my friend with the whole vld family thing but when they just pushed for it on discourse and acted like it was some holy canon grail, I was just really seven levels of salt.
III. “Pidge is like 4 months old” anti
These antis just infatalize Pidge. “Pidge is a kid. She can’t make romance decision. Pidge is practically a baby. How dare u” and all that shit. But it is totally fine for someone you see as a ‘kid’ to be flying an alien warship and engaging in an intergalactic war? Same goes for those who infantalize other Paladins. The logic is flawed enough but something else really pissed me off in this one.
My main concern with this is that the blatant forcefulness that Pidge is young because she has all the stereotypical looks of younger people. It undermines short girls who never grow up to be tall and developed upfront. Some people never get hit with puberty right. I was thirteen and 5′1 and now I’m nineteen and guess what? 5′1.5. Where is the justice puberty? You didn’t hit me up. You just poked me with a stick once and left.
And just the other day, guess what? I was again assumed to be like fourteen, especially since I was standing right next to my tree of a younger brother who is like sixteen. I probably would be rich right now if i had a dollar for every single person who thought I was fourteen. Pidge may look young by stereotypical standards, sure. But that doesn’t mean she is. She could just be a short 19 year old.
The concept of child-coded is bullshit. I mean look, I look, by stereotypical anti standard, like a fourteen year old therefore when tall people my age or older (who coincidentally also fit the stereotypical adult look standard) theoretically like me, we are perpetuating pedophilia. If we start dating, since they are adult-coded and I’m child-coded, it’s almost as if it is already pedophilia.
If anything, the infantalization of Pidge showed me that people, yes I repeat, people will continue to be misogynistic to women who do not fit the stereotype of what a woman should be. I mean, when did height and cupsize amount to a woman’s age and maturity as a person? It just says you have to fit this shitty standard to be something and to be recognized and that is fucking bullshit.
Oh well, to the antis, I guess I’ll be a minor forever. And to end this segment with another one of your fave defenses, “I”M MINOR-CODED AND CHILD-CODED SO YOU CAN’T ATTACK ME UWU”
IV. “Shiro’s trauma is an issue” anti
This is by far the one of the things I’ve seen. These people say that because Shiro experienced some traumatizing shit, he is not eligible for a relationship with any of the Paladins. It basically says that because Shiro has ptsd, he can’t date anyone who is potentially(meaning they see this character as young or immature and they aren’t actually as such) less mature™ or younger than he is. It basically says that since Shiro has ptsd, he must be toxic by default. It thrives upon the logic that anyone with mental health issues is gonna be toxic in relationships. (except Sha//ura cuz apparently Shiro who they call toxic in all other relationships isn’t toxic there)
V. “go fucking kill yourself” anti
No explanations needed. Assholes with no regard for human life. Suicide baiting, Gas lighting, you name it. Best thing to do is just block these. No arguing with them.
VI. “I’m a minor/survivor/minority group so I am allowed to be an asshole to anyone” anti
These are the people who go and attack others but when you call them out on their shit, they go like “but we are a minor/survivor/part of a minority.”
I’m only gonna say this once so listen well. (Who am I kidding? I’ve stressed this so much.) Being a minor/survivor/minority does not excuse you from being an asshole. You can experience terrible things and be like fourteen but you can still be an asshole. It does not give you a free pass to ruin other people’s lives. Get that inside your head. Someone can be depressed and still be an asshole. Someone can be autistic and still be an asshole. Someone can be gay and still be an asshole. Someone can be part of a general minority group and still be an asshole. Their status as a minor/minority/survivor DOES NOT make them an asshole but this specific person, who coincidentally fits in a certain group, is just an asshole. Their status is merely circumstantial and not the root of their being an asshole therefor it must not be used as an excuse for them to be one.
VII. “Shaladin is okay except for Shidge ft. Ship Sh/att instead” anti
I’m like WHY? These antis act like they are allies and they are good™ but they throw Shidge under the bus and vilify it to somehow make other shaladin ships appeal to the anti standards. You draw the line in Shidge? Well, I draw the line in vilifying ships to put yours on a pedestal. I would’ve understood if it was just basic ‘I don’t like Shidge’ but no, it has to rhyme with the anti logic of infantalizing her and all those things.
And don’t let me get started on Sh/att. Cuz it just shattered all the hope of me getting into this ship. This was good, old friends trope, I couldn’t save you trope. You name it. It has all the layers of angst that normally i would dive into. But the shippers use the same rhetoric shaladin antis use on Shidge. “It’s shidge but gay” Do you know how misogynistic you sound? And how dare you think I ship my ship because ‘aesthetics uwu’.
The idea of throwing Shidge out to appeal to the antis like some sacrificial lamb is just anti rhetoric itself. “It’s okay if one ships takes the fall for us.” It’s just pointing fingers at someone, in this case some ship. And honestly, that sucks.
VIII. “I’m gonna misuse social justice to call you all these names and not appreciate social justice when it is working against me” anti
These antis are those who try to shit on ships by appealing to twisted social justice but the moment actual social justice works against them, they try to ignore it and you just know, it was never a social issue to begin with.
A perfect example of this are the “Bi Lance for K/ance” antis. They shout and tell the world,”we got Bi Lance, we got a bi character in our ship. Whoop Whoop representation” but moment someone goes “oh nice, I ship Lance with Allura/Pidge/Nyma/Plaxum/any girl in existence.” They jump at you and call you cis het scum or whatever. But Lance is Bi right? Don’t Bi people like umm girls too???? Yes??? Do you know what a bi is?????
You see, they actually don’t care about bi representational at all unless it is used to put their ships up. And don’t get me started on the hate for ‘Bi Keith.’ I know the idea of Gay Keith is a fan fave but Bi Keith is a possibility. Like Bi Lance is everything to the universe but you are suddenly Zarkon if you as much think about Bi Keith. You love bi representation so much don’t you?
Oh and the antis who go like “we are protecting survivors and minors” just as they attack survivors and minors. Good job on the protecting.
Everything these antis do is just plain crap. When you untangle their twisted social justice and see the ulterior motives, you see their actions for what they are, personal vendettas against shippers, attacks so that whatever shitty ship they have gets to trample on other ships.
IX. “fiction is reality” anti
These are just antis who thrive on the idea that fictitious content is actually reality and therefore every dark-themed content is evil.
Tell me why I’m not marking Priests with hot iron stamps fresh from flames and killing them? I read Angels and Demons. Tell me why I’m not suddenly killing humans and eating them? I watched Hannibal. Tell me how I haven’t butchered the person I like? I watched School Days + Higurashi and I was like thirteen, a minor yes, at the time. Tell me how I’m not suddenly taking people in strange boats and making them go through hell, I was eight, a fucking kid, I watched Jigoku Shoujo (Hell Girl). They are unanswerable because fiction is in fact not reality.
The idea that fiction is reality is just the same as how way back four or so years ago, there was a backlash in gaming like with fighting and guns because it supposedly perpetuates violence and supposedly hypnotizes people. And you know how stupid that idea is? That is how stupid the idea that ‘fiction’ is reality’ in fandom is.
And if you actually do think fiction is reality, I suggest you seek medical help.
End Note: Antis may appeal to other forms of attacks or a mix of these but you guys stay strong and safe.
I’m not one to endeavor into online or long distance shopping. To aid those who don’t want to go too out of their way for their craft, here’s a list of places on the top of my head that can be reached in most local areas!
First- Michaels/ACMOORE/Craft Stores
Many witches may recommend craft stores, but believe me, they are NOT lying when they say they’re useful! I went to a local Michaels and was STUNNED to see that they had beautiful, ready-to-wear, polished crystals that were $4.99- not to mention they were all 50% off! They were even labeled, so I could know what crystals I bought. On top of that, they had raw crystal/geode fragments scattered around the store for various prices.
Also, most craft stores carry a multitude of storage objects used by witches. Jars, vials, containers, small storage cases- I see most of these things regularly! Craft stores are your best bet, though, as they carry tons of knick-knacks for many purposes.
Second- Grocery Stores/Markets
A lot of witchcraft that I’ve seen involves herbs, spices, and even food. Since you can obtain coupons with such ease, these markets can really be a great place to obtain small things needed to help with your craft! (I will admit, though, most coupons are for common foods and not spices/herbs. Perhaps I’m looking in the wrong places, who knows.)
These shops carry everything and anything, it seems. Storage containers, home decor, foods/spices, you name it. You also never seem to be exceptionally far from one. These places may also have regular sales. It’s easy to keep an eye out on what’s there so you can get more materials!
Fourth- Hole-In-The-Wall Shops
There are some little hole-in-the-wall shops that really seem to carry the most beautiful things. In fact, a local shop I know has an incredible amount of gems/crystals/incenses/oils for wonderful prices. You never know what you’ll find in little places like that.
Fifth- Home Decor Shops
I don’t know what about a good ol’ geode that makes a home look more comforting, but apparently, it’s enough that every home decor shop I can think of carries them. Sometimes, they also carry crystals (this is rare for me to see, though). They also have small storage units for good prices, and it’s not hard to find a good coupon online. But if you’re in need of a good geode, trust me- home decor shops will have them.
Lastly- Resale Shops/Thrift Shops
Resale shops, like Good Will, have so many strange and useful things. They’re all for SUCH CHEAP PRICES! I got a perfect crystal storage unit for perhaps no more than $3- three shelves, perfect condition. Perhaps never even used more than once, if at all. They also have home items, books, and little things like that. These shops are a DREAM for a budget witch.
Now, these are all from personal experience. There are likely tons of amazing places I can’t think of that have things that are useful to you. Always keep an eye out, and you’ll find what works! Happy witching, my lovelies!
telling the truth or able to be trusted and not likely to steal, cheat, or lie
Here is the thing.
Hopper knows he fucked up when it comes to the kid. The Wheeler boy may have taught her a bad habit or two (or twenty) but his lesson on lying was a good one. So, yeah, Hopper shouldn’t have lied to her. Or break his promise. His mistake, okay. He wasn’t exactly ready to jump back into fatherhood, not after Sarah, not after everything. Especially not with the kind of kid Eleven is. (One of a kind.)
Still, if he’s going to do this – properly, this time – he needs to do it well. Which involves some self-reflection, and. Let’s just say he’s not too great at those. Okay, he sucks at those. But he’s trying to improve and, yeah, that has to count for something.
So the leading her on and making promises he can’t keep?
Yeah, let’s just say he needs to cut those. Like, immediately.
She’s already getting restless from too much cabin fever, and he doesn’t want a Chicago, round two. Round one was already too painful as it is. Not to mention she still won’t talk about what happened. It drives him bonkers. Just a little. A fucking lot.
He sits her down after breakfast, smudges of chocolate around her mouth and hair in front of her eyes. He asked if she wanted to cut it, just a fringe, but she refused. Even started crying. He knows better than to address the issue again. Instead, he got her new clothes and – well, Joyce and that Nancy girl got her new clothes. Bless the women in his life. Thanks to them, now the girl has age-appropriate style-appropriate clothes, even if she still favours flannel and jeans. It suits her, more than the punk style.
it’s me ur fav gay, disabled power rangers stan that’s trying to live life while having one surgery a month (currently 4/4 on the surgery per month scale) i’ve literally spent this entire week recovering by watching power rangers and i zombie marathons.
Notes: Thank you @icedteainthebag for spending immense amounts of time working this through with me and for being brilliant. @gazeatscully and @h0ldthiscat for the hugely helpful early stage beta’ing that helped get it to this point.
And to all of you who’ve been so supportive and amazing.
The strident echo of
Stella’s boot heels grew humbler come late afternoon as they clicked down the
damp concrete sidewalks of London’s shopping districts. All morning long,
she’d walked arm-in-arm with Scully in a mood seemingly unscathed by pain and
weather best described as a permanent cold sweat. But now Scully could
feel Stella’s arm growing heavy, leaning a little rather than leading, and
beneath the buttery leather of Stella’s off-day civilian jacket was a tightly
clamped fist, the humps of four bracing fingers visibly knuckling the black
calfskin. Scully asked if she needed another painkiller.
“One last stop,” was
Stella’s indirect answer.
“Are you sure because -”
And then Scully saw it.
Secretive and svelte, a door tucked trenchlike down four wrought-iron
steps–a place that looked as likely to sell James Bond his spygear as it did
his girlfriends their racy underwear. Scully had been watching Stella
fight to feel like herself all day, and one look at this shop said it was meant
to be the pièce de résistance in that carefully drawn battle plan.
“Nevermind,” she said.
The first time Stella ever
suggested they go shopping together, they’d just arrived in Chicago, one of
their early girls’ weekends when they’d managed to make their paths cross
amidst conferences and con artists (psychics, was Mulder’s word for them).
A wicked midwestern wind had whipped past as they stepped out of
the taxi and Stella promptly announced that she hadn’t packed appropriately.
A bit of a rash declaration for someone who’s just arrived, Scully had
thought, a bit like someone who, say, wanted to go shopping. In an effort
to act fast, she’d offered to sacrifice up her own warm coat.
@beggingforfics or hannah or bby depending on the time of day gave me this prompt (well this picture) so here is the story of delia and harry.
i’m posting this to make her feel guilty. just a psa.
Delia happened upon him in the middle of the art shop, her basket heavy from paints that her roommate insisted she pick up because it was perfect for the project he was assigned. She hoped she was reading his handwriting correctly, grabbing the right numbers and the correct brushes, but he had a doctor’s handwriting and all of it merged together into a bunch of random words that made no sense to her.
"Don't look at me, I'm hideous" + Baekhyun Have a nice day/night! ❤
You had always been the one who wanted to go shopping with Baekhyun but this time he dragged you with him. You weren’t complaining or anything but he kept bringing clothes for you to try them on.
You actually liked Baekhyun’s choices but there was this one dress that you wouldn’t dare to wear.
Don’t get it wrong, the dress wasn’t ugly. It was the total opposite. It was the most beautiful clothing you’d ever seen in your life. You couldn’t keep your eyes off from it. The thing is, it was a little short and showed so much skin.
Of course Baekhyun, being the cheeky man he is, would bring something like that.
“C’mon babe, I’m sure that it would look dazzling on you. Just try it on for me. Please?”
“Are we gonna get some ice cream after this?”
“Whatever you want my lady.” he said, handing you the dress.
“Come on cupcake! I want to see it.” Baekhyun kept insisting.
You were so embarrassed to face him. You just didn’t feel comfortable in this dress. It showed like… a lot of skin.
“You’ve been in there for like 20 minutes (Y/N). If you’re not going to come out, I’m coming in.”
“Hah, try me.” you whispered.
“I heard that. I’m coming in.”
And with that Baekhyun was inside of the dressing room. His eyes widened when he saw you, licking his lips.
You tried to cover his eyes and pushed him out of the room.
“Don’t look at me, I’m hideous” you mumbled, looking down.
Baekhyun held one of your hands in his tightly, caressing your cheek with the other one.
“Hideous? Pfttt, something is seriously wrong with your eyes babe. Let me take a look at you… Perfect.”
You looked down again, blushing at his words.
“Do you really want to know why I wanted you to try on this dress?”
“I was sure that you would look hot in it and it would be easier to take it off. You know fucking in a dressing room is on my bucket list, so what do you say?”
“Are you serious right- Shit, Baekhyun.” you bit your lip when he started to kiss your neck, sucking and biting the skin.
Whew, I wrote this in a post-drunken stupor so I will definitely be going back to edit here and there. The story is progressing pretty slowly but I’m kinda just letting the chips fall where they may. Writing this helps me cope with City Hall being over *internally cries*
Your quality of sleep didn’t improve after meeting Pennywise the Dancing Clown, rather it regressed even further. You couldn’t get that voice out of your head. Those eyes. Those teeth. All of those teeth. It wasn’t fear that consumed you, but…purpose. For the first time in a very long time, you didn’t have all the answers. You couldn’t see what was coming. You were excited to wake up in the morning because you weren’t sure what the day would bring. It was like you had reverted back to being a child and honestly, it was refreshing. The only fact you were sure of was that this thing was not human. Human monsters were so predictable.
Your days were consumed with sifting through all the information on the history of Derry and the surrounding area that you could find online. You cross-referenced that with any mention of the dancing clown and found nothing. You spent most nights staring out of your bedroom window at the road. Naturally, your room sat directly in front of a storm drain. You swore every now and then you’d hear the faintest carnival music playing or a distant giggle. The bags you held under your eyes turned blue. Your foster mother, Diane, quickly noticed.
You observed one morning that she passed by your door three times with an empty laundry basket trying to work up the courage to come in and say something. She finally did.
Two quick knocks at your door forced you to put your book down and look up in mock surprise. “Yes?”
She shuffled unsure of herself and tucked her messy brown hair behind her ear anxiously. “Hey (Y/N), sweetie, can we talk?”
You slid over and patted the spot on the bed you had just occupied. “Of course. What’s up?”
She set her basket down and sat- very stiffly- next to you. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve had a hard last couple of weeks. Is there anything I can do to make it easier on you?” She asked hopefully.
Great, now your weird sewer clown obsession was affecting those around you. “No, you’ve been great. I’m so, so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. It’s just…been a hell of a year honestly. Plus…everyone here looks at me like I have a third eye in the middle of my forehead.”
She nodded her head knowingly, chuckling. “Yeah, people around here are kind of set in their ways. I remember how I felt when I first moved here. It was like at any time I’d step out my front door to see an angry mob with pitchforks.”
You shifted your weight awkwardly. “Angry villagers I can deal with. Just as long as nothing is living in the sewers.”
The change on Diane’s face was instantaneous. Her sweet face was suddenly contorted in an emotion that you couldn’t place. “Why would you say that, have the kids in the neighborhood been telling you stories?” She asked, almost frantically.
You shook your head and attempted a carefree smile. “N-no, I was just joking. Little towns like this have a certain reputation I guess. There’s always something in the water.”
“Well, there’s nothing in these waters but hazardous waste. Playing in the sewers can get you very, very sick. When I was a little younger than you some smaller kids used to go and play around in the wetlands where the sewers deposit out. Their immune systems didn’t stand a chance against the gray water. They must of went into shock so fast. By the time they found their bodies the animals had already gotten to them.” Blood had flooded directly to her head during her rant making her face beet red. Like Pennywise’s balloons.
You click your tongue in a faux-sad manner. “I guess I can’t go dance naked in the pale moonlight up and down the sewers like I used to.”
“No, better not. You’re a good girl, (Y/N). Stay away from the sewers. And give Derry a chance. It may grow on you.” She rubbed your shoulder maternally before standing up and moving towards the door.
“Yeah, like mold.” You mumbled.
“What was that?” She half-turned in the doorway with a smirk.
“So I’m told.” You corrected, a little louder.
“Uh-huh. I have some muffins downstairs if you want.”
“Thanks. I’ll be down in a sec.”
You stood up and walked over to your desk that was littered with college pamphlets and Derry High registration papers. Next month you would be 20 years old. Last year had been by far the worst year of your life and school had been the last thing on your mind. Sure, you probably could’ve been tested out of the 12th grade and applied for your GED, but Diane had agreed with your choice to enroll at Derry High. She thought that you ‘deserved to be a kid for one more year’.
If you were being honest, you were just so damned tired. You didn’t even want to think about college yet. You would start high school 2.0 in exactly three days. You resolved that in those three days you would learn as much about Derry’s past, about him, as you could. To do that you needed to gain the locals’ trust. They needed to see a friendly face. You bounced down the stairs and grabbed a blueberry muffin from the counter before calling out your departure for the library to Diane. It wasn’t a lie…you would eventually visit the library. But your first destination was the pharmacy.
You knew your hairstylist from back home would kill you if she could see you right now. You stood in front of a very limited row of boxed hair dye. Your natural color was fairly common so there wasn’t much deliberation to be had on that front. You grabbed two boxes and paid for your basket before stuffing them in your backpack. You stopped at the library, first barricading yourself in the ancient bathroom to dye your hair back to its natural color and then to pick up a few books to help start your research before making a beeline for your neighborhood.
You had an old baseball hat on to hide all of your newly dyed hair from Diane. You didn’t need the thousands of questions from her that you would inevitably receive anyway. Not right now. Your backpack was full of the other supplies you had picked up from the pharmacy, so your arms were wrapped tightly around the old texts. Before you had even made it to Neibolt Street you felt them on you. Glowing blue eyes.
Those blue eyes.
You looked up over your armload and scanned from side to side to try to locate them. He was standing on the sidewalk across the street holding up a red balloon, it suddenly occurred to you that maybe you were going crazy and he was actually a hallucination as you had first suspected. Surely someone would notice a giant ginger clown around town. He was staring at you from under his brows and smiling sinisterly. You stopped your shuffle, smiled politely in recognition, nodded your head towards your house and kept walking hoping he would understand your gesture. You swore you heard him audibly gasp. You wished you could have seen his reaction, but you continued trotting along…albeit a little more cautiously now. You looked back and noticed he was no longer behind you, so you hurried home and vaulted passed Diane who was asking you if you wanted to go school supply shopping.
“No ma'am, I was so excited that I picked up a few things from town after I left the library. Thank you though!” Was your breathless reply. Satisfied with your answer she left you alone. You stopped at your bedroom door and took a deep breath. Stepping inside delicately, you set your books and bag on the bed before surveying the room as nonchalantly as you possibly could.
“You can come out now.” You called out bravely. You sounded a lot braver than you felt.
No sooner than the words left your mouth did you become aware of a rather large presence standing behind you. You turned on your heel and sat stiffly on your comforter drinking in the sight of him. He was big. Very, very big. His giant mouth that was pulled into a toothy grin was basically spewing drool. His limbs were long and wrapped in cream colored satin which was kind of a weird paradox. He was this big, ‘scary’ thing wrapped in delicate satin. His hair, you noticed, was much wilder than at first glance. His overall appearance was…unsettling, but not frightening.
“Hiya.” You said, mirroring your first meeting.
Pennywise frowned, obviously disappointed. He shook his head frantically and suddenly lunged at you grabbing your neck, easily wrapping one massive hand around your throat with a snarl. You sat as still as a statue with both eyes trained on him. You two remained there for a while with eyes locked, the only sounds filling the room being your ragged breathing and his growls. You broke the silence. “Are you real?” Your voice feeble.
His attitude changed almost immediately, blue eyes flashing yellow. “Am I real? Hmmmm…..I don’t know, (Y/N). Do I feeeeeeel real?” He spat. His hand on your neck tightened abruptly cutting off your air supply. He used his free hand to pinch your cheek harshly and in the process accidentally knocked off your baseball hat. Your new hair color spilled out of the cap and onto your shoulders. His hand fell from around your throat forcing you to fall back onto your headboard. He stared at you in amazement and began to stroke your hair.
“Your hair….it’s not cotton candy anymore….” His face was full of wonder and his eyes thankfully shifted to blue once again.
“I changed it back to the color I was born with. The reason I did it is silly.” You smiled sheepishly. When you heard no reply you looked up and found his dark gaze. You were seduced by the implausibility of the situation and suddenly felt word vomit coming on. "I wanted to learn more about you and what you are. That’s why I have all of these old books on Derry. I was going to go and interview some locals, but the people around here didn’t really like my pink hair. It’s a lot easier to just conform.“ You laughed breathlessly even though nothing funny had been said.
If having a 6’ 4” demon clown in your bedroom was strange, his reply was fucking unusual. “You could have just asked me.” ‘You could have just asked me’ like it was the most obvious fucking thing you should have done.
You snorted, he growled. You put your hands up in apology before speaking. “This…is….an odd situation. I wasn’t sure if I was going crazy. Now I can’t tell if you are friend or foe.” You said warily.
He crouched down alongside your bed so that your face and his face were inches away. The scent of deep-fried foods and sweet summer air washed over you. “You’re close, but not quite.” A deep rumble passed through his chest, you weren’t sure if it was a growl or a purr.
“What?” You asked, eyes focused on the way he curled his lower lip out further than the top one.
His lips were so close to your ear that you shivered involuntarily. “Friend or food is the question.” He flashed his teeth.
You gasped. The room fell dangerously silent until you heard Diane’s approaching footsteps and panic set in. You turned to Pennywise to ask him to hide, but he was already gone.
Your bedroom door swung open and Diane popped her head in. “Hey, sorry - but are you okay? I thought I heard arguing. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
You nod your head trying to clear your senses. “Yeah, I was just going through some dialogue in this play I just read. I want to start a drama club this year. I guess I got too into it. Sorry.” You apologized sheepishly.
She looked relieved. “No, don’t worry about it. That sounds awesome! By the way, I love the hair.” Sensing you wanted privacy she bid you goodnight and shut the door.
You hopped up immediately and began searching the room for Pennywise. There weren’t very many places someone over 6’ could hide in the room so you checked the bathroom and under your bed before sighing disappointedly. Then you remembered you hadn’t unpacked the boxes in your closet yet so there was standing space. You opened the door to reveal not Pennywise, but another red balloon. You pulled it out of the dark closet into your room allowing daylight to wash over it. You would be lying if you said you weren’t kind of excited after reading the message hastily written on it.
Well, not exactly the eighteen-forties fan-frenzied response to classical composer Franz Liszt, but the Phoenix song of the same name was certainly causing a present day scene. Walls and bodies shook in the living room, people screeched along with the lyrics at the top of their lungs, and arms flailed as intoxication ruled the night. Up against a wall, a far less enthused Rey clutched onto a cup of something she’d never drink. Desperately scanning the dancefloor for an escape route, her face took on the appearance of Edvard Munch’s ‘The Scream’ as she took a brave step forward. Horror for Rey was feeling a sweaty wet arm on her sweaty wet arm. That meeting of moisture made her want to wring old Liszt’s dead ass, and Rey thought she’d reached the end of her wits until when a shoulder bumped into her spine.
A slurred stranger’s apology didn’t count for much when sugary punch seeped between Rey’s toes. She shuddered with revulsion, but Rey miraculously refrained from flicking the drunkard off. It wasn’t anybody else’s fault that she felt awkward and out of place, but once “soiled by rum punch” was added to the list of reasons why she hated the party, Rey decided to call it a night. It wasn’t her scene at all, she couldn’t stop thinking about her art project deadline anyway, and if anybody met the girl’s gaze they would have assumed that the only possible explanation for her attendance in the first place was likely trickery.
In truth, she’d been bribed - and not even with money. No, Rey had been bribed with pizza- and not even with good pizza.
Four, eighty-cent frozen pizzas in exchange for accompanying her friend Poe to the party so he wouldn’t be alone was the deal once considered too tempting to turn down. Sadly, this wasn’t the first time Rey had made a bad bargain on cheap pizza. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time that she’d been lured with pizza by Poe that month, but there was the bonus that night of getting to pat herself on the back for being a selfless best friend who cheaply fed herself too. It was basic broke ass college economics that led to Rey entering a three bedroom apartment party, but the minute they’d stepped into the chaos Poe had predictably swept away into a sea of loud greetings as Rey longed to bash her head on the rocks.
Summary: Dan was offered to join Willow Grove Academy, Britain’s most prestigious and renowned private school, on a full scholarship. All of the other students are rich, unlike Dan who comes from a modern lower class society. Things become complicated when he lies about his background to Phil Lester, the most popular and richest boy in the school.
Having two entire days to not think about school, save for homework, was very relieving for Dan. He could quietly stay shut in his room with his music and video games; he could be Dan Howell, a normal and certainly not rich teenage loner.
They were at bed, bath, and beyond. They were drunk on rosé, and they were at bed, bath, and beyond. Beyond, in fact, was Yuri’s current mood.
“Beka,” Yuri moaned miserably, burying his face into Otabek’s back and keeping his arms wrapped around his husband. He could breathe in the smell of his cologne, the one he’d bought him for their last anniversary. “I want to go home and go to sleep already.”