now i don’t think imdb is *saying* that bill hader killed harry anderson,,, but it sure feels like they’re *implying* it,,,,,

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
No title available
trying on a metaphor
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Product Placement
occasionally subtle

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
YOU ARE THE REASON
almost home

No title available
NASA

roma★
taylor price
RMH
Peter Solarz
i don't do bad sauce passes
d e v o n

seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Poland

seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye

seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany

seen from United States

seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United Kingdom
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seen from Indonesia

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seen from United States
@kenzia
now i don’t think imdb is *saying* that bill hader killed harry anderson,,, but it sure feels like they’re *implying* it,,,,,
shippy fic tropes: tag yourself
“Alright, here we go…”
Wyatt Oleff as Stanley Barber
I Am Not Okay With This (2020)
Things - Part 1
Richie saw things in the Deadlights. Things is such an oddly vague word, but even with a thesaurus in his lap Richie would still tell you he just saw things.
Horrible things, but just things. Like, Bev’s neck getting snapped or Mike getting split in half by a claw. Maybe Ben suffocating in dirt or Bill’s body getting ravaged. Richie might tell you that he saw Stan in those dead lights. He saw Stan with a smile on his face and white bandages around his stupid curly hair telling him that he felt like he was home with the Losers.
That hurt. Fuck, all of those things hurt. Richie’s entire fucking body hurt when it was pulled into those deadlights but he did nothing about it. What could he do? He had to lay there and watch his friends get torn apart over and over again for no fucking reason.
You know what was really fucking unbarable though? Watching Eddie get torn apart. With a claw through his stomach and blood fucking gushing out of his mouth.
Richard Tozier saw a shit ton of things in the deadlights, but he didn’t feel anything. Nothing touched him, poked him, bit him, or even clawed him. You can only understand his surprise when Richie felt something on his lips.
“Rich, Rich!” There was a faint sound of someone not breathing too well, and suddenly Richie’s eyes were wide open.
Edward Kaspbrak was there and very much alive grabbing onto Richie’s face and crying. He leaned forward, and for a second Richie thought that the other man was going to headbutt him, but there were his lips. His rough and chapped lips that tasted like shitty chinese food and man.
“I think I killed it!”
Richie flew up without a word and threw Eddie over into the floor with a bang. Eddie’s eyes went wide with fear just before a deafening crack echoed through the cave. Richie took his eyes off of Eddie’s to see a giant claw free itself from the cave floor.
“Rich,” Eddie gasped. “Richie oh my God.” The smaller man was shaking on the floor, hell, Richie knew he was probably shaking just as hard if not harder.
“We need to move. Now.”
And move both of them did. Richie grabbed Eddie’s small hand and pulled him to safety. Beverly and Ben were close by and wasted no time rushing over to Eddie and Richie. Beverly hugged Eddie tightly and pushed her hands against his abdomen. The man was too stunned to move or to do anything really but to be pulled into another hug.
Richie’s eyes met Bev’s, and the shock in his body wore off quickly. One second he was shaking in place and the next he was sinking into Bev’s arms.
“Honey, it’s okay. Rich, breathe,” Beverly whispered in his ear.
Richie woke up screaming. His hands flew across the bed feeling nothing but coldness and the cooling sweat that was pouring off of his body. His breath caught in his chest and some part of him made a swift joke about Eddie.
Eddie who was all the way across the country with his wife. Eddie who came home in one piece, in real life, but would always be torn halfway to hell in Richie’s dreams. He grappled for his phone missing the table and slamming his hand down on his bedside table.
He didn’t feel the pain as he tried once more and found Eddie’s number. The familiar voice call message rang through the speaker and Richie felt another sob rush through his body. It wasn’t hard to recognize a panic attack and at the moment hearing Eddie telling him to leave a message was driving his head insane.
“I had another one Eds. Sorry to call you so late. You should be asleep,” Richie choked.
It was obvious he had been crying, but it fought it the best he could. If he tried hard enough Richie could make the sobs rattle a laugh.
“I know you’re alive. I’m sorry.”
Richie tried to go back to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes all he could feel burned into his eyes was Eddie. Bloody lifeless Eddie.
Eddie didn’t reply. Days passed on and Richie left two more voicemails. Eddie had disappeared like a mirage and for one split second a week after Richie’s sobbing nightmare, the man had forgotten who Eddie Kaspbrak was.
It was just for a second, but that one moment sent Richie rattling and crying. He had been making tea in the kitchen when a cough started at his throat. He was having trouble breathing and his mind went to a kid.
It was a kid that he knew who wasn’t too good at breathing.
He had forgotten. He was going to forget more if Eddie didn’t reply.
“Beverly, it’s Eddie. He’s not responding,” Richie gasped into the phone the second the dial tone had stopped.
“Hey kiddo.”
“When’s the last time you heard from Eddie?” Richie restated.
There was a loud silence that rang between the two of them. There was no comfort in Bev who was halfway across the country probably sitting in Ben’s lap.
“Eddie,” Beverly finally sighed.
“You forgot who he was.”
“For a second I think I did.
“Fuck. He’s not responding to anything Bevvy.” Richie’s knees buckled below him.
He pushed his back up against the stainless steel fridge and let his socked feet slide on cold linoleum.
“Relax Rich.”
“I can’t. It’s Eddie, Bev!”
Hi, do you guys know any fics with nonbinary losers? (Preferably Stan but any of them is good)
Some Nonbinary Stan the Man coming right up!
At Least Kevin Loves Me || by draig_aswec || E || Chapters : 14/? || Last Updated: November 2019
Warnings: Possible Sexting in the future
Trashmouth: only Kevin loves me.
Little Bird: who is Kevin
Bitchverly: why u jealous of kevin
Trashmouth: the FBI guy in my phone, I named him Kevin
Big Bill: yeah the guy who sees all your hentia and creeper photos of your future husbands loves you
Or a losers club group chat fic no one wanted
we fell in love in october || by wheezykaspbraks || T
Warnings: Underage Drinking
“I’m going to kiss you.” Eddie says.
He’s spent years thinking about kissing him, slow and sweet; rough and desperate; angry and a little violent. He’s fallen asleep and woken up thinking about kissing him, and spent every hour in between thinking about kissing him. And somehow, in all of that time, he never considered that Richie had never been kissed before.
Eddie wants more than anything to be Richie Tozier’s first kiss.
be brave || by @val-creative || M
Warnings: Implied/Referenced Homophobia
Richie’s trauma about being attacked as a gay kid resurfaces as an adult, leaving Stanley to console him. Stanley has something to say about his own identity as an adult.
keep holding my hand (so we don’t get separated) || by lumaxies || G
The ancient story of the four-armed, four-legged, two-headed person, Stanley would like to clarify, is not true. They don’t know exactly where the story got all twisted up and freakishly incorrect, but it did, which really is more of an annoyance than an inconvenience, but still manages to grind their gears. Of course, the idea of soulmates is true, and the notion of soulmates being split is also true, though the real story is much less interesting, and not very many people know it. Stan is one of the lucky ones who do.
Me litterally three days ago: ugh voltron is trending again? People need to move on
Me, a clown, today: IT 2017/2019 IS TRENDING AS IT RIGHTFULLY SHOULD BE
Bank robber: alright hands in the air. nobody try anything funny
Eddie: *whispering* please don't do it I'm begging you
Richie, immediately and as loud as possible: kinda smells like updog in here
best byeler fics lets go
Keep reading
(listen with headphones) man what have you people done to me. two demos in less than a week?
lyrics this time are from @hoziertozier, but i messed with them (again) and added a shitty chorus. image from google
this is another song the band plays completely acoustic, sitting in a circle and whapping their thighs (except bev who’s sitting on a cajón). the audience comes in for the choruses and goes wild at the parts i whisper-screamed. anyway stream crush by @sharkpuppyofficial
(if for some godawful reason you want to download these you can find them here alongside the lyric PDFs)
IT Chapter 2 Tik Tok Comp.
Stranger Things Day Speedpaint || Mike Wheeler
IT’S STRANGER THINGS DAY TODAY!!
I’m a big doof and forgot this morning thus not wearing ANY of my Stranger Things merch, but I hope this makes up for my mistake.
Mike is my favorite character (no, not because it’s Finn lol). I just find him relatable, and I connect more with his flaws. That’s some good shit right there let me tell you!!
Hope you enjoy!!
"Eddie Kaspbrak more like Eddie Throwthatassback" - Richie Tozier's last words
reblog if it's okay to tag you in posts
you up to write hanbrough insecure stutter bill angst? :^] i would be forever grateful...
OF COURSE
Bill watched his reflection closely. He was like a fucking fish with how much his mouth opened and closed. All this work to get over the stutter and it had to come rushing back the second he saw that clown again.
The clown that Bill knew for certain was dead. He made sure to remind himself every day.
He watched the man in the mirror move to grab his phone and suddenly he was typing in a number that was all too familiar.
“Hey man, what’s up?”
“Mike.” Bill didn’t allow himself to say anymore, but he could feel Mike’s nervous energy through the phone.
“Is everything okay?
“I’m st-st-standing here Mike. Wondering why I cuh-cuh-cuh-can’t speak,” Bill spit, stumbling over his words like a child.
A little boy who could hardly speak. A sob scratched at Bill’s throat.
“Bill,” Mike breathed as if he were the one who couldn’t fucking breathe.
That’s when Bill lost it.
When the Losers were in the prime of their lives, at age 16, there wasn’t much that could bring them down. Richie came out, Beverly smoked pot, Ben joined the track team, Eddie sucked dick, Mike joined Derry High, Stanley Uris became an Eagle Scout, and Bill Denbrough was going to ask out Kendra Davids. The Kendra Davids.
“He’s a mad man!” Richie screamed. “Out of his damn mind!”
“Ruh-ruh-Richie, you should sh-sh-shut the fuck up.” Bill fixed his hair one last time watching the Losers in the mirror.
They were standing behind him lined up like little men in his army. Beverly had her arms wrapped around Ben and Richie while Eddie’s head rested on Richie’s free shoulder. Stan looked over Bill skeptically while Mike watched on with amusement.
“We’re taking up the entire bathroom,” Ben muttered.
“Okay, th-that’s it. Everyone out. Go buh-buh-back to the table.” A collection of groans followed, but one by one everyone disappeared out of the reflection.
Everyone except Mike.
“Mikey, guh-guh-go,” Bill whispered making shooing motions with his hands.
Mike laughed but didn’t move towards the door. He pushed into Bill’s space so they could fit side by side in the mirror.
“You don’t have to do this.” Mike looked down at the smaller boy.
“I want to. Sh-sh-she’s going to say yes.”
“Who would say no?”
With that Mike was gone.
A bell rang out somewhere distant and Bill felt his hands get hot. Lunch was over this, was it? He pushed himself out of the bathroom quickly going over the plan in his mind.
1. He was going to go to his locker
2. Kendra was going to be getting her books for 3rd hour
3. He was going to ask her out
4. She was going to say yes
(Bonus: Loser celebration in the clubhouse)
He walked fast to his locker hoping she’d still be there, and there she was. Bill threw open his locker and grabbed a book but waited to close his until she closed hers.
“Kendra?” Bill watched her turn slowly.
She smiled softly her green eyes glowing softly in the shitty hallways lights. She didn’t say anything but tilted her head as if she were a puppy. It was adorable.
“Would yuh-yuh-yuh-yuh- Fuck!” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Would you like tuh-to go on a date with muh-muh-muh-me?” She looked at him.
“Um, I don’t think so.” She turned her head before pointing one finger behind her shoulder. “I gotta get to class.”
Bill was left alone.
“It’s not your stutter, I promise,” Mike told him later on.
“How duh-duh-do you know!”
“She must be crazy to say no to you.”
“Stop saying that.”
Mike had kissed him. Soft and gentle right on the porch of Bill’s house with his hand all twisted up in his hair. The flickering porch light gave them hardly any lighting capturing and swallowing up their hunger in the darkness of Derry night.
“She’s fucking crazy.”
----------
“When Kendra Duh-Duh-Davids said no to me you kissed muh-me.” Bill was a crying fool standing in his bathroom in his boxers.
“I did,” Mike laughed and Bill felt his heart stutter.
“Mikey, you kissed me.” Bill sobbed again dropping to sit on the toilet.
Mike wasn’t laughing anymore, but he wasn’t exactly breathing either. They were halfway across the country talking about a kiss that happened almost three decades ago.
“Bill, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t stop st-st-stuttering, and I muh-miss you.” Bill tried to relax but one thought of Mike sitting somewhere alone and worried made him sick.
“I miss you too. Bill, can you breathe for a second?” They took some deep breaths together. “There you go. Try thinking about what you want to say. Take your time.”
“Mike, go out with me.”
“I’d be crazy if I said no.”
I’ll Write Whatever You Want
Y’all I’m so bored give me shit to write. I’m selling my soul
Send me an ask (you don’t have to obviously) of anything you want to be written. I will deadass write any idea you have of any ship.
Bitch anything.
I wanna get ready for Nanowrimo