#(so woo trauma for pink loser!!!)

[pinkhairandpokemon]

[OFFSCREEN POST]

———

Blake sighed heavily as they ducked into the dojo’s bathroom, preparing to get changed and head back to the gala. They moved rather hurriedly, wanting to leave as soon as possible before they accidentally caused anymore problems.

First, though, they moved over to the sink, cranking the faucet. They let some water pool in their in the palm of their hands, before leaning down to splash it in their face. A sigh of relief escaped them as the icy liquid helped cool off their uncomfortably warm skin.

They then reached for a towel off to the side, running it over their face a few times before setting it back on the counter. Then, they propped their arms on the edge of the sink, groaning tiredly as they ran a hand over their face.

The failure of a training session from a few hours earlier was still fresh in their mind. What was supposed to be a way for them to let out some pent up frustration turned into a disaster after they threw a sparring partner into the dojo wall. The guy was relatively unharmed, but the sight of Blake picking him up effortlessly and slamming him like a rag doll undoubtedly left everyone shaken.

And then afterwards, where Honey moved them to a private training area so they could blow off some steam without breaking anyone’s bones or anything- THAT only resulted in a training dummy getting ripped in half in a fit of sudden, unprompted rage.

“What the fuck is going on with me…?” They cursed under their breath, bringing their eyes up to look at their reflection in the mirror before them. Their skin glistened with sweat, their pink hair was slightly disheveled. There was the slightest hint of dark bags under their eyes. They just looked tired. Exhausted from everything the week had put them through.

Why did they feel so drained? They were back home in Galar, having fun at a party where the only expectation was for them to kick back, relax, and mingle with other League members.

The ordeal with Oleana definitely left them in a sour mood. But it was just a fake out in the end- nothing bad actually happened. And yet, Blake hadn’t been able to catch a wink of sleep since.

It was eating at them, haunting them from the inside- the looming dread of oncoming danger that wasn’t even there. With every distraction, it just fizzled in the back of their mind, constantly reminding Blake of its presence.

It had always been there. It just hadn’t been as noticeable lately. The trip to Paldea, all the time they’d gotten to spend with their friends- it had covered the dreadful feeling up with a blanket of security. False security. The Macro Cosmos scare just felt like the world giving them a harsh reminder that they were never truly safe.

And it drove Blake mad. Never knowing when or where chaos was going to stir up next. The looming fear that one moment everything would be fine, and then the next there’d be some maniac threatening to begin yet another doomsday that would kill everything they ever loved or held dear.

Just thinking about it right now drove Blake up the wall. Their grip on the counter tightened, their glare at their reflection narrowing. Why? Why them? Why couldn’t they just be allowed to fucking rest already?

The simmering anger made them want to break something. Someone. Whoever out there that planned on interrupting their desperate attempt at a peaceful life once again. They didn’t know who that person was going to be, or if it would even come to pass, but if there was someone like that out there in the world- even remotely threatening to disrupt their life in the smallest way, just the thought made Blake want to find them and get rid of them before they could pull any sort of shit.

But they couldn’t, there was no way of knowing when or if something was going to happen again.

It filled them with an insatiable rage.

Their knuckles were white against the counter now, and they grit their teeth, feeling that fury bubbling up inside them, getting ready to explode, one way or another. It burned and crackled like a growing wildfire spreading through their body.

They felt it building, and building, and building, searing underneath their skin-

CRACK!

Their eyes shot open, and they looked down.

Where they’d been gripping the counter, there were now large, visible cracks in the marble surface. Their hands were trembling violently, aching a little from how hard they’d been squeezing.

They pulled their hands away slowly, staring at the damage they’d caused.

Eventually, their gaze flicked back up to their reflection.

What they saw made them stumble back into the wall.

Traveling up the sides of their face were deep, burning vein-like patterns- radiating with a pulsing, supernatural blood-red glow. Their pupils were illuminated by the same color light.

A shaky, unsettled exhale escapes their lips as they reach a hand up to their cheek, tracing over the glowing red lines.

“No…” they whisper out, glowing red eyes starting to widen in horror. “No no no-!”

In a panicked motion, they frantically tugged the glove on their right hand off- revealing a pale, Y-shaped scar stretching across the palm of their hand.

Blake seemed to wait with baited breath for a moment, staring at the scar intensely, waiting for any kind of sensation to travel through it- a burning, a tingling-

-but there’s nothing. And a relieved exhale escapes them once they realize this.

Blake’s eyes trail back up to the mirror- back to their reflection. The ominous red glow on their face still lingers, giving them a haunting and threatening appearance.

“Why…?” they murmur, running their fingers over the red lines once more. “…How? Yveltal’s curse, it… it was broken… so how is this…”

All is silent as they stare on in pure bewilderment, completely at a loss of how to explain any of this.

Slowly, their gaze moves, fixating on a potted plant sitting in the corner of the room. Its thin, green stalk stands tall, and its giant leaves are a vibrant, deep green- showing how healthy and alive it is…

Something bubbles inside Blake. A curiosity. Slowly, they step towards the plant, carefully sliding their scarred hand underneath one of the large leaves. They’re quiet, anticipating something to happen, for the plant to react in some way.

Nothing happens.

Their brows furrow, and they feel something… stir inside them.

Something that feels like… a brand new sense unlocking.

They can feel the plant’s life force. No- they can almost see it- a green, wispy aura radiating around its form.

Seeing this, that strange sense deep inside them grows… hungry.

They gently grip the leaf with their thumb, brows knitting in concentration. The red lines on their face glow brighter, and begin to stretch further down Blake’s skin- down their neck, over their shoulder, crackling along their right arm, all the way down to their hand.

The scar begins to glow. Its shape fills with the same, eerie red energy.

That energy stretches to the tips of Blake’s fingers. The green, lively aura they see around the plant begins to flicker and waver- like it’s weakening. Blake can feel the life force slowly but surely draining from it, getting sapped into their own being.

The plant’s stem slowly morphs into a sickly yellow. Brown rot begins to crawl up each of its leaves. Before long, the plant starts to shrivel, tilting downwards.

The leaves finally start to crumble away, and soon, the once healthy houseplant is nothing but a withered, dead, dried up stalk.

Blake pulls their hand away, feeling… a renewed energy inside them. Like their exhaustion and fatigue from these last few days was drained away. They felt… refreshed. Energized. Like you would after waking up from a nice nap.

However, Blake’s expression tells a different story- it slowly twists into horror at what they’d just done.

Their gaze lingers on the dead plant for a long few seconds, before flicking back to their hand. Now satisfied, the red glow begins to retreat from their scar.

They hold their wrist in their other palm, thumb tracing lightly over the scar.

“This… hasn’t happened since the curse,” they think out loud, the gears beginning to turn rapidly in their head. “But… but this time I… felt in control of it…”

…Their whole body started to tremble. Their legs felt weak, as the implications of all this dawned on them.

Falling to their knees, their breath becomes heavy and ragged as they try- and fail- to stay calm.

They were feeling a million things all at once- the most prominent ones being confusion and terror.

It felt like a monster from their past had come back to haunt them.

———

[lemon-drop-writings]

Gibbous (Reddie/Stenbrough, Trans!Richie x Eddie/Stan x Bill) 1/??

Summary: The Losers Club is taking a long weekend away from their hometown of Derry and heading out into the forest to get some fresh air. Richie hopes he can put his past behind him and finally begin to start a future, hopefully involving Eddie. Bill is ready to be part of something more than himself; whether it be something as small as a relationship with a certain other member of the Losers Club, he doesn’t know.

Warnings: occasional language, transphobia, misgendering, dead name use, drinking, yelling, emotional/verbal abuse, angst(??)

Word Count: 1387

A/N: Aaaaaah, thank you so much to everyone who liked and reblogged the last fic! I really hope everyone likes this one just as much. The bits in italics are flashbacks to Richie dealing with his parents, hence the warnings mentioned above. I’ll be doing my best to get this updated somewhat regularly? I have a pretty busy weekend, but after that I think it levels out! Woo! If you have any questions about this or anything else, feel free to ask! Alright, enough from me. Enjoy the first chapter of Gibbous!

“Rochelle, we will not stand for this. Wentworth, talk some sense into her, she’s not a boy.”

“Rochelle, sweetie. You’re a girl. You were born a girl, and you’ll always be a girl, do you hear me?”

“I can’t believe you! I tell you something this sensitive and you react like this?! I know it’s different, but fucking shit, at least let tell me you still love me!”

“Sweetie, we do. But this? Wanting to be a boy? That’s not normal. It’s not right!”

“Why couldn’t I have a normal daughter? I can’t deal with this!”

“Mom… Dad… what do you-?”

“Sweetie, we can’t, in all good consciousness, live with you in this house. We… Rochelle, maybe you could find somewhere else to stay.”

________________________________________________________________

“R-Richie, are you almost ready?” Bill looked up from his duffel bag.

“Yeah, I need a sleeping bag though, do you have an extra?” Richie zipped up his backpack, putting it next to the guitar case covered in stickers.

“We only have this and the one from when I was little, I’m sorry, I lent the others to Ben and Mike,” Bill made a face, indicating an apology. His stutter had gotten better over the years to the point where it would only sneak into his sentences on a rare occasion.

“…Guess I’ll have to scavenge around at the hell hole,” Richie sighed and headed towards the door of Bill and his shared room.

“Richie…” Bill chewed his lip nervously.

“Hm?”

“……Be careful and stay safe.”

Richie took a breath and nodded, heading down the stairs, out the door, and down the street to the house that had fallen apart ever since that night.

________________________________________________________________

“Don’t touch me! Don’t come near me, you bastard,” Maggie slurred.

“Maggie, put the bottle down. One of us is going to end up hurt.”

Richie watched from the doorway as his very intoxicated mother stumbled around the kitchen, glaring at his father. Neither of them noticed his presence until he stepped backwards, causing a loose floorboard to let out a high-pitched squeak.

“Rochelle! Sweetie, when did you get here?” Richie’s father looked over, trying to seem happy to see his child.

“What…what’s going on?”

“Nothing, baby girl. Come here, let mommy see you!” Maggie stumbled forward, putting a hand on the counter for balance. She set down the half empty bottle, coming closer to Richie. Her breath reeked of alcohol as she moved in close to Richie’s face, running her fingers through his short curls, “Honey, what did you do to your hair? It was so pretty! Now it’s all short and choppy…When did you do this?”

“Mrs. Denbrough cut it for me a week after I moved in… I like it better this way.” Richie shrunk away from him mother’s hand, his nose wrinkling at the foul smell of the liquor that reached his senses. He had just come to grab some more of his things; he never wanted to have to confront his parents. He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Please don’t touch me, mother.”

Maggie’s expression changed from confusion to slight shock and offense, “Is that any way to speak to the woman who brought you into this world, Rochelle?” She waited a second before suddenly screaming, “ANSWER ME, YOUNG LADY!”

________________________________________________________________

Richie took a deep breath, approaching the house he had once called home. He knew he could sneak into the back, grab the sleeping bag from the end of the hall in the storage closet, and be out in a matter of 2 minutes. He just hoped it would be that easy.

As he got closer, he saw neither of his parents’ cars in the driveway. He felt his incredibly high anxiety level lower at this observation, allowing him to more easily prepare himself mentally for this task.

He went around the back of the large house, climbing up the tree in the backyard. He shifted out onto a branch, reaching over to his former bedroom window and pushing it up, sliding through the gap and landing on his feet. Once within the familiar room, he shuddered.

He took no time to reminisce; he had a plan, and he was going to succeed. He quickly made his way out of his room and to the end of the hall, spotting the rolled-up fabric and quickly snatching it. Richie sprinted back into the pastel pink room he used to call his own. The walls seemed to taunt him, a canopied bed against the back corner with flowery patterned sheets neatly made up.

Richie sighed and tossed the sleeping bag out the window, climbing out onto the branch and closing the window again. He shifted his thin body and made his way down the large tree, hopping onto the grass, grabbing the rolled-up camping item, and running back down the street to Bill’s house. He finally felt the tightness in his chest leave when he saw his beat up red truck in the Denbrough’s driveway. He let out a breath of relief and slowed his pace, noticing Bill was placing the camping bags in the bed of the truck.

“Billiam, my boy, did you bring everything down?” he tossed the sleeping bag in the back, putting it between the metal of the truck and his backpack, grinning at the boy on the other side of the vehicle.

“Why, yes I did Mr. Tozier!” he chuckled in return. He checked the luggage once again and looked up at Richie. “Do we have everything?”

“I have a secret stash of snacks I’ve been gathering just for tonight, Billiam. I will return before you can say ‘beep beep’!” he chuckled at the old phrase, turning on his heels and jogging inside and up the stairs. He reached their room, going to a small dresser the Denbrough’s had found for him. He opened the bottom drawer, pulling out a drawstring backpack full of chips and candy that he knew would probably result in another acne breakout, but he didn’t give a shit; Richie just wanted to have a good time with good friends and good food.

He went back downstairs, bumping into Georgie on the way. The youngest Denbrough never failed to make him smile.

“Richie! Are you and Billy leaving soon?” he looked up with his soft, childlike features despite being almost 11.

“Yes, we are little man! We were just about to head out. Can your favourite Richie get a big hug?” he grinned down at the little boy, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes from how wide his smile was.

The small boy beamed and wrapped his arms around Richie’s middle, squeezing him tight and humming. Richie felt his heart melting at how sweet he was, leaning down and putting his own long arms around Georgie’s small frame. He rubbed Georgie’s back gently and grinned.

“Be good, little dude. Make sure to keep an eye on your parents! And make sure to feed Maturin tonight, bud,” Richie heard Georgie giggle at the mention of his pet turtle.

“I’ll come say goodbye to Billy!” Georgie beamed, grabbing the older boy’s large hand and following him the rest of the way down the stairs.

Richie couldn’t help but be happy around the young child leading him outside. He remembered the scare they had a few years ago when Georgie went missing for a week. Bill was brought to tears when they found him in the Barrens, hungry and missing home. He still managed to be a ray of sunshine, bringing happiness to whoever was around him, despite the trauma of that rainy week.

When Bill saw his little brother dragging Richie out the door, he chuckled and opened his arms. Georgie ran into them and promptly got picked up and twirled around, squealing happily.

After saying their goodbyes, the two teens loaded themselves into the rusted pick up truck and drove off to give Stan and Beverly a ride. Eddie, Mike, and Ben would ride in Ben’s car and meet them at Stan’s cousin’s campsite. They would all spend the long weekend there, finally getting some time to be away from the town.

They picked up their two passengers, Richie and Beverly lighting up a few cigarettes and rolling down their windows as the made their way down the road, radio blaring. Finally, some time away.

Tag List: @edsrich @bxxpbxxprichie (If anyone wants to be added, please message me, and I can get you on the list!)